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natsaffection · 4 months ago

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heyy this is my first time making a request and idk if it's okay but what if reader is like an anti-hero or villian and when reader gets hurt she shoves up to Natasha's apartment thinking she would maybe help her? idk if it works but I've been thinking about something like this and it would be great if you actually write itt😭😭😭

Lines crossed. | N.R

Avenger!Natasha x AntiHero!Reader

Warnings: Blood, Gore and injurys

Word Count: 2,6k

A/N: These are the stories I like the most. 🙏🏻 And I feel honored, that I can write your first ever request! 🏆

The city of New York was no stranger to chaos, but in recent months, a new shadow had begun to loom over its streets. This shadow was not the kind of evil the Avengers were used to dealing with..This was different. And this, was you, a name whispered in fear among the criminal underworld, a vigilante with a taste for vengeance and a history stained with blood.

You had risen to the top of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most wanted list, a place usually reserved for supervillains and global threats. Your methods were brutal and unyielding, your sense of justice unwavering. To some, you were a hero. To others, a menace. But to the Avengers, you were a problem that needed solving.

“Another one,” Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, murmured as she stood over the lifeless body of a notorious gang leader, his blood pooling around him in a grotesque halo. “It’s her again.”

Clint joined her, shaking his head. “She’s getting bolder. This is the third one this week.” Natasha's eyes scanned the scene, taking in the familiar hallmarks of your handiwork. The precision, the brutality, the unmistakable sense of finality. "She’s not hiding anymore. She wants us to know it’s her."

Nick Fury appeared behind them, his expression unreadable as ever. "We need to bring her in. She's crossed too many lines, and now the media's starting to pick up on it. The last thing we need is a vigilante making us look incompetent."

Natasha nodded, her mind already running through the many encounters she’d had with you. Each one had been a battle of wills, fists, and wits. You were good, damn good. But Natasha was determined to be better.

You wiped the blood from your hands, your breathing steadying as you looked at the man you'd just eliminated. He had been a monster, a predator preying on the weak and innocent. You felt no remorse. In your eyes, justice had been served.

You knew the Avengers were close. You could feel their presence like a storm on the horizon. Especially Natasha. Your fights had become a dance of sorts, each trying to outmaneuver the other, each knowing that one day it would come down to a final, decisive confrontation.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. You glanced at the message: another target, another mission. Your work was never done.

Back at the Avengers' headquarters, the team gathered around a holographic display of the city, pinpointing the locations of your recent activities. "We need to be strategic," Steve said, his voice calm but firm. "She’s not just any criminal. She’s trained, skilled, and she's got a mission."

Natasha’s eyes never left the display. She knew you better than most. She understood your motivations, your drive. And she knew that stopping you would require more than just brute force.

"It’s personal for her," Natasha said quietly. "And if we’re going to bring her in, we need to understand why she’s doing this." The team nodded, each member resolving to bring an end to your bloody crusade. But for Natasha, it was more than just another mission. It was a challenge, a test of her skills and resolve.

You moved through the city like a ghost, your mind focused on the task at hand. You knew the Avengers were watching, waiting. You relished the challenge. Each encounter with Natasha had pushed you to be better, sharper.

But you also knew that the game couldn’t go on forever. One day, it would come to an end. One way or another.As you prepared for your next mission, you couldn't help but wonder: when that day came, who would be the one standing? You or Natasha?

The city was alive with the sounds of sirens and distant traffic, but your focus was razor-sharp. You moved through the shadows, your target's location clear in your mind. You knew the Avengers were closing in, but you thrived on the edge, where danger and adrenaline fused into one intoxicating rush.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your target, a corrupt businessman with ties to multiple criminal organizations. You slipped past his security with ease, your movements precise and silent. As you stood over him, your eyes cold and unyielding, you knew this would send another message to the underworld and the Avengers alike.

Just as you were about to strike, the window shattered, and Natash swung in, landing gracefully on her feet, guns drawn. "Y/n, this ends now," Natasha said, her voice a mix of resolve and urgency. You smirked, stepping back to assess the new threat. "You always know how to make an entrance, Romanoff."

The two of you circled each other, the tension thick in the air. You made the first move, lunging forward with a series of rapid strikes. Natasha countered, your fists and feet a blur of motion. Each move was calculated, each strike intended to find a weakness.

The fight spilled into the hall, your movements fluid and fierce. You were relentless, your skills honed by years of training and combat. But Natasha was no less formidable, her experience and agility a match for your raw power.

In a desperate bid to escape, you knocked over a set of shelves, creating a momentary barrier. You dashed down the corridor, but your path was blocked by Steve. "Going somewhere?" Steve asked, raising his shield.

You didn’t hesitate. You launched yourself at him, your attacks relentless. Steve defended himself with his shield, but your sheer ferocity pushed him back. You knew you had to move fast. Every second counted.

A blast of energy struck the ground near you, and you turned to see Tony Stark hovering in his Iron Man suit. "You’re surrounded. Give it up."

With a quick glance, you calculated your options. You grabbed a nearby fire extinguisher, using it to create a cloud of smoke. In the confusion, you darted through a side door, your escape route planned to the last detail.

In the aftermath, the Avengers regrouped, frustration evident in their expressions. "She’s good," Clint said, rubbing his bruised arm. "We almost had her."

"Almost isn’t good enough," Tony replied, scanning the area for any sign of you. "She’s always one step ahead." Natasha looked at the ground, her mind replaying the fight. She admired your tenacity and skill, but she also knew that each encounter brought them closer to a dangerous tipping point.

"We need to change our approach," Natasha said. "She’s playing a game of survival. We need to make her see that we’re not the enemy." Steve nodded. "Agreed. We need to understand her motivations. If we can reach her, maybe we can end this without more bloodshed."

Weeks turned into months, and the chase between you and Natasha became legendary among the Avengers. Your reputation as a formidable adversary was solidified, but so was Natasha's determination to bring you in. Every encounter became a game of wits and skill, a deadly dance with an undercurrent of something more.

One night, Natasha found herself on a stakeout at a high-end nightclub. Her sources had tipped her off about a major criminal deal going down. She knew you would be there, drawn to the opportunity like a moth to a flame. Natasha blended into the crowd, her eyes scanning for any sign of her elusive target.

Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. "Looking for someone?" your familiar, flirty voice whispered in her ear. Natasha spun around to find you, dressed to kill and wearing a mischievous grin.

"Yes, you." Natasha said, her voice steady despite the surprise. "You're getting bold." You chuckled, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "And you're getting predictable, Romanoff. I knew you'd be here."

Natasha moved closer, lowering her voice. "This ends tonight. You're coming with me." You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Are you asking me out on a date, or is this another one of your attempts to arrest me?"

Natasha couldn't help but smirk. "Depends on how you look at it." Before Natasha could react, you leaned in, your lips brushing Natasha's ear as you whispered, "Catch me if you can." Then, with a swift movement, you disappeared into the crowd.

Natasha's heart raced as she pursued you through the crowded club. The thrill of the chase was intoxicating, and she couldn't deny the electric connection between you. You were always one step ahead, leaving clues and taunts that kept Natasha on her toes.

The chase led them to the club's rooftop, the city lights sprawling beneath them. You stood at the edge, the wind whipping through your hair. Natasha approached slowly, her eyes locked on you.

"You can't keep running forever.“ Natasha said, her voice a mix of determination and something softer. You turned to face her, your expression unreadable. "I'm not running, Natasha. I'm fighting. Just like you."

Natasha took a step closer, her heart pounding. "We don't have to be enemies, Y/n.. Let us help you." Your gaze softened, and for a moment, Natasha saw the vulnerability beneath the tough exterior. "You don't understand. I've crossed too many lines. There's no going back for me."

Natasha reached out, her hand brushing your arm. "It's never too late to make a different choice. You can Trust me.“ You looked at Natasha, your eyes searching for something. Then, with a sigh, you pulled away. "Maybe in another life, Romanoff."

Before Natasha could react, you leaped off the rooftop, landing gracefully on a fire escape below. Natasha rushed to the edge, but you were already disappearing into the night.

—

One fateful evening, you found yourself cornered by a gang of criminals. You fought valiantly, but the numbers were overwhelming. By the time the dust settled, you were grievously wounded. Blood soaked your clothes, and every step sent waves of agony through your body.

Desperation set in as you stumbled through the dark alleys. You knew going to a hospital was out of the question. The police would arrest you on sight, and SHIELD agents were everywhere. You tried to treat your wounds in an abandoned building, using whatever you could find. With shaking hands, you attempted to stitch a deep gash on your side, but the pain was too intense and your vision blurred.

Realizing the severity of your injuries and your inability to treat them alone, you remembered, „You can Trust me.“ You had placed a small tracking device on Natasha’s shoe during one of your fights, anticipating you might need to find her someday.

The rain pelted the city in relentless sheets, washing away the grime of the day. You stood in front of Natasha's apartment door, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You leaned heavily against the frame, your vision swimming. Despite the pain, you forced a playful smile onto your lips. You had to get inside. You had to see Natasha.

With a trembling hand, you knocked on the door. It felt like an eternity before it finally swung open. Natasha stood there, her expression a mix of surprise and annoyance.

"How did you find me?" Natasha asked, her voice cold. You tried to straighten up, wincing as you did. "Miss me already, Romanoff?" you said, your voice weak but carrying a hint of flirtation. "Couldn't stay away.."

Natasha's eyes narrowed. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here. Why are you here?" Ignoring the question, you leaned against the doorframe, your legs barely holding you up. "Thought I'd drop by... see your lovely face," you managed, your vision beginning to darken around the edges.

Natasha's patience snapped. She grabbed her phone, her fingers quickly dialing S.H.I.E.L.D.'s number. "Enough with the games. I'm done with this."

Your heart sank, your body swaying. You tried to take a step forward but stumbled, your strength failing. You collapsed into Natasha, who caught you out of reflex. As your full weight pressed against her, Natasha's eyes widened in horror. Blood soaked through your clothes, warm and sticky, covering Natasha's hands.

"Oh my God.." Natasha whispered, her phone slipping from her fingers as she cradled your limp body. "Y/n, what happened??" Your head lolled to the side, your eyes struggling to stay open. "Guess I... pushed it too far this time..“ you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Natasha quickly assessed the situation, her mind racing. "We need to get you inside.“ she said, her tone urgent. She half-carried, half-dragged you into the apartment, laying you on the couch. Blood pooled on the floor, and Natasha's hands shook as she grabbed her first aid kit.

"Stay with me, Y/n," Natasha urged, tearing open your shirt to reveal a deep, gaping wound along your side. The sight of old scars crisscrossing your chest made Natasha's heart clench. "God, what did you do?!“

She worked quickly, her training kicking in. She poured antiseptic over the wound, her hands moving with practiced precision. Your body trembled with pain, your fingers digging into the couch. "God, that burns," you whimpered, tears streaming down your face. "F-Fuck, Natasha, it h-hurts..“

"I know it does," Natasha said, her voice softening. "But I need you to stay with me. I don't have any narcotics, so this is going to be rough."

Your eyes were glazed with pain, your breathing shallow. "Just do it…" you managed to say. Natasha threaded a needle, her fingers slick with blood. She began to stitch the largest wound, her focus intense. Your body shook with each stitch, your teeth clenched to hold back screams. The raw pain was almost unbearable, and low moans of agony escaped your lips despite your best efforts.

"You're doing great," Natasha said, her own voice trembling. "Just a few more." Your fingers clawed at the couch, your knuckles white. "Natasha... please, hurry," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper.

Natasha's heart ached at the sight of your suffering. "I'm almost done," she said, her tone soothing. "Just hold on a little longer."

Your eyes fluttered, your strength fading fast. "Sorry... for your couch...and for everything," you whispered, tears mixing with the blood on your face. "I never wanted it to be like this.."

Natasha's eyes were full with understanding. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. Right now, I need you to hold on." She finished the stitches, then bandaged the wounds as best she could. Your body relaxed slightly, your breathing still labored but more steady.

"It's done," Natasha said, sitting back and wiping her forehead. "You're going to be okay." Your eyes closed, exhaustion overtaking you. Natasha grabbed a blanket and covered you, then sat beside you, holding your hand gently. "I'm here," Natasha whispered. "You're safe now. Rest and we’re sorting everything tomorrow out, okay?"

You whimpered softly, your body shaking from the pain and the cold. Natasha gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, her expression tender. "I never thought I'd see you like this," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyes fluttered open, focusing on Natasha with difficulty. "Guess... I can't always be the strong one.“ you murmured, a weak smile playing on your lips.

Natasha's heart tightened. "You don't have to be strong all the time," she said softly. "It's okay to let someone help you." You nodded weakly, your eyes drifting closed again. "Thank you, Natasha.“ you whispered.

Natasha squeezed your hand gently, "You're going to be alright," she said, her voice filled with determination. "I won't let anything happen to you."

As she sat there, watching over you, Natasha knew that this was a turning point. You had come to her for help, and that meant there was still hope. She would find a way to bring you back from the edge, no matter what it took.

Part 2

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha

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kaytheday · 1 month ago

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Things that were a Culture Shock for Dallas Winston from New York to Tulsa

Being able to see the stars for the first time. He is so surprised about how full the sky is, not that he would ever tell anybody that.

No public transportation (there is no way baby Dally ever learned how to drive and no way that he has a drivers lisence now) Buck probably taught him to drive.

He probably misses the subway and hates the bus system that Tulsa operates under (which is why he’s stealing Bucks car all the time).

Lowkey the rats. He is probably overestimating quite how much vermin there is.

The first time Darry caught him stuffing a towel in the sink drain at like 10:00 pm before they go to a drag race he was very confused.

"Why are you doing that Dal?"

"I’m planning on sleeping here tonight and if you don't keep these things plugged up when you go to bed you're gonna have a full rat invasion on your hands. They can get through pipes smaller than these you know Darrel.”

"Ratvasion up in here!"

"Shut up Two-Bit!"

Streets with nobody on them and less crowded spaces in general. Dallas is constantly asking where all the people are. Everyone else just keeps telling him that this is a normal amount of people?

Another thing that I think about is how Dallas was probably on high alert right after he moved. He was constantly used to the noise and the fighting and he was pretty paranoid about people following him and things like that because of the crime he was involved with in the city.

He was jumpy and always ready for a fight. He also thought that most of the neighborhoods in Tulsa were run by gangs. They are not (if anything they are loosely run)

The prices of things? In New York things are just more expensive. This is why he is always treating Johnny and Ponyboy because he sees that paying for three people in Tulsa is as much as paying for himself in New York.

Also the first time he got paid for barrel racing by Buck he thought he was getting gypped because it didn't seem like a lot compared to what he was getting in New York. He literally almost punched Buck's teeth out on the spot.

The accent. He would always get annoyed with how slow people talked.

"Come on! Spit it out and get to the point! I don't got all day!" He's done this on many occasions to store cashiers, people at the bar, and so many others. He gets so sick of waiting for them to say their bit.

Also the southern manners piss him off as well. He hates responding to ‘how are you?’ Or the stupid ‘have a nice day’. He’s complained more than once on the unnecessary small talk and manners.

This could also be why he comes off as rude and cold to Ponyboy especially and many others. He is blunt and says what’s on his mind and he hates small talk and unnecessary interactions. (as most New Yorkers do!) He will almost always cut an interaction short doing anything he can to get out of it. This is often what differentiates him from other southern hoods.

New Yorkers talk fast and they use a lot of complicated slang that the rest of the United States doesn't use. A lot of people get confused when he's talking to them and we know how Dallas is easily frustrated.

"I've been schleppin' your stuff around all day Buck, it's brick out 'ere and I come home to this Schlock? I gotta go lie down!" (love you and your New Yorker accent Dallas 🥰)

Let me know if you guys have any more. I love this concept.

This is inspired by some tags left on a post by @damthosefandoms

#the outsiders #dallas winston #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #the outsiders musical #two bit mathews #steve randle #johnny cade #the outsiders broadway #the outsiders 1983 #dally winston #dallas winston headcanons #dallas winston pre canon #Dallas Winston in New York #matt dillon #joshua boone #this is loosely based on my New Yorker uncles coming to the west coast for the first time #also just the insane stories I hear from them on the daily

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caplanbuckybarnes · 2 months ago

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Empire Ashes (mobster steve rogers)

Summary: the pair of you watch as his empire burns to the ground, vowing to destroy the enemy.

WC: 73

Warnings: mafia au,angst, smoking

Read on Ao3!

The city lights flickered through the haze of cigarette smoke and street fog, casting an eerie glow on the world below. It was after midnight, but the streets of New York never truly slept. Not the way you knew them. Not the way Steve Rogers knew them. The underbelly of the city was alive and thriving, pulsing with the dangerous energy of gangs, crime lords, and power grabs.

You stood beside Steve on the rooftop of one of the tallest buildings downtown, looking out at the kingdom of corruption that sprawled beneath you. His jaw was clenched tight, his blue eyes cold and calculating as he surveyed the world he had fought to control for years. It was his city now—his empire—but the crown felt heavier by the day.

"I told you this would happen," you said, lighting a cigarette and taking a slow drag. "The Starks... they won’t stop until they tear us apart from the inside."

Steve didn’t respond right away. He was too focused, too consumed by the storm brewing within him. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his tailored black coat, but you could sense the tension in his body, the barely-contained rage that simmered just below the surface.

He’d been different since the Stark family had made their move. They’d hit one of his warehouses and killed men who had sworn loyalty to him. It wasn’t just a power play—it was a declaration of war.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "They think they can take this from me." He laughed, a humorless, bitter sound. "They think they can burn it all down."

You stepped closer to him, flicking the cigarette away and folding your arms across your chest. "So what’s the plan, Rogers? You going to let them bleed you dry, or are you going to do something about it?"

Steve turned to you then, his expression hard, but there was a flicker of something else—something darker, something more feral. "I didn’t build this empire just to watch it crumble. I gave everything for this city." His voice dropped lower, more menacing. "If they want a war, I’ll give them one."

A thrill ran through you at his words. You had seen Steve Rogers at his most ruthless, his most unforgiving, but there was something about him now, something that felt different. This wasn’t just a retaliation—it was a declaration of dominance. The man who had risen from nothing was ready to tear it all down just to prove that no one could take from him what he had earned.

"Let’s burn this city to the ground," you whispered, the words filled with a dark excitement that mirrored his own.

Steve’s gaze snapped to yours, and for a moment, everything else fell away. The weight of the city, the war on the streets, the blood on his hands—it all seemed distant as he focused on you, the one person who had been by his side through it all.

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his lips. "You’re not scared of what happens next?" he asked, his voice low, a challenge in his tone.

You shook your head, stepping closer, your eyes never leaving his. "I’m not scared of anything as long as I’m with you."

There was a silence between you, the tension thick in the air. You’d been drawn to Steve’s darkness from the moment you met him, and now, standing beside him at the brink of a full-scale war, you knew you’d follow him anywhere.

Steve reached out, pulling you close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Then let’s show them who really owns this city."

The next few hours were a blur of action. Orders were given, calls made, alliances tested. Steve moved like a man possessed, every step calculated, every decision ruthless. He wasn’t just playing defense anymore—he was going on the attack.

And you were right there beside him, his shadow, his partner in crime, watching as the city began to buckle under the weight of his wrath.

As the first explosion rocked the city in the distance, a fiery glow lighting up the skyline, you couldn’t help the smile that crept across your face.

"You weren’t kidding," you said, your voice barely audible over the chaos.

Steve smirked, his eyes reflecting the flames that began to engulf the city. "I never do."

tags

EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky

MARVEL PERM: @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @late-to-the-party-81 @capsthot @endlesstwanted @kenzieam @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes

STEVE ROGERS: @nicoline1998enilocin @amelia-song-pond @hallecarey1 @libbymouse @fandom-princess-forevermore @animal-feather @saiilorstars

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #mafia steve rogers

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k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9 · 5 months ago

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The Warriors (1979) directed by Walter Hill

#The Warriors #1979 #The Warriors (1979)#70's #70s #American action thriller film #action thriller film #cult movies #New York City street gang #The Baseball Furies #Bronx #Coney Island #released in the United States in February 1979 #my gifs #gif #my edit #edit

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thegirlfromblackwater · 2 months ago

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If the Van der Linde Gang lived in Modern Times (Modern Au)

Life gives you funny ideas...and I'm going to write them down

Arthur

Would live on a ranch in Montana or Wyoming as a rancher

Offers services like trail rides, lessons, and boarding

Has a herd of cattle

Spends every Sunday watching Rodeos on TV

Watches while sitting in his favorite worn-out armchair

Always has a cold beer and a snack or his dinner while watching

Has a pickup truck that's a bit filthy on the inside. Addresses his car as a "she."

Treats it like a horse: calls it a "good gurl."

Has a mounted Trout and some taxidermy on the walls

The Wifi at the ranch is spotty..doesnt understand why guests need it when they're surrounded by nature

Network Name: MorganRanch Password: Ynnel123

Tried to fix the router once but not exactly tech savvy. Ended up punching it

Texts Albert Mason sometimes

Dutch

Definitely lives in a city either Los Angeles or New York City

Lives in a Snazzy Penthouse in the clouds with a skyline

Works as a motivational speaker

Wears a lot of bling

Has a bar in at his place

Molly always tries to find a way in

Calls Hosea a lot

Has a weird fetish for black, red and white furniture.

Still loves reading books by Evelyn Miller despite that the writer is a nobody living in Idaho

John, Abigail & Jack

They probably live out west on a farm (very much like Beechers Hope)

John works on the ranch and also has side multiple side jobs (thanks to Abigail)

Jack spends his time in the school library

Abigail is obsessed with this one bakery

Molly

Lives in whatever city Dutch lives in

Tries to make herself at home in the penthouse

Famous on social media for her makeup tutorials

The neighbors can usually hear Molly & Dutch fighting

Dutch: "Not now Miss O'shea" Molly: "Pig!"

Bill

Lives somewhere in the Midwest

Works as a truck driver for Walmart

spends a lot of his life on the road

Has a bit of road rage

likes rest stops

when he's not working, he is a part of a biker gang

has a tattoo sleeve and wears a white wife beater

one of those bikers that wears a bandana with the American flag on it

Marybeth

Probably lives in a quaint town on the east coast

Works in a bookstore during the day and is a freelance writer in her free time

Lives in a cute townhouse with a small garden in the front full of flowers.

Her house is cozy

has a seating area with big windows that look out over the street

spends her time writing and reading there

likes to sit at cafes and drink coffee

Lenny

Is a full-time university student by day and bartender by night

Lives in Chicago or Atlanta

Probably double majoring in Business and literature (if that combination even exists)

Lives his single life to the fullest

Mostly an A student who goes full ham on the weekends when partying

Micah

Lives in Las Vegas

Sells illegal drugs

Has no money because he gambled too much

Stays in different hotels

Owns a pawn shop

Everything for sale there was smuggled across the border

Has dealings with the cartels & other shady characters

Hosea

Lives a quiet life out west

Goes to his lake house on the weekends to go fly fishing

Reads a lot of books

Also likes to go hunting

Is a part time English teacher who teaches children to read

Talks to Dutch by phone

Sometimes visits Arthur and stays at his Ranch

Uncle

Lives in a trailer park in Florida where the weather is always warm and the cold won't bother his illness

Sits on a folding chair outside his mobile home

Plays the Banjo

Drinks a beer

Is a complete mess inside

Doesn't own much furniture

Can't work because of the Lumbago

Sweats a lot

Naps and snores too loud

Lives next to a swamp

Javier

Lives in Arizona

Lives in the desert

Grows cactuses

Owns a Music shop

Travels around playing at local bars

Works part time as a music teacher at the local high school

Has a YouTube where he shows off his music

Sadie

Probably lives in a city like Dallas or Denver

Works as a cop

Likes to catch people for speeding and sits on the side of the highway

eats Chick-fil-A while waiting

Watches Dateline

Carries a Taser

Always looks sexy in her uniform

Charles

Definitely lives in a cabin out west

works as a conservationist

Likes National Parks

Goes fishing with Arthur

supports and donates to the Bison Sanctuary (if one even exists)

Likes Camping

Trelawny

Lives a wealthy life in Charleston, South Carolina

Lives in a large southern mansion

Wears a robe to sleep

Has a whole walk-in closet full of clothes and accessories

Has a sauna in the basement where he relaxes

Owns a bunch of fancy cars: He loves his Bentley

Reverend Swanson

Probably lives in Philadelphia

Still works part-time at the church

Mostly spends his time helping people with addictions

Hosts an AA meeting three times a week

Rescues crackheads from the street

Mostly sober

Wrote a memoir on his journey to recovery

Sean

Lives in Boston

Likes the university/young people vibe

works at a pub

Everyone's favorite Bartender

Makes customers laugh

goes back to Ireland once a year

Takes Karen with him sometimes

Karen

Lives in Portland, Oregon

Works at a bar as a bartender and a stripper

Good Pole Dancer

Her large tits are popular amongst the men

Puts on shows in the evening

Talks to Sean a lot

Gets Hammered

Strauss

Works in Finance in New York City

Is a Workaholic

Has no friends

Goes back to Austria every few years

Boring to talk to

Always on a work call

Listens to Classical Music

Tilly

Lives in Nashville, Tennessee

Visits Marybeth a lot

Wants to be a Nurse

Likes taking care of people

Wants to travel around the world

Pearson

Lives somewhere in New England

Owns a restaurant and catering business

The restaurant is interestingly enough called "Pearsons"

Probably has a wife and some kids

Loves Maine Lobster one of those people that wears a bib when eating it because he's messy

Is a good Butcher

Susan Grimshaw

Lives in Florida

Is a housekeeper

Cleans uncles' mobile home once a week

Tries to control Tilly and Marybeth from miles away

disgruntled

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fandom #van der linde gang #rdr2 community #rdr2 modern au #rdr2 headcanons #bill williamson #random #movies #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #lenny summers #john marston #javierescuella

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agirlnamedbone · 1 year ago

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from Morris Huberland's "Girl Gang" series // 1940s/50s // New York City

#op #vintage photography #girlhood #girl gang #morris huberland #new york city #street photography #street portraits #outdoor portrait #black and white photography #film photography

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finelinevogue · 2 years ago

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take a break

summary - you and harry arrive at your nyc hotel for a little getaway

warnings: swearing? alludes to sex but nothing much, bit of kissing, just fluffy really?!

word count: +1.9k

pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader

It had been a long flight to New York City, but you’d made it.

The first getaway of the year and you’d chosen the city that never sleeps as your destination, because not a minute of this trip would be spent not immersed in the wonders of New York.

"You don't know where you're going, do you?" You asked condescendingly, as Harry walked you down a street you'd walked down twice now.

"H, baby, you're so main character that there are about 10 million fanfics written about you with many people fantasising that they were me." You told him, hoping he would understand that you couldn't be arsed to aimlessly walk around anymore.

"Ok that's weird." Harry turned to face you with a scrunch of his nose in distaste.

He hated being reminded of who he was to millions of other people that weren't you. One night he'd even told you that he was considering running away from it all - building his own island if he had to - just to spend the rest of his life loving you and embracing normality. You'd told him he was crazy, but when he asked whether you'd run away with him you had not hesitated in saying yes.

"It's true. I’ve read some." You chuckled as you remembered those that you had read. Harry as a gang leader. Harry as a painter. Harry as a tattoo artist - that one, you had to admit, had been hot.

"'Course you have," he laughed at you and pulled you a little as he prompted you to cross the road, "You just love me sooo much."

"Obviously." You rolled your eyes at how he could think anything else of you.

It was twenty minutes later that you were stepping out of the lift with all your belongings.

You were so looking forwards to room service and bed, beginning to think about what you could have to eat; toast, eggs, raspberries. It was the kind of hotel where if you ask, no matter how bizarre, you receive.

Harry, after much persuasion, had offered to pay for a room in a luxury hotel he knew in Soho called The Dominik - more specifically the penthouse. You felt terrible for Harry to be spending so much on you, you also knew your budget wouldn't even let you stay in NYC let alone in a nice apartment in Soho. You had asked Harry what you could give him in return, which ended in you dropping to your knees and giving him something to remember.

"After you, love." Harry used the key card to swipe the door before letting you in first, like the gentleman he is.

"Thank you." You gently replied, walking into the grand room and immediately feeling small at the top of the city.

It took no time to notice the sparkling lights of New York shining up at you through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the far end of the room. You were higher than any building around, getting the perfect view of the city as its heart beats.

You wheeled your suitcase to the foot of the neatly made bed, leaving your bag next to it and jumping onto it to be absorbed into its fabrics. You smiled, face down in the bed, at the thought of you finally being in the one city you'd forever dreamed of visiting. Work commitments and money had been cruel to you and you'd given up hope in ever being here, but alas here you were.

Not expecting Harry to jump on top of you, you let out an ugly squeal as you felt his body flatten against yours.

"This is nice." Harry sighed happily, finding comfort in having you so close and paying no attention to the fact your insides were soon to become your out.

"Get off, y’fucking lump." You struggled to speak against his weight, but laughed nonetheless. He didn't listen fully to your request and instead just dropped his head off your back and onto the mattress beside you. Your felt his breathe against your neck and so turned your head carefully.

Met by the eyes that captured your heart so long ago, you smiled.

Waking up each day you had to remind yourself that he was even yours, like you were his, because it seemed so fantastical. The perfect man beside you smiled when he caught sight of yours, always saying it was his favourite feature about you.

He moved the mess of hair off your face so he could lean in to kiss you once, twice, three times. You hummed as his lips melted against yours like butter. His hand snaked around to cup your cheek and force his lips deeper onto yours, making you lightly moan against him.

"Harry?" You whispered as you pulled away, kissing the small cross inked onto his hand just the once.

"Yes, m’love?" He didn't look into yours eyes, solely focusing on your lips and how plush they looked after him leaving his mark. He even kissed you again, not being able to resist himself. You were too divine for him to not cherish every moment.

"Thank you for making me happy." You said, getting all mushy on him for a moment. New York felt like a good place to tell him that he was your source of happiness - something you would be forever grateful for.

"Thank you for letting me make you happy." He replied, to which you knew he was talking about those moments that he would humbly pay for things, when you couldn't, and all those moments that didn't involve money and instead, just his love. "Now shush and let me love on you a little."

He smiled and moved to lean in closer to you, but you stopped him with your hand.

"No, I want food." You said, pushing his face fully away so you could move yourself up and off the bed. You watched as he groaned in frustration, like a baby, and huffed as he flopped his back down on the bed.

"You're choosing food over me? Unbelievable." He tutted, moving his head away from you in pretend annoyance. He had been with you long enough to know it would always be food over him. No, seriously.

"Shut up you big baby," you laughed and picked up the menu, flicking through it to try and choose what you wanted, "you want anything, H?"

"I want you, is what I want." He grunted again, making you chuckle under your breathe.

"Alright, go hungry then." You rolled your eyes at his childlike attitude, punching the numbers into the phone to order.

"I wouldn't go hungry if I were allowed you, now wouldn't I?" He smirked at his words and looked over to see you blushing red like a fresh Pink Lady's apple. He and you both knew how flustered you could become by just his words.

"I will cut off your bal- oh hello?" You were surprised as the person from reception suddenly picked up, stopping you from threatening Harry's private parts. "Yes, thank you I would just like to order some room service please? Um, can I have the loaded nachos please but can I swap the olives for extra bacon please? Thank you, yeah. And a portion of your fries? A bowl of strawberries and a jug of water please. Thank you so much, okay, yeah!"

"You ordering for the thousands, love?"

"No. I just know that you'll eat half of my stuff anyways."

Harry was notorious for claiming that he wasn't hungry, or he wasn't in the mood for food, and then would proceed to eat half of whatever everyone else was eating. You both had big appetites for food but even bigger appetites for each other.

Harry reached into his bag and pulled out his phone charger with the adapter already attached, before walking back over to the bed and plugging in his phone.

"Can't eat too much, though." Harry told you as he pulled his t-shirt over his head, exposing his gorgeously tanned bare chest littered with pretty pictures created from black ink.

"And why's that?" You asked, curious to see where this was going.

"Gotta save myself for you later." He was so quick in reply, shimmying off his trousers and socks and throwing them on the bed to take care of later. He grabbed a towel off the bed and it was now clear that he was getting ready to go have a shower. He walked to his phone to check his notifications as you stood there flustered red.

Whilst he was preoccupied, you took your t-shirt off too and wriggled out of your leggings that you'd worn for comfort on the plane. You picked up a towel, walking straight past Harry and into the bathroom.

"Um, what do you think you're doing?" He asked, putting his phone back down on the bedside table and watching you walk further into the bathroom.

"What do you think i'm doing? Room service could be up to an hour, the lady said, so i'm joining you for a shower. Problem?" You asked, frustrated beyond reason now. He looked too fine standing there, with his boxers exposing his v-lines and hairs running down his tummy. He was so hot without even trying and it made your heart pound loud against your chest you were worried next door could hear it.

Harry shut and locked the door behind him, dropping his towel, and then his boxers, onto the sink beside him. He walked over to you, watching how you were stuck to the spot.

You were waiting for him to initiate something - anything. He pushed some hair behind your ear and kissed it softly afterwards. Your head was so close to his chest that it would've been wrong not to place a kiss against it. He hummed in appreciation, before moving his hands up your arms to help remove your bra straps from your shoulders. As he was delicately removing your more intimate clothing he whispered close;

"No. No problem at all." Harry smirked, knowing he had won this game.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fic rec #harry styles boyfriend blurb #boyfriendrry #harry styles nyc #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff blurb

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the-broken-truth · 1 year ago

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Civil Obsession: Platonic Yandere Mafia Boss Miguel O'Hara w/ Civilian Teenager Reader [Part 1]

Summary: [Name] tries to lead a normal life in New York, despite the presence of gangs and violence. [Name] resides with their parents who run a Drycleaner Business and attends school while working as an animator and artist on the side. While hurrying to school one day, [Name] accidentally spills coffee on a man wearing an expensive suit. [Name] offers the man their business card for a free dry cleaning service before hastily departing.

[New York - Your Point Of View]

The Streets of New York City were crowded - as always - but that didn't stop me from rushing down the sidewalks of New York, dashing through the slim openings between people's bodies with a coffee in my dominant hand and my other hand pressing down on my satchel that was on my shoulder and across my body but I didn't want my flap to open and my art tablet to fly out or hit someone in the face; I was not in the mood to get sued and possibly robbed but I was pressed for time. I overslept once again and I was late for school - well, late for breakfast at school; I still had about half an hour to get there and I was going to be late, then they were going to call my parents, then my parents were going to be pissed off at me, and for punishment, they were going to make me spend my weekend working in the Drycleaners when I could be finishing commissions and getting paid for them.

I'm getting beside myself. Allow me to introduce myself: I am [Name] of the [Surname] Family of New York City. I'm the only child of my family, thus making me the heir to the family business - a Drycleaner Service that was well known in the neighborhood where I lived in New York. While I respect the business and everything my parent did to make a living for themselves and myself, I found my passions somewhere else - in the world of Animation and Digital Art. I'm going to school to become an animator and my parents support my choice but I agreed to keep my passion aside and focus on helping my family with the business whenever they need my help - I work with them on the weekends when I don't have commissions to fill but sometimes I need to...

Suddenly, the door before me opened and my path was obscure by a large body, my eyes widened as I crashed into the massive body, squeezing the cup in my hand, causing the cup's lid to pop open and spill all over the person's red velvet vest - that was trimmed in white and in the shape of a spider on the chest. I fell on my butt and looked up at the person before me: A Towering Man with dark brown skin, dressed in a velvet red trimmed in cream white in the shape of a spider on his chest, black dress pants, shoes, and a black silk jacket over his shoulders. He looked down at me with his blood-red eyes as his short brown hair waved in the wind. People around me stepped away from me and the man. I quickly rose to my feet and bowed my head.

"I'm so sorry, Sir! I was in a rush and..." Suddenly, I was pushed away from the man by a large man in a tuxedo, black glasses, and an earpiece.

"Step away from the boss!" The bodyguard demanded as I steadied myself, "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH THE BOSS' SUIT COSTS, YOU FILTHY BRAT?!"

"Hey, I said I was sorry! I'm in a rush!" I yelled back at the man but lifted his hand to punch me when the man - The 'Boss' - grabbed the man's wrist and pushed him away from me before walking up to me and looking down at me.

"You shouldn't run in the busy sidewalks like that, you never know who might be in your way." The voice of this guy...deep but smooth...full of authority but gentle.

"I'm really sorry for your suit, Sir. Oh!" I reached into my satchel and pulled out a business card for my parents' shop before holding it out to the man, "Please, go here and they will clean your suit - tell them [Name] sent you and they will clean your suit for free. I'm really sorry about your suit but I have to leave!" I watched as he took the card from me before I walked around him and started running again - I was in the home stretch - 10 Minutes left before I was late!

[Mysterious Man's Point Of View]

I watched as the young one ran away from me and turned the corner - must be heading to the local school. I looked at the card in my gloved hand.

"[Surname's] Drycleaning." I said as I looked at my bodyguard and handed him the card. "Give to this location. I need to get my suit cleaned." I said as I got into the back seat of my limo before my bodyguard closed the door and got into the front seat with the driver before handing him the card and taking off down the street.

'Just who are you [Name] and why does it feel like the two of us will meet again?' I thought as I folded my arms across my chest and closed my eyes - all I could see was their face and it made me smile.

#yandere miguel o'hara #modern au #teenage reader

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bess3714 · 8 months ago

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If I were in charge of DC here's what I would do to the Batfam comics in no particular order:

Batman and Robin:

I would send Bruce and Damian on a sabbatical/road trip across America. They of course keep running into crimes wherever they go and solve them, leading a couple of FBI agents to start investigating them for committing the crimes. One FBI agent will remind people of a chihuahua, and the other of a St. Bernard. Also Damian has his permit so he can drive, and since Bruce currently doesn't have a hand in comics I'd add in a plotline where they help an alien who grows back his hand as a reward but he does it wrong and now Bruce has an extra finger.

Batman:

With Bruce and Damian gone, I'd make Tim Batman and Stephanie Robin. They fight crime and bicker like old ex's, leading to some interesting rumors about Batman. I'd make a directive that Tim isn't allowed to be drawn as a twink anymore, but has to be drawn with the rippling muscles he had in the 90's and 00's. Stephanie also gets rippling muscles. Part of the b plot for a while is Stephanie's rivalry with her next-door-neighbor who turns out to be a drug lord, but the drugs he sells are like, insulin and ADHD meds that he and his gang steals because he's a doctor who lost his job for reporting some ethics concerns and now he's mad about the medical system. Stephanie gets mad because in hindsight all the clues were there that he was literally in a gang, and she didn't notice because she thought he was just an asshole. Also they definitely make out at one point.

Detective Comics:

I love what Ram V is doing right now but I think when he's done I'd put Duke Thomas in the main story investigating systemic corruption in Gotham, shining a light (because he's the Signal) on the worst parts of the government. At some point he's accused of murder and the police are all trying to arrest him so he blows up some cop cars and Batman calls to yell at him but he hangs up on Batman. Montoya has a dartboard in her office with a picture of his face on it.

I'd add in an ongoing run of a comic that resembles the original batman comics in style and content. Then I'd have a a bunch of stories with some lesser-known characters, like the Psyba-Rats. I'd really use Tec as a playground to experiment with unusual team-ups, fresh stories, and inventive artstyles.

Birds of Prey:

I like the current lineup but there needs to be 30% more queerbaiting between Barbara and Dinah. There's an issue where Barbara and Dinah pretend to be lesbians to get this himbo to leave Dinah alone because she's trying to let him down easy because he's so damn nice she doesn't want to hurt him. (Has anyone watched Rizzoli and Isles, coincidentally?) I'd also add Helena Bertinelli to the team but she has an eyepatch for inexplicable reasons (the reason is it looks cool). The eyepatch will be dropped without any recognition a few issues later. Barbara drops both Batgirl and Oracle and gets a new identity as the Cloud. Only the Birds of Prey know it's her; everyone else thinks the Cloud may or may not be an evil AI working for Lex Luthor.

Outsiders:

I'm not reading Outsiders so I can't really comment on what I'd do for that one, but if you guys have any ideas let me know and I'll do the opposite, inciting fan fury and starting a Twitter war.

Nightwing:

I would send Dick to live in New York and also I would make him broke and homeless. I thought about making him lose his memory too, but that's already been done so instead I'd give him violent visions of murder and assault so he thinks he's losing his mind but then it turns out to be a secret policy from the new mayor of New York City to quietly round up all the homeless people by releasing gas into the streets at night to knock them out, but Dick has had too much exposure to drugs and poisons for it to work right on him, so instead he gets hallucinations!

Batgirl:

That's right, you'd get a Batgirl ongoing from me! Cassandra Cain would be the main character, and in the first arc I'd have her join a dating app, but then every date she goes on turns out to be with a criminal who she then sends to jail, and just when she's about to give up on dating, on the very last date she goes on the guy tries to force a charter pilot to help him escape by plane but Cass takes him down and the pilot is like "so that was cool. Can I get your number?" and they start dating. After that Cass accidentally joins a gang but she keeps getting gang members sent to jail and no one suspects it's her, only at some point she actually becomes the gang leader. There's then a crossover with Batman where her gang beefs with Stephanie's next-door-neighbor's gang and Cass ends up giving her gang to him peacefully.

Batwoman:

While I'm at it, I'd launch a Batwoman comic. I'd get Chuck Dixon to write it and it would be both wildly homophobic and also the gayest thing you'd ever seen, but eventually ol' Chuck and I would have some creative differences and he would depart, and instead we would have a rotating cast of guest authors. I don't really know much about Batwoman but luckily knowing about a character in order to write them isn't a requirement at DC. I think we need some ghosts so there would be an arc about Batwoman getting haunted by a bunch of angry, vengeful spirits who she thinks are trying to kill her but who are actually trying to lead to their killer. One of the ghosts is a really hot woman and they share a passionate kiss before the ghost girl disappears after Kate gets them justice. The arc would be lauded in some articles as a 'major reversal of the bury your gays trope' because at one point Kate has to dig up their bodies to look for clues, while in other news outlets it would be decried as a 'vile depiction of the desecration of queer final resting places.'

Red Hood and the Outlaws:

Jason starts a club/gym for a group of teenagers where he teaches them cool stuff like 'how to throw a punch' but also 'how to buy and cook groceries'. The gym is threatened by various forces like gangs, developers, the city government, plus the kids all have personal problems they have to deal with, like mental and physical disabilities, generational trauma, homelessness, and poverty. The teenagers call the gym "The Saloon" and themselves "The Outlaws" because Jason always has a TV playing reruns of old western shows. There's a running joke where various people think Jason looks like a dead relative.

Poison Ivy:

I'm a few issues behind but this one I would leave alone. I don't think I could improve on it. Unless I made Janet from HR and Croc an item. That could be fun.

Harley Quinn:

Another one I'm not reading so I don't know what's going on there but it could be fun to have a crossover storyline with Poison Ivy where they grow and sell shrooms to rich college students and then influence them to do stupid stuff and get them arrested. You know, fun date night activities!

Conclusion:

My time in charge of Batman comics would be one of mass outrage and general fervor. My directives would be so unpopular amongst fans that petitions would be started to have me removed and violent death threats towards me would be de rigueur online. I would depart after a few short months and my replacement would almost immediately retcon all my creative decisions away into a dark universe that would then be blown up by Lex Luthor. Ten years later, a dedicated fanbase for the comics produced under me would emerge, and they would be so loud and annoying and insistent that fans would then clamor to get me back in charge of DC once again, but unfortunately by then I will have retired to start drama on Twitter and write a memoir after a failed attempt at starting my own comics company called Big M Comics and getting sued by McDonald's

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ficthots · 1 year ago

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Tracking

A/N: Wow, just yeah. I know it's been a long while since I posted for Peter, but like I promised, I was working on things for him and here it is! Now, I'll crawl back into my cave until my next writing is ready. As always let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Word Count: 6.4K+

Time is a fucking thief. Really, it is. Waking up with the rising of the sun, getting ready to go to a job you despised, remaining in a windowless cubicle for eight hours, making dinner, then time to sleep again. Watching the clock as each passing minute was taken from you over and over again. Now when you throw being a superhero into the mix, it makes it even worse.

Holding down relationships, careers, any and all of the important things in life were always seemingly snatched away when it came to the personal life of crime fighting vigilante Spider-Man. That’s why when you entered his life it was like getting another opportunity to engage with time he had never experienced before.

Looking forward to coming home and eating dinner, stopping by on patrol nights to give you a goodnight kiss no matter what, to Peter Parker, he would do everything in his power to devote as much time as he possibly could to you.

Perhaps you were the time thief in his life now. Either way he didn’t mind when it came to you.

Were there times when it just simply wasn’t possible to shovel all of his waking energy towards you? Of course! The problems came when it had been that way for months. Yeah, you read that right.

In the span of four months, Peter had become so ravaged with his other entities responsibilities that his time with you was drastically rescinded. Unanswered text messages for days, not a peep from him for a week at a time, no more windowsill kisses. It was like he had vanished into thin air.

You understood at first. Hell, you had been dating the man for three years! What was happening, though, was unlike anything he had ever dealt with before. A group of men, identities undisclosed, were wreaking havoc throughout New York City. For months on end, like clockwork, every other week a crime would occur.

Each more gruesome than the last.

Peter had never really been on a deadline like this. Knowing that with each ticking second it was growing closer to the next attack. Spending all nights on the streets, trying to spot whoever could be responsible for this.

The worst part was that he had no leads. A few locations that were all pointless distractions. No semblance of an inkling as to who was committing all of these atrocities. In the span of time since their starting, over eight lives had been taken. A mind boggling number for such a short span of time.

Police were just as useless and he had decided to not take up any more time than necessary with them in tow simply because they weren’t taking this as seriously as they should have been. Instead of confronting the public, reminding them to be careful and not to wander alone past sunset, they were sweeping it under the rug.

Not wanting to cause a public disturbance. No need to fear monger they had told Spider-Man. Assuring him that all of those victims were tied to a gang in one way or another and it was criminal activity work. Something that he shouldn’t spend too much time dwelling on.

That was not a good enough answer for Peter. He didn’t believe them. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure it was a group behind all of this. It could have been a serial killer that was on one hell of a spree.

There was no pattern with their victims either. Randomly selected from the streets. What you didn’t understand was why Peter was involved with all of this. Of course, you knew he wanted to do all in his power to save as many lives as he could, but you warned him to be careful after the initial police warning.

Sticking his nose in places it didn’t belong was not going to end well. It had been the first time you two had argued to that extent. Shouting at the top of your lungs you weren’t ready to lose him and that’s what you were afraid was in the works.

He called you silly for thinking such things. That you needed to have more faith in him than you were giving. It still didn’t answer why he was so invested in this. You knew there were details he was purposely not giving you. Maybe he didn’t want to frighten you or maybe he thought you wouldn’t be able to handle it, but to you, you were a partnership, a pair.

All you wanted was to have Peter back around. Who knows, you might be able to actually help him if he came to you and showed you what he did and did not have. Instead, he hid it from you. Becoming cold and aloof. Distant and consumed.

If there was something you knew about Peter it was that he did not like being bested. Truly holding himself to a standard that was near impossible. Knowing he was above average intelligence, to put it lightly, when people tried outsmarting him, it was always a humorous effort. No one bested Spider-Man.

This time, they were.

Following that night of your monstrous bickering, you hadn’t seen or heard from Peter in over a week. Honestly, you weren’t making much of an effort yourself. Having no interest in being around him when he was in a head space like this. Knowing that there really was no way to help him if he presented nothing to you.

Peter on the other hand was not okay with you going dark on him. Despite knowing that the clock was dwindling down before their next attack, it was the first time in weeks you had been at the forefront of his mind. The little voice in the back of his head was telling him he needed to smooth this over with you or he would regret it.

Which is why he was climbing into your living room window with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, opting to take the night off even though it could be a crucial turning point. He ended up convincing himself it would be alright because if he didn’t have a direction to go in an hour before arriving at your apartment, then hunting tonight was pointless.

He didn’t have a direction.

Even though you hadn’t spoken to Peter, your thoughts were consumed by him as well. What was the bit of information he wasn’t giving you? Was there even anything he was leaving out? There could be the slim possibility he had actually divulged all he knew to you. But you knew better than that. Peter was hiding something, you just couldn’t figure out what it was.

The notes.

Discovered next to each of the victims he had come across. Given he was the only individual to find them and when he tried bringing it to the attention of the police, they had shrugged him off. They were trying to get to him.

Sheets of white printer paper, the typical horror movie fashion of assembly. Varying letters from magazines, newspapers, old letters, all taped and pasted on the paper in a note. Each one was different, but told in a fashion of a word problem. Some were like riddles.

Either way, with each new victim that appeared, so did a new note. It was one of the things he dreaded the most. Seeing what possibly innocent person had been selected in order to deliver the paper to him. His stomach turned just at the thought of it.

Tonight was not for that, though. Instead he chose to bury it in the back of his brain and spend some much needed time with you. So why weren’t you home?

If there was one thing Peter knew and loved about you was that you were a schedule person. Totally type-a, your day planned to perfection and given it was just after six o’clock that evening, you should’ve been in the kitchen plating your dinner.

Except, there was no you in the kitchen, there was no music or television playing in the background, it looked as though nothing had been touched all day. Until he stepped further into the kitchen.

When his eyes darted over to the corner of your counter, partly covered by your fridge, he froze. There it sat. An uneaten bowl of cereal. The milk on the counter next to it, the cereal box still opened and there.

As he approached it, observing the contents, you hadn’t even gotten a spoon out yet. It was filled to the brim, more so than you would’ve liked, but given it hadn’t been touched some of the cereal had inflated from the milk.

“Bug?” His voice, calm and collected echoed out into the quiet flat. Finally prying his eyes away from the alarming sight he had just seen, he was stumped. Everything else in the living room and kitchen was exactly as it should have been.

Maybe you were running late this morning and didn’t realize until after you had made your breakfast. Yes, of course! That’s exactly what it was.

Peeking into your bedroom, his heart rate decreased, a sense of relief and ease settling over him at the entirely bogus reasoning he had used to calm himself down. Until the most unusual sight of all was spotted.

Your phone sitting soundly on your nightstand, still connected to the charger. His hand rubbed at his closed eyes, trying to will his breathing to return to a normal rate. Tapping the screen, it lit up with dozens of texts. Some from Peter, some from coworkers, a few missed calls from work.

Never would you ever forget your phone. Never would you ever not put the cereal back in its place. Something was wrong.

His trembling hands removed his own phone from his pocket, before entirely losing any semblance of sanity, he dialed your boss’s number. It picked up on the third ring and Peter did his best to sound as normal as he could.

“Hey, Guy! It’s Peter Parker,” he was instantly cut off by his chipper voice on the other end. “Peter! How the heck are you?” He sighed, a shaky laugh escaping him. “Great, great. I just have a quick question for you,” as Peter asked if you had made it into work today, Guy responded fast.

“No, actually she didn’t today or yesterday. Didn’t even call. It’s not like her at all. I think a few of her team members tried texting her and didn’t hear from her either. Everything okay?” It was the worst thing he could have been told at that moment.

Clearing his throat, he tried to remain calm. “Mhm, yeah, yes. She’s just, uh, very sick. It might be a few days before she’s well enough to get back to the office. I didn’t call earlier because I wasn’t sure if she had or not.”

Guy’s laugh of relief was palpable. “Whew, thank goodness! Okay, well tell her to rest up and we’ll see her when she’s all better.” Thanking him and quickly ending the call, Peter tore your apartment upside down.

Any clues he could think of, any sign of forced entry, anything at all. But there was nothing. It was all still in the pristine condition it had been left in. Not a single thing out of the ordinary despite the two big red flags. Even going through every app on your phone, just in case, but it was fruitless.

Alarm bells were chiming in his head, he knew something was wrong. He knew you were in some sort of danger. He collapsed on your couch, wracking his brain for anything that could have given him something to work with.

Then he saw it. Out of the corner of his eye. A small piece of white paper stuck to the tongue of a running shoe you never wore. Turned on its side. He couldn’t remember if he had knocked it over during his rushed search of your apartment, but as he picked it up, his blood turned to ice.

Taped to the shoe were the letters he dreaded seeing. Had been haunting him in his sleep for weeks. When he could sleep that was. Unlike the others, it was almost a clue as to where to go next. His eyes quickly saw the time and knew they were going to strike again soon. Far too soon.

One step forward, three steps back, find her quick before she’s the next attack

It was an anger unlike anything he had ever felt before. Not when his parents had died, not when uncle Ben died, it was so overpowering, Peter truly didn’t know how to control it. Darting out of your window, knowing he was on limited time, he began his search.

A near pointless search. A pill that was hard to swallow. Knowing the chances of actually finding you were so slim. He had the list in the back of his mind, places he had scouted previously that he knew they had used at one point or another.

That was the only thing he could think to do. Which is exactly what he did. Searching one by one individually, spending no more than thirty seconds to one minute at each location before going down the list. Did he destroy some of those places during his searches? Absolutely.

He only grew angrier with each location he arrived at that you weren’t in. His hope was running out. Knowing he was at the last two possible places you could be at that he knew about. It was an abandoned warehouse by the river. The first place he had ever tracked them to, but it was far too late when he made his discovery. They had been out of there for over a week by the time he found it.

They were always just a few steps ahead of him and it drove him mad. His masked face searched the premises from what he could see. Through one of the partly shattered windows, there appeared to be a figure on the far end of the building.

A single light shining on them, their back facing where Peter stood. Sitting in a chair, only a wisp of a shadow, no identifying features to be made out. Assuming it was going to be a fight he was about to step into, Peter broke the remainder of the window and launched himself in.

Eerily silent. No noise in the entire building apart from the howling wind outside. It was beginning to become mid-fall in the city and it was always your favorite time of year. No one was enjoying the crisp autumn air that evening.

It was unbearably stuffy in there. No fresh air had swept through the place in years. The stale scents made that abundantly clear. Peter hesitantly approached the figure, the lighting just so he couldn’t make anything out until only a few hundred yards away.

The minute he saw the tied hands behind the back of the chair, his heart soared. “Bu-bug!” His voice shouted, relief flowing off of him in waves, but they came crashing down just as fast.

He wasn’t even sure if it was you. Incredibly deformed from obvious beatings, your face was swollen, bruised, and bloody like he had never seen before. The zip tie around your wrists had cut into the skin, pieces of flesh hanging from it.

As he looked down, the sticky floor was a deep crimson, continuing to pool from your countless open wounds. No shoes were on your feet, they too were cut and dangling from your seated position, totally limp.

He wasn’t entirely sure what was in your mouth as a makeshift gag, but whatever it was had been there so long, your skin was raw and bruised around it. It was the first thing he removed and as he did, your chipped teeth entered his view.

A blanket was draped over you that was covered in things Peter did not even want to begin to imagine. It was the next thing he went to remove, but he halted the moment it was off your body.

There, stapled to your bare chest, was his next note. The same haunting letters, covered in either your own or someone else’s blood. Based on the missing fingernails, he assumed it was a fight you had given which made him silently pray it was someone else’s, yours already spilled too much.

It took him a second longer than he realized to see that your toes were mainly all facing the wrong way. Your arms bruised from newly broken bones, legs in the same condition.

His trembling voice was the first thing you heard as he cut the tie from your hands, whimpers and choked cries trying to escape your hoarse throat. Immediately going limp, Peter caught you. Your body was convulsing in ways he had never seen, unable to open your eyes and see that Peter had found you.

His tears made heavy tracts on his sweat riddled skin. His gloved hands smoothed over the inflamed sections of your face. “I’m-I’m here bug, I got you. I found you, baby. I got you, okay? It’s okay now, baby.” Despite knowing how difficult and incredibly painful his next actions were going to be, he had to get you out of there.

Medical attention was the only way you were going to be able to survive. That meant Peter was going to have to carry you to the hospital. No possibility of emergency services being able to get to you before it was too late.

He was right. Had he waited for emergency services you would have died. You had been in the hospital for three weeks now. Finally in a state where you were fully conscious, despite the pain that never subsided, you were doing better than everyone thought.

It was unclear how long you had been in their “care” before Peter had found you. Based on the little memory you had from the snatching, it was assumed you had been with them for at least forty-eight hours, possibly more.

Peter hadn’t left your side since. Growing tired of hearing the nurses and doctors praise Spider-Man for having found you and saving you when he did. Hardly. He had hardly saved you.

In fact, this was his fault. It was the conclusion he had made. His careless and reckless behaviors had led them straight to you. He hadn’t spoken to you in a week and look what they had done. They thought they had killed you. There hadn’t been another attack yet. It meant nothing though.

No, the note left for him said otherwise. You’ve made it three steps back, how long until the grand final act?

Peter was frightening you. Since you had been awake and aware of what was happening, he had hardly spoken to you. The deep purple bags under his eyes were only growing worse, skin a sickly gray you had never witnessed in a human before, face hollowing out from lack of rest and food.

All he did was write in his notebook.

Curled up in a chair, he stared at the pages for hours on end. Occasionally writing and scribbling in it. His eyes never rested, constantly darting around the pages. It had been weeks of this. Total silence from him, not sure how to talk to him when he was like…this.

It was another late night in the hospital, having drifted in and out of painful sleep all day. Based on the lack of staff and visitors present, you assumed it was the middle of the night. The hospital floor just outside your door was quiet. An easy night for the staff, you thought.

Trying to figure out how to eat a pudding cup, one of the only things you could keep down, was your current task at hand. The tv playing with hardly any sound, it being the only main light in there, Peter silently re-reading whatever was in that book. That was the current mood of your room.

Eating was difficult. Only having three working fingers on your non-dominant hand, luckily one being your thumb, you struggled to pick up the spoon, also knowing you couldn’t move your arm to bring the spoon to you or bend over to get closer to consume anything. Just trying to move to secure the spoon in your mangled fingers had you on the verge of tears, losing your breath along the way.

You could do nothing without help. Not wanting to ask Peter for any assistance because of how poor his mood was. That was where you two currently sat with one another. Scared to speak to him more than absolutely necessary. Hardly speaking since being here.

His eyes briefly glanced at you before realizing what you were trying to do, throwing his notebook onto the side table. “Hey, hey, hey! What are you even trying to do, bug?” His voice was soft, a slight laugh in his voice, exhaustion evident with each word spoken. Taking the spoon from your hand, he pulled his chair closer to the bed, beginning to bring it to your lips.

It was silent until your eyes darted back at the book, deciding to take a leap. “Whatcha writing?” Your cracked, gravelly, and weak voice echoed through the silent room.

It made him want to revert to a blind rage attack. Your voice that was usually so full of life and excitement. Strong and loud that could command an entire room with only a few words. Now, he could hardly hear you, understand you, look at you. Jaw clenching at the question, his teeth grinded together.

When he closed his eyes, he saw visions of you beaten in that warehouse, left for dead. The immense pain you had been suffering through ever since then. Scars that would never fade, both physically and mentally meant he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. Not until he found them.

Your face was doing better, still black and blue, but healing. Able to open your eyes and look at him despite the popped blood vessels. Bandages littered every inch of your skin, wrists tightly wrapped with special medicine for the skin loss.

“Notes,” he murmured, eyes darkening as you asked your question, obviously not wanting to speak about it more. Changing the topic as your pudding came to an end, his hand brushed through your hair, knuckles lightly brushing against your cheek. “What do you need? Anything?”

It was silly. A simple question to see if you really did need anything. It didn’t stop the tears from hurriedly falling down your face. “Yo-you, Peter. I need you. I don’t know where you’ve been, but it hasn’t been here with me. I feel like I’m healing on my own. Like you’re not even here. You sit in that chair, staring at that notebook for days on end. You’ve hardly looked at me, spoken to me, listened to me. Please, just come back to me. Please, Pete.” It was borderline begging, but months of pent up frustration had broken the dam.

Peter’s heart continued to crack with each additional word you said. Realization of what he was doing to you, slamming into him all at once. He nodded, chin resting on one of the side rails, sniffling himself. “I’m here, bug. Whatever you need. I’m so sorry.”

Your only non-fully broken hand you extended towards him, wincing in pain from the movement. Scared to touch you, he only placed your hand back down, removing the side rail to get as close as possible to you.

The rest of the night, you two sat chatting ,watching whatever movies you wanted. It was a glimpse at the man you had seemingly lost all those months ago. Peter was back.

You were released from the hospital just shy of a week later. Peter’s plan to nurse you back to health was his moving in with you. While it was just supposed to be while you recovered, you two ended up enjoying it so much, he was now permanently living there.

It felt like your relationship was shooting by leaps and bounds, spending time together like you had never experienced before. Him being there when you went to bed at night and his face being the first thing you spotted when your eyes opened was a treat you didn’t know you needed.

Feeling content, cared for, respected, and loved like never before. Peter admitted, with your confession to him in the hospital about how distant he had become, tore him apart. He had never seen you moved to tears in such a way, especially over him.

He didn’t realize how deep he had been sucked in until that moment. From then on, Peter swore to keep his other persona on the sidelines for a bit whilst you healed and needed him. Did that mean he was going to stop being Spider-Man in the meantime?

Of course not. It meant that side of him was reserved for the span of time from when you fell asleep to about forty minutes before you would wake up in the morning. Absolutely clueless as to the fact that he had been out all night.

Hunting. Stalking. Tracking.

It was the first night in which you didn’t need him to help lay you down in bed. Peter knew his sleep schedule was already fucked, each time his eyes would drift shut all he could see was you strapped to that chair, nearing death.

And the fact that he hadn’t caught them.

Keeping him up at night, when he could sleep it was plagued by nightmares. Peter knew that there was no opportunity for him to rest while these scumbags were still wandering the streets, looking for another prey to select for their sick games.

Which is why he was doing this without you knowing. Not wanting to worry you and cause you further stress. No, Peter could do this. Would do this. Had to do this. He had made amazing moves. Truly spectacular given the place he had been stuck in before.

They had no idea he had found them, watched their every move, plotted what he was going to do to them. Honestly, when he first spotted one of the three he had discovered had been involved in your…incident, it took every ounce of strength he had to not murder the man right then.

He had to remind himself that all he had to do was provide some patience and the reward would be unlike anything he imagined. And imagine he did.

It was what plagued his thoughts every single day as he watched you hobble around such short distances that only offered pain and tiredness from. His eyes would drift over your still bruised skin as he helped you bathe and it was like witnessing it all over again.

Your hand would tip his chin up, forcing him to lock eyes with you. It was nearly impossible to not see the sadness and hurt in his eyes. Disappointed in himself for letting this happen to you. It didn’t matter because what had happened was now in the past and all you were looking forward to was healing.

The emotional and traumatic scars left on you were not easy to mask. Perhaps that was another reason why Peter was so furious as well. If he moved too quickly behind you, you jumped and a small scream would follow. Trembling for upwards of an hour before settling down. Peter would have to tell you small things to gather your thoughts.

Feel my hand? I`m right here, bug. Here, I want you to use the remote and put on whatever you want. You feel the couch under you? You’re home, baby. You’re safe.

If it weren’t for Peter, you weren’t sure what you would do. He was your rock, your other half, offering reason for unreasonable thoughts. He was your Peter.

The rain was pattering against the window, a sort of white noise you weren’t expecting tonight, but were grateful for it nonetheless. It helped you drift off to a dreamless sleep, exhaustion from trying to do some basic things today taking too much out of you.

Peter was already out of the house before he knew you were soundly asleep. He couldn’t risk being late. Tonight was the night.

Weeks of following them, understanding and breaking their odd patterns, he watched as they went according to plan perfectly. A construction sight for a new high rise. This was their new rendezvous sight for the next attack.

There wouldn’t be another attack.

Counting silently in his head, as he saw a flicker of a small light near the top floor, his count was perfect. They entered exactly on schedule. Crawling down the side of the building and using the thunderstorm to his advantage, he shattered a window a few floors up.

There was no other way that he knew of other than how they had entered and that was far too risky as they had all other doors blocked. As he slowly descended the staircase to scout the floor and determine which room they were in, his hair stood on end as a voice hit his ear.

Three of them. All there. The monsters who were behind your attack. Simply waiting for him.

Except, they didn’t know they were waiting for him. No, tonight was a setup night. Preparation for the coming days of their next plan. Peter had determined fairly early on it was not going to be their final act like they had claimed.

The door was kept slightly ajar with a cinder block, no handles on them yet meaning if it closed, there was no way out for them. Which was their plan for their next victim. Leave the poor soul trapped here with no means of getting out alive.

Peter’s skin was crawling, every instinct shouting at him to just do it. End them now. It would be so easy. He shook off those thoughts, knowing his plan was the correct one.

He dropped to the floor behind them, one of them catching him out of the corner of their eye, a smirk taking over his face. “Spidey boy finally found us, boss.” The thick accent made him hard to understand. Peter kept silent. Very silent.

The other two turned to face him, matching looks on their hideous faces. “How’s your girl? You otta be more careful next time or she could get seriously hurt.” A chuckle escaped them. Peter still didn’t move, watching them from a few paces away.

Quickly deciding they weren’t a fan of the silent treatment, the largest man in the center who Peter knew to be their ringleader drew his gun. In the blink of an eye, web flew towards the gunman, pinning the weapon to the wall behind him.

“Come on now, you didn’t think I knew what you have on you? Just like how I know tweedledee over here is about to throw a knife at me,” Peter ducked out of the way as the blade hurdled towards him. “Now how about we all play nice and introduce ourselves?”

An over exaggerated sigh escaped Peter’s lips as the three men darted towards him, but he acted quickly, webbing them to the surrounding walls, letting one approach him to fight him. “Guess not. Okay, then. I guess I’ll be the one making the rules tonight then.”

Peter grabbed the three chairs from one of the corners of the room before leisurely strolling towards the door and pushing the cinder block from the opening. He whistled a made up tune as he removed them one by one, webbing them to the seats to the point of them not being able to move an inch.

“You know, it’s such a shame sometimes that I wear this mask because I would love you guys to see how big of a smile I have right now. Scouts honor, I am overjoyed that we finally get to do this!” He took his own seat directly across from them.

His head scanned them before pointing at the one on the right. “Let’s start with you bumblebee. What’s your name?” His black and yellow striped shirt was what appointed him his nickname. “You think we’re going to talk? I have nothing to say.”

Peter nodded at his words before looking at the other two. “Same goes for you two then, I assume?” When they didn’t respond, instead only seeing spit hurl towards him, he dropped his head, shaking it. “Such a shame. Alright, last chance. Just give me a name.”

Silence.

A shrug. “It brings me no joy to resort to this, fellas. I’m truly not a violent person. I pride myself on being as gentle as I can be. " He began pacing around, his chair discarded behind him now. “Igor, Viktor, Sasha.” He pointed at each of them individually as he divulged their names.

He gave himself a small satisfactory pump into the air at his success. He could tell he was correct by the little one on the lefts eyes growing slightly wider. It was just the start. As Peter continued on, he got tiny tidbits of information. Only when he presented to them what he knew. Which at this point was everything.

Names, date of births, addresses, spouses, children, education records, dental records, you name it, Peter had it. It still wasn’t enough to get them talking like how he wanted. Instead, Peter fell into the second part of his plan earlier than he had expected.

With seven toes, five fingers, three teeth, many beatings, and an ear, they were beginning to squeal. The leader, Igor, was suspended from the ceiling by his bound hands submerged in webbing. He was entirely nude, body cut up in ways that had blood spilling from him ferociously.

Viktor was webbed entirely to the floor, his entire body covered in fluid despite only one singular nostril. He was the one who cracked first which Peter expected after his reaction to his grandmothers home address in his tiny village in his home country. It was quickly discovered that he was mainly an action man, simply doing what he was told, not a mastermind of any sort.

The other one, Sasha, was who most of the beatings had gone towards once Viktor had divulged it was him who had mainly been the culprit in your beating. Webbed to the wall with no chance of escape, Peter mimicked all the injuries you had sustained on him and then some. Just missing a few fingers and toes now as well.

As the night drew to a close, Peter admired the work he had done. He wiped his gloved hands in a motion to signify he was wrapping up. They were hardly conscious enough at this point to understand what was happening to them. To understand the fate they had drawn themselves to.

There was just one final thing he needed to do. Grabbing the needle and thread he brought with him for tonight and tonight only, he walked slowly towards the nude man. “Did you know that I sew all of my suits? Crazy right! How in the world does he have the time to do this, you might ask. It’s a valid question, but you know what, if I took it to lets say a seamstress, I would be unbelievably broke. Not to mention, how does one drop off the Spider-Man suit without drawing suspicion. First world problems, am I right?”

The man didn’t respond, but as Peter pierced the needle into his skin, his yelp rang in Peter’s ears. “Ah, ah, ah, don’t be moving around now, you’ll make my stitches go all out of wack here.” Peter took his time, but as he finished he admired the handy work.

Sewn into the man chest was a letter of his own. Crafted just for them. A message curated specifically for their enjoyment.

“How time flies, boys. Suns coming up here shortly. Time for me to be heading out.” He smashed a window, ready to crawl out, but he remembered one final thing he needed to do. Walking back over to Igor, he pulled his head back by the hair on his scalp, making him look into the bug eyed mask.

The whimper that fell from the grown man was laughable to Peter. “If you or your dogs come near anyone I love again, our next visit will not be as enjoyable as this one. If you get out of here, I mean.” Tears fell from the corner of his eyes as Peter released his head to fall back into its resting position.

“See you later, guys! Make better choices!” He called out behind himself as he crawled out the window, webbing it shut behind him before making his way home to you.

It was the first time in months that Peter felt like he could breathe. Taking in the fresh morning air, just minutes before the sun began to peak on the horizon, signaling the arrival of a new day. His lungs expanded with the deep breath of air, wanting to sob at the weight removed from his shoulders.

As he made his way back into the apartment, he spotted you in bed. Still curled up in the comforter, sound asleep, none the wiser of his whereabouts the night before. The brusing getting less and less noticeable by the day.

When he crawled into bed next to you, he refused to fall asleep, not tired in the least. No, instead as the sun began to shine through the curtains, he watched you. Watched as your chest rose and fell with each breath, grateful you were taking those breaths.

Because Peter knew that it wasn’t long ago where those breaths weren’t guaranteed. Now, he counted each one, to make sure you were okay. Of course you were okay now. Peter just needed to make sure.

It wasn’t too long after when you began stirring, eyes blinking open to see his golden eyes staring down at you with the softest gaze Peter had ever had. “Morning,” you mumbled, he whispered it back to you.

“You sleep okay?” He asked, to which you nodded, asking him the same. “Of course I did.” You smiled, getting up and ready to start your day.

You just needed to pretended you didn’t see the bruises adorning his knuckles. “What’s for breakfast?”

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