#literally all care for this industry: gone in one conversation!

[call-me-corvid]

Manger in charge of a LOT of shit quit recently because he got a job offer that was

A) 3x his original salary, and

B) involved far less responsibility

I had worked as his subordinate last year, so naturally the head honchos asked me take over what he was doing. Not with the title, but with the “promise” that we can visit that discussion in eight months depending on my performance (yeah okay /s).

Key note: I had received a similar promise for a different manager position. (No followup mention of that promise + no significant training provided to move me towards that position) * 7 months = empty promise. Alright cool.

One month in. Not getting too much guidance (expected), told I’m doing good and need to value myself higher.

Okay. Bet.

Asked for a raise in recognition of increased responsibilities beyond my current job description, quality of work, pay scale of the position (i’m at the bottom), etc. You know, hard facts that cannot be influenced by subjective feelings of importance or relevance.

Oh let’s not forget part of the raise was the annual raise that the HR manager promised ALWAYS happens but I have not received since my annual review four months ago. That I told the HR manager about two months ago but never heard anything back on. So there was a reminder of that, as well.

Told (to my face) that I’m entitled, don’t work hard enough, issued an ultimatum (literally didn’t make any sort of threat but okay), used the owner’s words against him (literally just quoted him on something he told me about pay when I was first hired but okay), they threatened that they could easily go out and find an external hire to take on in the role I’m being “trained” for, and asked if I REALLY think any other place would hire me. Among other “”feedback.””

Okay. Okay okay okay okay. I see how they view me now. Good to know. I learned quite a few things from this conversation and I think some of those things may surprise them.

[deeply-unserious-fellow]

My biggest problem with Staticmoth is that there's a LOT more evidence for Val being shitty to Vox then there is of Vox being shitty to Val. Like, Val throws shit at Vox, yells at him, breaks his stuff, and out right manipulates him on screen, while the best I can come up with for Vox treating Val poorly is like. The cameras in the club scene, Vox yelling "THIS IS BETTER THAN SEX" in the finale and the fact that I wouldn't put it past him, but those are all flimsy at best and just like, kind of nonsense at worst?(and before anybody brings it up, no Vox is not abusing Val during their interaction before Stayed Gone. He is having a reasonable reaction to somebody he cares about threatening to shoot up a building that literally contains the second most powerful being in Hell, putting both Val's life and their collective image on the line. I go into depth about it in this post if you still aren't convinced)

The camera thing is a weak argument because we don't know enough about Vox's watching habits of Val to really come to a solid conclusion on this, but based off of how Velvette had to alert Vox to Val's tantrum in episode 2, I think it's safe to say Vox isn't constantly watching him. The way the cameras follow Val's movements could also just mean that they. Detect motion. And follow the motion. To make sure they're recording anything that might be important? Which to be fair, we don't know for sure if that's the case, but we ALSO don't know for sure if they're locked onto Val specifically, so either way we're really just making assumptions.

As for "THIS IS BETTER THAN SEX", this may just be my inability to read social cues and asexuality coming through, but I don't really get how yelling "this is better than sex" would be an insult to the entire porn industry? Like, if I saw somebody saying that I wouldn't jump to the conclusion that they are insulting the very concept of sex, unless they seemed genuinely unenthusiastic about the thing they were calling better than sex. Also, should be noted that even if Val took offense to the comment(which given his expression in the scene I think he did? And it's also not an entirely unreasonable thing to be a little insulted by), Vox wasn't TRYING to insult him. That comment was not directed at Valentino or his work. This is something that could be worked out with a very simple conversation. Which is more than I can say for how Val was acting before Stayed Gone, but I digress...

I think, of these, the best argument I have in favor of them being mutually toxic is just. I wouldn't put it past Vox. I could see him being a manipulative piece of shit partner, that feels in line with his characterization thus far. Hell, I've compared him to both Spike BtVS and Gideon Graves before, who are, for the record, pretty bad people to enter a relationship with for most of their time in their respective franchises. Like they both get better but still- not good. The thing is though, there just isn't any EVIDENCE that he's actually doing anything to Val! In fact, I'd argue there's more evidence against it, given how Vox seems to be generally detatched from the other Vees work as a whole. Like they advertise and work together, sure, but Vox is never in any of the Love Potion ads, and Vel and Val are never in any of the VoxTek ads. The only advertisements where Vox is with either of them are the ones that are just meant to build hype for the Vees as a collective(the big Vees poster we see in the background & the silly icecreams). Vox doesn't seem to be that controlling of the other Vees. He's also just- really good to Velvette? Like he stays out of her business and the two act genuinely affectionate towards eachother(I've also gone more into depth on this here). And like, as much as I want Poly Vees to be canon, it's not, so we can't use that as a direct point of reference for how he is in romantic relationships(or whatever the fuck he and Val have going on...), but it is still relevant because it's a good example of how Vox treats his equals. So, while it is DEFINITELY not a stretch to assume Vox is a Gideon Graves ass boyfriend, there just. Isn't anything to support it beyond vibes.

*ahem* Anyways yeah. I wanna get behind Staticmoth, I really do. Most of the people that ship it are super chill and the fan content for it is really cute. But I just can't. Because, as of right now, most of the evidence points towards Vox being in an abusive situation with Val. The fact that there is a very high chance of that is troubling to me. I'm down to be proven wrong next season, I love me some good ol' toxic bs that's just fun to watch crash and burn, but for now I'm just kinda. U n c o m f y.

EDIT: Okay, this is another one of those "in the light of day I don't actually agree with everything I said" edits, and this time it's about saying the evidence pointed towards Staticmoth out right abusive at the end. While I do still think that's a possibility, I've been trying not to throw that word around as much, especially in the context of fandom? Abuse is a VERY strong word, and it ends up getting misused a LOT because people are labeling things that just. Aren't abuse as abuse because it's a buzzword. All the evidence really points to is that Val treats Vox worse then Vox treats Val, and while that could very, VERY easily become abuse, we haven't seen enough of their dynamic to be completely sure. Just thought I should make that clear.

[temporalbystander]

(Still bored... Ask box is still empty... Screw it. Let's do this while there's still daylight.)

So, after my discussions with Lila... Please don't ask... Let's get back to the future shall we? Good on Marinette for standing up to her idol. And especially for doing designs for her grandparents. Still waiting for the world to end but hey, maybe we will avoid that scenario this time around.

So, big heartful speech from Marinette that I'm not going to do the disservice of cutting pieces out of, and we get outfits/pieces for all her friends. One, how incredibly sweet is that? And two, she's making earrings and necklaces. She's doing the jewelry as well people, I feel that should get a lot more attention than it does. And of course Gabriel is one to talk about playing dress up with dolls... Which is a sentence I'll leave there because Adrien deserves better. Do wonder if my hoodie is in there somewhere though.

Well, he said it. Not me. Not a pleasant picture you're painting about the fashion industry Gabriel. Makes me wonder if he even cares about it anymore or if he does it just for the financial resources and keeping up appearances? Never took him for the type to consider being 'out of fashion' as bad as Chloe makes it out to be.

He does it for the control, gotcha. Again there was a whole speech about it but it just makes me want to punch him more and Adrien wouldn't like that. But to imply that Marinette has fallen under the spell Gabriel crafted around Adrien? Like EVERY. OTHER. GIRL. he lets be around his son? Oh that pissed me right off. What do I mean? Chloe. childhood friends but only because her parents are as important as his. Not her fault but still part of Gabriel's world. Lila. The only reason she hangs with Adrien is for power and the only reason Gabriel allows her is to keep his son in line. Kagami. Was literally crafted to be a part of said world! Man I hate this guy. Next scene.

*sighs* second verse, same as the first. I'm going to kill him. What else is there to say at this point except the guy has gone nuts? He's so obsessed about controlling everything, creating this perfect world that nobody but him can achieve, surely he must have been sane at some point right?

Okay, saving the most important thing for last. Suck it Gabriel, you go Marinette and aww how sweet. Now, need I point out that he was still standing at the door? That entire conversation he's been either trying to leave, or waiting for permission to return to Marinette's side. How on earth must that feel for him? To know what you want to do but have something unseen keep you from doing it? (For me it's just called motivation. Ayo!)

Now... Is it just be or do both of them seem slightly scared of Marinette here? Sure it may just be surprise or uncertainty but I'm just going to believe that these two grown men are terrified of a 15 year old girl. Why? Because it's hilarious.

Oh yeah, he's stunned. Also she's dissing the pancakes she didn't even eat, she's that good a baker. You tell him Marinette. I wonder how long it will take before I lose this giant grin on my face?

[likedbyuarmyhope]

I’ve been a BTS fan since 2015-2016 (I forget) I’m so thankful I left TWITTER (I refuse to ever call it by it’s new name) 3 years ago (I was thinking of leaving even a year before that) back then you could already see the utter shīt show it was becoming. It started becoming an embarrassment to call myself an Army (not because of BTS but the behavior of the fandom). Tumblr is a relatively smaller platform for the fandom mostly older fans so it was never that bad here. Unfortunately the cesspool Army is finding its way here and fūcking it up now. I’m hoping we can all collectively come together (the ones with actual brain cells and common sense) to get rid of these ašs hats. I’m not about to let them ruin it here too like they have literally EVERY SINGLE PLATFORM there is. Sadly the toxic ones are the loudest and ruin everything. Everything we spent YEARS putting together and requesting has gone up in flames because of them. And like you said they definitely do not care they don’t listen to the members, they don’t read things, they don’t watch actual things with them having serious conversations, it’s all superficial and shallow with them. Pardon my language but they’re all fake as fūck using BTS to just boost their egos to say OMG my group paved the way OMG MY group did this and that. They’re like hipsters (derogatory). I miss the early days those were more peaceful and real and easier to take down all the toxic fans. I feel like when BTS says Army they mean the non-toxic ones especially when they’ve spoken about how the Armies they love are respectful and don’t step over their boundaries and “fans” would know that if they actually paid attention to what the members themselves have said with their own mouths. One of them literally had a whole video on how they should behave and be kind and respectful and they didn’t f——ing listen! So disappointed but not surprised.

honestly yeah. pretty much all of this. like i said there's always been issues with certain factions of armys being bigots, at least ever since i joined the fandom in 2017, but i feel like around 2020-21 when there was a massive influx of new fans (who didn't know anything about kpop or the context surrounding bts's entire history, weren't there for some of the most pivotal moments in bts's career and who only know about what bts experienced in both the korean and western music industries through passed down stories from other people who weren't there) is when it all truly went to shit. since then you really can't escape it and the last few months with the insane backlash to the hybe boycott and really the entire fucking scooter braun situation have exposed the absolute ugliest sides of these people. but there definitely is a not-insignificant number of pre-2020 armys who are like this too, there's a ton of factors that have gone into the enabling of morally reprehensible behavior in this fandom over the years and it would take all day to list them out

[imightgetbetter]

this will probably be quite long-winded so i'm going to put it under a read more. this has nothing to do with matty or the band, it's my other favorite artists, but i just can't talk about this on my main blog because i fear the people i am talking about will find it and harass me and talk shit about me for weeks again (this happened after an anon mistake and a bit of an impulse decision back a few years ago and i hated my life and almost deleted my blog because of it) so i trust that this will stay between us (as much as it can on the internet)

so my main blog is a primarily harry styles/niall horan blog with a whole bunch of my shitty diary posts and things i think are silly. it started with niall and harry writing and then when niall went on hiatus after his last album it became a primarily harry blog because i wrote my biggest story in the height of the pandemic and it gained a lot of traction during quarantine. in that height, someone started talking shit about niall and i went to his defence as any lonesome teenager does and it backfired on me gravely and this group of harry styles blogs that think they're very popular and cool harassed me about it. it was awful for weeks. i basically couldn't go online without having a panic attack. anyways, it's that same group.

all they do is talk about how much they think niall is a copy and paste of harry or that he isn't marketable or that he can't pick singles or that he pushes his streams and charts too much. all while claiming they don't care about him and hate him or whatever. they say all these things that simply aren't true. harry didn't "create" marketing campaigns on websites, neither did niall! however, niall's last album was marketed through a website and videos everyday and all this. harry isn't original in his techniques, the difference is that his following is so insane that they will do every single marketing thing for him. he doesn't need a team of people to do it. these fans are so insane that they are doing a job that people get paid to do. niall does his job! that's why he's telling people to stream and whatnot.

niall's songwriting is miles and miles better than harry's, but because of the way they think harry is the best at everything, they don't recognize that. niall started working with amy allen (a writer harry worked with on his last album) nearly six years ago, maybe even seven. she co-wrote my favorite niall horan song, to this day. like, they saw amy allen and tobias jesso jr and freaked out that niall was copying harry, as if niall isn't also a songwriter in the industry. like .. i genuinely am so sick of this conversation! (i also would compare niall's songwriting in depth and meaning to matty's, which is why i love it so much)

it's also very fucking annoying that harry stans have created this whole culture around going to concerts and liking artists that is so toxic and annoying that i can't stand it. like, half of the people at niall's pop up shop today weren't even singing his songs, they were singing the harry songs that were on the playlist. or the way all these harry stans are suddenly talking about niall on tiktok to get clout or merch or whatever it is. i've literally been a niall fan or whatever since the very beginning of one direction, i followed him on tour way back when, he's the reason i love live music and want to work in touring. i love harry, i do, i've gone to his shows plenty of times and talk about him and have a blog and a story, i'm not saying anything bad really about him, but it's so frustrating to see how people treat other artists just compared to harry styles and i literally am getting so annoyed every day.

okay i think i'm done. like i said .. this is between you and me and god.

[cofa]

I remembered an old madcom fanfic I made, and decided it was too good to be left in some random fanfic site

When I wrote I was playing the Commercial District before reaching the Seeking Asylum level, and I found the scenery so depressing compared to the other action packed levels and decided to express this atmosphere in the fanfiction.

(This is a psychological horror and has themes isolation, death, and suicide, view digression is advised)

The city was empty yet claustrophobic.

Besides the paper rustling, there was nothing that moved in the monotone, once brightly colored, city. The wind had hit your face and sang a lonely tune as you looked broadly at the scenery, something was missing. You walked across platforms barely aged with no creak heard while normally walking, all you could hear was the sound of your feet and metal colliding easily traveling throughout the city. No one acknowledged it. Not far from the platforms were the corpses of shops, with the illusion of life in their flashy logos. Their metal bar and window covering eyelids were forever down as they are left to rot to natural conditions. You touched the blocked glass, chills going from your fingertips to your spine, wondering if there's life within. You could never know.

You could never know they are still alive and left you out. You could never know if becoming trapped in a self made prison have pushed them into murderous insanity. You will never know if they have slowly shrank to bone as they starved and dehydrated, while hopelessness, depression and insanity haunted their last moments. You will never know if they couldn't handle it and have ended their own lives. You will never be able to open that box and find out, but all you know is that it is irrelevant as they will never meet you. You just watched the wall with nothing to offer.

You continued to walk the platform, trying to avoid looking at the tables and chairs left over, and walk towards the statue. It was very large and grand and in life it had been praised and treated untouchable like the false god which it was modeled from. It also had a stone sword which it proudly raised, thinking it was god. You touched the statue, it was empty and cold, it was dead. The leader it was modeled over and the men working to prevent its tarnishing were literally dead, but more importantly the spirit was dead. The taboo didn't push your hand away from it, you didn't care, his presence is gone with his body, his worship died with him. You pulled your hand with it with no impact on your mind.

Not so far away were the tables with trays on them. The trays weren't put away but yet the tables and chairs were nicely placed, just stuck there like everyone had disappeared. Despite the lack of people, it felt like you were hearing their conversations, the haunting mumbling of everyday life, the bliss of harmless rumors and non serious rants, the comfort of not being alone to speak. Of course there was no one talking, no one was there. Tears filled your eyes as everyone seemed to have died except you. You couldn’t handle it. You ran off, trying to forget that it could be better.

You run to the road which the cars used to have drove over, but they only sit idle. Only lost pieces of papers move across the streets. Your head was looking down and you ran, trying to not look up to the empty sky, while you approached the apartments near the industrial sector. Does anyone live there?

You walked up to a door, surprised that it'll open up for you, making you obligated to enter. You stopped for a moment, wondering if anybody within would kill you, but the loneliness was sinking in you, rotting your spirit, urging you to go. You slowly walked up the stairs and opened the first door, walking yourself into it. It was dark, very dark. You could barely make out the kitchen and the bedrooms as the only source of light was the window, only casting upon a box of cereal and dust particles, and the red light of a computer left on, and the only thing on it was a rough draft about the state of Project Nexus, only did they know it'll fall. You walked up the stairs to the bedrooms and instead of anyone sleeping or rotting corpses, there was nothing. Loneliness sunk deeper and you descended the stairs, and you picked up the box of cereal for later snacking before leaving the room. 

You walked up the stairs to the second floor with draining hope, the wall looking greyer than usual. You opened the second door. This room was as dark as the first one, the tiny windows being the only light source. It was bigger too and thus automatically more empty. As you walked to the windows, you noticed no one was really there on the floor level, only an open computer with an email draft talking about panic as the state of Nexus grew worse. You backed away and went up the stairs to see if the emailer was there. The stairs creaked and your vision higher, seeing another bed.

The bed here was also empty, your spirit sinking further into your gut. You ran down the stairs with no regard to your safety, your heart racing as you grew desperate again. Out the building you went, metal was banged upon and started creaking as you tried to enter the final door. There just gotta be someone there. 

The door opened again to a dark room, the only light being cast was by the window and computer. You ran down the halls to the main part of the room to see it was vast and empty. No one was there. Your eyes watered, tears burning and escaping your eyes, you were truly alone, everyone was gone. Sorrow and incoming rage mixed into a bubbling concoction that shook your body. You rushed to the oddly nicely set up table and chairs with trays left on it and slammed them across the floor. The sound of clattering plastic from making a mess filled your ears. You didn't want the world to end in a whimper. You didn't want to be the last person on earth. A someone and a nobody who could only ponder what had happened as you slowly starved. You didn't want anyone left alone in an artificial wasteland!

You collapsed from stress and exhaustion, sobbing as tears crawled down your face to the carpeted floor. Body so weak from the death of hope that you couldn't escape the floor for minutes, the light covering your cowering form. Slowly your body returned to a state of normalcy as you barely picked yourself and crawled to the computer to see what it had got to say. You pulled the chair and sat upon it, placing the box of cereal on your lap. The email was about trying to convince the leader to stop his potentially world-ruining actions; you cried as you stuffed the stale cereal into your mouth, whoever wrote it didn't help to stop your current situation. It was the failure of hope. 

You just laid back on the chair and allowed your thoughts to fade as you tried to get yourself into blissful sleep, and you hoped you would wake up from a bad dream.

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Short Prompt #458

Warning: inhumane treatment/imprisonment, forced sensory deprivation, forced separation, torture, stress position.

Supervillain leisurely walked through the building as if on a stroll in the park. They passed emptied out cells; their henchmen had rescued all the villains trapped inside the Hero Organization’s ‘Rehabilitation Center.’

And all of those villains were, of course, now indebted to the supervillain. It brought a smile onto their face, one that widened as they reached the end of the long corridor.

A lone steel door stood before them, shut tightly, not letting through an ounce of light or sound. The master criminal dragged their hand down the cold metal, thinking for a few moments before eventually stepping back.

“Open it.”

Their henchmen were quick to respond, smashing the locking mechanisms and prying the door wide open. Inside, there were no light sources, no bed, no toilet. Nothing.

Nothing..., but a silent figure strapped down to the wall and floor. They were on their knees. Their legs were awkwardly forced open so that their back could touch the wall. There were metal restraints tied all around their body, from their legs, up their torso, and all the way to the tips of their fingers. The person truly couldn’t move a single muscle.

On top of that, there was a thick piece of fabric over their eyes, which blinded them completely. And the industrial-level headphones covering their ears kept them unaware of any conversations or otherwise useful noises.

The one thing they were still able to feel was vibrations. And forcing a giant metal door open certainly made a lot of those. Even amidst the darkness, Supervillain could see them trembling in anticipation.

Another thing they noticed was how terrible the other looked. Their clothes were stained with all kinds of bodily grime and fluids. Sweat, blood, piss. Hell, the supervillain had to cover their face with their cape because that was definitely the smell of literal shit.

It was both depressing and amazing that the poor fucker hadn’t died from some kind of infection. The prisoner was definitely given water and kept alive, but their skeletal appearance told an obvious story regarding their feeding.

The master criminal sighed through their make-shift mask. “Oh, Hero... What have they done to you, darling?”

They slowly walked over and crouched down in front of the hero. The poor thing had been locked up in there for who knows how long, sensory deprived, alone with their thoughts. Supervillain needed to be careful with them, go slow.

They carefully moved one of their hands forward and lightly rested it upon the other’s shoulder. Hero flinched to the best of their ability, breathing stuttering at the unexpected touch.

However, as the supervillain pulled their hand back, the hero let out the tiniest of whimpers at the loss of contact. Luckily for them, Supervillain wasn’t planning on just leaving. They gently grabbed the headphones and took them off before placing them to the side, cautious not to make too much noise.

Their voice was a soft whisper. “Hero...”

Hero’s breath caught in their throat yet again. “S-Super...v...villain...?”

They sounded hoarse. Like they’ve been screaming for hours on end. The master criminal placed their hand atop their shoulder once more. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m here to save you.”

The hero whimpered. “N-No... If- If they c-catch-”

“They’re dead.”

Hero froze at their interruption, their brain taking a moment to take in the new information. “Y-You...”

Even though the hero couldn’t see it, Supervillain smiled. “They’re gone, darling. I made sure of it.”

“C-Can- M-May- May I... s-see you...?” - Hero asked pitifully, causing the other’s heart to wrench.

“I’m sorry, love...” - the supervillain murmured, gently petting the hero’s head. “But not yet. I don’t want your eyes to get any worse from sudden light exposure.”

Hero whimpered but still gave a weak “Okay...” in response.

“Okay. I’m gonna get you out of those now.”

For the next couple of minutes, Supervillain worked diligently, carefully releasing the hero out of their restraints, pausing whenever they cried out in pain. Eventually, the hero was in their arms, practically half asleep from the sudden exhaustion as they walked out of the facility.

And by the time they reached the supervillain’s lair, Hero was having their first peaceful sleep in weeks.

[wandaromanova]

Comfort Zone

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: like… two swear words

A/N: hello! wow, it’s been a minute since i’ve posted, huh? truthfully, i started this fic weeks ago and added in a request i received at that time. i’m really rusty, so sorry if this fic isn’t up to par, but it’s great to be back. happy reading <3

anon requested: For the fluff requests. How about Nat x reader where r didn't get a jacket when they went outside and now they're cold and try to hide it but nat can see it so she gives r her jacket and says something things like "See I was right. It's cold you should've brought a jacket or a scarf or anything" while putting her jacket on r <333

Summary: Natasha had never strayed away from her comfort zone, that was, until she met Y/N L/N.

Word Count: 2.6K | navigation

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

Dating a former spy and current Avenger definitely had its perks, the biggest one being how attentive and caring your girlfriend tended to be. For the past two years, you’ve been in a serious relationship with the infamous Natasha Romanoff.

You were an intern at Stark Industries, working alongside Tony Stark himself in his lavish lab. You assisted the billionaire with various projects, the most notable task being the numerous upgrades to the Iron Man suit. 

You were a bit of a genius yourself, having graduated from MIT just like Tony had.

Considering the fact that his lab happened to be located in the basement of the Avengers Tower, you got to see earth’s mightiest heroes on a daily basis. You had grown close to the team. You got especially close to the redheaded Russian.

It seemed as though every time you were in the lab, Natasha would pay a visit. At the time, you assumed she was there to converse with Tony, or perhaps she really had an interest in the technological processes it took to amp up the Iron Man suit. But you were very naive, to say the least.

To be fair, Natasha was very good at faking interest. The way she spoke with such grace, following along with your explanations and asking insightful questions, it was a really applaudable act she put on. So, after months of working in the tower, you were shocked when the redhead asked you out on a date.

You had gone through every conversation and interaction you had with Natasha, trying to pinpoint any instance where she had signaled or hinter to her attraction toward you, but you came up blank. Of course, you shouldn’t have been surprised; being discrete was part of her profession after all. 

Looking back, you couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. You’ll never forget the way your cheeks flushed red as Natasha smirked at you, finding delight and humor in your flustered state. However, despite the humiliation, you wouldn’t change a single detail about your relationship with the spy.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

Natasha, despite what she may think, was an amazing partner. She never failed to remember things about you, that oftentimes, you don’t even remember telling her yourself.

Comment on something cute that caught your eye at the mall? You’d come home from work the very next day, to your girlfriend with the aforementioned item in hand. She’d hold it out to you with a small, shy smile on her face.

“You said you liked it when we were out shopping yesterday, so I got it for you.” 

You smile widely, a small chuckle falling past your lips as you approach her, taking the item out of her hand, and placing it down. Natasha let out a small gasp as you pulled her body flush against your own, arms wrapped securely around her waist.

“You didn’t have to do that for me, baby. But thank you.” You press your lips against hers, and Natasha doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate the action. Her arms instinctively wrap around your neck, nails gently caressing your skin. 

“Yeah, I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I literally had to fight a snobby teenager to get it since it was the last one.” Natasha spoke, her words muffled as her lips ghosted over your own. 

However, you immediately pull back with wide eyes.

“You fought a teenager?” You tried and failed to hide the humor behind your voice. 

“Well, I mean I didn’t actually fight her, but I was pretty damn close. Even after I told her I was an Avenger, she still didn’t back down.” Natasha groaned out and you couldn’t contain yourself. You burst out in laughter at her words, emerald eyes glaring at you. 

“You seriously pulled the ‘I’m an Avenger’ card? Oh my god, that is too good.” You laughed even harder when your girlfriend slightly shoved you away from her, the smallest hint of a smile on her lips.

“Shut up! I wanted to get it for you and I did what I had to do.” A pout made its way to the redhead’s lips and your laughter slowly died down. You pulled her back into you, smiling when she didn’t try to move away, but instead, shoved her face into the crook of your neck.

“Well, now I appreciate the gift even more.”

“You better… I looked like such an asshole.”

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

One time, you had asked Natasha to stop by the store after work to pick up some shampoo.

Normally, you went out and did the shopping for household necessities, but you had been busier than usual that week. It was a fairly simple request; just grab some shampoo. 

But in all the years you’ve known the assassin, you learned that simplicity wasn’t her forte.

You were in the kitchen, quietly humming to yourself as relaxing music played in the background. You absolutely loved to cook, even more so when it was for your girlfriend.

However, your private moment was interrupted by your ringtone echoing throughout the space.

You lowered the heat on the stove, snatching your phone from the counter beside you, and smiled when Natasha’s name flashed across the screen. As soon as you answered, the sounds of shuffling and a small sigh met your ear.

‘Hey sweetheart, what’s up?” You asked casually, holding the phone between your ear and shoulder, deciding to continue cooking.

“Hi, I’m at the store right now and I need your help,” Natasha spoke with slight concern, and your eyebrows furrowed with worry. “What did you need help with? Is everything alright?” You stirred the steaming pot of food in front of you, when Natasha let out a hum.

“Did you want coconut or cherry blossom shampoo?” 

The seriousness in Natasha’s voice nearly made you laugh, but you held back your laughter and responded.

“That’s what you need help with? You made it sound like someone was dying.” You shook your head in amusement, even if the redhead couldn’t see it. 

“That didn’t answer my question, babe. Coconut or cherry blossom?” You let out a small giggle, unable to hold it back any longer when your girlfriend was being unintentionally funny.

“It really doesn’t matter, Nat. Just get whatever.” You answered her question, but Natasha wasn’t finished.

“What brand did you want?” Natasha’s confusion was evident in her tone of voice. You let out a small, amused sigh as you poured some paprika into the pot.

“The one we always get is fine, Natty.” There was a small pause and you assumed the redhead had asked everything she needed to, however, she spoke again before you had the chance to say anything.

“What kind did you want? They all say different things…” Natasha trailed off and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound.

You always loved her voice. There was something so comforting about her sultry tone that made you feel at home, especially when she’d hum random songs around the house.

Your thoughts were cut off when Nat’s voice rang through the speaker.

“There’s scalp care, keratin smooth, detox and nour- god! Who knew there were so many types of shampoo? It’s just shampoo, for fuck’s sake!”

Nat let out an exasperated groan and you wholeheartedly laughed this time around.

“Honey, you can pick anything! As long as it does the job, it’s alright.”  Silence filled the call once more before Natasha responded. “Uh, okay I’ll just get scalp care because I know how sensitive your skin can be.” 

You smiled widely when she said that. The way she paid such attention to the smallest details about you and kept them in mind despite the situation was heartwarming. She always had your best interest at heart, even while completing the simplest of tasks.

“Okay, thank you baby, but remind me never to send you out shopping again.” You chuckled, turning the stove off, feeling satisfied with what you had made. Natasha let out an audible sigh of relief.

“Yeah, please don’t make me do this again. It’s awful.” Movement could be heard on the other side of the phone, a muffled ‘excuse me’ followed shortly after.

“Okay, I secured the bubbles. Did you need anything else?” Natasha jokingly put on her ‘mission’ voice that you always made fun of her for.

“Nope. Now, hurry home, loser. Dinner’s ready.” 

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

As someone who has seen all kinds of action throughout her life, Natasha was no stranger to anything when it came to her work life. 

Even as an Avenger, each mission seemed to be the exact same, with small differentiations. She always knew what to expect. Each objective was the same; take down the enemies and avoid civilian casualties.

There was never an instance where she had been fearful or nervous… until she met you. Natasha would step out of her comfort zone for you, something she never had to do before. This fact became evident to you the hour before Natasha met your parents.

“What should I wear? I have the black dress I wore on our first date, that should be good right?” Natasha panicked, frantically pushing around the clothes hanging in her closet. 

“No, it’s too revealing. I can’t wear that, shit.” The redhead cursed to herself under her breath. You laughed, the bed creaking beneath you as you stood up.

“Baby, it just has a lower neckline. It’s perfectly fine.” You spoke softly, walking toward your girlfriend and wrapping your arms around her from behind.

“Yeah but it shows skin, Y/N/N. What if your parents think it isn’t appropriate. What if they think I’m not good enough for you?” 

Natasha’s insecurity showed and it made your heart ache. You were the first serious relationship Natasha has ever had.

Her previous lovers failed to understand her, resulting in premature breakups. However, you knew the Russian better than she knew herself at times, and that made this occasion even more important.

You spun the redhead around to face you, her front pushed up against yours, as green eyes bored into yours.

“Natty, the only person who can determine whether or not you’re good for me… is me.” You met Natasha’s unwavering gaze that held uncertainty and fear behind them.

“And I happen to know for a fact that you’re perfect for me. No one is better for me than you.”

At your words of reassurance, Nat’s eye softened as she let out a small, shaky breath. She tilted her head slightly forward and connected your foreheads, kissing the tip of your nose gently before nudging it with her own.

“But… for the record, I definitely wouldn’t mind you wearing that dress. It’ll give me something to look at over lunch.”

Natasha slapped your face gently as she snorted, shaking her head at you with a loving smile spreading across her face that only you had the privilege to witness.

“Not a chance.”

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

Spontaneity was one concept that Natasha never participated in. Her whole life had revolved around thought-out words and calculated moves. Her ability to assess situations was unparalleled. She mastered the art of anticipation, being able to see things coming from a mile away. 

You, however, were the exact opposite. Despite being in a career field that required lots of methodical and analytical tasks, you were a very laid-back person. Your carefree nature was one of the many reasons why Nat fell in love with you. 

And, knowing how much you love unpremeditated moments, she’d take you out on random dates, one in particular that you, nor her, would ever forget.

There was a common misconception about New York, it was the city that people with big dreams and ideas commuted to.

The media would talk about the beauty of the city lights and the bustling liveliness that never faltered. And although those things were true, living there was a completely different story. It was almost always raining, the temperature always cold.

When Natasha proposed to go out for dinner, she told you to bring your jacket, but you insisted that you’d be fine, which you definitely were not. 

The meal itself had gone smoothly, conversing with the redhead over a glass of wine, leaning over the table as she held out a spoonful of her food to try.

At one point in the night, you both burst out in laughter when a waitress accidentally tripped over the leg of a chair, spilling water all over the ground. Of course, you had asked if he was alright when your giggling subsided.

When the night was over, the two of you walked home, to ‘take the scenic route,’ as your girlfriend had suggested. It would have been an idyllic experience if you weren’t absolutely freezing. 

You unlaced your hand from Natasha’s, quickly shoving both of your hands into your jeans pockets. You tried to fight back the shivers that threatened to flow across your body. You tried to hide how cold you were, but of course, Nat saw right through it. 

Natasha suddenly stopped in her tracks, confusion was written across your face as you stopped too and looked at her. “You’re cold.” Nat stated matter of factly and you immediately shook your head. 

“Am not.” 

“You’re shivering.” 

“No. I'm just… shaking with excitement because the food was amazing.” 

Natasha rolled her eyes at your antics. “I told you to bring your jacket or at least a scarf. You’re so damn stubborn.” She spoke with a faux annoyed expression, swiftly taking off her jacket and draping the material over your shoulders. 

“Well… the jacket and scarf would have thrown off my aesthetic.” Natasha laughed at your words, and you couldn’t help but smile proudly, glad to evoke the sound from her.

She looked incredible as always, eyes shining as the glow of the streetlight above the two of you cascaded onto her smooth skin. 

“Your aesthetic? What exactly were you going for, huh? The Ice Age?”

Nat laughed uncontrollably at her own joke as she put her arm around your shoulders. You let out a small huff, a pout making its way to your lips as you discreetly pushed your side further into her own, seeking out her warmth as you continued walking together.

“I hate you so much.” You grumbled out. “No, you don’t.” Natasha spoke confidently. You hummed as if you were thinking about what she said, before responding. “Yeah, you’re right, I guess.”

“When am I not?” Nat asked sassily and you rolled your eyes at her. “I think you’re hanging around Tony too much, his ego is rubbing off on you.” You commented and Nat snorted at your words.

A beat of silence passed, the only sound that could be heard were your footsteps against the pavement and the rustling of the wind. “What would I do without you?” You asked softly, a feeling of sentiment washing over you like a tidal wave. 

“Freeze to death, apparently.” Natasha replied nonchalantly. And just like that, the cute moment you were trying to start was ruined, not that you were complaining though.

You playfully hit Nat on the shoulder as your combined laughter filled the night air, unable to contain yourselves. The assassin placed a soft kiss on your temple, the warmth of her jacket and body against yours pulling you into a serene state. 

The remainder of the journey was quiet, and you couldn’t help but appreciate the moment and all the others you shared with your girlfriend. You knew that you could overcome any obstacle life threw at you, as long as she was right by your side.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤNatasha stepped out of her comfort zone for you; ㅤㅤ while you found yours in the form of her.ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

taglist: @perfectromanoff @aliancvnas @marvelwomenslut @chaekhan @rvselie @imasimpfornatashamaximoff @natashaswifey @prentisshoe @mcubreakdown101 @yeetus-thyself @multiyfandomgirl40 @007giu @weelight @scotts-orange-slices @puppy-danvers2016 @acertainredhead @jdougl-love @lynxwhispurrs @mindofwesley @lostandsearching @tquick99 @rachel14617 @illloveyou @thewidowsghost @uraveragelonelygay @wandasgirlfriend @sapphic-stress @suki-is-a-queen @xxromanoffxx @b-5by5 @hagridsmomma @blurryylines @yeeterthekeeper @maximoff-jp @midnight-lestrange @tomatonugget @mrs-avenger3000 @wandadarlingg @wandanatblogs @nooshe @simpfornatasharomanoff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @grxvitye @thelastavenger-3000 @hunka-hulka-burnin-fudge @lightsaberfights @catasha @maxioofs

[makeitagood0neao3]

Safe Inside

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 2,754

Warnings: Non/con. Explicit sexual content. Dark!Peter Parker AU. 18+ only!

The knock on your apartment door couldn't have come soon enough. After a long, tiring day working virtually, all you wanted was your take out, likely still warm from the restaurant downtown. Hair in a messy bun, long shirt covering a pair of shorts you padded to the door. Looking through the peephole, just to be safe. You couldn’t be too careful nowadays.

You opened the door to see your usual delivery guy standing before you, grey Supreme hoodie beneath a black coat, the hood pulled over his head. In his hand were the handles of a plastic bag as he balanced a soda on top of it.

“Greek delivery for a pretty lady in apartment 410?” He asked, barely able to contain his smile.

“Hey Pete,” you greeted, matching his energy. “I just Venmo’d you.”

“You better not have included a tip, Y/N.” Peter handed over the soda and bag before grabbing his phone from his pocket to check for the transaction. “I told you to stop tipping me.”

“I know you did,” you answered smuggly. “But you deserve a tip when you give me life by baklava.” He smiles back before peering into the apartment behind you. He was always doing that; checking, observing. You only ever ordered dinner for one, but that didn’t stop him from being curious. Not one to easily trust, you know the little world you built can be easily destroyed if you let the wrong person in.

He never asked if you were seeing someone or overstepped. The most flirting you had done with this younger man was to tell him that if he got straight A’s this semester at the university, you’d invite him inside for a drink. 

“Yeah, yeah. I appreciate you. I gotta run, but I’ll text you.” He waved and made his way down the hall.

Using your foot to kick your door closed you locked it with your free hand and set the food down on the counter. Setting your Spotify playlist to shuffle on 80’s rock before digging in at your tiny dining room table that barely fits in your small apartment.

You met Peter on a whim. Never one to plan meals out in advance, you were often left to starve or eat cereal for dinner after working. Never one to leave your apartment when it was dark out, you settled for having dinner delivered. Peter was delivery guy on a food delivery app and learned your dinner routine and favorites quickly. Which was surprising, because you couldn’t possibly be the only person in Queens ordering take out every other night.

And he couldn’t be the only delivery guy around, but he somehow became your usual delivery guy and you, his regular. Usually one to get chips as a side at a nearby deli, you didn’t order any one evening. He messaged you No chips tonight?

It surprised you, but you brushed it off, telling him you were cutting back on junk food. He dropped off the meal at your door with a knock, but by the time you opened it, he was gone. Sitting at the top of the paper bag was a bag of your favorite chips.

Always one to drop off your food quickly and not stay to chat, you caught him one night to thank him and tip in cash. Since then, you two would talk in your doorway briefly, mostly keeping your friendship to text as you were both busy. After a year of limited in person social interaction, any casual conversation over your threshold was greatly accepted. One day soon you’d venture outside, but with the availability to have nearly everything delivered, you doubted that day would come soon. You just weren’t ready.

Soon you ditched the app and just text him when you wanted dinner and he dropped it off to you. The price for you didn’t change, but gave him some extra. You honestly didn’t know why he chose to deliver food; he was always dressed extremely nicely in name brand clothes and you later found out he has a lucrative position at Stark Industries.

Once you had asked him why he chose to do this, in the literal rain and snow, and he told you that it was something to do. He got bored often and it was better than sitting in a lab all night. He made it seem like he did this for several people, but you didn’t see how he had the time to.

In the middle of scrolling on your phone, there’s a slow delay in registering what you’re seeing. Shaking your head and blinking hard, the sensation didn’t go away. Your body seemed to relax as a deep buzz set in and your body movements sluggish. Bringing the fork up to your mouth for another bite, you missed completely, the rice pilaf dropping onto the table. You tried for another bite and this time succeeded.

Are you... high?

You tasted the mineral chalkiness before you noticed the white powder poorly mixed into your rice pilaf. Brain fuzzy, you tried to analyze the substance. Thinking it strange, you drank from your take out cup of soda to wash it down. It became harder to swallow each sip, but you had already finished half the meal.

A knock at your door echoes through the wood. Each footstep towards the door bounces between your ears. Struggling with the lock, you finally got it open, your legs almost numb and your arms heavy. On the other side of the threshold stands Peter, his hood over his head, eyes assessing you through his lashes as his head angles down.

“Pete?” 

You feel his arms around you before the whoosh registers in your head. Blinking hard, you are lying on your back, limbs heavy. Some time must have passed, but you can’t be sure.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered from above you. “I think I gave you too much.”

Struggling to keep your eyes open, a shiver blankets your skin. You let out a whine when your tongue refuses to curl with your words. It lies heavy, your jaw loose as you slur out questions.

“Peter?” You try again. Your question is slurred and there’s a pitched whine to your voice.

“Shhh, this is for your own good.”

“Mmph” you mumble, unsure if you actually feel hurt right now at this moment. Your movements are heavy and slow, like running through water. Your back is against something soft that smells like your fabric softener. Your bed. When did you get here?

“I’ve wanted you for so long. Now I can finally have you.” His hands seem to be frantic as he pulls your shorts from your hips and down your thighs before discarding them. Is he frantic or is this normal speed? His coat is gone and he pulls his hoodie over his head, his shirt stuck inside it. He’s next to you a fraction of a moment later

His warm hands graze your hips as he pulls the oversized shirt off of you, the crack of static electricity sparking from your hair as it's pulled through the collar in your ears. His hand gently rests your head back down on the pillow. You whine again and try to cover your bare chest with your small hands. He notices and pulls them away. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he reassures, mistaking your modesty for insecurity. He’s lying on top of you now, chest to chest. The heat of his bare skin as he presses into you, his hands tracing the shape of your waist and hips. He seems to be mesmerized.

“We can’t-” you want to scream, but even you aren’t sure your thoughts matched what came out of your mouth. Your hands try to push him off of you, but he’s too solid, too in control. When that doesn’t work, you slap his chest, but you don’t really feel the impact on your palm. You’re too numb. He grabs your wrist.

“I don’t use my hands to harm and you won’t either.” He says this firmly, eyes locked on yours, but follows up with, “Behave or I’ll have to tie you up so you don’t hurt yourself.” The latter comes out softer, more timid like the Peter you know.

His head dips down as he places sloppy, unpracticed open mouth kisses on your neck and shoulder. Quickly this turns into full sucking. You angle your chin to the side, scanning your nightstand for something, anything to help you. You eye a book, hardcover, heavy hand reaching up to grab for it. Maybe you can hit him hard enough to buy time.

Peter catches your movement and lets out an irritated, though shaky, sigh as it leaves his lips. “What did I say?”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, silver device. He grabs both of your arms and places each palm on an iron bar on the headboard before a white, sticky, material shoots from it and seals your hands to it. You pull, but they don’t budge. He tosses it aside and slides down your body as you fight against your restraints.

The cool air brushes against you where your panties were. Vision unfocused, try to reconcile the split image of him and merge it into one. It’s dim in here, but it looks like he has your panties in his fingers as he tosses them aside. He lowers himself to his forearms, eyes never leaving your face. Or you think he’s looking at your face.

His nose brushes against your slit, tentatively, as you flinch. Your tongue is motionless in your mouth, but feels swollen, like it will suffocate you. All the things you want to say are being swallowed in your constricted throat.

His tongue pokes out as you manage to shake your head a fraction bit side to side. It probes your folds, uncertain. It takes him a few attempts, but he seems to find a technique he likes. The flat of his tongue swiping up as he breaks eye contact and his eyes roll back, indulged in the taste of you.

The sight of him enthralled in your most delicate region forces a squeak from you. His eyes snap open and his hands grip your hips a bit harder as he dives his mouth onto you. Seemingly encouraged by your noises and movements.

“You taste so good, baby.” He says, breathless, before he dives back in. Suddenly, his mouth finds your clit and he flicks his tongue against it hard. It’s too much pressure and it has you wriggling, brow furrowed.

He seems to notice this, because he modifies and begins sucking on your clit instead. A shock wave is sent through you, your hips angle up to meet his mouth eagerly. Taking this as a sign to continue, he inserts two fingers inside you, stretching your hole.

Quivering, you try to fight off the orgasm building, thighs clenching his head. He seems superhuman as his fingers never cease their rhythmic curling inside you and his mouth sucks the life from you. Whatever he gave you makes it impossible for you to take deep breaths and the orgasm that drenches your body in sweat steals the air from your lungs. He slows his motions as you ride his fingers and mouth before slowly removing both from you.

He seems proud of himself as he says, “I’ve always wanted to do that to you.” It’s almost endearing, but then you remember you’re drugged and bound.

Stalking you like the prey you are, he crawls up your body and slides his pants and briefs off his hips. He’s already hard as you try to focus your vision on him. Unable to tell how thick he is, you wonder if it will hurt. Perhaps if he caused you pain, your body would snap and find the adrenaline you need to get away. You pull against the bars again, hoping to break free. In the very least, your head lulls side to side in protest.

“I didn’t bring a condom, but we don’t need to worry about that. I’ll always take care of you.” He says, his forearm resting next to your head while his other hand reaches down, lining himself up with you. He pushes forward, breaching your entrance. Removing his hand, it moves to cup your head in his hand, sound muffled as he presses his palm hard against your skull.

Unable to move your head as he cradles it, your eyes flutter, unable to make him out clearly. His eyes penetrate yours, his eyes a deeper brown than you noticed before. His lips are parted as he catches his breath.

He slowly pushes forward, inch by inch. Your wet channel stretches and forms to him as he slips inside you. Despite the heaviness in your limbs and numbing to your skin, you can feel how your body accommodates him. The feeling of him is amplified by his heavy breathing in your ear as he pulls back and slams back into you.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” You try to tune him out, the only thing you really focus on is the wet sound of your slick as he draws more from you. Your body operates on sensation alone and all you can feel is him. He finds a rhythm that seems inhumanly fast as his hips push yours into the mattress harder and harder. 

He presses his chest against yours again and you can’t tell whose body temperature is higher. The desire within you builds. Fighting through the haze, you cry out, spine arching off the bed. The fabric is damp beneath your hips and you wish you could be embarrassed by it.

Both of your breaths grow louder, more frantic. On particular thrusts when he tilts his hips. the tick of his cock angles up to hit your g spot, you let out a moan. Encouraged by this, the corner of his mouth lifts into a cocky smile.

“Louder, baby.” He commands breathlessly, seeming to find his courage.

He lifts his chest from yours and kneels, his hands lifting your hips up with him, your ass no longer on the bed. Grabbing for your ankles, hooking your heels over his brawny shoulders, he slams back into you. His forearm wraps around your shins, holding them in place while his opposite fingers find your sensitive clit. Letting out breathless gasps, you can’t catch your breath or restrain your vocal cords. He continues plowing into you, fingers rubbing diagonally, frantically, against you.

“Come for me, Y/N. Soak my cock.” Something about this version of Peter, this feral side of the sweet delivery guy you thought you knew, makes you come again. Eyes rolling back, your lids closing as his hips become frantic. He squeezes your legs like a lifeline as he comes inside you, a loud grunt from above you.

He pulls out of you and lowers your hips to the bed. The euphoria sets in and your taught muscles relax into the bed. Leaning over you and he connects his nose with yours as he catches his breath. You’re both hot, a thin layer of sweat over your skin, but that could be from whatever he gave you. Your shoulders are stiff and you try to tug again on the headboard.

“Oh,” he chuckles, “those will dissolve soon.”

Abruptly, he gets up, wiping his cock against the inside of your panties, before he slips them back on and settles them on your hips. His come drips out of you and into the panties, keeping you wet and reminded of him. How did this happen? You never let anyone inside the safety of your home.

Moments pass as you process this. Faintly, you hear his feet on the carpet before he’s back in your room, sipping on the soda he brought you.

“Thirsty?” He asks and angles the straw to your mouth.

“My shoulders hurt,” you murmur out.

“Then next time don’t fight me. I think you understand that now, don’t you?”

Even without touching you, he is still inside of you. There is a faint pulsing from your clit that radiates down to the soles of your feet. Rhythmic and matches your pulse as you come down. Your arms and thighs goosebump from the chill in the air and you can feel the balloon in your head deflate. But you’re still unable to respond to him so you lie there, surrendering to his power over you. 

[comicaurora]

Out of curiosity, how did you rework the story when you realized that Kendal wouldn't even think about hiding anything from Alinua? How would it/how do you think it would have gone originally if the rest of the group had all had been blindsided by him being jailed, and what do you think came out of this change in terms of character interactions and such?

Interesting question! This arc has evolved pretty significantly, but that change was honestly fairly minor in the grand scheme of things. In the original plan it would've led to Alinua being just as blindsided, and her inner conflict would've been less "do I respect his wishes or do I save him" and more "do I save him or is the risk of collateral damage too great".

For the extreme "what could've been" version: In the earliest draft of this arc, like, the pre-Tynan-as-a-thing draft where it was much smaller in scope, Kendal wasn't going to be imprisoned at all. After seeing the gladiator situation, which had a somewhat longer focus in the first draft than just Falst peeking over the colosseum wall and getting judgy about it, Falst and Alinua would've both independently decided to break in and help out - Falst with the plan "let's snap off every lock in the place" and Alinua with "I could tell that guy wasn't getting adequate medical treatment, let's see if I can help." They'd heist their way in together and reach Dainix's cell, only to find the lock snapped off and Kendal already inside, having a pleasant conversation with Dainix (and obviously having decided on his own to break him out, making Erin literally the only person who was planning on doing that the legal way). On the way out there would've been a bossfight in the arena to wrap things up, and the arc would've been over in a single night.

The thing is, this version had several problems. Putting the focus on Dainix worked from a plot perspective, but in-character it didn't make sense for these good-hearted paragons to only care about the plight of one random prison gladiator. If I was going to introduce something as massive as "huge corrupt industrial prison complex plus bloodsport," if my characters didn't appropriately acknowledge the implications of that, it'd make them significantly less heroic. This version also fully put Erin on the shelf for the duration of the plot and was overall a little too clean and simple, with a lot more telling than showing.

And a lot of my earlier drafts are less connected to the overarching plot, which isn't inherently a bad thing, but managing the pacing of a webcomic turned out to be much more complicated than I'd realized when I was writing out the top-down story timeline. As I recall, the original version of this "episode" had nothing about the paladins, and it was much more one of Erin's whims, chasing down an interesting rumor he'd heard. That's barely more than a filler premise, and I couldn't internally justify spending something like three real-world months on a single filler chapter, let alone several chapters. The story expanded and got more impactful, more connected - it didn't leave characters on the shelf to justify punchlines.

Acknowledging the implications of the prison-bloodsport thing turned into Zuurith becoming much more of a character, and more of a problem. That reverberated back onto the main cast - I didn't want to just pay lip service to an unjust system, I wanted to show-not-tell some of the problems without turning it into a cartoonish axis of evil. For instance, if the discriminatory problems Falst faced were only theoretical or offscreen, his whole storyline would be severely weakened, but the same thing would happen if I leaned too far into the "every non-protagonist in this world is a cartoon racist who rotates between one of three fantasy slurs but can be firmly trounced with Facts And Logic by a two-sentence speech about friendship" angle. And as I explored that, Alinua's place in the arc became more interesting, since to her this is an incredibly exciting new experience (a city! so many people! so much stuff!!) but she also recognizes how rough it is for Falst specifically, and then more broadly for everyone the system isn't explicitly built to serve or protect, putting her in an odd liminal position with a great view of the bad parts of the system without being directly victimized by it. And then there's Erin, almost totally insulated from the problems but starting to realize that that doesn't give him the ability to protect any of the people he brought with him. Now I have story-specific character arcs for three main characters and conflict baked in!

There's a lot more that I kind of can't get into without spoiling huge swaths of upcoming events, but it's always neat to look back at the refinement process.

[ana-benn]

Public Relations

This is Steve knowing how thirsty these hoes be....

It's me...

I'm these hoes.

Warnings: Dom/sub relationship, smut, Steve Rogers, pining, angst, jealousy

Pairing: Steve/Stark!reader

Title: Public Relations

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

As Tony Stark's daughter, and personal PR specialist you'd weathered a lot of storms.

As the chief PR strategist for the now defunct SHIELD, you'd learned to keep a level head and roll with the punches.

As Steve Rogers girlfriend? Well that's where you'd learned to let go of the control and let the Captain take over. He was firm, and left very little room to wonder who was in charge at any point. Even your dad and Nat had stopped teasing you about dating the 100 year old virgin.

In all honesty Steve was probably the kindest man you'd been with, and he made a point of making sure you were comfortable and satisfied. You trusted him with everything inside of you. It was sometimes difficult to find the hard dominant edge to him, but you were in love and every part of him balanced out every part of you.

Today though? Today you were in the conference room of a prison staring at the hard eyes of your boyfriend with your dad in the corner and an assassin of mythological proportions 20 feet below you. You were here as the Avengers PR manager, NOT his girlfriend or his submissive, though that hard edge in his eyes as you stared at him and he stared back was definitely one you'd seen on a few occasions.

"Steve, General Ross agreed to let you walk out of here a free man. Just sign the papers and we launch the story that you didn't sign so you could get close enough to the Winter Soldier to bring him in. Sam's agreed to go along if you do!" You plead with him.

"What about Bucky?"

"Steve, he bombed the UN!" You said exasperated, you'd been going through this dance for over an hour.

"No he didn't! He was halfway across Europe," Steve ground out.

"Okay, but you can't fix that from prison," you reasoned.

"Did you read this thing y/n?"

"Of course I did. I'll admit it isn't perfect but people are scared. Just sign it Steve." There was a new weariness to your voice now. You knew this wasn't a battle you would win.

Just as that realization dawned on you an alarm went off.

The next few hours flew by. Steve, Sam, and the Winter Soldier broke out. General Ross issued an ultimatum about getting them back, and your dad suddenly seemed to age 10 years.

One thing was abundantly clear though:

As far as the Government was concerned, Steve was no longer an Avenger.

...........3 months later.............

You'd spent the last three months in a fog.

The first month was spent caring for your dad and getting him back on his feet, before Pepper came in and took over. Then you'd gone back to you and Steve's two-bedroom apartment and burried yourself in work. Now since you'd been home you found yourself slowly purging Steve. It hurt too much to see the photos, or have his clothes hanging next to yours. So you'd taken to putting his things in the spare bedroom. Out of sight, but still there. You weren't sure if he'd ever come back to get it, but it felt wrong to throw it away.

Your moods shifted constantly. On one hand you missed the quiet talks and late night conversation, on the other you wanted to hate him for hiding the man who murdered your grandparents. You felt sick at how easily he'd turned against your father. Still you found yourself stealing his clothes and spraying his aftershave on his pillow when you couldn't sleep. Needing his scent and familiar things to bring you comfort.

More than that you found yourself feeling more overwhelmed and anxious all the time now. There was no break from being your business persona. You were constantly being a strong woman on her own, being thrown to the wolves each and every press day. There was no one for you to lean into and hand the reins to anymore.

You missed demanding kisses with rough hands. Sharp thrusts and teeth in your soft flesh. Being completely at someone's control without fear and in complete bliss. Your body knew the difference too, you couldn't even get yourself off anymore, you needed to be dominated.

Which is how you found yourself out to dinner with a guy Pepper knew from Stark Industries. Quinton was a nice enough guy you supposed, but had none of the power behind him Steve did. You knew it wasn't going anywhere after the third time he apologized for talking about the project he was working on with your dad, but you didn't want to be rude.

So you small talked your way through dinner, and gave him a brief kiss on the cheek as you walked to your car. Thanking your foresight to drive separately, and avoid an awkward ride to your apartment. You made the drive home, and as soon as you turned on the light you yelped out loud.

“Steve, what the hell are you doing here?” you said as you made your way to the open blinds. “You should not be here. You’re literally wanted by the UN.” 

“Who was he?” came Steve’s tight reply.

“Who was who Steve? Friday, disengage Stark monitoring software and erase the last three hours of feedback,” you said. “Authorization, Y/N Stark,” Automatically moving to protect your fugitive boyfriend.

“Don’t play with me kitten,” Steve ground out. “The douche at the restaurant.” 

“What, did you follow me? You're talking about Quinton? You disappear for three months with the assassin who killed my grandparents and you’re jealous of a blind date?” you questioned, temper rising. “You don’t get to be jealous. Not anymore, I gave you an opportunity and you didn’t take it.” 

“Really kitten? You think you call the shots now?” Steve said, standing up and walking towards you. “You think I don’t know what you want? What you need? What you’ve been craving?” 

With each step he was backing you towards the wall, “You don’t know what I want Steve. You left remember,” you said, hating how weak and broken your voice sounded. 

“I know kitten, and I’m sorry for leaving you, but I’m here now,” Steve’s voice softened. His eyes darted to your lips, and before you could register who kissed who his hands were lifting you up to him and you lips melded in an earth shattering kiss. 

As your hands settled on his head you felt his bulge press into your core, “Steve,” you moaned.

“I thought I didn’t know what you needed,” he smirked as his lips moved to your neck and his fingers worked their way under your skirt. “Now beg for me kitten, or I’ll have to make you.” His fingers began teasing your wetness under your skirt.

“Please Captain, I’ve missed you,” you whimpered. "Don't tease me, please, you don't know what it's been like."

“I know kitten,” he murmured as he plunged two fingers into your core. You groaned as he began pumping into you. “Such a good girl aren’t you honey. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

“Oh God, Captain..... I....I’m going to......” you moaned out embarrassingly quickly.

“Shhhh, I know. I’ve got you, cum for me. I want to feel you,” he said as he pulled your long awaited orgasm from you.

As you were coming down you felt Steve enter you, pulling another groan from you. You hadn't even been aware that he'd unbuckled his pants.

“That’s it kitten, you take me so good baby,” his hips pounding you in your entryway. “I’m going to make sure you remember who owns this pretty little pussy. You knew that before you even tried to go on that date didn't you? Who makes you feel like this?”

“Steve!” you cried at a sharp thrust.

“That’s right honey. I do," he growled into your neck.

He was quiet after that, focusing more on marking any exposed skin with his lips and teeth. His hands, frustrated at working around your panties chose to just rip your clothing from your body. You moaned at his raw power, pawing pitifully at his shirt wanting his skin on yours.

He separated his lips from you long enough to pull his shirt over his head. He immediately reaffixed his lips to you, and brought a hand to your clit. He worked your body, focused now on bringing you to the edge. As you fell over he held you tight to his body, as he moved back towards your shared bedroom.

You noticed his throat tighten at his side of the closet being empty, and an unidentified look in his eyes at the sight of his aftershave and t shirt on your nightstand. Your hand found his face, bringing his eyes to yours, "I missed you."

His lips reattached to yours. You both knew a real conversation needed to happen, but for tonight you needed to surrender and Steve needed to lay his claim. There was a hunger in him for you that he needed to satisfy like a panther reclaiming his land. He was all hands and teeth, with soft words and possessive demands. By the time you dozed off on his chest that night, pure exhaustion settled deep in your bones, you knew no matter what came next you knew you weren't going to let Steve leave again. You needed each other, and this dance you'd learned together optional. You belonged together, and that was all you cared about.

Tags: @beauvibaby

[lubdubsworld]

Better Man. ( Taehyung x OC)

Chapter 1    Chapter 2

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.

Chapter 3 ~ The problem with marriage is this  : it isn’t worth the pain of divorce. 

Denial isn’t healthy.

 But sometimes it helps you stay sane , at least long enough to get your act together. When you’re in denial, you kind of keep yourself together a bit. You process things a bit more slowly. Take your time examining the facts. 

It helps you make a delayed but possibly more informed decision.

 Impulsive decisions never end well.

 So it’s good to stew in denial for a while ( a short while) and then slowly begin processing what happened, think about it, think how its gonna affect you and then make a choice. 

Unfortunately for Taehyung and I... I wasn’t in denial. 

Maybe I should have been.

 The time between Taehyung turning up drunk and the me leaving the house was less than twelve hours. Taehyung showed up drunk and I just told him I was leaving. That we needed a break and I didn’t know when I’d be back. 

Terrible choice.

 In the first twelve hours, the hurt is so potent and strong , the wound so raw and fresh that you can’t think beyond the pain . Your instinct is to repay the pain, to retaliate and make the other party feel exactly what you’re feeling. So you think of the thing that would hurt them the most and you go ahead and do it. 

Like move out of your shared home of eight years, take away the son he adored and possibly rip the ground right out from under his feet. 

And then after the first twelve hours, reason begins to catch up. 

I had wanted to go back. 

I had wanted to go back to him but I was scared. 

Scared that I was being weak.

 That if I didn’t stick to the choice I made, Taehyung would forever see me as a pushover. That he would take it as some sick permission to do it all over again. That he’d just think I was too weak to walk out on him. 

And i couldn’t have that. I couldn’t have him hurting me and not facing the consequences of it. I just couldn’t.

So I stayed away. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I worked on the seventh floor of a high rise in Gangnam, probably a twenty minute drive from Taehyung’s agency. It was an electronic/ tech company that dealt with everything from mobile phones to home fittings . As the  assistant director of Marketing I dealt with branding and keeping up the image of the company. Annual budgets, endorsements, campaigns and what not. 

I was good at it and i enjoyed it . everyone agreed that i did a good job because the numbers spoke for themselves. But I think the main reason I got the job was because I was married to the biggest brand ambassador in the country. 

“ I need the reports on consumer trends for this month and I want to meet with Social media team before lunch. There’s a drop in our web traffic and that needs to be fixed.” I told my assistant, accepting the hot coffee and muffin that he held in his hand before moving to the corner office, my strides faltering just a bit when i noticed that  someone  was already inside. The figure had his back to me but I could vaguely recognize the broad shoulders and muscular arms. 

“Mr. Jeon’s been waiting for about ten minutes now.” Mingyu said with a smile and I nodded. 

“That’s fine , I’ll handle him.” I waved my assistant off and moved to the  door, unlocking it and stepping in. 

“Morning, Jang Mi.” He smiled, eyes flashing with ill concealed delight and I inhaled to calm myself down. . 

I could already feel a headache coming on. 

“Jungkook.” I said curtly. “ To what do I owe this very early visit?”  I glanced at my table finally taking the bottle of champagne in the small ice bucket. 

“Thought we’d celebrate you finally being free.” He grinned. 

Jeon Jungkook was handsome, intelligent , and annoyingly good at everything he did.

At 34,  He was one of the youngest CFO’s in the industry, and everything he touched turned to gold. I didn’t report to him and he had zero reasons to be in my office at any given time. But , unfortunately he had never gotten that particular memo. 

“I’m not in the mood, Jungkook.” I sighed, moving to the back of my desk and dropping my bag on the small ottoman on the side and my keys in the desk. I plugged my phone into the cable on the side and then went to open the blinds. 

“Come on... You know how sick I’ve been of two years of  hearing ‘ I’m sorry, I’m married.’ .... you’re gonna have to come up with  a better excuse the next time i ask you out.” 

“No. No is a whole entire sentence that you should be able to accept.” I said evenly, fixing the cushions on the couch only to have him plop down on them immediately after. 

“One date. Dinner anywhere you like. i can fly you to Paris if you want.... Macua? Jeju Do? Tell me what you want and I’ll get it done. ?” 

i stared at him. 

“I want you to fire Kang Yeseul from the Social Media team.” I said with a shrug. 

He frowned. 

“The new girl? Why?” 

“She’s been posting nudes that she took in my office when I was on leave last week. My name plate is literally visible.”

“Jesus fuck...these bitches get dumber by the minute.”

I couldn’t even deny it.

“I’ll take care of it.” He said swiftly. “ Anything else?”

“Web traffics gone down and I’m gonna find out why. It’s probably time for us to work out the budget for the Christmas Carnival. I think we should go for something new this time. If you can set up a meeting with all the department heads we can brainstorm a few ideas...” 

“I can’t forget about that night.” 

I froze. 

God. 

i turned around to stare at him as he lounged on the couch. If Kim Taehyung was the most handsome man I’d ever seen, Jungkook was definitely the second.

 He was disconcertingly good looking and where Taehyung’s image was always the clean cut gentleman with the perfect character, Jungkook had a reputation as a bit of a delinquent. Simply because he had a penchant for leather jackets and liked to ride around Seoul on his motorbike on days off. 

Which was ironical because in truth, Taehyung was far from a saint and Jungkook was relatively more put together 

He was also a divorcee and a single parent. His daughter Jennie was easily the cutest two year old on the planet.

His wife and him had fifty fifty custody but she had cheated on him with his best friend. Jungkook had no patience for her. They had a very volatile relationship but he was fighting for full custody and rumor was that he would most certainly be granted it, soon. 

A marathon runner ,  he didn’t drink or smoke.  

Jungkook liked to paint and volunteered at an animal shelter once or twice a month because he loved dogs but couldn’t keep one because of his busy schedule. 

So all in all , a pretty solid candidate if I was looking for a guy. 

Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that I was completely and utterly done with relationships for the rest of my life, I would actually give the guy a chance. 

But , it is what it is. 

“That sounds like a  you  problem. “ I shrugged. “ It was supposed to be  one  night  with no strings attached. And by string I meant awkward conversations three months later .” 

Jungkook groaned and sat up straighter, legs spread and shirt sleeves riding up to show a very sparkly watch. Rich men and their vices. I smirked a little. 

“Come on... its just dinner. I want to get to know you, that’s it.” he held his hands up. 

“There’s nothing to know Jungkook. I’m actually more boring than i appear, which is saying something. I’m not going to be the girl in the leather jacket clinging to your waist when you’re joyriding that motorbike of yours through Seoul. That’s not me. I would hate something that” 

He chuckled. 

“Are you sure? You ever tried it?”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“That’s not the point.”

“I’ll buy you a jacket. Join me this weekend. We’ll go a ride. Then you can make a decision.” 

I opened my mouth to argue when the phone rang. I grabbed it quickly.

“Hello?” 

“This is Lee Taemin from the Advertising Department.”

“Yes?”

“We have a Mr. Jung from HYBE on the phone. They want to talk to us about a possible candidate for our Christmas Campaign.... “

I blinked, surprised. 

“We haven’t even decided on a theme yet. “

Choosing the right actors to endorse stuff was usually the last step. 

“I know but he’s saying they want to talk about Mr. Kim Taehyung as a possible candidate?”

I felt my entire jaw come unhinged. 

I turned to Jungkook stunned. His eyes widened at the look on my face and he mouthed a ‘ What’ 

“Please tell him I’ll call him back in fifteen minutes.” I said quickly.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook demanded. 

“Taehyung’s manager...he... he wants to make him the face of the Christmas Campaign.” I said dully, mind ringing. I was utterly stupefied. 

Taehyung was the face of Gucci and Versace . He was so far out of our company’s league it wasn’t even funny. 

Jungkook stared at me in disbelief.

“No.” He said quickly.

I gaped at him.

“What?” 

“No... we can’t have that. He’s.. he’s obviously doing this to get back with you...”

I shook my head.

“that can’t be it. He’s the one who gave me a divorce. He’s the one who wanted to end it. “ 

It was the shock of what I’d heard. There was no other explanation for why I said that to Jeon Jungkook. 

Jungkook gave me a look.

“Really? But you wanted one too right?”

“Of course I did.” I lied easily, waving him off. “Anyway that doesn’t matter. We can’t say no to him, Jungkook. Our sales would skyrocket if we get him onboard.” 

Jungkook swore.

“Fuck, you’re right. The Ceo will probably piss himself in excitement. You sure you’ll be okay with it?”

Jungkook looked worried. 

“You forget that Taehyung and I are actually quite good friends.” I said gently. 

He grimaced.

“That's just unnatural. If you can stay friends with an ex it clearly means that either you’re still in love with each other or....”He shrugged. 

“Or what?” 

“Or you never loved each other in the first place.” 

I swallowed the remark hitting a little too close to home for comfort. 

“Schedule that meeting Jungkook. We’ll come up with a campaign theme that would fit Taehyung’s image. I’ll take to Hoseok and Taehyung.” 

“You’re going to call Taehyung?” Jungkook asked casually.

“Hoshi’s with him today. I’ll probably go over to his place after work and talk to him in person.” 

“Lucky bastard. He gets to hurt you and yet  still have you.” Jungkook said bitterly. 

I rolled my eyes.

“He doesn’t have me.”

“Doesn’t he? Why else would you turn down dates with anyone who asks? its one date.. a dinner... If you’re not still hung up on your ex husband why wouldn’t     you just go on one date with-”

I’d really had quite enough of it. I threw my hands up in sheer exasperation. 

“Alright fine.” I yelled, “  I’ll go to dinner with you...can you just stop psycho analyzing my relationship with my husband?” 

Jungkook’s smile told me that I’d been played like a fiddle. 

“excellent. Go see your husband after work and I’ll come pick you up at eight.” 

“What...no wait...”

“I know where he lives. Don’t worry about it. I’ll schedule that meeting and maybe after lunch we can go over the kind of budget you’ll want. Okay?”

I felt a little like I’d stepped into quagmire. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn’t go see Taehyung after work. 

I didn’t have to. 

An hour before I was due to finish my daily report, he turned up at the office with my son. My assistant let him in and I could only gape at him.

“What are you guys doing here?” I asked , completely thrown. 

“Mama I had ice cream with strawberries and sprinkles in a hundred colors.” Hoshi looked excited, eyes shining the way they usually did when he was with Taehyung. 

“That sound incredibly exciting....”

“We missed you mama....can we go again?” He said excitedly.

“I’m sorry honey, Mama’s a little caught up with work...”

“Why don’t we wait?” Taehyung said cheerfully, “ Mama likes blueberry scones so we can get those for her...” 

I stared at him.

“Okay...” I sad carefully, staring him down. What was he doing really?

“Okay... Can I go see the fishies....” Hoshi waved at the large fish tank built into the wall in my office and Taehyung laughed, letting him down.

“Sure bud.. go see how many of the fish you can identify...” He said brightly. 

“ Since when do you pick me up for blueberry scones after work?” I asked briskly and he shrugged.

“Let the kid be happy , Mia. I heard Hobi hyung already spoke to you.”

“What is that all about, Tae?” I said tiredly. 

“All the other offers i got are out of Korea. I want to stay with Hoshi during the Holidays so i thought this way , we could spend some time together..”

“By we, I hope you mean you and Hoshi.” I said drily.

“Of course. I could’ve picked another mall or something but i thought it could be a good thing if we worked at the same place... we can keep Hoshi with us and there wont be all the commuting back and forth nonsense....” 

I nodded. 

“I suppose you’re right. “ I sighed. “But be warned, you’re probably not going to have a very exciting time. 

“I’ll enjoy it nonetheless.” 

I nodded. 

“I won’t tell you how to live your life And I most certainly won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. My Ceo might just give me a huge pay raise for this. He’s been waiting for it since the time he hired me.”

Taehyung gave me a smile.

“I would have done it the minute you asked. You never asked.” 

I shrugged. 

“Like I said, I won’t tell you how to live your life.” 

“Jang Mi?” The knock on the door made us both look up.

Jungkook stood framed in the doorway, jacket off and slung over his arms . He looked bigger than usual, muscles straining against his button down and hair mussed. 

He stepped in casually, holding a hand out to Taehyung.

“The golden boy of Korea. in the flesh. A pleasure to meet you Mr. Kim. I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook” 

The pair of them shook hands and I felt that I would rather be anywhere in the world than there. 

“ Nice to meet you Mr. Jeon.” Taehyung smiled politely. 

“We still on for tonight?” Jungkook asked casually, turning to me with a bright smile. 

This is why i hated men. 

Taehyung’s eyes snapped to me so fast that i was sure he must’ve got whiplash. 

“Sure. I’ll call you.” I said shortly. 

“What’s tonight?” Taehyung smiled, face neutral and smile still in place but his eyes flashed and his voice carried a knife edge to it. 

“Business dinner. We’re going over the budget for the Christmas campaign.” 

“Oh... where?” Taehyung asked with the same smile and I frowned.

“We’ve not decid-”

“I thought I could cook for you. i make a mean steak dinner and I thought I could pick up a bottle of your favorite wine on the way. You have my address right? ” Jungkook smiled. 

Taehyung went still next to me, his entire body taut . 

“A little inappropriate for a business dinner, don’t you think?” he snapped.

Jungkook glared back at him, eyes narrowed. 

“Well, you know what they say about all work and no play-” he began but I’d had enough. 

“I think this conversation needs to end now.” I said loudly. 

They  both shut up but glared at each other.

“I’m gonna make a reservation at the Hyatt for tonight. I’ll meet you there at seven thirty. “ I said, glaring at Jungkook. 

He nodded.

“Pleasure meeting you Kim Taehyung.” He nodded curtly at my ex husband before moving away. 

The silence he left behind was pretty awkward. 

“Bit too much of a douchebag than your usual type.” Taehyung said casually. 

I groaned.

“Don’t start.” 

“ I won’t if you don’t date him.” 

I opened my mouth to argue but then stopped. 

“Lets just get that ice cream ? “ I said tiredly. Hoshi reappeared from the inside room, looking excited and happy and I smiled despite my weariness. 

I could use a little sweetness in my life after a bitterly exhausting day. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s note : Feedback is welcome . Probably going to be a long , terribly angsty fic with a lot of pain for everyone involved. I still haven’t decided who ocs going to end up with so we’ll see... what do you guys think? 

[wannabe-fic-writer]

All Over Again - Chapter 1

Summary: What was lost can be found. - DC & Marvel AU

Pairings: Lena x Reader ; Implied Natasha x Reader ; Platonic!Avengers x Reader ; Platonic!Superfriends x Reader 

Warning: 18+ Smut, Language, Violence

* * * * * *

Sighing, you splay yourself out on the grass, looking up at the distorted view of the sky as the red leaves of the tree above you sway. The gentle breeze sends a chill over your skin but it’s much too calming for you to move.

“Am I going to have to start carrying jackets around with me again?”

The familiarly sultry voice meets your ears over the sounds of nature. It makes your heart thump faster like it always had but this time an ache accompanies it. Her joking tone holds an underlying nervousness and you have to resist the urge to scoff at the drastic change in your conversations together. 

You could never forget the moment everything shifted. Your entire relationship with Natasha fell to pieces. All the love and trust that had grown stronger each year that you were together seemed to mean nothing to her suddenly.

Months on the run from the U.S. government, planning your futures together, it blew to hell in literal seconds. 

Everything you’d grown to know and love was pulled out from underneath you with three simple words: Hi, Bruce. Followed by the awkward pause and nervous, Nat.

Hope rose in your girlfriend’s eyes and you were unsure why. The main reason being that you were recruited by Fury during the Sokovia incident. You never met the infamous Bruce Banner turn Hulk, and didn't know about his history with your girl. And Natasha hadn’t found it necessary to tell you about it either.

Which left you in the dark and completely blindsided by Natasha’s decision to end things with you. Simply telling you she owed it to herself to see where things with Bruce went. And you being the person you are and loving Natasha the way that you do, you wanted her to be happy despite your heartbreak. 

All of that rested on your shoulders at the same time that Thanos appeared. Your broken heart seemed to shatter further when you lost your best friend Wanda and the many friends you’d gained. 

For five years you hurt. Grieving your lost friends and dealing with your broken heart. It seemed as though Natasha breaking up with you wasn’t even worth it as Banner left after Thanos and they didn’t see each other for five years.

Even after the five years though, you still were coping with your heartbreak despite the Avengers having gotten rid of Thanos for good. As you then had the privilege of seeing Natasha and Bruce together. And you could admit that they look good together, happy. 

Which means you need to find your own. You just aren’t sure how. 

You take a deep breath and look up at the redhead who’s watched you in your silence.“ I hadn’t planned on staying out here long so I didn’t grab one.” You respond, deciding to ignore her not so subtle hint at your relationship and personal quirk. 

Jackets are just the last thing you think about before you leave out and Natasha used to take it upon herself to bring one for you whenever you were with her. 

She smiles tightly and nods,“ okay. Well I was just coming to let you know that Steve and Bucky are almost done with dinner.”

When you nod in answer Natasha waits, silently debating if she wanted to say anything else or not, but chose not to and finally walked away. You waited a few extra minutes before pushing yourself up and heading toward the compound.

As you’re walking up to the door, your red leather clad friend lands beside you, her magic vanishing from her hands before she flings her arms around you. 

“Hello to you too.” You chuckle, hugging her back. 

Wanda smiles brightly,“ hi.” 

A small smile of your own hitting your lips. You’d missed the young woman as she was away on a mission with Sam. They weren’t far, just on the East Coast, but they’d been gone for a week, which was more than enough for you to begin to miss her.

Before either of you step into the building, she grabs your hand and laces your fingers together, gently tugging you off to the side. Soft light green eyes stare back sympathetically,“ how are you?” 

“Wan-” you sigh, running a hand up and through your hair.

“I’m just worried about you.” A little pout hits her lips followed by a joking smile,“ and I’m kind of the only reason you’re sane.”  

You throw your head back with a laugh. Then shaking your head and wrapping an arm around her shoulders,“ I’m fine Wanda. Thank you for the concern and sanity.”

Placing a quick kiss to her temple, you guide her into the building, more than happy to have your best friend back.

Like Natasha had told you, Steve and Bucky already have the table set and everyone is sitting around. No matter how hard you try, your gaze finds Bruce and Natasha, the man leans over to say something to her and a cute smile rises, reminding you of the one you’d caused her to have before. 

A squeeze of your hand pulls your eyes away and you nod to Wanda before sitting down beside her. Usual chatter circles the table, Sam and Wanda talking a bit about the mission briefly, and then asking all of you about what’s been going on. 

By the end of dinner you’re a mix of annoyed and happy. Your friends had made you laugh and smile just like usual, except every time you got lost in the joy of it all you forgot what was across from you and your gaze caught the image of Natasha and Bruce flirting, laughing, and smiling. It makes you so upset that you still wish it were you with her.

It’s been six years! What happens to time heals all wounds? Was that just a load of shit? Would you genuinely have to deal with being all bitter and jealous for the rest of your life.

“Welp,” you smack your hands to your thighs,“ Steve, Buck, dinner was incredible, thank you, but I have a few things I need to attend to so if you’ll excuse me.” Standing, you grab your plate and glass. 

“Not so fast Y/Ln,” his voice rings clear not but a second after you walked away.“ You’re all here for once so I’d like to inform you that you’ll all be attending the Stark Industries Investment dinner tomorrow night.” Tony smiles, eyes crinkling in the corners.

Your eyes narrow,“ what exactly would the Avengers be doing for your companies investors.”

“Persuading, encouraging, indulging. Investors would kill to hear mission stories and about all your equipment.” His tone is sweet, as if he’s trying to convince you all to come.

A party/dinner isn’t exactly what you’re feeling up to right now. And quite frankly it’s not necessary for every Avenger to show up.

From the looks of Steve’s face he isn’t going but you still have a bit of hope that is, until he speaks up,“ Bucky and I have a mission.”

Tony gives an expectant gaze to the rest of you.

“I’m always down to party.” Sam shrugs nonchalantly before returning to his food, pretty sure this is his third plate.

Bruce sighs,“ I’m under the impression that this isn’t an option for me.” 

Tony’s grimace is answer enough, but he still says,“ it is not. Also, no offense, probably don’t show up all big and green. The venue is large but-”

“Ah ah ah I got it.” The big green man waves his hand, then smiling down at Natasha,“ mind accompanying me?” She instantly smiles and nods and that small little gesture is enough for you to head out. 

Further, Tony goes,“ Maximoff?” 

And Wanda responds,“ I’ll only go if Y/n does.”

Dammit Wanda!

Turning on your heel, you have every intention of saying no. Only to find her giving you that damn pout, followed by her whispering,“ please.”

“Alright whatever.” 

With that you leave, cleaning your dishes, and then going straight to bed. In the morning you take extra care to avoid Natasha, you eat while she’s in the gym, only going to train after she’s long gone, and eating lunch on the roof with Wanda. 

You make it as far as into the venue for the Investment dinner before you have to see her again. Even then you wish you were blind. 

God she’s beautiful. It’s criminal the way that dress fits on her. And just as your eyes trail up her long legs and over the curves of her body to her piercing green eyes, her looking back at you pulls you to reality. 

You no longer have the right to look at her that way. No matter how good she looks, you can’t look at her like that. No, the man beside her is the only person who carries that privilege. 

“I’m gonna need a drink to get through this.” You sigh, beeligning for the bar instead of your seat. 

Wanda sticks close to you, definitely having seen your staring. 

Leaning against the bar, you wait for the bartender to come your way, then asking for an old-fashioned and you wait. Beside you, Wanda’s eyes flicker over the room, a nervousness in them. 

“Hey,” you nudge her arm with your elbow,“ I’d say it’s not that bad but it is.” The young woman’s eyebrows raise but you wave it off,“ you just have to put up with most people speaking to you like you know less because you make less. Other than that it’s alright.”

As she takes in your words, you accept your drink from the bartender and hand Wanda a flute of champagne. She’s not a drinker but the little boost is needed. 

With a reassuring smile to her and the last swig of your drink and guide her through the scattered crowd to Pepper. The blonde is more than happy to walk Wanda around, introducing her to a few people while you make rounds on your own. 

Just like usual, most conversations revolve around everyone else’s business, or the occasional question about your work that you can’t even discuss. But you manage to do as Tony asked, impressing them with talks of your abilities and that of which you can disclose. 

Majority of the people you talk to take a liking to you, or at least the superhero you, and you convince them to invest in Stark Industries, giving the whole “a company that leads in medical and technological advancements” spiel. 

“Still hate these things huh.”

Breathing in deeply, you exhale and turn to face Natasha. Her green eyes watch you cautiously and you’re in genuine disbelief that the badass Black Widow is so wary of you. Since the breakup she’s interacted with you as if she’s afraid you’ll hurt her.

You lick your lips,“ Natasha you speak to me like you don’t know me anymore.”

A sigh falls from her lips and she looks down at the bracelet on her wrist,“ I know. I’m sorry I just- I don’t want to say anything I shouldn’t.”

“Right,” you scoff lowly.“ You don’t have to worry about my feelings anymore I promise.”

“Y/n I-”

“Nat.” Bruce approaches, completely oblivious to the awkward tension flowing between you and his girlfriend.“ I’m sorry, do you mind if I steal her away for a moment.”

You smile bitterly,“ oh she is all yours.”

Green eyes look at you with an unreadable emotion but you brush it off, walking away with a glance back that reveals Bruce twirling the redhead on to the dance floor. 

You square your shoulders with a deep inhale and head back to the one place that you’ve been able to breathe tonight. 

“Another old fashioned please.” The lady nods and quickly makes the drink and you smile in thanks.

Taking a long swig from the dark liquor, you sigh contentedly at the burning trail down your throat. Your few seconds of peace interrupted by a deep voice speaking cockily. 

“A beautiful girl like yourself drinking dark liquor leads me to believe you’re not enjoying yourself.” The man smiles brightly showing off his, no doubt surgically whitened, teeth.“ Perhaps I could change that for you.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you pointedly down the rest of the drink, and tap the bartop in call for another.“ Bold of you to assume that I’m not having a good time.”

Before he can reply with his planned flirtatious remark, a lightly accented soft voice joins in,“ I’m sure Mister Richards meant no harm, he’s just a rather presumptuous man.” Her statement has you turning back to see who it came from.

Your eyes meeting the most gorgeous woman you’d ever seen. A sentiment you didn’t think you’d ever make after Natasha. 

Her black hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, not a single strand falling loose. Beautiful light green eyes stare back accompanied by a red lipped white tooth smile. 

In your daze of taking in her appearance you miss what she says to Mister Richards, but it sends him away, leaving the two of you alone. 

“Um, forgive me for this, no doubt, repetitive question but, what company are you here representing?” Your eyes subconsciously trail down the line of her jaw and it’s incredibly hard to draw your attention away when she speaks.

“Luthor Corp.” Her lips turn up into an almost knowing smile and it has you quickly looking up into her eyes, heart pounding when you realize you’d been caught staring at her lips.“ I’m Lena Luthor.”

Clearing your throat, you hold your hand out to her,“ Y/n.” You expected a warm hand but while it’s soft, it’s fairly cold.“ Thanks for the save Miss Luthor.” Your hand returns to your glass, the chill of it like that of her hand. 

“It was nothing, I could tell from across the bar he’d said something you didn’t like.” She makes mention.

You grimace, a soft chuckle falling after,“ you’ll have to forgive me, controlling my expression isn’t a mastered craft as of yet.”

She waves you off, casually leaning her side against the bar as her drink is sat down,“ it takes years, I’m still working on it. Come to enough of these and you’ll get it.”

“Oh I’ve been to plenty,” her eyebrow quivers at that,“ I’ve just never been good at. . .lying. No offense to you in any way, I think you’re ability to deal with all this social-”

“Bullshit.” She finishes for you with a chuckle.

Nodding, you laugh as well,“ yeah that. It’s a true superpower Miss Luthor, and of my many, that is not one.”

“Superpower is a stretch.”

Your eyes narrow at her, a small smirk on your lips,“ something tells me it isn’t.” 

Throughout your continued conversation, her charm and genuine goodness radiates off of her. The woman listens intently to you speak, she makes you laugh, and indulges all your questions with zealous passion. 

As the night goes on neither of you find much entertainment outside of your little space at the bar. Not wanting to go home inebriated, you’d long since switched your liquor for plain club sodas, Lena suggesting the addition of cherry grenadine just for flavor. 

“The idea is brilliant, which I’m sure you know, I just think it has more potential than power storage. What if you used it as a power core instead.” You shrug simply. 

Lena’s hand halts in movement, the drink in her cup sloshing slightly as the action,“ that’s genius. But it wouldn’t be easy. I’ve toyed with alien energy before, it’s much more powerful than expected.”

“Which, I think, makes it all the more useful. Depending on how strong, you could power an entire village or a small town. Imagine giving small pieces of the core to third world countries.” 

An amused smile tugs at her lips for the nth time tonight,“ is your first thought always to help others or is that just the Avenger in you?” 

You chuckle,“ myself and the hero. I just don’t see why we wouldn’t use the knowledge and resources we obtain, alien and human, to help those who truly need it.”

Lena’s mouth opens in preparation for her next reply, however it doesn’t come as a body weakly collides with yours. Wide eyed you look over to see your best friend, obviously drunk, leaning on you.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You have to try the strawberry cake thingies.” Wanda tugs at your arm in a childlike manner. 

Frowning in Lena’s direction, the CEO shrugs. Gentle grabbing Wanda’s shoulders, you turn her to face you,“ what strawberry cake?” 

She smiles,“ the ones on the tray Y/n. The servers are walking around with- oO right here.” Fast as lightning, her hand shoots out and she grabs a small plate off the servers tray. Three little white chocolate truffles sit on it with milk chocolate drizzled over.“ Try.”

“O-” your reply cuts when she shoves a piece in your mouth. As good as it is, your eyes widen for an entirely different reason. Your tongue runs over your bottom lip as if to ensure you’re tasting what you’re tasting.“ Wan, how many of these have you eaten?”

Her hand raises to show three of her fingers.

Yep. The small woman ate nine strawberry champagne truffles. She’s drunk.

Lena, wanting to understand, retrieves one of the truffles and bites into. Her response is the same as yours. 

With an apologetic smile you look at her,“ I hate to cut the conversation short but I should probably get her home.”

“Of course of course. Hopefully we’ll be able to continue sometime.” She smiles sweetly and you nod.

After a short wave to her, you gather yours and Wanda’s things, and leave the building. 

“Y/n!” 

You freeze in step, tightening your hold on Wanda’s waist and pushing your free hand into your pocket, then turning to the source of the voice. 

Pepper takes the stairs quickly but with all the grace of a trained performer. She stops on the same step as you and smiles a little.“ I had to catch you before you left, Lena Luthor wanted me to give you this, and let you know that she’s expecting you at Luthor Corp soon.”

A slight frown pulls your eyebrows closer together as you stare down at the business card, her personal number scrawled on the back,“ did she say why?” Pepper simply shakes her head.

Truthfully she hadn’t been expecting Lena to approach her about you. Mainly because she had no idea the two of you met, she swore she’d introduced you to every investor there tonight. 

“Okay, how soon is soon?”

An apprehensive smile tugs at her lips, brows raised slightly,“ four days.”

[omgsomeonesomewhereonearth]

I'll Write This Scene a Thousand Times - Ch1

AO3 Link || Next Chapter

Ship: Moceit (Janus/Patton)

Warnings: Alcohol, Implied sex, one-night stand, rumours and scandal, swearing, I would recommend a 16+ readership, but since this isn't actually explicit I guess use your discretion?

Summary: For all accounts and purposes, Patton Hart should have been able to make it through his twenties in the music industry without coming face to face with a scandal. The perfect package of talented and adorable, with family connections to boot, all he'd had to do was keep out of trouble, and he was good at that.

He hadn't counted on running into Janus Lyre. The beautiful, frustrating, devil-may-care actor evidently has some sort of effect on Patton, driving him to make the sort of mistake that never would have crossed his mind previously. Now, with their faces plastered across the internet and fledgling careers on the line, the two of them need to keep the lie of their fleeting relationship sustained.

‘The sweetheart and the snake’ - has Janus Lyre found a new ‘Hart’ to break?

Less than an hour after being photographed at the premiere for his own movie, the young star was seen at a swanky downtown nightclub - guess that’s one flick we won’t be catching!

But, dear readers, that’s not the most interesting part. With Lyre’s turbulent record over his few years of fame, one might say playing hooky is just a minor infraction for the beloved bad boy, but the same can’t be said for the cutie hanging off his arms in those photos! Some of you might have already recognised those cute brown curls and sunshine grin, and as hard as it may be to believe that is indeed Patton Hart.

The youngest son of now retired singer Ophelia Hart has made quite a name for himself recently, with his sugary sweet lyrics and impossibly innocent persona - impossibly being the operative word. Is the golden boy finally rebelling? Or had there always been a darker side to Hart, hidden behind the saccharine pastel branding?

---

Logan Wright: Just saw the news. Need to talk immediately. Send me your location, I can arrange for you to be picked up safely.

Logan Wright: Patton please pick up my calls

Logan Wright: I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how urgent this is??

---

Patton groaned around the headache coursing through his skull as he paced the wooden floors of the darkened bedroom, willing the phone in his hand to be still long enough for him to figure out what to do.

This had to be a bad dream.

Patton Hart was not the kind of guy to wake up in another man’s bed with a bad hangover, barely any memories of the previous night, a hundred missed calls from his manager, and compromising pictures of himself spread all over the internet.

Maybe if he just crossed his fingers real hard and opened up twitter again, it would all just be gone and he would wake up in his own home, sans migraine, and everything would be just fine.

Nope. Patton’s own besotted face was the very first thing that greeted him as he opened the app, gazing up at Janus Lyre of all people. He felt like he was looking at a stranger as he flicked through the images despite his own surmounting dread. He watched this weirdly confident version of himself, practically draping himself over a man he barely knew, grinning as Janus leaned in to whisper in his ear, kissing him in the street outside the nightclub, his own unfamiliar hands running through long dark locks, wandering down to lithe waist and hips, pulling their bodies even closer.

Patton felt sick. He had to call Logan, he knew that. Logan knew how to fix things, he would handle this.

Then again, Patton had never given him something like this to fix before.

The tweets underneath the photos ranged between a variety of reactions, from confused, to shocked, to disgusted to “always knew Patton Hart had a dirty side”, to “Can’t wait to see how long Janus keeps this one around.”

To be perfectly honest, all of them made the sea of dread and nausea in Patton’s gut rise and lurch.

“This is so bad,” he muttered to the figure that had just appeared in the doorway, glass of water in hand.

“Oh is it? Is it really? Oh, thank you so much for telling me, I would definitely have forgotten just how ‘bad’ this was if you weren't here to remind me.”

Janus Lyre was infuriatingly cool, in a way that no one really had a right to be in the mornings - let alone on this morning. Somehow, even in sweatpants, with his tousled hair tied back in a low ponytail, he managed to make Patton feel awkwardly underdressed for having put his own clothes back on. His smudged eyeliner, a relic of the night, only added to the effect of his condescending eyeroll.

Regardless, Patton was grateful to accept the water, and the aspirin that was dropped into his palm with it. At least he was a gracious host, all things considered.

He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, sipping slowly as he picked at a rip in his rumpled jeans. He could feel the weight of Janus’ eyes on him, but he didn’t want to look up. It felt like he’d be doing something wrong, shameful even, to be looking at the other man right now, despite all that had already transpired between them.

He didn’t know Janus, not really, but he had known of him. At least, he’d known he was bad news. He was an incredible actor, from what Patton had heard, and had managed to flourish in the past couple of years despite his young age and apparent lack of industry connections.

…Unfortunately, his incredible acting wasn’t all that he was known for. Janus’ name frequently popped up with regards to his sardonic responses to the press, disregard for convention, insulting important names in the industry, and generally being considered trouble.

Patton had often wondered how the man hadn’t been blacklisted yet. He never thought he’d end up tangled up with him in any way, much less this literally.

“Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t think you’re getting how serious this is,” he protested, “I - I just don’t understand how - there are pictures, Janus, everywhere, I have so many calls-”

Janus looked almost amused, as he leaned casually against the curtained windows, quirking an eyebrow at Patton.

“Oh dear, not pictures !” he mocked, “I take it this is your first time getting caught ‘ in flagrante’?”

“Wha- yes,  of course!” Patton flushed.

“Well, don’t worry then, the first time is always the hardest,” Janus responded lightly, seeming as though he was getting quite bored with the conversation, and by extension, with Patton.

“I don’t exactly intend there to be a second time, just so you know,” Patton snapped,” I didn’t even intend for there to be a first time, quite frankly-”

Janus did look amused at this, grinning smugly as he replied, “Oh, is that right? You and I appear to remember last night very differently.”

“I’d really rather not talk about last night, thanks.”

“I’d happily talk about anything else. You are the one that keeps bringing it up,” Janus shrugged, before turning on his heel to face the window, tugging the curtain open by the corner, just enough to invite in a thin stream of light.

Patton might struggle with nuance sometimes, but even he understood that - Janus had got the last word in, and now he was done talking.

He huffed in annoyance, but it didn’t stop his traitorous eyes from following the graceful movement, tracing the dark lines of the tattoo that marked Janus’ light brown skin, a massive serpent that coiled and looped all over one side of his slender frame, seeming almost to writhe, hypnotically, with the slightest movement.

Patton tore his eyes away quickly, tugging self consciously at his own sweater sleeves. The cool water had helped slightly, but he could feel the dread settling in his stomach again. He didn’t belong in this situation, having wild midnight trysts with ridiculously pretty men, and whatever confidence the alcohol had apparently given him last night had evaporated, leaving him utterly unprepared for light, flirtatious morning-after banter.

“Um, well,” he cleared his throat and stood up, “I should probably go now, and call my manager to fix all this. Thank you for, er - the water, and last night, I guess, and I wish you all the best, of course.”

Janus didn’t even turn around to respond, “Oh, and I don’t suppose you’ll need transportation arranged?”

“No thank you,  I can find my way-”

“And give the press an opportunity to catch you leaving the den of the snake? In the same clothes you entered in, no less?”

“I-”

Luckily, Patton didn’t have to come up with a clever response, because Logan - his dear, wonderful, manager Logan - decided to call him at that very moment.

“...I have to take this.” he muttered triumphantly, turning around to lift the phone to his ear, “Hi, Logan, I am so, so, sorry - I meant to call you, I just-”

“No time,” Logan’s phone voice was as always, clipped and professional, and he got straight to the point, “I need to see you. Immediately. There is much to discuss. I trust you’ve had enough foresight to remain at Lyre’s residence and not step outside?”

“I - I’m still here, yep.” Patton blushed.

“Good. I’m sending a car, don’t leave the building until it arrives. And bring Lyre with you, please.”

“You want to meet Janus?”

“The subject I need to discuss with you also concerns him, so yes.”

“Oh- um, okay, I’ll bring him. Um, do you need an address?”

“No need, I have it.”

“Already? How?”

“That is my job, Patton.”

“Right, right, fair enough. Okay, I’ll see you.”

---

Patton had a flashback to middle school - the one time he was sent to see the principal for bad behaviour - as he knocked nervously on the door to Logan’s office.

“Come in.”

He heard a scoff from behind him as he took a deep breath, preparing to open the door - it had been a struggle to get Janus to come along.

Just as he’d expected - and feared - Logan was wearing his “I am a professional and thus I am not going to get upset” face. What he hadn’t expected, was that this look didn’t seem directed at him.

Leaning back in the chair next to Logan’s, high heeled boots on the desk, was a man that Patton had never seen before - and between the half-black, half-silver mullet, curled moustache, and bright green glitter, he was pretty sure he’d remember if he had.

His eyes skipped over Patton entirely before settling on Janus and lighting up.

“J-Anus!” he cackled, “Thanks for not picking up any of my calls from last night, asshole!”

“Remus, good to see you,” Janus sighed, “Looks like your mummy called my mummy,” he whispered loudly to Patton.

To Remus, he said, “I do apologise, Remus, I turned my phone off because I was busy not watching the movie I was in. I’m sure you understand.”

“Ahem,” Logan interrupted, “Mr Lyre, thank you for coming in, Patton, this is Remus Rey, Mr Lyre's manager. Please take a seat, Remus and I have much to discuss with you.”

Patton waved politely at Remus, who winked back.

“Well first things first, I’d like to say congratulations to you both-”

“Remus.”

“-But that was nasty fucking trick you pulled there, Jay! You promised me you’d stop disappearing from important events! You know how much work I have to do to clear that shit up?”

Janus shrugged like a petulant teenager. “Got bored.”

“I really am sorry for putting this on you, Logan.” Patton could see Logan’s knuckles tightening, a familiar tenseness in his jaw, that telegraphed that he was Not Having a Good Time.

“That’s - not to worry, Patton,” a twitch had started to develop in his right eye, “technically speaking, this is - my job.”

“And he’s pretty damn good at it if he’s managed to keep you out of trouble this long eh, Patty?” Remus cracked in, “I mean, for what it’s worth, I always knew there was more to you, but the two of you really had the rest of those idiots fooled, huh?”

“Um…”

“ Anyways,” Logan interrupted through gritted teeth, “Whilst the two of you were missing in action, so to speak…”

Patton sunk a little deeper in his seat. He wasn’t looking at him, but he was pretty sure he could feel Janus roll his eyes from beside him.

“...Remus and I had a chance to sit down and decide how to deal with this in a way that will benefit both parties.”

“ Oh, how fascinating, do tell .”

Logan, apparently much better equipped at dealing with smart-ass comments than Patton, ignored Janus entirely.

“Now, the two of you may have your reservations, but I request that you please hear us out before rejecting the matter entirely.”

“Now, the two of you may have your reservations, but I request that you please hear us out before rejecting the matter entirely.”

“Of Course we’ll hear you out!”

“ ...Yes, because that request didn’t raise any suspicions at all.”

“Remus and I think the best way to spin this current...situation to our advantage, would be with a relationship contract.”

There was a silence in the room for a minute as the full meaning of Logan’s words settled in. Well, a silence accompanied by Remus tapping out a rhythm on the edge of Logan’s desk with his - admittedly fabulous - acrylic nails. After what felt like a full minute he grinned at them.

“Pretty good, huh? It was my idea.”

”Yes, well, I cannot exactly deny that Remus was the one to suggest that,” Logan grumbled, “However, I do support it entirely, and am happy to proceed with your consent.”

“You want us to...date?”

“They want us to pretend to date,” Janus interjected, “A few staged photos, attend events on my arm, everyone thinks this was a sweet little lover’s outing and not a drunken fling.”

“See, I told you mine was smart!” Remus grinned proudly at Logan.

“...Indeed,” Logan nodded at Janus, “I understand you might have your compunctions, but this is the best way for us to spin this into something... close to brand-appropriate, for Patton. And as for you, Mr Lyre-”

“We’re hoping we can make it look like you’re finally setting down, starting to behave yourself, or some horseshit like that,” Remus cut in, “I gotta keep you booked somehow, Jan-Jan.”

Another long silence filled the room - and even Remus stayed quiet for this one. Patton stared at his lap. He didn’t exactly feel great about this sort of thing, but Logan had said it was the only way. And heck, this sort of stuff happened all the time in this line of work, he knew that. Right?

Janus spoke up first.

“How long would this contract be, exactly?”

“We were thinking one year,” came Logan’s reply.

A whole year?

"I assume there are rules?"

"Behave as though you're in a relationship, perform for the camera when necessary, and if you intend to have outside relations, do try to keep them private - or better yet, don't."

“...I’m amenable,” Janus said finally.

And then, Patton could feel three sets of eyes on him, waiting for a response. Logan, calm and expectant, as ever hiding his impatience behind professionalism. Remus, toothy-grinned, leaning forward as if he was watching a sports match.

And Janus. For the first time with sober eyes, Patton levelled his own gaze with Janus’. His face was as inscrutable as ever, but Patton could feel the unspoken challenge behind his mismatched eyes. Asking him whether Patton Hart could handle something like this. Or worse, outright stating that he couldn’t.

…Or maybe Janus wasn’t thinking any of that and it was just Patton’s own loopy consciousness egging him on. Either way, the words slipped out of his mouth before he even thought them.

“I’ll do it.”

[spideytingle616]

Five Months [5]

Part 4 / Masterlist

*based on the five stages of grief*

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female Reader

Warnings: angst, death, mentions of anxiety/panic, possible implications of sexual activity, blood/injury, swearing

Summary: The first time you touch your soulmate, you’re able to see a glimpse into your future. What happens if your future is also your end?

Word Count: 12.7k wow wow (bold and italics are thoughts, scenes following a +++ are a flashback)

A/N: Thank you all who have read this story! I have had this planed for almost a year, and I’m so happy it actually became a thing, though I apologize for taking so damn long with this part. I hope you enjoy. This chapter features a lot of flashbacks, so buckle up.

Chapter Description: Maybe the universe isn’t so bad…

Month Five, Acceptance: Love, and Never Forget

A new day. A new month. A new semester.

The subway ride feels extra bumpy today, most likely due to the large pit in your stomach. Going to school is never something you looked forward to, but when you got there, someone was usually waiting for you.

Someone that made the grueling day a little easier.

You sigh and slump into your seat. How does a train full of people make you feel so alone?

A completely different person could be seen in your window reflection. Or maybe you were just so numb at this point, your body was nothing but luggage you were simply dragging along.

Fuck, you were exhausted. Beyond the undereye bags and the dry hair, your frame looked like it was ready to buckle down and rest. It was already curling in, prepared to do so when given the chance. Your eyes shut tight as you clenched your fists, trying your best to quiet the anxiety that flowed through your body.

When you open your eyes, you look at your reflection one more time, ignoring the cold stare that met your own. The world keeps going, and so should you.

Everything was more or less the same at Midtown. People were alert after their long break, but they still dreaded the upcoming classes. Friends were reuniting with one another and chatting, and everything seemed normal.

But it wasn’t, at least not for you.

You close your locker, and as you turned away from the wall you were met with familiar faces coming your way. The two friends kept looking at one another as they walked toward you, and it was clear that they felt unsure about approaching.

It wasn’t like you were purposely avoiding them, so to speak. But their worried texts were plentiful, and with everything that has happened, you pushed away from their coddling. Your responses were short, usually, something along the lines of “I’m fine” and “doing good”. Whether or not they trusted that you weren’t sure, but it kept them off your tail long enough for the time being.

Fake it till you make it, right?

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” you joke, opening your arms wide. “Come here.”

MJ and Ned smile at the gesture, quickly accepting the hug. It was definitely something all of you needed. You buried your face into their shoulders, happy to be with them again. Guilt pooled in your chest.

“I missed you guys… and I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting” you sigh.

MJ tightens her grip on you, snuggling her face closer to yours. “It’s okay. We get it. We were just worried is all.”

“Still, it was selfish of me to do.” You pull away, looking between the two. “This whole thing is not just about me. I should have been there for you guys too instead of pushing myself away.”

“Well, we’re here now. Whenever you’re ready, to talk or hang out, we’ll be there.” Ned offers, and a smile reaches your face.

God, your friends were amazing. You couldn’t bear to hurt them even more with your doom and gloom. They deserved someone that would be there for them and listen to their concerns, instead of hiding in their own pool of guilt.

You quickly shake your head before speaking. “Thanks, I think I’m gonna be okay, though. If you guys need more time that’s totally fine, but I’m good. Nothing has to be weird between all of us, we can just hang out like old times, you know?”

Your friends glance at one another, their eyebrows pulled slightly tighter.

“Well, if that’s how you feel, then I’m glad,” Ned says, looking back at MJ for reassurance. “But you know, it’s totally cool if you still need time. After all, it’s been a rough month.”

You bite your tongue back from replying, your jaw suddenly tense.

Yeah, no shit…

+++

He’s gone.

Oh my god he’s gone.

He’s actually dead.

If someone came and ripped your heart out of your chest, it would be painless compared to how you felt now. You continued to stare at Peter even after his eyes closed. If you continued to look at him, maybe you could still pretend that he was alive.

When the police showed, everything was a daze. The flashes of red and blue sirens drew a queasiness deep in your stomach. As the officers forced you to let go of the boy, their voices muddled into the air. You felt completely disassociated from the scene in front of you, and all you wanted to be held in Peter’s arms. There, you could pretend that everything was okay.

“They’re still breathing!”

The shout draws you back into current time, their words shooting a current throughout your body. It couldn’t be…

“Airways are clear, but his respiratory rate is dropping. Get him on the stretcher now. Don’t let him go into shock.”

Were you hearing all this right? Too many things were happening right now, and no one bothered to tell you anything. The police were pushing you away from the scene as if you were a random pedestrian, and you were ready to grab them by the throat and scream at them. When you see Peter getting lifted into the ambulance, his suit now more red than blue, that was the last straw.

You push your way through toward the paramedics. If they were taking him, you were going too. You were right behind the red and white doors before a hard shove comes to your chest, stopping you from coming any closer.

“Excuse me miss, this is private business,” what looked like an EMT said. “Stark Industries does not want anyone seeing this. I’m going to have to ask you to go back with the crowd.”

You stare dumbfounded; at least Ned was able to get a hold of him, but the fact that they were acting as if you weren’t a witness and Peter’s friend angered you even more. “No, you don’t get it, that’s my friend in there. I- I need to be with him if he’s still alive. Please I-“

“Look, as much as I’d like to believe that we were not told anything about other parties being involved. So, to keep this under wraps, we cannot let you ride with us. If you actually do know the patient, you can follow us and figure out your clearance there,” they finalize before walking away and jumping into the vehicle. You don’t even get a chance to breathe before they’re gone, and the only remnant of Peter was the stain on the street.

The EMT did have a point. If you wanted to keep Spider-Man’s identity a secret, you couldn’t draw attention to yourself. Slipping under the newly posted yellow tape, you’re swallowed into the shadows before the police even notice.

Now here you were, in a dirty subway car at ten in the evening. Being a teenage girl, this situation would normally terrify you (Seriously guys, no means no. Why are you even near us to begin with?), but luckily the murder scene on your dress and the hollow glare in your eyes drove most passengers away from you.

Staring into space, your brain tries to process everything that just happened in the past hour. You sprinted across the city to find your dying soulmate, only to find out he isn’t dead? Or at least, not yet. Based on his current state, it could still go either way.

Shouldn’t you be feeling hopeful? Or at least some sort of relief knowing that Peter has a chance? Your body internally cringes at the idea. Getting your hopes up wasn’t great; part of you always hoped for a happy ending with Peter and look where that got you.

All you could feel was dread, and it wasn’t much better than the heartbreak prior.

The car slows down as the rest of the passengers stand and walk toward the doors, but not without giving you a worrisome stare. You ignore their eyes as they pass by; you couldn’t care less about what they thought.

You look down at your hands and focus on blood caked under your nails, trying to rub the residue away. Some looked like it came off, but the red-brown still pigmented your skin. Chest tightening, you lean back in your seat and let your head knock back.

Peter’s blood was on your hands, both figuratively and literally.

---

A chill travels through your spine, bile working its way upward.

Was that really only a month ago?

The bell sounds, its ringing bringing you more despair than usual. Your conversation was brought to an end, MJ and Ned giving you a nod to signal their departure. They forced a smile your way, and you keep your calm composure even after they turn away.

Pulling the straps of your backpack closer, you take a deep breath before walking to class.

---

“First order of business: team captain. Miss Allan’s parting was unfortunate, but both she and I believe this team will do amazing at the international competition this summer. We just need a new captain.”

“Mr. Harrington, I’m honored-“

“Not you, Flash.”

You and Ned snicker under your breaths, earning your partner an elbow from Betty. MJ rolls her eyes at the two of you, but her smile gave away her amusement.

Decathlon was supposed to be done for the school year, but your team’s win at D.C. earned Midtown a spot at its international competition in Paris. You didn’t expect the school board to approve the trip, especially with the large expenses it ensued. But apparently, they found an anonymous donor.  

Though no one could figure out who would willingly spend tens of thousands of dollars for a kids’ trip to Europe, no one was complaining either, especially when they were paying to include an actual vacation with it. As ecstatic as everyone was about the opportunity, it also meant that you would soon be back to frequent practices. And as much as you enjoy this club, more work is never fun.

“After careful consideration of each of your prior performances, I’m happy to announce that our new captain will be none other than Michelle Jones.”

Harrington continued his announcements, but you already stopped paying attention. You nudge MJ after the scattered applause, mouth still agape.

“You didn’t tell me you were gonna be captain. Congrats!” you whispered.

“Well, to be honest, I didn’t know until just now. But I would have been pissed if I wasn’t.”

“And I would’ve had to listen to you complain about it, so it’s a win-win… can your first order be to rearrange the seating? I love Cindy, but sometimes she smells after gym.”

MJ scoffs. “Done, but it’s your fault if this all goes to my head.”

“Oh, I think it already has,”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Just be quiet so I can listen.”

You roll your eyes as you let her turn away from you, grabbing your phone in the process.

You: Guess who the new captain is…

Liz: It better be MJ, I put in a good word for her and everything

You: It is lol. Good choice by the way, she’ll probably be a better captain than you

Liz: whatever 🙄

In the past month since she moved, the two of you found comfort in one another. Both of you fell in the direct line of fire, and as brutal as that was, it also meant that you weren’t alone.

+++

Lately, it seemed that your timing was nothing if not impeccable.

You speed walk to the cafeteria, breath getting heavier with each step. You’re usually one of the first in there, trying your best to beat the rush of students, but you just had to go to the bathroom beforehand. Amateur move, honestly…

Once you turn the corner, you stop in your tracks. Just ahead was Liz and her mom, both with boxes in hand. Her mom takes a right, most likely heading toward the office. All that was left was you and her, and the ten feet of tile in between.

“Hey,” you call out, gaining her attention. A tint of regret coats the air around you as you walk closer.

Where do you start, after everything that has happened?

“Liz, hey. What’s up?”

“Oh, hey. Nothing much, I’m just packing things from my locker and whatnot. My mom’s grabbing my file from the office, and after that we should be good, or whatever.” She sighs, looking down at her things.

“Wait, packing? Are you… are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, my dad doesn’t want us to see him in trial. We’re moving all the way to Oregon tomorrow. My mom has family there… nice area apparently, or whatever,” She purses her lips. “New York allows prisoners to call as often as they want, so no worries there, plus I’m all set for college so I can more or less breeze through senior year.”

You nod. Though you suppose the situation could have been worse, it was evident that Liz was hiding all the struggles she just got handed. Maybe if you were closer, you’d be able to comfort her, or tell her what she needed to hear.

“Liz, you’ve probably gotten this a lot, but I’m really sorry about what went down. I can’t even imagine what that’s like.”

There’s a pause before she finds your face again. “I think you do though. Maybe not exactly the same as me, but you were part of this too.”

You tilt your head, confused at her words. Setting her things down, she slings her backpack around to her front, unzipping it to find what she was looking for. “Peter left this in my dad’s car, but something tells me it was meant for someone else. It’s a little wilted now, but I still think it looks nice.”

In her hand was the rose that Peter had the night of the homecoming dance. You were so annoyed when you saw it. However, this time was different. You were not sure what you felt, but you were grateful nonetheless.

You take the flower from her, admiring the purple-red petals. Underneath, a card was tied around:

A rose for a rose.

You might not be my date, but can I SWING BY for a dance?

You let out a quiet scoff. If the pun didn’t give it away, the web doodles might have.

“You think I would’ve figured it out sooner,” Liz shrugged.

“If it’s any consolation, I didn’t realize until it was right in front of my face," you joked back, earning a smile.

“I won’t tell anyone, by the way. He was just trying to do the right thing, and it’s not my secret to tell anyways.”

You nod at the gesture, relieved that things were not getting any messier. Not as much as they could, at least.

“I’m sorry too by the way…” she starts. “if I got in the way of you and Peter.”

You shake your head. “No no, it’s fine. Really. That was Peter’s choice to do that. I even told you we weren’t soulmates, so…“

“Yeah, well, I could tell that wasn’t the whole truth. Or at least, I couldn’t believe that it was the truth.” When you don’t reply, she continues on. “Obviously, I don’t know the whole story, or maybe even half of it, but almost everyone thought you two were soulmates before you even said anything. That’s gotta mean something, right?”

You pause for a moment. For someone who was only two years older, she was a lot wiser than you imagined. “Yeah, maybe it does… I don’t know, it’s just so complicated, you know?”

“I can only imagine.” She offers a smile. “But assuming he’s okay, wherever he is, I think it’d be a lot less complicated if you were in it together.”

With that, the conversation seemed to be over. You both knew that you weren’t really friends, but there was still a connection there. What happened homecoming night created a bond between you, a burning ember in a pile of ash. Everything died down, but there are still remnants that continued to burn.

If you guys chose to, you could let that memory die with the rest of the fire. But you could also choose to keep it alive and learn something from it.

Liz clears her throat, breaking the silence. “Looks like my mom’s ready, so I should go catch up. Thanks for saying goodbye.”

“Well, thanks for the mini therapy session. Hopefully, Oregon treats you better. If you wanna, you can text me once you’re all settled. We can talk, or whatever you want, really. Doesn’t even have to be about this.”

Her eyes light up at the offer, surprised at the generosity. “Yeah. I’d really like that. Thanks.”

You watch as she grabs her stuff from the floor and walk down the hall. The two of you send each other one last wave before parting ways, but you don’t move from your spot. Not until she was fully out of sight.

When she’s completely gone, you think about her words again. Maybe it would be easier.

Or maybe it’s just a faster route to trouble.

---

“You, me, Catacombs of Paris. It’s been on my list for years, and we are not missing out on that.” MJ declares, interrupting your daze. You didn’t even realize the meeting was over, most of the group already filing out of the library. “Jeez, how deep was your conversation with your pen pal? You look like you just woke up.”

You huff as you stood up from your seat. “How do you even know it’s her? Could’ve been my mom checking up on me.”

“Well, whenever you and Liz text, which is pretty regularly now, you get that weird crease between your eyebrows, and something tells me you’re not thinking that hard when you’re answering, ‘how are you’ from your parents.”

“You know, I think someone’s a little jealous that I have other girl friends to talk to.” You joke, checking her shoulder. “Any other creepy spots you’re forcing me to go to?”

Your friend’s face lights up, relishing at the opportunity to talk about her interests. You knew she had hours' worth of knowledge on the subject, and it gave you the chance to avoid talking about yourself. It wasn’t easy to distract MJ, but you had your ways.

It was easy to distract yourself from your current situation with Liz. After all, she was more or less doing the same thing. Your relationship was symbiotic; One of you would talk about your problems so the other could take their focus away from theirs, and vice versa. Mutual therapy, as you both called it.

The bonding made you feel safe. You made a friend and found someone that would need time to heal too.

At least, that’s what you thought.

For the last few conversations or so, the tone has taken a rather lighthearted turn. Liz started her new semester at Oregon a week earlier than Midtown, and she was already coming for the title of Ms. Popular. Though, with her being a hot, new senior, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

She was using her mom’s name for more privacy and was basically starting fresh. Liz even said she could still go to NYU if things died down after the trial. You were ecstatic for her, of course. She was incredibly strong for taking her life into her own hands and making the best of what happened, yet deep down you still couldn’t help but feel frustrated. In the end, even the people that have it worse still find ways to turn it around.

Your stomach turns. Maybe it wasn’t time that was the issue.

Maybe it was you.

---

Life’s kind of funny. Less than a year ago, you thought meeting the Avengers would be impossible. The only time you ever saw them was on the news or some badly edited PSA. For you, they seemed more fictional rather than real.

Now here you were, in the same car that Tony freaking Stark uses, being driven to the one and only Avengers Facility.

Despite the news about the Sokovia Accords, and the infamous “Civil War”, as they coined it, the building continued to stand tall and proud. The squeaky-clean windows and trimmed hedges were simply another reminder of how this lifestyle was beyond you.

Peter has been staying here for the past few weeks so the doctors could track his progress in private. With his mutated DNA and dangerous alien technology, they wanted to make sure there was not any permanent damage to his systems. Though this caused him to miss the rest of the semester, he knew it was for the best.

Despite taking a nasty hit, his super healing got him back on his feet, more or less. Just a few hours of physical therapy and some tests were enough to get Peter back to full mobility. However, he was still advised by the doctors to take things slow. Just because he could move doesn’t mean he should so soon.

This was the fourth or so trip here, yet every visit still felt like the first. All of this was so overwhelming, but you try not to let it show as you walk through the glass door. When you couldn’t find Peter in his room, your panic started to become visible.

Finding one guy in a 300,000 square foot building? How hard could it be?

Answer: not impossible, but still rather embarrassing.

After a few wrong turns here and there, you eventually made it to what seemed to be your destination. You wound up in a gym twice the size of your school’s. It had every piece of equipment one could need to train for a life-or-death mission, and you were struck with awe once again.

Your attention quickly focuses on the sounds of leather on leather. Across the gym was a boxing ring, holding none other than Tony Stark and your best friend.

The two didn’t notice you yet, so you took your time heading closer. Peter was in deep focus, his grey shirt tightening around him every time he threw a punch. Sweat covered the top half of the fabric as his curls brushed his forehead, and you could feel your throat drying up at his appearance.

You would have shown up earlier all those other times if you meant you got to see this…

“Y/N! Hey!” Peter greets when he finally sees you. “Sorry, I should’ve texted you that I was still in here. Guess I lost track of time.”

You wave it off. “Don’t worry about it. Looked like you were doing some good work.”

“Yeah, I sure hope so. Did you know the only fighting knowledge he had before this was from movies?” Tony interrupted, pointing a glove at the guilty party.

“Hey c’mon, Rocky is a solid resource,” He defended. “You ever seen it?”

The billionaire paused, mentally going through the five stages of grief. “Yeah kid, I think we’re done here. He’s all yours.”

“Sounds good,” You respond, turning back to Peter. “Something tells me you might need to freshen up before we start studying, so I’ll just meet you in your room. If I can find it, that is…”

The boy nods, feeling extra gross and sticky now that you brought it up. You send the two a small wave before walking out of the gym, trying your best to retrace your steps. Peter watches you until you vanish, to which Tony raises an eyebrow.

Maybe it was just him, but the spiderling was rather obvious with his emotions.

“Normally I’d say, ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’, but clearly you don’t listen to that,” He says, snapping Peter back into reality. “Just keep it in your room, alright? Last thing I need is to spray this whole place with disinfectant.”

Peter’s mouth parts, slightly uncomfortable at his mentor’s words. “What? No, it’s not like that at all. She’s just helping me with all the schoolwork I’ve missed.”

Tony immediately stops, punching pads half on. “That- that’s it? You get a second chance at life, and all you’re doing is studying?”

He shrugs. “Well, you know, I haven’t taken my finals yet-“

“Finals that you can pass if you just study the night before like a normal kid.” He walks closer to Peter. “You escape the jaws of death and the one thing you want to do is study? What happened to you teenagers and wanting to ‘live a little’?” He mumbles the last part, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t use this experience as an excuse to shy away. I’m not saying go off and be reckless, but at least have a little fun, yeah? Do what you want.”

From one man who had a near-death experience (or several) to another, maybe he had a point. But then again, if you try to sacrifice yourself multiple times, you must be more than okay with the thought of leaving this world and the people you care about.

Tony finally finishes packing up, while Peter was still in the ring, contemplating.

“She’s a good one,” he shouts to the boy, getting his attention. “Might even like her more than you.” He pauses, realizing how that sounded. “No offense, of course.”

The boy’s face sours as Tony keeps walking. “Some taken… oh and hey! I know it was you that paid for the Europe trip!”

“Nope! Wrong billionaire!” He swings the door open, turning around to look at Peter. “But uh, I think there’s a light festival the same weekend you’re in Prague. You should check it out.”

“Uh-huh…” he grins, playing along.

+++

Thanks to his powers, Peter’s hands always got extra sticky when he was nervous. So, when Mr. Stark called him to come to his office a week or so after the incident, he tried his best to keep his hands to himself.

“Hey, Mr. Stark. You wanted to see me or something?” he asked, awkwardly shuffling through the door.

Tony looks up from his phone and nods at Peter. “Kid, hey. How you feelin’?”

“Oh, well I’m actually doing pretty goo-“

“That’s great,” Tony interrupts. “Anyways, here you go.”

He slides a paper bag toward the boy, to which Peter responds by checking his surroundings. Was this a test? Because there are some major drug deal vibes happening right now.

“What the heck are you doing, kid? Just take the damn bag.”

Peter snaps back to the man and quickly snatches it off the desk. He peeks inside and is shocked when he sees the bright red and blue suit. He clutches the bag closer, afraid it would be stripped away from him a second time.

“You- you’re giving it back to me?” Peter grins.

“Well, it didn’t really teach you anything when I took it away, so I might as well just give it back. Plus, your other one looks ridiculous compared to this.”

His smile falls a little, and Tony quickly backtracks for clarification.

“What I mean is that you did good work. I didn’t believe in you after the ferry incident, but you were determined. You followed your heart and ended up catching the guy. However, you also ended up getting shish kabobbed and almost died, which isn’t as good.” Stark mumbles the last part, getting a little off track. “I told you before that if something happened to you, that it would be on me. But if you won’t listen to me then… I guess I have to mentor you, and make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “As in…”

“Training every morning. We can practice using all your suit’s abilities along with combat in case you’re stuck without it. We’ll track your health and progress to make sure you’re not pushing it. Last thing we need is you showing off and hurting yourself.”

“Yeah, got it.” He replies, mouth agape. “I- thank you, Mr. Stark.”

He couldn’t believe it. This was all happening so fast. A few days ago, he thought he was supposed to be dead on the sidewalk. Now, everything seemed to be going well. Maybe too well? How was Mr. Stark so calm about it?

“Well, to be honest, you shouldn’t be thanking me. It was your girlfriend that pretty much convinced me to do this. Y/N or something?”

He cocks his head. “Wait, Y/N? What do you mean?”

“We met at the hospital when you were under surgery.” He shrugs. “Kept telling me how you were a good kid who was going to help the city at all costs, that you were soulmates and this was doomed to happen, you should get another chance, etcetera etcetera,” He dismisses with his hands. “It was pretty moving, really. She really believes in you, so I thought I should do the same.”

Peter tries to keep a neutral face, but this information made his mind go even faster than before. You never mentioned that you met Mr. Stark, much less had an actual conversation with him. With all the crap he’s pulled on you, you still said all that. And to an Avenger, no less.

He doesn’t comment about Mr. Stark’s confession, only giving him another thanks followed with a goodbye. From the looks of it, Tony was rather done with the conversation anyways. He leaves as awkwardly as he came in.

As Peter walks back to his room, he notices the air around him feels lighter. Fresher, even. He smiles at the thought.

For the first time, in a very long time, Peter was optimistic for the future.

---

Never mind, maybe he should have died that night.

Studying was a far worse punishment.

Peter groans and buries his face deeper into his pillow, a string of obscenities following shortly after. You turn and frown at the sight. Sure, you weren’t any better during finals week, but this was just sad.

“C’mon dude,” you said as you shook his shoulder. “Get up. We’re almost done with this.”

He groans louder at your comment. “Too much work. Math isn’t even real.”

You shake your head in amusement. “Yeah okay. Tell that to Gonzales, I’m sure you’ll keep your number two spot after that.” You snort, not registering Peter’s shock as he propped himself up.

“Two? Don’t you mean one?”

Shit. “I mean, not exactly. Finals week happened a little bit ago. Grades change, you know?”

“Okay…” He gives you a look. “Well, then who scored high enough to beat me?”

Your lips tighten, but your silence, in turn, answers his question.

“No…” Peter realizes. “You- no….”

“Pete-“

“You’re first now? You took my freaking spot?”

Your mouth hangs open trying to think of a proper response and your friend scoffs. “Wow,” he says, shaking his head. “After all this time, I didn’t realize my best friend would become my enemy. Now I actually have to try.”

“Ouch. A nice congrats or something would have been nice, you know,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “Whatever, at least I’m being nice and trying to help.”

“Help? Or sabotage?” Peter smirks, sitting up. Stiff from his previous meltdown position, he clasps his hands together and stretches his arms upward. He doesn’t get very far before he flinches back down, hands now gripping his side as he quietly whimpers.

You immediately assume the worst as you turn closer to Peter, but he shakes his head, a sign telling you it’s nothing serious. He takes a few more deep breaths before looking at you, now sheepish.

“Sorry bout that. I think I overdid today,” he explained, gently rubbing his abdomen.

“Peter…” you pout. “Thought the whole point of you being here was so that you wouldn’t overdo it.”

“Yeah yeah, I know. I didn’t think a late-night workout would cause too much trouble,” he says, and your eyebrows furrow, disappointment evident. Peter slumps further down, throwing his hands up. “I won’t do it again, okay? It’s my last weekend here, anyways. I’ll take it easy for the next few days. Promise.” He then offers his pinkie to you, and you accept it with a sigh.

Your eyes wander down his chest, stopping at the top of his waist. You’ve never actually seen it, the wound and the scar that it left. At least, not since the incident. Your chest tightens at the thought. It was so bloody, and dirty, and just plain gross.

It was supposed to be the end of him, the end of everything you had. And now here he was, studying for a calculus test.

How was all that a month ago?

“Does it always hurt?” you ask before you could stop yourself. Peter follows your stare before looking at you again.

“Nah, just sometimes,” he starts with a small shrug. “It’s usually a dull ache every now and then, but it hurts more right now, cause, you know…” He looks away in shame. “Speaking of, I need to put this cream stuff on before I forget, supposed to keep it clean and help with the healing. I forgot to put it on after training.” He leans forward to grab the tube off his desk, and you could tell the easy motion was rather painful.

“I could do it if you want,” you offer, eyes widening immediately afterward. The two of you have been keeping physical distance between one another, and now here you were, basically asking to caress him. “I mean- if you think it would be easier.”

He takes a moment to think before giving a small nod, not saying anything as he hands you the cream. You both seem unsure of this, but you slowly grab the tube anyways. You take your time unscrewing the cap, giving Peter a chance to change his mind. When you look back up, he’s already staring at you, waiting for your next move.

You scooch closer toward Peter, and the air starts to get thicker. Tense. One wrong move could ruin this whole thing. You cringe at the thought. It’s not that deep, you tried to rationalize.

But this was Peter. Every small action meant something more.

Fisting the bottom of his t-shirt, you bring it to his chest to reveal the scar. You let out a shaky breath, looking at the newly exposed skin. It was the same as the last time you saw it: You could still see the tinges of pink under the lights, and his chest was still firm. But now all that was blemished with a horrid red line on his right.

That fucking scar. If looks could kill, your stare could probably reopen the wound that was once there. It makes you so frustrated to know the memory still stains his body. Peter once mentioned that his powers speed up his healing process, but marks like these last a lifetime for normal people, so you imagined that if it were to go away, it wouldn’t be for years.

You shake the thoughts from your head as you squeeze the cream onto your fingers, using your thumb to warm it up. Shifting your weight forward, you lean in even closer to him and gently touch Peter’s skin. The contact causes him to tense at first, but he eventually softens under your touch as you massage in the substance.

Peter doesn’t take his eyes off you. He watches how softly your fingers graze his scar, and how his skin was burning at the contact. It reminds him of that weekend: The hungry kisses, the skin on skin after you took your shirts off. Even when you were pulling him for more, you were never rough. You let him dip his toes first, making sure he was doing what he wanted.

Mr. Stark’s words come back to him. Live a little… have some fun… do what you want…

And right now, Peter thinks he wants more.

He sits up straighter (or at least as much as he could) and brings his hand up toward you, tracing your jaw with his fingertips. His thumb rubs the center of your cheek, bringing your focus away from his scar. You don’t realize how close the two of you are until you face him again. Peter’s stare flickers between your eyes and mouth, and you swallow hard. Though his touch was warm, your mind was frozen.

Were you supposed to do something? What did Peter want? Your questions were soon answered as he started to close the distance between you, ever so slowly. And though a part of you wanted to meet him halfway, memories cloud your head.

Blood.

Rubble.

Tears.

Peter holding on for dear life.

Fear shooting through your veins.

With a sharp inhale, you put your weight on your palms and back away. Peter stays where he is, his body a few seconds behind. After a few seconds, he lowers his hand down as concern floods his eyes.

“I- I should go,” you announce. Pushing yourself off the bed, you quickly pack your stuff away, not bothering to check if you got everything.

“I thought we were going to study more-“

“Just look up some practice problems online and you should be good. The curve helps a lot too.” You zip your backpack. “You’ll be fine without me.”

Peter fumbles for an excuse. “Well, it’s getting late, though. Wouldn’t you rather spend the night like last weekend?”

“No, it’s cool. Happy said they always have a driver on call just in case. Might as well put use them,” you shrug. “Anyways, bye!”

You quickly slam the door behind you, and Peter cringes at the sound. What the hell just happened? He brings his palms to his eyes with a heavy sigh. The last thing he wanted was for things to be awkward, yet he still managed to drive you out of his room and onto a two-hour car ride instead. Did he misread the situation that bad?

Meanwhile, you were still on the other side of the door, eyes wide. Did you really just do that? You were always so upset when Peter didn’t communicate with you, but now you were no better. You turn back to face the door, hand on the doorknob, yet the turn never came. Eventually, you let go and back away, and pull out your phone before turning the corner and out of the hallway.

At that same moment, Peter decided to stand up and follow you. Even if you wanted to leave, he didn’t want all his feelings to go unsaid. He pushes through the soreness and reaches the door, yanking it open.

He sticks his head out into the hall, but he doesn’t see you. Peter’s frame shrinks. A big part of him wanted to chase you, to see if he could catch up before you had the chance to go, but if you were already so far gone, it must be for a reason. With a frown, he slowly shuts his door, hoping that maybe you’ll come back before the click.

You never do.

Sleep never comes to you that night, thoughts about a brown-haired superhero circling your head. You knew that leaving was not the best idea. And not turning back when you had the chance was also not the greatest call. But at that moment, the idea of confronting your fears and worries seemed so much worse.

Grabbing your pillow, you smother yourself as you let out a quiet scream. By the time you uncover your face, you can already see the sun.

---

Neither of you mentions that night. Not that you were purposely avoiding the topic. In fact, you wanted to apologize for your abrupt exit, and maybe talk about what was going on between you two, but there was never a good time to do so.

Peter’s reappearance was not going as smooth as you thought it would. No offense to the boy, but you didn’t think many people would notice he was gone. But with the lack of Spider-Man sightings, and all the chaos surrounding homecoming weekend, people were chatty.

The first day he came back to school, Flash kept asking what happened to the friendly neighborhood hero. Poor Peter tried his best to blubber an excuse about him having a mission out of the country, but that just confused his classmates even more.

Others were asking why he missed all those weeks of school, which caused him to create an elaborate lie about having an extended family in Europe. It took everything for MJ not to outright laugh at the scene, which you later scolded her about.

Combine that and all the work he needs to catch up on, you thought it would be best to wait a little longer.

Eventually, Friday rolls around and all of you have survived another week. You, Peter, Ned, and MJ were talking around your locker before school when Ned claps his hands together, a lightbulb turning on in his head.

“Oh, dude! Now that we’re all here, we should all play some D&D!” He grins, getting giddier by the second. “We finally have a good amount of people, plus it’ll be a good way to have Betty get to know you all better as a group. I got this new book for Christmas and I’ve been planning a campaign for weeks. Spoiler alert: it’s awesome!” He quickly spits out, looking toward the group for a response.

Turns out Betty and Ned were soulmates, though no one knew until recently. Except for MJ, of course. When she gossiped about it homecoming night, Ned spilled all the beans.

They found out a few weeks after D.C., but though the two of them were pleased with the pairing, Betty didn’t feel ready to go into a relationship. Ned was accepting of this, being the sweetie he is, and the two of them are slowly building a friendship, though they are quite affectionate with one another. It was adorable, and slightly jealousy-inducing all at once.

MJ crinkles her nose. “I suppose I could try it. No promises that I’ll enjoy it, though.”

Ned, Peter, and you all stare at one another before bursting into laughter. Your amusement confuses MJ, but she doesn’t interrupt the moment.

“Oh Michelle,” you begin, grabbing her by the shoulder. “You are in for a world of fun.”

“Does that mean you’re in?” Ned points to you.

“Of course, dude! You’re the best Dungeon Master around. That, and your mom always has tons of snacks for us whenever we play.”

“I’ll take what I can get, I guess,” he scoffs. “Should we plan for tomorrow or something? I need to add a few more details and Betty should be free then too.”

“I’m good.”

“Same here.”

“Actually, I can’t. I’m busy.”

The three of you turn to Peter, who shrinks down in size and offers a shy smile.

“C’mon Pete. I get you have a lot of catching up to do but I’m sure a small game break wouldn’t kill you,” you said.

“No no, I get that.” He shakes his head. “It’s just that I was gonna start patrolling this weekend… “ he explains, and your blood runs cold. “But you guys go on and play without me, I promise to join next time.”

Ned nods, the three of them continuing to talk like normal, but you stay silent, keeping your eyes in Peter’s direction. Patrolling? How come he never told you about this?

It’s five minutes before class when MJ and Ned decide to leave, heading to their first period history together. Peter decides to go to class too, but you grab his arm before he gets the chance to turn away.

“Are you seriously going out? What happened to taking it easy?” you hissed. Though your tone was rather snippy, deep down you were terrified for Peter. Sure, he was fine now, maybe even better with all his training, but was he ready to go back out?

Were you ready for him to go back out?

“I’ve been taking it easy for a week, and people are starting to get suspicious. I don’t know if I can make it through another one of Flash’s confrontations without getting caught,” he sighs. “Look, can we just talk about this later? Class is about to start.”

You scoff. “You’re just trying to avoid the subject.”

“No, I’m not. I just don’t want to hear you lecture me when I’m already heading to one. And besides, I already know what you’re gonna say so what does it matter?”

“You literally just described ‘avoiding the subject’,” you bite back, concern turning into frustration. “Nothing good happens when we don’t talk, Pete.”

“Oh really? Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah dude, I’m pretty sure. That’s kinda how a friendship works.”

“Right. Friendship…” A pause. Peter’s face hardens as he looks at you. “Fine, let’s talk: why didn’t you kiss me?” he asks, jaw clenched.

Your hand lets go of his arm and falls slack. When you said you wanted to bring up the almost-kiss, you didn’t mean now. Why was he turning this on you?

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, if I can’t avoid the subject, then you can’t either.”

You shake your head. This was not the time to talk about this. He takes your silence as an answer and moves a step back.

“I’m going out. Tonight,” he announces. “I’m not waiting around.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply before he turns around and walks away. The action surprises you; Peter was never the one to walk away. If he was, it was because there was a danger that he needed to tend to.

This time, he willingly chose to.

You mull over what he said before he left. I’m not waiting around. He said it with such conviction. It almost sounded like he wasn’t talking about Spider-Man.

He was talking about you.

+++

You didn’t realize the Avengers had their own private hospital section, but considering their job description, you shouldn’t be surprised.

The stale, air-conditioned air of the hospital welcomed you the minute you entered. Goosebumps prickled your exposed arms as the atmosphere around you shifted.

Yeah, you really didn’t like hospitals. Especially now.

The nurses didn’t know anything of you or your involvement either, so they couldn’t let you go past the designated waiting room, leaving you all alone in a stuffy room. You’ve been staring at the fish tank for the last five minutes, waiting for someone to at least come in and talk to you.

Ugh, fuck this.

You texted MJ and Ned the news about Peter, which was a rather chaotic conversation. You promised you would let them know the whole story soon, but now didn’t feel like the time. Not when your other half may or may not be alive.

When you left the school, Ned spammed Stark Industries with emergency messages, which finally got Tony Stark’s attention. You overheard some nurses at the desk talking, and apparently, he was somewhere in the building, talking down a woman. You had no doubt that it was May.

God, if you thought you’ve been through it, you couldn’t imagine how she felt. To find out your nephew, who was basically your son, is a crime-fighting superhero is one thing. To find out he was almost killed and is currently fighting for his life all in one night is another. You were surprised her head didn’t explode right then and there.

Another ten minutes pass by before May comes out from the patient area, eyes red and completely distraught. Tony Stark was close behind her, holding the door open as May’s crouched figure passes through.

You stare at the two of them and accidentally make eye contact with the billionaire. He sends you a nod before heading back to the hospital rooms, like it was the only safe thing to do. The anger from before quickly disappeared; at least you weren’t the only one in shock.

“Oh, Y/N,” May says when she spots you. “I didn’t know you’d be here. It’s super late, I think it’s safer if you went back home. I don’t want your parents to worry. Do you need me to call and talk to them? I can take you home if you need me to.”

“May, you don’t-“

“I mean it’s probably best if I go do something. I don’t think I can sit here for very long without pulling my hair out.”

“May-“

“This is all just hitting me so hard. I mean, how did I not even realize this? I feel so stupid. God, the nerve of Tony to pull this. I should have never trusted him-“

“It’s my fault, May.” You snap, ceasing her rambles. “I did this… I fucking caused all of this. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do and one thing led to another and… I killed him. I killed Peter. I am so sorry, May. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

May doesn’t respond right away, still processing everything you said. Her shoulders slump down slightly as she cocks her head. Out of all the news she got tonight, this one confused her the most. But as she focused on you and your shivering body, she realized she wasn’t the only one that had a rough night.

She takes your hands. “Let’s talk, alright?”

The next fifteen minutes were spent by you blubbering about everything. The soulmate memory, his Spider-Man secret, how you tried to keep apart, and how you found him downtown. You skip over the rather intimate parts, knowing it was probably not going to help May. Your face is red and splotchy by the end of it, and a handful of tissues covered the small table next to you.

May doesn’t say a word until you’re done. Though a nice gesture, her silence was more due to her complete shock.

“I am so fucking sorry, May,” you whisper at the end. “I should have told you, or someone, at least. It’s just that, it was Peter’s life on the line. I didn’t want to do anything and hurt him. I thought it was best if he made the call, but look where that got us.” You wipe your eyes and look away. The guilt was unbearable. May was nothing but caring to you, and you repay her by killing her nephew.

“God... I knew Peter was having a rough time, I always heard him at weird hours of the night, but I thought it was just school or something. I’ve always checked on him, but he would always say he’s busy.” She shakes her head. “I don’t blame you, though. I mean, I’m not exactly happy this all went down the way it did, but I can’t be mad at you for at least trying to save him, even when it hurt to.”

You sniffle at her words, trying to suppress any more tears. “He still got hurt, though. Peter being my soulmate cost him his life…” you whisper the last word.

May offers a sympathetic smile as she smooths your hair. “You know, people say the reason for soulmates is to be with someone you love forever, but it never takes into account some people’s forever is shorter than others,” she explains. “When Ben died… I was so angry at the world. Why give me this amazing person if I only got them for a short time? Sure, the world can give me another soulmate or something, but it almost defeats the purpose… makes it seem that I had to have this one soulmate before I had to a ‘real’ soulmate. Even after all this time, part of me will always want him…

“But even if Ben isn’t with me forever, I was with him for his forever, and I found a way to be okay with that. I gave him all the love I possibly could have, and I have no doubt in my head that it was worth it.”

You smile and nod at her words, but she could tell you weren’t completely getting the point. “You and Peter are great together, friendship or more. There’s no way he regrets spending his time with you, and I don’t think you do either. The two of you always had something special. Don’t push away from that, even if it might seem easier.”

You find May’s hands and give a firm squeeze, a silent way of saying thanks. For months, you have been trying to go for easy: less drama, fewer risks… but it was still a whole lot of pain. And for what? Never getting to be with your best friend in the way you truly wanted? May made it seem like the choice was obvious, and you wondered if it actually was.

A few quiet minutes pass until Tony Stark steps into the waiting room and approaches the two of you. You and May quickly stand up, waiting for the worst. You already experienced Peter’s “death”, you didn’t need to go through it again, especially if it’s real this time.

“Is he going to be okay?” May quickly asks, hands close to her chest, protecting herself from any hidden blows.

Tony’s mouth tightens before answering. “More or less…” he starts, looking down before continuing. “The wound was deep, and if he couldn’t heal as fast as he could, this would be a different story. However, it was still caused by dangerous, alien hybrid technology and he was already in a rough state prior to the… stab.” He cringes at the word. “Scrapes and bruises, a broken rib, some significant brain injury… Dr. Cho is doing the best she can, but as of right now, he’s in a comatose state.”

You gulp at the news. “So, what does that mean? When will he wake up?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“But- but he will wake up, right?” you clarify.

A pause. Tony’s jaw ticks. His eyes quickly leave you before blinking and meeting yours again, but you notice it. The doubt behind them.

“I don’t know…”

---

It’s almost midnight, which means you’ve spent the whole night worrying.

You were out on the fire escape freezing your ass off. It would only take ten steps maximum to grab something warm, but the bite of the wind kept you alert.

You weren’t going to leave until you knew Peter was safe.

He barely talked to you since this morning. He sat near Ned at lunch instead of you and took different routes to class. You texted him a few times throughout the day, but he never replied.

So, when you sent a message checking in on him with no response back, you weren’t sure if it was him ignoring you or that he was in danger. You let out a sigh of worry as your breath dissolved into the night.

You never realized how nice your view was. The most use your window got was when Peter came in, but that hasn’t happened for months. It’s crazy that you consider that a simpler time in your relationship.

Your ears focus on the sounds of the city. The bustling noises often brought you comfort, knowing that there were thousands of people going through the motions of life. Tonight, however, it sent a feeling of loneliness to your veins. New York kept going on while you were wallowing and worrying. It didn’t need you, even though you needed them.

A sudden urge to cry makes your throat tightens. You really hope that Peter was alright.

When you check the time again, you saw that a new day began. You decide to shove your phone back in your pocket. Watching the clock every ten seconds wasn’t going to help.

You sigh, maybe you’ll feel different today. Maybe you’ll feel warmer because holy shit is it cold outside. At what temperature does hypothermia kick in? That seems like a question to Google, not experiment.

You’re about to turn back when you hear a soft thwip, and a Peter hanging outside down on the stairs. You weren’t too sure how he was feeling at the moment, his covered eyes not giving any hints, but you send a soft smile nonetheless.

“I’m not a damsel in distress if that’s what you’re thinking,” you break the ice.

Peter turns himself right side up, taking a seat on the railing next to you. He pulls his mask off and drops it in his lap, and you can see his face isn’t as icy as this morning. But his mouth was pulled tight, unsure how to go about this.

“I’d consider frostbite to be a crime,” he shrugs. Luckily, you had your window open this whole time. With a quick webshot, Peter sticks and catches the sweater hanging on your chair before offering it to you. “Especially if Spider-Man can stop it.”

You bite your cheek. Part of you didn’t want to give in, but there was no way you could last another minute out here. Slowly, you grabbed your sweater, your fingers grazing the fabric of his suit. A way of saying thank you.

“Slow day?” you ask, pulling the sweater over your head. The extra layer was already warming you up, and your body relaxes a little.

“Well, considering the biggest thing I did today was helping tourists find their way to the subway, I’ll let you figure that out,” he laughs. “Though I suppose some good work is better than no work at all. At least the city knows I’m back.”

Peter realizes that the last sentence wasn’t a good idea, your face slightly dropping at his words. He tries to keep talking in hopes of distracting you. “So uh, any reason why you’re out here tonight?”

“I was waiting for you. Couldn’t sleep until I knew you were safe, I guess.” you sigh, looking back at the skyline. “I also wanted to apologize, for how I reacted. Even if I didn’t agree with you, I could have at least listened to you.”

Peter awkwardly nods, guilt surfacing at your confession. “I mean, I could have done the same thing too. I was so focused on the dumb rumors I let Flash get into my head. That was my first mistake,” he jokes, causing you to snort. “I’m not trying to get into myself into any death matches anytime soon, but I still want to help out, you know?”

“Always the hero… I learned that back in D.C.,” you sigh. “I guess I’m still trying to figure things out. Everything just feels weird right now, and I don’t think I’m making it any easier.”

He doesn’t say anything and faces back toward the city. He takes a breath of the city, smelling the mix of laundry detergent from your apartment basement and the exhaust from the streets.

For all his life, Peter was dedicated to New York. He loved going to the museums with May and Ben; he always tried to pay street performers with whatever spare change he had in his pocket; he rolled his eyes every time someone brought up New Jersey; most importantly, he wouldn’t take off the suit until he knew his home was safe, even if it was almost morning.

He’s done everything he could to protect his neighborhood and the people who need it most, yet he feels… almost distant from it all. As if Peter was trying to find something more to it. A faint memory passes through his head- what did Ben use to say all those years ago? Something like, “home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling”?

Peter’s brain sticks to the thought.

Suddenly, the last month hits him.

“I thought of you,” he starts, still looking out into the night. “When it happened, all I could think about was you.”

Your face softens as the beating of your heart becomes audible.

“I was so… angry about it all. I was so pissed off at myself. Even if I knew that was gonna happen, even if I knew or thought I guess, that that was the end, I was an idiot for not spending my time with you. I should’ve used whatever time I had trying to be something more to you, instead of pushing away what we already had. At least if I did die, I would be at peace with everything,” he chokes up a little at the end. “You’re my best friend, and one that somehow gets me. This place is my home and I’d do anything for it.” He turns his head closer. “But it’s nothing without you. Life feels complicated, it’s always been complicated… but I think it’d be easier if we were in it together.”

You bite your lip and pick at the skin. They’ve been chapped since you came out, but it didn’t stop you from using it to cope with your nerves. Peter was laying it all out on the table, and you were the one left silent.

“You don’t have to tell me why we didn’t kiss, it’s completely understandable if you rather just let it go. I’ve pushed you away too many times, it’s only fair you get to do the same at least once. But I want you to know this.” His eyes were bright under the moonlight.

The last hurrah.

“I would keep you in any possible way I could. I told myself that I need to be able to do what I want, and I want you, for however long I can get you,” he sighs. “If you’re not ready for that, okay. If you never want that- fuck – that’s okay too. I love you. I will always love you,” he says, passion dripping from his words and into your heart. “If you could wait for me, I can wait for you too. Whenever you’re ready, just say when. I don’t care what I’m doing, or where I am, I’m always going to be here with you. Even if you don’t want me, I’ll be here.”

I’ll be here…

+++

It took five days for Peter to wake up.

Five days of nonstop worrying and utter stress. Five days of you traveling to the hospital first thing after school until your parents texted you to come home. Five days of you not sleeping because you were waiting for the call, and you had no idea what to expect when it did.

The first day was somewhat bearable. May and you slept in the waiting room that night, and when you woke up, which was about four hours later, she took you home. Sitting in a sticky, vinyl chair was not helping you, and if May had to wait there for another minute, she was afraid she’d have another meltdown.

You were still a little numb from it all by the time you got back. It wasn’t until almost midnight that you started to realize, oh shit, you don’t know when Peter will wake up. If… he’ll ever wake up.

That first night you cried in your bed until the morning. Your face was swollen for the rest of the day, and when your parents came back on the second day, they were panicking that you had an allergic reaction.

You told May not to tell them. They didn’t need to know, and they didn’t need to coddle and worry about you. May, who didn’t exactly think it was a good idea, reluctantly agreed anyways. So, when your parents were fussing about your appearance, you laughed it off and told them you watched The Notebook the night before with some friends.

It was just easier that way.

The second day was spent with you wallowing in your room, waiting by your phone for something. May told you she would keep you updated and that you shouldn’t worry, which both of you knew was just empty advice. Hearing nothing was just as bad as hearing something.

Later that day, MJ sent a few news articles about the Vulture and his arrest. Apparently, his suit gave out not too long after he left the scene, causing him to suffer some internal injuries and harsh burns. He got caught by Stark Industries and was arrested quickly after, and is currently awaiting trial. It was likely that Adrian Toomes would be under bars for a while, and that brought you both relief and guilt as you tried to sleep.

The third day sent you to school, and at least gave you something to focus on. The tension between you and your friends was palpable, but no one bothered to address it, not sure where to even go. The only mention of that night was with Liz in the hallway before she left, and that was enough for you.

You went back to the hospital on the third day (after telling your parents you were staying at school for newspaper), and though there was nothing new about Peter’s condition, you still wanted to be there just in case. May was too busy with work to come in unless there was an emergency, and you hope that brought her more relief than stress.

You spent your visiting hours watching Peter sleep, or whatever people did when they were in a coma. You at least liked to pretend he was just sleeping, it made you feel better about his chances of waking up.

His face was so pale and frail under the fluorescents, and you wished he could wake up just long enough to get some actual food in him. You hoped he was at least somewhat at peace right now and resting away all of the stress he’s put himself under. The stress that you were also a cause of.

“I’m sorry, Peter. For everything,” you whisper. Even if he could hear you right now, you’re not sure you want him to. You slowly stand up from your chair and step closer to the boy, brushing his curls back. Gently, you lean forward and press a kiss to the top of his head, brushing the area with your thumb afterward. “I hope you’re doing okay…”

The fourth day is mostly the same. After school, you lied to your parents and went straight to the hospital. You quietly worked on homework while sitting next to Peter, glancing at him from time to time and sending his hand a reassuring squeeze every now and then. He looks the same as yesterday, and you’re not too sure if that’s good or not.

“You know he’s not going anywhere,” you hear from the doorway. Their voice was instantly recognizable. “Dr. Cho says he’s doing alright, though. Still don’t know when he’ll wake up, but he’s alright for now.” Tony Stark says.

You scoff. “No offense, but that ‘for now’ part doesn’t seem so reassuring.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugs, taking a seat next to you. “But considering this is probably my fault, I’ll take that over nothing.”

You shake your head. “It’s not your fault. It was bound to happen either way, no matter what you did, it wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Yeah, that’s what everyone says, isn’t it?” he mumbles.

“Trust me, I actually mean it. If we’re going to put blame on anyone it should be on me… or the universe or whatever.”

Tony tilts his head. “Universe as in…”

“-soulmates, yeah,” you answer. “In our future, we saw each other after the incident, and I thought he died… now here we are.”

“Right, here we are…” he repeats. “They told me someone else was there at the scene when I got to the hospital, but I wasn’t sure who they were referring to until I saw you afterward. Nice to meet officially meet you…”

“Y/N,” you introduce yourself.

Tony nods. “I’m sorry about how all that went down though. I knew the kid wants his identity to be a secret so I tried to keep everything under wraps as much I could.”

“No hard feelings,” you smile. “I was definitely upset at the time, but I could tell you were just as worried as I was. You wanted to protect him… I do too.” You turn and look at Peter, watching his chest go up and down with his breath. “I’d do anything for him.”

You don’t notice Tony’s faint smile as he watches you and Peter. Young love was beyond him, and watching it happen right in front of his eyes was both sweet and nauseating.

“I should be heading back, I only came here for a quick check-in. Still have some loose ends to tie up regarding press, but nothing to worry about.” He stands up, straightening his jacket. “Glad we got a chance to chat.”

“Me too.” You watch as he walks away, words still at the tip of your tongue. “For what it’s worth Mr. Stark,” you begin, gaining his attention again. “Peter is the type of person who would do anything to save people. He looks out for his family, his friends, me… I can’t imagine someone who’s more of a hero than him, and that includes the Avengers. No offense,” you half-joke. “Whatever you decide to do with him, I hope you give him another chance. He’s really amazing- powers or not.”

He nods, impressed at your words. Tony doesn’t say anything, choosing to offer you a smile before turning away, leaving you and Peter alone. You don’t stay much longer after he leaves, and you follow yesterday’s routine of kissing Peter’s head before heading out.

The fifth day is rainy, perfect to match your somber mood. School decided that today would be a great day to kick your ass and give you tons of homework, even though finals week was already fast approaching. You also forgot an umbrella this morning, and your clothes were still damp from your walk from the subway station. For the cherry on top, no one has had any updates on Peter since he went under, and your hope was starting to falter.

Without thinking, you took Peter’s hands in yours and started to fidget around with his fingers. The cuts on his knuckles were turning pink and gradually healing, while the calluses on his palms were still evident. Much of the skin around his joints were rough, but it meshed so well with the smoothness around it. You were never touchy with other people, but you desperately wanted Peter to squeeze your hands back. At least show some indication that everything was going to be okay.

When you actually felt a squeeze, you almost couldn’t believe it.

You straighten in your chair and turn your head up. A slow flutter of the eyes and a twitch of the lips make your body tense in anticipation. Is he…?

“Peter?” you whisper.

A quiet groan escapes his mouth as Peter’s eyes gently open, taking in the bright lights. You sigh in relief and blink away at the tears trying to come. This better not be a dream.

“Y/N?” he asks, voice dry and scratchy.

“Oh jeez, maybe don’t talk yet. I’ll go grab you some water and tell the nurses you’re up, okay?” you loosen your grip on Peter’s hands, but he squeezes again.

His head does the tiniest shake as he stares down, watching where your fingers touch his. “Stay. They’ll figure it out.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Fine,” you give in. You’ll be out of here soon enough when they find out, and you wanted to spend time with the boy who came back from the dead. “If I get in trouble though, you cannot play the ‘sick patient’ card.”

Peter lets out a gravelly laugh, his body still trying to figure out how to be awake. “I’ll try my best…” he mumbles.

“You’ll try your best? Seriously?” you scoff. “You finally wake up and your first words are some half-ass promise?”

He takes a deep inhale, both humored and annoyed at your teasing. “Fine. I promise I won’t… as long as you promise to be here.”

You smile at his quiet words, taking his knuckle and forcing his pinkie finger up. You gently wrap yours around it, looking him dead in his tired eyes. “I promise I’ll be here,” you whisper.

”I’ll always be here…”

---

A month ago, you promised Peter that exact same thing, and it feels like you already broke that promise. The world has offered you a second chance, and you were doing the same thing Peter did the first time: pushing away out of fear. Could you really waste another five months doing that again?

Could your heart handle that?

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable or something,” Peter stammers. “If you need some time alone, that’s cool,” he offers, fumbling to put his mask back on.

“-Peter, wait.”

He immediately freezes, looking at you with wide eyes. The wind was starting to pick up, and his curls gently blew in the breeze. The dry air irritates his lips as he picks at it, waiting for your next response.

You move closer to him, inch by inch on the railing; your hands are almost touching, your pinkie desperately wanting to link with his gloved one. You take a deep breath and let it trap in your chest as you stare at the boy in front of you.

Peter Parker.

Spider-Man.

Your soulmate.

But most importantly, your best friend.

The wind moves through your hair and chills your body, yet it jumpstarts every nerve in your system. Peter was alive; you were alive; and fuck, was it a good feeling.

You wanted more, so you leaned in. Your nose touched Peter’s and your mouths closed the gap. A small, innocent kiss to tell him you want more, and that it was his call to keep going. When you stop, and Peter realizes that yes, you did just kiss him, he comes back for more. And he’s not looking to stop anytime soon.

His hand lets go of the railing and wraps around the small of your back, keeping you close and balanced. He keeps the other one gripped tight to the metal; he doesn’t trust himself to not get dizzy from you.

You cradle Peter’s face and deepen yourself into his presence. Your heart is hammering against your chest and you love it. It makes your body heat up and radiates the air around you. You hum against his mouth as you suck on his bottom lip, making Peter whine at the feeling. Your sweater rides up as you press yourself closer, and his thumb draws circles on the exposed skin. The small action makes you smile; you were only half-sure you weren’t crying at the amount of love that was running through your veins.

It seems like forever until you two are pulling away, absolutely blissed out and breathless. Neither of you go that far, faces still just a space or two away.

You look into Peter’s glassy eyes. If something were to happen to him, if you had to say goodbye to him in the worst way possible, if you had to grieve for a lifetime in order to move on, if you had to spend every day thinking of him and crying until your face was red and dry…

It was worth it. You were grateful to be loved by Peter Parker.

You catch your breath and take a slow inhale. It smells like cedarwood. Home.

You lean forward again and Peter meets you halfway. Your lips are just touching when you whisper into his mouth his new favorite word.

“When.”

Part 4 / Masterlist

Taglist: @eridanuswave @spideylovin @mktravelbuggie​  @bintfalastin8​ @runway-to-my-aid​ @selfcarecap @peterbenjiparker​

[kiribakuficrecs]

hello!!! im going on a very long trip at the end of april and I'm looking for some very long fics to download to keep me entertained! i dont care what they're about as long as there's no major character death or mentions of non-con. ur blog is a godsend ilysm and you do such a good job thank you so much 🙏

hi there!! i definitely have a lot of good lengthy fics i can recommend to you!

quote love unquote by newamsterdam 

Sero nods. “It’s the chance of a lifetime, really,” he says. “We want you to date Bakugou, for the sake of his reputation with the press. Some public appearances, a few ‘candid’ photos. For at least a couple of months.”

“Bakugou sent you to ask me to date him?” Kirishima asks, baffled.

“Of course not. We, his people, are asking you to date him. He’s going to have to get on board, if he wants his career to survive. And in the bargain, Riot will get all sorts of publicity, because their lyricist will be dating one of the industry’s hottest stars. A win for everyone.”

When Kirishima Eijirou's band hits the big time, he's not prepared for his newfound fame. He's even less prepared to meet the actor he's been crushing on for years, or to start dating him as a publicity stunt. The closer Kirishima gets to Bakugou Katsuki, the more he realizes he's in over his head. But it's hard to stop, once his heart is in it.

acceptance and denial by poteto

It all goes okay when Kirishima decides to come out to his friends and it all goes wrong when decides that Bakugou is the best fake boyfriend material.

cause the darks not taking prisoners tonight by imatrisarahtops

“Are those soba noodles?” Kirishima asked.

Again Bakugou’s only reply was a grunt. He offered no further explanation—not that Kirishima honestly expected one—as though making soba noodles from scratch at half past four in the morning wasn’t at all a bizarre occurrence and made complete and total sense. For a fleeting moment, Kirishima even wondered if maybe he was the odd one here. Besides, he’d already decided it was generally not in his best interest to question these types of things with Bakugou, especially when it was something essentially harmless.

When Kirishima has a nightmare and is unable to fall back asleep, he accepts defeat and decides to study in the common area of the dorms. What he doesn't expect to find is Bakugou, also very much awake, and Kirishima can't help but think that maybe they're both having the same problems with sleeping. If he's worried, it's just because they're friends. (Right?)

the weight of your hand by kamin

That night, to the citizens, the explosions were a jolt of fear at every blast, but to the heroes and the students of UA, they were punches and swings, fierce fighting and loud strength. The explosions were the pulse of the battle, and the power of a boy that would never back down.

One after another, explosions set a chorus through the shuddering city.

And then, suddenly—the explosions stopped.

(In which Bakugou’s kidnapping goes a little differently, and just a few seconds could change so much.)

so take my hand (your life will be brighter) by multiclassmaps

When a stranger shows up at the ice rink during Bakugou's usually private training sessions, Bakugou expects to hate him. He doesn't expect to develop feelings that become increasingly difficult to deny, or for them to help each other sort through their emotional baggage. - Bakugou really didn't like Kirishima's smile. There was something about it that made his stomach hurt, something about it that made it difficult to focus. He definitely hadn't thought about that smile on his way to the ice rink that day. He definitely hadn't.

distance makes the heart grow fonder (false) by dragontrappedinhumanskin

When Bakugo and Kirishima get hit by a quirk that forces them to literally stick together or face the less then desirable consequences, how the fuck is Bakugo supposed to keep his crush hidden?! Well, turns out he never needed to.

-- “Well, this fucking sucks, how are we supposed to train?!” "Really closely?"

perihelion by tauontauoff

Bakugou was a comet, blazing out of reach. Kirishima knew he was stupidly lucky that his furious trajectory went by close enough that his fingertips got to graze the cowl of fire. It was enough.

During Christmas Class 1A and 1B spend a laid-back week learning about extreme environment hero work in the Alps. Kirishima was used to keeping part of his feelings for Bakugou hidden, and had every intention of keeping it that way, but things don't always go according to plan.

fight me by mr_todoroki

Bright red, spiky hair. Annoyingly bright smile. Clothes that radiate ‘look at me’ vibes. Neon yellow tank top with black shorts. And those were definitely crocs on his fucking feet.

Yeah, Katsuki hated this guy.

-

Bakugou gets a new roommate.

quietly by chezka

“We’ve been taking the same way to and from school for weeks,” Kirishima grinned, and then when Bakugou frowned at him he put on an affected pout, tilted his head so that he was looking at him through his thick, long lashes, “you never noticed? Am I that easy to miss?”

He could barely finish the sentence before a laugh escaped his lips, and Bakugou rolled his eyes, hit him with a shoulder a little more violently than necessary.

“You stick out like a sore thumb, broom-head,” he grumbled, promptly ignoring Kirishima's whining about his hairstyle when it started coming, “I didn’t notice ‘cause I didn’t care.”

“And now you do?”

everyone knows that cats are independent by purplepersnickety

Eijirou enjoys his job, working the graveyard shift at a 24/7 coffee shop. His daemon Riot is always there to keep him company, and he likes meeting the early-morning patrons and giving them the best possible kick-start to their day. It's been his routine for about a year now.

Then one day, a grouchy guy with a daemon in the form of a lion walks into the shop in the dead of night, and Eijirou decides to strike up a conversation with him.

punks not dead by wrunic

“So you want to use me to piss off your mom?” Kirishima summarized, raising one pierced eyebrow at Katsuki.

“Look, if you want to be all fucking judgy about it, I take cash,” Katsuki said, dropping his hand palm up on the table.

“Hey now,” Kirishima said, raising his hands in surrender, “I didn’t say I wasn’t doing it. I’m always down for a little chaos.” He flashed a grin, showing off his ridiculous shark teeth.

“Good,” Katsuki said. “We start tomorrow."

sent, delivered, read, loved by kiribakuhappiness

Kirishima E. [6.49pm]: ur okay for such an angry dude bakugou! :)

Bakugou K. [7.12pm]: FUCK YOU!

Kirishima E. [7.14pm]: haha! :D ttyl!

Bakugou K. [7.48pm]: FUCKING WHAT DO THOSE DUMB LETTERS MEAN???

Bakugou K. [7.52pm]: I JUST LOOKED IT UP DONT FUCKING TALK TO ME LATER!

Bakugou K. [7.52pm]: STOP TXTING ME!!!

- OR -

Bakugou's and Kirishima's relationship develops from classmates to friends to more, as told through their text conversations.

flicker by mr_todoroki

He was starting to feel depressed. Life was so uninteresting. It was so mundane and forgettable. He had no one to hang out with besides Kota, his family didn’t even live in the city.

He grew his hair out as some sort of rebellion, some sort of stand to make his life the slightest bit more interesting. But he could already feel himself giving in to the pressure of cutting it. He needed to work to live. Without a job, he’d truly have nothing.

OR

Kirishima never applied to UA, therefore never became a hero.

let’s get down to business by kjelfalconer

Katsuki Bakugou, one of the brightest rising stars on wall street, is in need of a new personal assistant. Again. Could Eijirou Kirishima finally be the one to last more than two months?

Katsuki's long suffering HR department sure hope so.

something about us by bigstupidjellyfish

nothing like being in highschool and having no idea how to deal with emotions

fireproof by inkbender

Four years after a classmate nobody seems to remember is kidnapped by the League of Villains, Kirishima drags an amnesiac hobo he found washed up on the beach into his apartment, attempts to teach him how to adult (with varying degrees of success), and discovers along the way that the line between heroism and villainy is quite fine indeed. Plot-divergent after episode 45, the Forest Training Camp arc.

blood riot by magicallee (alternatively)

Kirishima from a universe with no quirks is mind-swapped with an alternate universe version of himself where there are superpowers.

And in that universe he’s a super villain.

And Bakugou is the superhero who caught Evil-Kirishima and put him in prison.

blindside by drowclericpelor

“You’re the first guy friend I’ve had that I can just like, be friends with. You’re either the most unthirstiest boy ever...” Camie shrugged and made another wobbly illusion appear between her hands. It looked like a sparkly rainbow with the word ‘friendship’ beneath it, accompanied by what Bakugou assumed was supposed to be a twinkling sound effect, but it had a tinny quality to it and sounded far away. “...or I just ain’t got the kinda straw you like to ssssip.”

Carefully, Bakugou considered the strange turn this conversation had taken.

He had never been asked, point blank, if he was gay before. And he honestly had never thought about how he would respond. Lying about himself didn’t sit right with him. But he’d always wanted to wait until he was the number one hero - when he stood above everyone else - before coming out. Though he’d had times when he’d thought about doing it before then and had almost gone through with it once. But being the number one hero came first. It wouldn’t matter what people would say about it then as long as he’d risen to the top.

Bakugou knew his lack of a response would give Camie all the answers she needed.

flour power by wingsonghalo

“I’m telling you now, Shitty Hair,” the blonde growled, “I am not gonna play house with you. We will cart this stupid flour around for a week like the assignment says. But some of our idiot classmates are naming the thing and setting up ‘playdates’ and dressing it and I am not doing anything that stupid. Got it?”

Kirishima and Bakugou are paired up to take care of a flour sack for a week. It would be so simple, except nothing with Bakugou is ever simple. Also Kirishima might be kinda sorta completely head over heels for him.

sunchaser by chonideno

that feeling when you suddenly want to jump off a cliff for no reason but instead of a cliff it’s your best friend and instead of jumping it’s growing feelings out of nowhere

or how Bakugou has to try really hard not to throw everything to the wind, and Kirishima doesn't help

i also have a tag specifically for fics that reach somewhere between 30k-70k words long if you wanted to check that out as well! i hope you enjoy the fics here and that i was able to help, ily enjoy your trip!!! :D