#Sorry everyone I'm talking about twenty one pilots

[grungothe2st]

Have you checked out Clancy at all? You might like it more than SaI.

Wellll, I checked it out when it initially came out and wasn't super impressed, buuutttt after giving it another go through I will say yeah, I do like this much more than Scaled

It has songs that sound more like the Pilots I enjoy, like Overcompensate, Routines In The Night, and Vignette

The most interesting songs on this album to me though are these more... alt rock-ish songs on the album? Next Semester, Midwest Indigo, and Navigating. They don't sound like Pilot songs but I don't dislike em, ya know?

Funny enough the one and only song I enjoyed on SaI was Shy Away which is more similar to those 3 but I do think I like Shy Away more. I also didn't like Next Semester when I first heard it but it doesn't sound too bad to me now.

But yes I will say this album is about 10x better than Scaled and Icy because that one just... I hear The Outside and I crumple and die

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Princess & The Pilot - Part 2

In which Lando surprises you.

Warnings: nothing (mostly fluff. angst if you squint and are sensitive at the end ig) Pairing: Lando Norris x British!Princess!Reader Word Count: 3.5k

The Princess & The Pilot - Part 1 Master List

(this should go without saying but don't steal my work. you don't have permission to repost or translate or do ANYTHING other than reblog my work straight from my blog. kthanksbyeeeeeee)

positivelynottheprincess (private) posted

positivelynottheprincess new hair. new dress. lets get this (awards) party started yourbff MA'AM (respectfully) princecharming mum is going to have a fit over the back of that dress >>>positivelynottheprincess that's why she's not going to see it til I walk into the gala BROTHER. ladykensingtonpriv Windsor genes never miss >>>positivelynottheprincess miss your face. leave monaco and come back to me bby. >>>ladykensingtonpriv come visit meeeeeee!

“Mate, you’re drooling.” Oscar swipes playfully at Lando’s chin while shaking his head. 

Lando swats at his teammates hand without tearing his gaze away from where you stand across the room talking to a middle-aged woman and her daughter.

"I'm sorry but it's kind of hard not to when she's over there looking like that. I mean, Jesus Christ." He hisses, sliding his eyes off of you and over to Oscar. Lando spotted you the moment he had walked into the large ballroom Saturday like you were a siren calling to a doomed sailor. Your hair was pulled back into a neat bun and the backless black satin dress you wore should really be illegal it looked so good. He was almost certain that if you were to cut yourself right then, you'd bleed royal blue.

"You're asking for trouble." Oscar warns, his eyes darting between Lando beside him and you across the room. "With the way you go through women, maybe pursuing an actual real life princess isn't the best idea."

Lando's head whipped back around to really glare at Oscar this time. "The fuck you mean, 'the way I go through women?"

The Australian levels a look at his British counterpart, brows raised as if to say 'you're really asking me that question?' and Lando blushes.

"Okay, fine. Maybe you're right but there's something different about her. We really hit it off earlier in the week."

Ever since the event a few days ago, Lando hadn't been able to get his mind off of you, the way you laughed as he took the car around the corners just a little too sharply, the way your smile lit up a room and everyone around you was just magnetically drawn to you. It was intoxicating just being near you and even though Lando had only spent a few moments in your presence, he was already craving his next hit.

"Well, don't look now but I think she's finally spotted us."

Lando and Oscar had arrived about twenty minutes ago and you had almost immediately noticed the driver's arrival. It was like the mood in the room shifted when he came through the door, a low burning fire stoking itself inside your belly the moment you laid eyes on him. If it hadn't been for the fact that you had been in the middle of a conversation with one of the award winners and her mother, you would have made a beeline to him, but your upbringing had taught you better.

As soon as you excused yourself from the conversation, you began scanning the room, knowing exactly who you wanted to see before the dinner started. Had you known Lando was going to be here, you would have pushed Sebastian a little harder with the seating arrangements and gotten yourself sat at the McLaren table.

The hum of hundreds of voices is just a faint noise in the back of your mind as you approach Lando and Oscar, who are both standing against the bar on one side of the room. Your dress swishes at your feet as you walk towards them and you silently thank Tilly, your stylist, for insisting on the backless black dress you were wearing tonight. You had originally wanted to go with something a little more conservative but Tilly was always giving you more bolder suggestions, insisting that despite you being a princess you were still a young woman with a 'banging body', as she put it, and deserved to show it off a little, even at official engagements.

"Lando!" You croon as soon as you're within earshot. Breaking all sorts of protocol rules, you accept the hug that Lando offers, sinking into the heat of his body when he wraps his arms around you. "I didn't think you were going to be able to make it. Zak said you were busy."

Pulling back, you're mesmerized by the bright blue green eyes the color of the Mediterranean Sea for a moment as you grin at him.

Lando shrugs, not wanting to admit that he had refused to come until he found out you were going to be here tonight. "Last minute cancelation so I got to come bug Osc for the night." He grins that little cheeky grin you've noticed he's so fond of.

"And here I thought you were coming just to see me again." You feign offense, but a smirk plays at the corner of your red lips.

The blush that blooms across Lando's tan face has you biting back a giggle. "Oh...well..." He stutters. Beside him, Oscar chuckles.

Before Lando has a chance to recover further, your brother steps on stage to begin the awards. With a wink aimed at Lando, you excuse yourself, telling the two drivers you'll find them after the awards.

The dinner goes off without a hitch and before you know it, your brother is saying his closing remarks and thanking everyone for coming. You have to do your 'closing duties' as Sebastian calls them and stand by his side near the doors to say goodbye as your guests leave. The fact that you hadn't had a chance to see or talk to Lando since before the dinner and awards weighs on you and you hope that you're able to catch him before he leaves.

You're chatting with one of the winners when you catch sight of a certain curly haired mullet that makes your pulse quicken. He's hovering near the bar alone, Oscar and Zak nowhere in sight. Once you're able to excuse yourself, you make your way over to where he stands. The way Lando watches you as you approach sends a shiver of anticipation shimmering down your spine.

Lando has spent the last fifteen minutes after saying good bye to Oscar and Zak just watching you. Watching the way you worked a room was one of the most impressive things he'd ever seen. The way you're totally engaged in conversation no matter who it is is something Lando's never really seen before and he craves watching you. He notices other things though, slight shifts in your expression as you move from one person to another. It's in the way your shoulders hitch up towards your ears a bit when you're not speaking to someone like you're tired or the way your eyes glaze over ever so slightly when you're listening to someone talk for a long time. If he hadn't been watching you like a hawk, he would have never noticed but it was so slight and so subtle that he was sure no one but him caught on.

Suddenly, Lando wanted to take you away from all of it. He could tell your mask was solidly in place and that you were good at what you did but that didn't matter to him. Just the thought of you being uncomfortable or anxious made him feel the same. You were so good at making others feel comfortable and were authentic with your care and attention but he knew that there was a bit of you, deep down, that didn't want to be here. That craved the quiet respite of a dark room and soft music. He knew that because he felt it too, more often than he cared to admit. Lando felt that the two of you had more in common than he first had realized.

"Waiting for me?" You flirt, leaning against the bar as the bartender pours you another glass of white wine. You're past your two drink limit that is customary for you at these kinds of events but the heady buzz it gives you while you talk to Lando is too tempting.

"Well, you did promise you'd find me after." There's that mischievous glint in his eye again.

"Did I?" You counter, enjoying the way it feels to have his entire attention on you. The heat curling in your belly tells you that you'd like to have more of his undivided attention on you, in private this time.

Lando nods, taking a sip of his beer. "I never forget the things a pretty girl says to me." He murmurs, taking a subtle step closer to you. The fact that you're this close to him in public, with your brother just across the room, doesn't escape your notice but you find it particularly hard to care, what with the way Lando keeps staring at your lips every time you speak.

"I'm sure you say that to all the girls."

"Only the ones I can't stop thinking about." Lando's voice drops an octave, the husky tone scraping roughly against your skin.

The blush that creeps up your neck and over your cheekbones nearly sends Lando into a tailspin.

For someone who spends a majority of her time speaking to people and making conversation out of nothing, you're rendered speechless at the way this man looks at you. You're not used to someone being so bold with their intentions as people are intimidated by who you are and who your family is. It's refreshing to be spoken to like a normal woman by a man that you're attracted to. It doesn't feel forced or fake either, just a man flirting with a woman who he thinks is attractive.

"I'm meeting a few friends at a pub after this, come get a drink with me."

The way he phrases it makes it sound like a command and not a request. Desire curls low in your belly and you want nothing more to say yes. Regret stings though, harsh and unwanted.

"I can't." You lament "I have to stay here until the last guest leaves. Royal duties and all that." You don't bother trying to keep the sadness out of your voice.

"Oh..." Lando doesn't bother hiding his disappointment either.

"But," You say quickly, reaching out so your fingers brush his elbow. "I'm free tomorrow night."

The pub that you suggest is one that you're a regular at so you know your privacy will be respected. The last thing you needed was the press getting wind of you spending time with known playboy and womanizer Lando Norris, even if his reputation didn't match who the man really was in real life. You knew better than most that quite often, the chosen narrative that the press ran with was very far from the actual truth.

Thankfully, your father had followed through on his promise to give you the day off so you hadn't had to cancel but your protection officers had insisted on following you to the pub even though you'd been there hundreds of times before. "This is the first time you're meeting this person alone, your highness. Your father would have a heart attack if he knew we'd allowed you to go out alone." Your head PO had reasoned, despite you arguing that you were literally meeting Lando Norris of all people, a man who was almost equally as famous as you were. In the end, you had compromised and the two officers that were assigned to you that night, Bradley and Nathan, had agreed to be discreet and sit at the bar without bothering you.

Lando had been the first to arrive at the cozy pub, happy that you had suggested someplace quiet and out of the way. The last thing he needed was Zak getting wind of him doing the exact opposite of what he had advised him to do. He sat tucked away in a corner booth, pint ordered for himself and a glass of wine ready for you, nervously tapping away at his phone to his best friend Max, who was on Oscar and Zak's side that this entire thing was a bad idea. Which made Lando want to prove himself to them even more. He wasn't just some stupid race car driver that only bagged models left and right. He could hold his own with you, a well educated and well bred member of the Royal family, thank you very much.

The bell over the heavy door chimed, announcing your arrival. Lando's head popped up as it had with every jingle of the bell, nerves grating on his usually cool demeanor. He wasn't quite sure what it was about you that had him so off kilter, but you made him nervous. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not but he wanted to see if he could figure you out.

Lando's mouth went dry when he saw you, dressed casually in a flowy floral skirt and creamy white knit jumper. For the first time since meeting, your hair was down and the only thing Lando could think about was running his hands through the thick waves to see if you liked your hair pulled.

Nerves sparked down your spine when you saw him waiting for you, eyes trained on his phone in front of him. His ignorance to your arrival hadn't lasted long and the moment you two locked gazes, your pulse sky rocketed. Be normal about this you chide yourself as you cross the pub. Go slow your mind begs, although your heart has different ideas.

"Hi Lando." You murmur into his neck when he pulls you in for a hug, his arms lingering around just a touch longer than necessary.

"You look good tonight, princess."

The way he says 'princess' like it's a nickname and not a formal title has butterflies taking flight in your belly.

You sit across from him, impressed that he ordered you your favorite wine, not knowing that he had asked the bartender last night what you had been drinking at the awards gala. The two of you fall into an easy banter, discussing everything from his life racing in Formula 1 to the degree in business and international relations you had just completed the prior spring.

Everything felt so easy with Lando, you noticed as you finished your second glass of wine. As the fuzzy haze that the alcohol washed over you, you were relieved and surprised at how normal this all felt. You weren't the 'savior of the monarchy' or the 'perfect English princess' here with him. You were just a 25 year old recent uni graduate spending an evening with a charming man you had met out of pure circumstance.

"I have a confession." Lando says once he's two beers deep.

You arch a perfectly shaped brow, wondering if now is when the other shoe drops. "Oh?"

"I'm kind of surprised you were allowed to come here on your own tonight."

Relief floods through you as a laugh bubbles up from the back of your throat. "Were you expecting I walk in flanked by a bunch of body guards?"

Lando shrugs, looking a little sheepish. "Kinda?"

The way you throw your head back and laugh has Lando mesmerized, the sound of it airy and light. He thinks he could spend the rest of his life making you laugh like that and never get bored.

Oh.

"Do you see that big guy over there? In the dress shirt sitting at the bar?"

Lando finds the man you're talking about sitting with his back towards you and nods.

"That's Nathan, he's my lead protection officer tonight." You point towards the door next, where another large man sits scrolling through his phone. "And that's Bradley, my second PO. He's already clocked that we're talking about him, don't let the eyes on the phone fool you."

Lando sits back, a bit blown away that these guys had been here the entire time and he hadn't known. It made him feel better though, knowing that you had been under their watch and protected the entire time. He thought back to the story you told him the first day you met, about the stalker. He wasn't a stranger to weird fan behavior, with how public he lived his life but as his eyes pinged back and forth from you to your protection officers, he realized your fame was on another level.

You sensed the hesitation in Lando then, a familiar look of intimidation and shock falling over his handsome face. You were used to that look, having seen it time and time again from new friends and potential boyfriends. Everyone was in love with the idea of you, the idea of being associated with you and what your life was but when the reality hit them? More often than not, they realized your friendship wasn't worth the price of being in your life.

"I come with a lot of baggage, Lan." You murmur, playing with the stem of your wine glass. You know what comes next and you brace yourself for it, regretting allowing yourself to get your hopes up that maybe, just maybe, he had been different.

Lando is quiet for a bit as he gazes at you, eyes soft and vulnerable. You try desperately to avoid looking at him, unable to face what you feel will be pity in his eyes. You've seen it so many times before. When people learn about how regimented and controlled your life is, how you can't step one toe out of line for fear of bringing the wrath of an entire nation down on your head. It's hard and you never want to ask another person to voluntarily take that on for you.

"That's okay." Lando says easily. His eyes finally find yours then because you've fond the courage to look at him then and they practically sparkle over at you. "We all come with baggage but sometimes when you have two people handling it together, the baggage becomes a little easier to handle all at once."

The spark that scurries up your arm when he reaches out to clasp your fingers in his is something you've never felt before.

"I thought you lived at the palace?" Lando looks at you sideways as you walk down the quiet street later that night. The pub where you had spent the last several hours was just a short walk from your townhome so when Lando had offered you a ride, you had told him you would just walk. He had insisted on walking you home then and you had of course accepted.

"I have apartments at the palace, yes but I mostly live here." You point to the a brick townhome that sits at the end of a quiet row. "It belonged to my grandmother but she gave it to me when I turned 18."

"My grandma gave me a watch when I turned 18." Lando grouses.

Not for the first or even second time tonight, you tilt your head back on a laugh and Lando thinks it's the prettiest sound he's ever heard. He's mildly concerned that he's becoming addicted.

You come to a stop at the bottom of your stoop, turning to face Lando, suddenly feeling shy. You hadn't expected this to feel as much like a date as it felt. When he had said 'drink' you assumed it would be a casual thing between two potential friends getting to know each other. What you hadn't anticipated was how natural it felt being with Lando, how effortless it felt to have his eyes on you.

"I had fun tonight." Lando says, taking a step closer to you. He knows that your protection officers are close by, far enough away to give you privacy but close enough to be able to do their job. It doesn't bother him as much as he thought it would though.

"I did too." You confess, sinking into the warmth you can feel radiating from his body.

"I want to kiss you." Lando is so close now you can feel the brush of his breath fan out over your cheek.

"Then kiss me." You breathe.

The first brush of his lips has you drowning in him. The plush press of his mouth on yours has your knees weak, reaching out to steady yourself by clutching at his dress shirt. Like everything with Lando Norris, the kiss is unexpectedly heated and wholly natural. The thought buzzes in the back of your mind that you could get used to this with him.

It's so dangerous.

Lando swallows your sigh when he licks into your mouth for the first time, needing to consume anything he can that belongs to you. You find yourself entirely forgetting about the world around you, not caring that anyone could see you making out with Lando Norris in the middle of the sidewalk. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of your brain, an alarm goes off but the way Lando kissed you silences any coherent thought outside of his lips on yours.

"Oh." You whisper when you finally pull back.

Lando runs his hand over his mouth, eyes playfully regarding you as if he's surprised. "Oh is right, princess."

God you were so glad your brother had gotten sick this week.

Tag list: @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley y @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland @chlmtfilms @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @strawberryy-kiwii @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @eloriis @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @bibissparkles @llando4norris @chelseyyouraverageluigi @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @amyj3114 @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

Learn To Love Again - Chapter Twenty-Two: Orgasm Denial

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

(I couldn't resist this gif I'm sorry)

Work Summary: You have a hard time letting go. Pietro helps you out. An exploration of kink with Pietro Maximoff. Each chapter from chapter 2 onwards will be a different kink.

Chapter Summary: You and Pietro finally go home.

Series Masterlist

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4751

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @ifilwtmfc @mcximffs @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @lanemarvels @maddieisbored @marrigold-2002 @kathrinchek @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye @strawberrysoldat @tayswozle @noz4a2 @rottenstyx @tiredbut-here @blueallover @alternativeprincess @annocaprosmaloka @thrutheburnout @idkman5335 @starmansirius

Taglist info.

Previous Chapter

Notes:

Hello my beloveds.

Warnings for orgasm denial (or perhaps extreme delay), jealousy (and grappling with it), slight possessiveness, slight objectification of women, sex that isn't necessarily rough but is very energetic, alcohol, tipsy sex, reader being a little bratty and bossy in bed, pietro and reader being somewhat codependent (they're working on it, okay), overstimulation, neck grabbing, (non-sexual) tickling,

---

The plane ride home was bittersweet. On one hand, both you and Pietro had been growing restless, and you missed the rest of your friends. On the other, you loved having Pietro all to yourself.

Soon, you would be back to training and meetings and missions. Gone were the days of swimming in the ocean, having sex on five different surfaces and watching movies until you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

But that was okay. You still had each other. That was what mattered.

“You excited to see everyone again?” you asked, nudging Pietro’s shoulder.

He grinned at you. “Of course. It’s been forever. This is actually the longest I’ve ever been away from my sister.”

You blinked at him. “Wow. I hadn’t even thought of that.” Wanda and Pietro had lived their whole lives joined at the hip until they became a part of the Avengers. You wondered how she was taking the separation.

“Wanda is my best friend,” he said. “My partner in crime. But we’re not children anymore. She won’t be by my side forever.” His tone sounded a little sad. You took his hand between both of yours and squeezed.

“Why not?” you asked softly.

He chuckled. “Because we both have lives outside of each other now…” He glanced around, as if to check if anyone else was listening, although the two of you were alone. The only other person in the plane was the pilot, and he was in the cockpit. “To be honest, I love her more than anything but… there is a lot of… pain between us. It’s hard not to think of everything we have been through when I look at her. Our parents. Our lives on the streets. Hydra.”

“Oh Pietro,” you said, bringing his hand up to your lips to kiss it. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry if this is painful for you to talk about.”

He shook his head. “I feel better for having told you. I’m sure she feels the same way. Things haven’t been the same between us in a while. We’re no longer in ‘survival mode’. I have a lot of things to work through. We both do. Besides…” He smiled. “Most people are not as close with their siblings as me and Wanda are. I’d say we’re doing pretty well.”

“Well, I’m here for you. You know I’d do anything for you.”

*

The plane touched down on the tarmac outside the Avengers compound, and you and Pietro gathered up your bags. You pulled your backpack on and reached for your suitcase, but Pietro got there first, shooting you a wink.

“Can’t let my girl carry her own bag. What would people think?” His tone was teasing. You gave his shoulder a light shove.

“Probably that I’m a superhero, so I can carry my own bag.”

“You might be a superhero but you’re also a prinţesă. Royalty don’t carry their own bags.”

You rolled your eyes at him good-naturedly. “Of course. Royalty.”

“It’s true!”

“And what does that make you? My humble coachman? A porter? My personal concierge?”

“I prefer devotee, but servant works too.”

“Good to know.” You stroked some hair behind his ear with one fingertip, gratified when he gave a slight shiver. All the months you’d been away together, and you still marvelled at the way he reacted to your touch.

Pietro led the way, carrying your bags down the ramp onto the tarmac. As he adjusted his grip, you swiped the bag from between his fingers and took off towards the main building.

He caught up with you at once, of course, half-tackling you to the ground. He wrestled the bag from your grip, the two of you giggling all the while.

“I really thought you two would’ve got this out of your system by now.”

Your head snapped up to see Wanda standing by the doors to the compound, arms crossed.

Pietro straightened up, grinning. “I could never get my prinţesă out of my system. She lives in there now.” He put out a hand and you let him help you to your feet.

“Disgusting,” said Wanda, but she was closing the distance between them. When she reached him, she threw her arms around his neck.

You stood by, feeling a little awkward. It was good to see Wanda, but you felt like you were intruding on a moment. Thankfully, you were saved by the compound doors opening and Natasha stepping out.

“Nat!” you called out.

She said your name, amused, and you ran over to hug her too. Natasha wasn’t usually the most affectionate of people, but she received your embrace warmly.

“So, how was it?” she asked, glancing from you to Pietro, who was still hugging his sister.

“It was probably the best few months of my life.”

She snorted. “I’m going to need more details than that, but that can wait. We’re having a little party tonight. Just Avengers.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“What sounds perfect?” Pietro had finally broken away from Wanda, and came over to stand by your side. “Hello Natasha.” As Natasha relayed the evening plans to Pietro, you turned to Wanda.

“Hey, Wands,” you said, a little shy. You liked Wanda plenty, but you were always a little self-conscious around her. She was so important to Pietro, and the idea of doing or saying anything that might make her dislike you was untenable.

“What, don’t I get a hug?” she joked. You opened your arms to her. She squeezed you tight, and then murmured, “Thank you for taking care of him,” into your ear. Before you’d had a chance to respond, she pulled back. “Do you need help carrying these bags?”

“Pietro keeps insisting that he should carry them, because he’s a man.”

“Ugh, what a chauvinist pig,” she said, grabbing the handle of your suitcase.

Pietro turned to look at his sister, offended. “Hey! I’m not sexist! I love women!”

You snickered, and Wanda again rolled her eyes. “You’re the worst.” She looked at you. “I don’t know why you put up with him. “Come on.”  You followed her into the building.

*

You and Pietro went back to your respective rooms. It was a little strange, after spending months entirely in each other’s space, to be on your own.

You emptied out most of your clothes from your suitcase into your laundry basket, snagging a sundress that you hadn’t worn in weeks from it. It was clean and comfortable, so you laid it out on the bed as you unpacked the rest of your things.

Once you’d put your suitcase back in your wardrobe, you decided to take a shower. You were starting to feel normal again, like you hadn’t even been away. It wasn’t necessarily a good thing or a bad thing, it was just something you were noticing.

Wrapped in a towel, you returned to your bedroom to find Pietro lounging on your bed, playing games on his phone. He wasn’t looking at you, so you dropped your towel, which got his attention immediately.

You were rifling through your chest of drawers, looking for a clean pair of panties, when you felt the heat of his body behind you. His chest pressed against your back, one hand sliding over your hip and down your stomach.

You leant back into his touch. With his free hand, he groped your breast, while the other hand slid between your thighs to cup your pussy.

“We don’t have time,” you said as he started kissing your shoulder. “We promised Wanda we’d meet everyone downstairs.”

“She’ll understand,” he said, and grazed his teeth over your shoulder, making you shiver.

“You’re a bad influence.”

His index finger, which had been toying with your entrance, slid inside you. “Uh-huh.” He kissed up the side of your neck until he reached your ear, and then nibbled on your earlobe.

“Fuck, Pietro.” You sagged against him, and he readjusted his grip to take most of your weight. He slipped a second finger into you and your eyes fluttered shut. You could feel the tight, heavy feeling in your loins of an approaching orgasm.

He gave your breast one last squeeze and pulled his fingers out of you. Once he was sure you were standing under your own power, he drew back completely.

You whipped around to face him. He was smirking at you, licking your juices off his fingers.

“What the fuck, Pietro?”

“You’re right, we’re going to be late,” he said, “you should get dressed.” He playfully smacked your ass, grinning at your answering scowl.

“You’re an asshole,” you said, pulling on a pair of panties. You were uncomfortably wet, and it seemed likely you were going to stay that way. You slid your sundress on over your head.

It fit the curves of your body well, and didn’t allow for you to wear a bra underneath. You straightened it out and then slipped on your sandals.

Pietro was leaning against the wall, watching you with a predatory expression in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to devour you. You wished he would.

“Who you dressing up all pretty for?” he asked, hands fingering the material of your dress as you passed him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you teased.

*

When you saw the world the way that Pietro did, it was easy to spot the little things that other people might miss. Other people may not have noticed the split-second that Steve’s eyes lingered on your boobs before he looked back at your face, but Pietro certainly did.

He knew that he shouldn’t blame Steve. You were a beautiful woman wearing a low-cut dress with no bra, and Steve was only a man. Pietro himself had certainly been guilty of looking at boobs when they were presented to him on such an appetising platter, even if he knew he shouldn’t. It was just instinctive. They drew the eye.

Still, he felt the smile fall off his own face as he watched Steve awkwardly clear his throat and look away from you. Either you were oblivious to Captain America’s embarrassment, or you were ignoring it, because you pulled him in for a hug.

He hugged you back, keeping a respectful distance between your bodies. Still, Pietro was trying his hardest not to grit his teeth.

He knew it was stupid. He trusted you with his life. He knew you would never cheat on him. And Steve Rogers was nothing if not a gentleman. He wouldn’t make a pass at a woman he knew was unavailable. Pietro was sure of that.

But still. There was something about that look that had put his stomach on edge. You were his girl. His prinţesă.

Steve turned to Pietro now, as you went off to go and say hello to Scott and Hope. Pietro forced his face into a polite smile in order to make small talk with the man he’d just caught ogling his girlfriend’s breasts.

No.

That wasn’t fair.

He hadn’t been ogling. He’d just been noticing.

It wasn’t even that Pietro was particularly bothered by men looking at you most of the time. He had seen men rake their eyes over you as you walked down the street. He had seen the magazine headlines and twitter comments of people lusting over you, and the most he’d felt was annoyance and a touch of protectiveness, not this all-encompassing, stomach-churning jealousy he was feeling right now.

Maybe it was the months that you and he had spent sequestered away from the world. You were his and he was yours and you didn’t have to share each other with anyone. Pietro was going to have to get used to not having one hundred percent of your attention one hundred percent of the time. That was fine.

Or maybe it was because he knew Steve. Unlike all of the anonymous people on Twitter, and the creepy men in the street, Steve would actually have a chance with you if you were single. He was handsome and charming. He was also taller and more muscular than Pietro. Not that Pietro had any reason to be insecure about his appearance. He knew he was hot. He knew that you were deeply attracted to him.

“Are you alright?” asked Steve, and Pietro grimaced.

“Fine. Just. Tired. Long flight, you know?”

“Of course.” Steve didn’t look like he believed him, but he wasn’t one to push.

“Excuse me, I’m going to…” Pietro vaguely gestured towards the rest of the group, and Steve nodded, stepping back to allow him to pass.

You were hugging Sam now. Had you always been such a hugger? Pietro reached the two of you just as you pulled back, and laid a hand on your lower back.

“Pietro, hey,” said Sam, putting out a hand to shake Pietro’s.

“Sam,” he said, accepting the handshake. “How have you been?”

You leant back into Pietro, so he wrapped his arm more fully around your waist. “Sam was just catching me up on what we’ve missed,” you said.

“Not a lot,” said Sam. “But I imagine you guys will be getting a full debriefing sooner or later.”

Pietro groaned, and you poked him in the ribs. “Probably,” you said.

“I don’t want to talk about work,” said Pietro. “I thought we were supposed to be having fun tonight.  And alcohol.”

“Then you can go and get me a drink, handsome.” You patted his cheek patronisingly, and he rolled his eyes.

“Fine.” And then, to be polite, he turned to Sam. “Do you want a drink?”

Sam held up his beer, so Pietro zoomed off to the drinks table. He was in the process of pouring two rum and cokes when his sister sidled up to him.

“What’s got you in a mood?” she murmured.

“I’m not in a mood.”

“Pietro, you know you can’t lie to me, right? We shared a womb and I can read minds.”

He huffed, but didn’t respond. He picked up the two glasses and started to walk back over to you, but Wanda intercepted him.

“You know, you have just spent months with your girlfriend. The purpose of this party was for you to socialise with other people.”

“I know that.” Pietro glanced over to you. You had made yourself at home on one of the big, plush sofas. Nat was on one side of you and Steve was on the other. He fought the urge to frown. He didn’t want Wanda reading into it. “I need to give her this drink,” he said.

“Fine. But when you’ve done that, come and talk to me, okay?”

“Fine.”

In truth, he did really want to talk to Wanda. He had missed her. He had so much to tell her. But seeing you sitting with Steve set his teeth on edge.

He walked around the back of the sofa and leaned over your shoulder, holding out your drink.

“My lady,” he said in a fake simpering voice that made you giggle.

You took the drink from him. “Thanks, Piet.”

He kissed the top of your head. “I’m going to go talk to Wanda.”

“Alright, have fun.” You grabbed his shirt, pulling him back so you could kiss him on the cheek, before releasing him.

Nat and Sam were watching on in amusement, but Steve just seemed embarrassed. Pietro ignored them all.

“I love you,” he said.

“Love you too.”

And that was that.

Wanda had tucked herself away at a table in the corner, a glass of wine in front of her. Pietro settled himself down across from her.

“So…” she said as soon as he was sat. “Captain America…”

Pietro blanched. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t make this a thing. It isn’t a thing.”

“Mm. I don’t think I’m the one who’s making a big deal out of this.”

“There isn’t… It isn’t…” Pietro sighed.

Wanda took pity on him, reaching across the table to take his hand. “You know, it’s totally normal to feel jealous when you see someone looking at your girlfriend. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Pietro sounded defeated. “It’s stupid. It’s nothing.”

“If it makes you feel bad then it isn’t nothing. Are you going to talk to her about it?”

“Why? So I can embarrass myself?”

“She loves you. She wouldn’t want you feeling bad.”

He sighed. “… I know.”

“So you’ll talk to her?”

“… Fine,” he said, only half lying.

Wanda didn’t push any further. “Good… So… How was your trip?”

Pietro cracked a smile for the first time since the conversation started. “I’ll spare you the details.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Please do.”

“It was… incredible. I’ve never felt so in love.”

She smiled at him. “I’m glad. You deserve it.”

“What about you? How is-” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Vision?”

“He’s good. We have been spending a lot of time together lately. He is good to me.”

“Good. Just so you know, if he ever hurts you-”

Wanda rolled her eyes. “I know-”

“I’ll kill him.”

“No, you won’t.”

“I will!”

“No, what you’ll do is buy me lots of ice cream and watch sappy movies with me while we both cry. But it won’t happen. He’s not going to hurt me. He’s not like that.”

Pietro frowned at her. “If you say so.”

*

You were tipsy when you made it back to your room with Pietro in tow. You’d been waiting for hours to get him alone again.

You’d been pretty wet from the way he’d been touching you before the party, and the fact that you hadn’t cum had left you antsy. The door had barely closed behind you before you were tugging at his t-shirt, your lips sealed to his neck.

“Wow, somebody’s eager,” he murmured, and you let out a little growl of annoyance.

“Whose fault is that?” you asked, grabbing him by the wrist and guiding his hand under your skirt.

He chuckled, playing with the edge of your panties. “My poor prinţesă, I’ve neglected you, haven’t I? Let me make it up to you.”

He bent down and hooked both arms under your thighs, lifting you up into his arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you over to the bed. He laid you down carefully, and then slid the straps of your dress down your shoulders so that he could pull down the front of your dress.

“Hello, ladies,” he purred, and then cupped your boobs in his hands.

“You know, that’s so not sexy- Oh!” He had taken one of your nipples into his mouth while hooking his leg between yours, pushing your thighs apart with his knee.

He released your nipple with a wet popping sound. “You were saying?”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

His lips grazed over your other nipple and your head tipped back. He was gentle, and persistent, with an occasional scrape of his teeth that sent shivers down your spine. His mouth was soft against your sensitive skin, and his stubble made you tingle all over.

He stayed there between your breasts for far longer than usual. It felt like an act of worship, and he murmured sweet nothings into your skin like a prayer. It felt good, but you were getting impatient.

“Pietro,” you whined, trying to grind down against his thigh. He pulled back from your breasts and gave you a soft smile, like he’d forgotten you were there.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I just like you a lot.”

Your heart fluttered as he started kissing down your stomach until he met fabric. Instead of trying remove your dress, he shoved the skirt of it up until the entirety of it was wrapped around your waist like a belt. He resumed his trail under your dress until he got to the waistband of your panties, and then he stopped, looking up at you again. You groaned at his ceaseless teasing.

“What do you want from me, prinţesă?” he asked, settling himself between your thighs. His thumb was tracing patterns on the skin of your lower stomach.

“I want you to touch me.”

“I am touching you.”

“I want you to put your fingers inside me!”

He chuckled again, sliding the gusset of your panties to the side. “All you had to do was ask.” You let out another noise of frustration, and Pietro relented, sliding his fingers through your slick. “Wow. You’re so wet.”

“Don’t tease me. I need you, Pietro, please.” It came out as little more than a whimper. He slid his middle and ring finger inside you, and you sighed with relief.

“So easy for me, prinţesă,” he cooed. “Your slutty little pussy can’t get enough.”

You were about to speak, but the words were lost as he closed his mouth around your clit. With him sucking on the sensitive little nub and pumping his fingers in and out of you, you weren’t able to form sentences for a little while.

Your hands came up to play with your boobs, and found your nipples still spit slick from Pietro’s ministrations.

“So sexy for me, dragă.” He sped up, his tongue drawing patterns on your clit as he slipped a third finger inside you.

“Pietro,” you whimpered, hitching your thigh up over his shoulder so he could press his fingers deeper inside you. “I’m close.”

He chuckled, warm air puffing over your clit. “My little slut, about to cream all over my fingers. You’re so easy, you know that? I bet you’d let me stay here for ever, just playing with your body, using you as my little fucktoy. Go on then. Come for me, my love.”

You squealed, your hips lifting off the mattress. He fucked you through it, that cocky grin never leaving his face. Your orgasm ebbed, and you settled back down onto the mattress, breathing hard.

You didn’t get much respite, because a moment later, he was flipping you over onto your front and sticking his fingers into you from behind. This new position had his fingertips pressing against your g-spot harder, and your eyes fluttered closed as he started licking your pussy again.

Your legs were trembling. You didn’t stand a chance. Within a minute, you were cumming again, your moans lost in the folds of your duvet.

“Nuh-uh-uh, none of that,” said Pietro, grabbing you by your hips and pulling you back. “That one doesn’t count. I want to hear you screaming my name.”

He rolled you both to the side so that he was spooning you, his knee pressing your thighs apart. His hand reached over your hip, spreading you open.

At some point, he must’ve shed his clothes, because you could only feel bare skin and his hard cock pressing into your lower back. Everything was moving so fast that it was dizzying. You clutched at him, your only anchor.

He nibbled on your ear, making you whimper. All you could hear was his breathing and the wet sounds of him strumming between your thighs. His other arm came to wrap firmly around your neck, holding you in place.

“Pietro,” you practically bawled, your legs trembling.

“My prinţesă,” he growled, wringing another orgasm from you. He didn’t stop until you grabbed the hand that was between your thighs, tears running down your cheeks.

For a moment, the room was silent except for your heavy breathing.

“Are you alright?” he asked, pressing his nose against your cheek.

“Yes. Just sensitive,” you said, breathlessly. He started to detangle himself from you. “Where are you going?”

“To get tissues?”

He tried to pull away but you grabbed his wrist again to stop him.

“Aren’t you going to fuck me?” you asked, blinking up at him through wet eyelashes.

“I thought you’d be too sore,” he said.

You shook your head. “I want your cock. Please?”

His cock, which had wilted slightly, was standing to attention again. He let out a little laugh and stroked it to full hardness.

“Anything for my prinţesă.”

It took a moment for the two of you to rearrange yourselves. In the end, you rolled onto your back, your legs wrapped around his waist. When he slid inside you, you grabbed his hand and squeezed tight.

“You like that?” he asked, cockiness returning. “You like when I fill you up with my big cock?”

“Yes, Piet,” you whimpered, clutching him closer.

He lay over you, your legs curled around his hips so that he could fuck you nice and deep. You tangled the fingers of your free hand into his hair, moaning with each thrust.

“Who do you belong to?” he asked, looking down into your eyes.

“You, Pietro.”

“Good. Are you gonna let me fill you up with my cum?”

“Yes. Please.”

He let out a deep groan and buried his face in your neck. You held on tight, clenching around him until he shuddered, spilling inside you.

You lay there, letting him catch his breath on top of you. Carding your fingers through his hair, you murmured, “You gonna tell me what’s been bothering you, baby?”

“Ugh. I can’t get anything past you.” He slipped his arms around your waist and squeezed you tight.

“So…?”

He rolled off you so that the two of you could face each other side by side. “It really is nothing,” he warned, but you just looked at him expectantly. “Steve was looking at your boobs earlier when you greeted him.”

“Oh.” You stared at Pietro, trying to assess his reaction. “I mean, can you blame him?” you joked, gesturing at your bare chest.

Pietro grumbled, low in his throat, and then, faster than you could see, put his hands in your armpits, tickling you.

You shrieked with laughter, trying to push him off you, but he held steady, now digging his fingers into your ribs as well.

“You… asshole!” you gasped between peals of laughter. After a moment, he relented, letting his hand come to rest on your hip instead. He rested his head on his other arm. You pushed closer to him, pressing against him until you were chest to chest. “God, you suck sometimes,” you said, nuzzling into his neck.

“You love me,” he said, and then kissed your forehead.

“Did it really bother you that much? Steve looking at me?”

Pietro made a noise in the back of his throat that made it clear he’d rather be talking about anything else, but he still responded, “It’s not… I’m not insecure about the way you feel about me. I know you’re not leaving me for Steve. I trust you more than anything. I know those things… It’s just…”

You leaned back, looking him in the eyes. Your hand came up to cup his jaw. “Sometimes knowing isn’t enough. It doesn’t change how you feel.”

“Exactly.”

“I feel it too, you know? Sometimes a beautiful woman will talk to you and I’ll feel the urge to give her a nasty electric shock.”

“Really?” The smile had returned to his face now.

“Of course! Have you seen yourself? Half the world would jump at the chance to have sex with you!”

He chuckled. “You say this as if you’re not the most beautiful woman in the world.”

You scoffed. “Pietro, please.”

“What? It’s true.”

“I’m not beautiful the way you are. Before we started dating, I thought I was going have to throw elbows with a bunch of strangers for the chance to be with you. You’re beyond beautiful.”

“There was never any competition. It was always you.”

“Pietro…” Your cheeks felt very hot all of a sudden. He was looking at you with warmth and sincerity. Trying to meet his eyes felt like looking at the sun. Your heart was thrumming in your chest. “So you know you have nothing to be jealous of?” you deflected. “I’m yours.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But it’s nice to hear you say it.”

“I’m yours,” you repeated.

“And I’m yours.” He kissed you then, soft and tender. You melted into his embrace. After a moment, he drew back. He grabbed your thigh and hitched your leg over his hip again. You gasped at the sudden contact, still sensitive. “Now, onto business.”

“Business?”

“You didn’t cum.”

“Pietro, I came three times.”

“One of those didn’t count! And you didn’t cum while I was fucking you. I want to feel you cum on my cock.”

You could feel that he was half-hard again already. You giggled, your head falling onto his shoulder. “If you insist.”

Next Chapter

[lousypotatoes]

Let The Stormy Clouds Chase

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Song Recommendation:

Killing Butterflies - Lou Bliss

Present Day...

Y/N, Angel Dust, and Vaggie were sitting in the living room, listening to Charlie rant about the new extermination date.

"Okay. So, the extermination is coming in six months instead of a year," Charlie ranted, pacing around the room. "No big deal. Just a little setback. Nothing we can't handle. Just angels cutting our timetable in half. But who needs a whole year to save souls? Am I right? And next time when they cut the time in half again and again, we'll just handle it right?!"

"Yes, we will," Vaggie said, grabbing onto Charlie's suit.

"Oh, please," Angel said while scrolling on his phone. "Ya had less than half a chance when you started all this salvation bullshit. And now...ain't no silver lining this time toots."

"Sure there is, Angel," Y/N said. "We just have to look a little harder for it, that's all." Charlie sent her a grateful smile.

"Well, while she's lookin'," Angel said. "The rest of Hell is going nuts. People are already freaking out about the news. Look at what's happening in the Doomsday District." he said, showing them his phone. Suddenly, a message from Angel's boss popped up on his phone.

"Uhhh, what is a donkey show?" Charlie asked, confused.

"Ah, heh, nothing!" Angel panicked. "My boss, Val, is just freaked out about the news too."

At the mention of Valentino's name, Y/N scrunched up her face in disgust. "Like I said, everyone's losing their shit." Angel finished.

"Yeah, that's true. Sinners are desperate," Vaggie said thoughtfully. "Maybe desperate enough to try anything to escape the extermination?"

Charlie gasped. "This is the perfect time to recruit more sinners for the hotel!"

"Good idea, Vaggie," Y/N chuckled.

"Cute idea and all," Angel said. "But you really going to go out in all of this?" He showed them his phone again, there was fire everywhere and demons were getting killed left and right. It made Y/N cringe.

"Well, it's not like people are just going to show up on our doorstep."

As soon as Charlie finished her sentence, there was a big explosion outside that destroyed the wall.

"Alassstor! Assasssin! Show yourssself!" said a voice from outside.

"Who the fuck could that be?" Y/N mumbled, getting out of her seat and flying out of the hole in the wall. When she got outside, Alastor was already standing out there.

Above the hotel, stood a steampunk looking blimp. Looking up, Y/N saw that the person who was piloting the aircraft was a snake demon.

"Face my wrath!" the snake shouted.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" Y/N asked.

"Who am I? Who am I?" the snake repeated. "I am the great Sir Pentiousss! Inventor, architect of dessstruction, villian extraordinaire!"

By the time he finished talking, Vaggie, Charlie, and Angel Dust had made it out of the Hotel, they were now looking up at the blimp.

"Isn't this the guy who attacked us last week?" Angel asked.

"I would of loved to see that," Y/N said.

Nifty gasped, suddenly appearing on Alastor's head. "Ooh, he's a bad boy," Nifty said, a wicked grin on her face.

"Huh, well if all that's true, you'd think we'd have heard of you," Alastor said, setting Nifty on the ground.

"I attacked you literally last week," Sir Pentious said. Alastor tilted his head in confusion. "We've done battle like... twenty times."

"Well, you must have been really bad at this,"

"Yeah, I don't recall fighting with you, like ever," Y/N said, feeling bored.

"Silence!" Sir Pentious shouted. "Now cower! For when I've ssslain you, the almighty Vees will finally acknowledge me as their equal!"

"Almighty Vees my ass," Y/N said under her breath as Nifty crawled on her.

"Ooh! Wait, who are the Vees?" Nifty asked.

"No one you need to worry about, Nifty," Y/N said.

"Enough!" Sir Pentious shouted. "Alassstor! Assssassin! Feel my wrat-"

Sir Pentious never got to finish his sentence. Long black tendrils sprouted out of Alastor's back and grabbed onto the steampunk blimp, shaking it around. Alastor began to laugh manically.

"Oh! Please! Stop!" Sir Pentious shouted.

"Um, Alastor?" Charlies said, concerned. "I think he's had enough."

"Nah, he's got a few more hits in 'im!" Angel said, smirking.

"Yeah, let him have his fun," Y/N said giggling.

As the blimp started to shake around more, Sir Pentious finally fell out, landing flat on his face.

Looking up, Y/N saw that there was a drone right next to the blimp, the camera pointing towards the hotel.

"Fucking Christ," Y/N mumbled. "I swear, I'm gonna kill Vox." Nobody heard her.

"Thanks for another forgettable experience!" Alastor said, twirling his cane. An egg thing fell right next to Y/N and splattered. Grossed out, she stepped away from it.

"Thank... you..." Sir Pentious said weakly. "For letting your guard down!" Suddenly, using his tail, he ripped off a piece of Alastor's coat. "Haha! Yeah! Oh, shit."

Suddenly, Sir Pentious was blasted away.

"Well, it looks as though I need a visit to the tailor," Alastor said cheerfully. "Would you like to accompany me, Y/N?"

"Hm?" Y/N said, taking her eyes off the drone. "Oh, yeah, sure. I've been meaning to stop by there anyway."

"Excellent!" Alastor said, beckoning her to follow him. "Best of luck chums!"

"Wait, you guys can't leave!" Vaggie said. "We need your help. We need you to do your job."

"We need a wall," Angel said, gesturing to the big hole in the wall.

"Of course. We can't let our new project fall into disrepair already, now can we, Y/N?" he said, nudging her. "What would the papers say?"

The two of them snapped their fingers. Alastor summoned some construction demons and Y/N summoned some tools for them to use. The two of then walked off.

"I couldn't help but notice," Alastor said as they walked. "What was in the sky that had you so distracted, my dear?"

"You didn't see the drone?" Y/N asked.

"Ah, that's what you were looking at," Alastor said. "Yes, I saw the drone."

"It's probably from VoxTech," Y/N grumbled. "Knowing him, he's gonna take every opportunity he can to spy on the hotel, especially 'cause me and you are there."

"Ah, you seem to know Vox quite well." Alastor said, jealousy knawing at him a tiny bit. "Why is that?"

"We were acquainted for a little bit," Y/N said. "That's all I'm gonna share for now."

"If that's all you would like to reveal, that's fine," Alastor said, his smile seeming a bit more forced. "It's rude to pry."

"Say's you," Y/N said, a playful smirk on her face. "Your one of the most nosiest people I know."

"You say that like it's a bad thing, dear," Alastor said, she chuckled.

"I swear, if I see that man again, I'm rippin' his pathetic head off,"

"He was only complementing you," Alastor laughed lightly.

"He was doin' it in a way I didn't like," Y/N said, looking across the street at the electronics store. "Ugh, I hate seeing Vox's stupid face every time I walk past that store."

"Top of the hour and we're discussing a certain has-been who has been spotted cavorting around town after a seven-year absence!" Vox's fake cheery voice came from the T.V.

Even hearing his voice pissed Y/N off, especially since he was talking about Alastor.

" I'm sorry, dear," Alastor said, a smirk on his face. "I'm afraid I have to cut this short, I have some business to take care of regarding a noisy picture box."

Y/N grinned, knowing he was talking about Vox.

"No need to say sorry, Al," she said. "Do me a favor, embarrass the hell outta him."

Alastor's grin grew wider. "I'll do my best, my dear."

With one final look at her, he melted into the shadows, no doubt heading to his radio station.

Wanting to see what was going to happen, she walked closer to the electronic store. The crowd didn't pay any attention to her, too preoccupied listening to flat screen demon.

Otherwise, the crowd of people would of ran for the hills.

"Alastor's a loser, he's a fossil, and I don't mean to sound hostile, but the demon is a coward!" said Vox's voice from the T.V.

Y/N laughed, knowing what really went on that day.

"You can play that as gospel, folks. He thinks he can take my viewers?" he laughed. "Impossible. Stop giving him the time of day. Don't listen to anything he says. Alastor should have stayed away!"

Y/N hoped that whatever Alastor was planning would be good.

"Hell's been better off since he disappeared," he said. "Wondering where he's been? Who gives a shit! He-"

Suddenly, a voice came from the radio in the window from the radio store next door. Y/N's eyes lit up in anticipation.

"Salutations sinners!" Alastor's voice came from the radio. "It's good to be back on the air!"

Hearing the Radio Demon's voice, the crowd moved over to the front of the radio store.

On the TV, Y/N could see Vox's shocked and angry face. It made her giggle.

"I know it's been a while since someone with this much style treated Hell to a radio broadcast," Alastor said. "Sinners rejoice!"

"What a dated voice," Vox said.

"Instead of a clout chasing video podcast," Y/N could hear the smirk in Alastor's voice.

Deciding she didn't want to be surrounded by all these sinners, Y/N immediately unfurled her wings and flew back to the hotel as fast as she could.

Landing on her balcony, she ran into her room, turned on the radio, and turned her phone to the broadcast, hoping she didn't miss too much.

"Is Vox as strong as he claims or is it merely based on support?" Alastor said, making Isabell laugh. "He'd be powerless without the other Vee's."

"Oh please," Vox snarled.

"There was once a time when Vox asked me to join his team, I said no and that's why he's so pissy," Alastor said. "That's the tea!"

"You ØŁʥ timey prick!" Vox shouted. "I'll show you şµʩʩɞʁʁɨŋɠ!"

"Uh oh, the T.V. is buffering," Alastor said smuggly.

The T.V. signal started to break up. "ⅰII ʤşɫʁØʏ ʏØØ-Ø-⋃-⋃ ʏØ⋃ Įiɫɫɩɚ-"

Looking out the window, all the power in Pentagram City started to go out. Y/N was glad that the hotel was hooked up to a generator.

"I'm afraid you lost your signal," the Radio Demon said.

Satisfied, Y/N turned off the radio, heading downstairs.

"When'd you get here babycakes?" Angel asked when he saw Isabell coming down the stairs.

"Just now," she said, sitting next to him. "I came in through my balcony."

"Uh huh," he said, wiggling his eyebrows. "So what did you creepy voice do hmm?"

"All we did was go to tailor, you have such a dirty mind,"

"It pays off,"

The two of them talked a bit more until Vaggie and Charlie came in. Charlie flopped on the couch with and groaned, a disappointed look on her face.

"So how'd it go?" Angel asked.

Vaggie sighed. "Not a single new recruit,"

"Yeah. Well, who would want to use their last days not fucking and fighting?"

"I'm sure there are plenty of people, Angel," Y/N said, elbowing his side.

"Sure there are," he replied as Vaggie went to go answer the door.

Y/N heard a thud and Vaggie yelling.

"You should probably go check that out, Charlie," Y/N suggested..

As Charlie walked over the front door, Y/N peered over her shoulder and saw that the snake demon who attacked them earlier was there.

"Holy shit Angel!" she exclaimed. "It's that guy who attacked us earlier."

"No fucking way," Angel said, getting up and walking over, Y/N followed him.

"Are you fucking nuts?" Angel said, standing in the doorway. "This chump was trying to kill us, like literally six hours ago. And now you want to bring him in here to live with us?"

"Absolutely!" Charlie smiled. "This place is about second chances, and who deserves one more than this...slithery...slippery...special little man."

"This could end up in a pile of shit," Y/N muttered. "Aren't you like, the protector of this place, Vaggie?"

Charlie did puppy eyes over to Vaggie.

Vaggie sighed. "I...guess he's not much of a threat without the war machine," she said, making Sir Pentious smile. "Or even with the war machine."

Sir Pentious' smile dropped into a frown.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Charlie exclaimed, hugging Vaggie tightly. "Sir Pentious! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!"

"Oh, no darling, thank you," Sir Pentious said, as Y/N eyed him up and down suspiciously. "You won't regret this."

"Eh, I give you a week tops," Angel said, as they all walked back into the Hotel.

Upon further inspection, Y/N noticed that Sir Pentious was wearing a high tech watch. The kind that Vox Tech sold.

"Don't worry, if he tries anything, I'll kill him," Y/N muttered over to Angel.

"What do you think about our newest guest, hm?" Alastor asked.

Alastor and Y/N were on Y/N's balcony, staring out into Pentagram City, something the two of them did quite often since she arrived at the hotel.

"There's somethin' about him that I can't quite put my finger on," she answered, leaning on the railing. "But whatever it is, I don't like it."

"Maybe you're being too quick to judge, dear," he said softy.

"Says you," Y/N said, playfully nudging him.

It was quiet for a moment, Y/N thought about what to say to clear the awkward tension.

"Can I ask you somethin', Alastor?" she said. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to, I'm just curious."

"Ask away, my dear,"

"How in the world did you get shot in the head by a hunter?"

Alastor didn't say anything at first. Y/N couldn't tell if he was annoyed at the question or not.

"I was burying a body in the woods," he said. "At the time I didn't know, but I was on hunting grounds. This idiot man thought I was a deer."

Y/N remembered the day she got the call like it was yesterday.

"I guess that explains why you're a deer," she snickered.

"How did you die, Y/N?" he asked. "You don't have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable."

"No, no, it's fine," she waved off. "It's not as gruesome as yours, but one night, about a year after you died, I was cleanin up some bodies in an abandoned church, when all of a sudden, a cop came barrelin' in. He shot me at least nineteen times."

"Nineeten times?" Alastor asked, his eyebrows raised. "That seems like a little much."

"Oh well," she shrugged her shoulders. "It doesn't matter anymore, now that I'm stuck down here."

It was quiet for another moment.

"I'm sorry for leavin' you, my dear," Alastor whispered. "I can't imagine what it must have been for you."

"Why are you apologizin' for?" Y/N asked, turning to look at him. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's not your fault you got shot."

"What was it like?" he asked. "After I died."

"It was hard," she admitted. "Really hard. It took me a while to get out of my house and do simple things like go grocery shoppin' or run the flower shop."

Alastor took her hand in his. "I swear to you, dear, I will never leave you alone, again."

Y/N smiled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "We're in Hell, Alastor, we're not goin' anywhere."

The two of them laughed softly.

"We should probably head back down there," Y/N said, removing her hand from his. "Charlie said she wanted to show us somethin'."

"I suppose you're right," Alastor said. "Care to walk down with me, my dear?" he said offering his arm.

Y/N giggled "Why, it would be my pleasure," she said, interlocking her arm with his.

"'Oh, I'm a bad man on the streets who never got enough hugs." Angel said sarcastically, reading off a script

Angel was currently wearing a large trench coat and a tiny hat, while Sir Pentious was wearing a white and yellow sailor shirt and a black hat, and a licking a large lollipop.

"'Now, where's an innocent kid I can sell crack to?'" Angel said.

"Wow. Who wrote this?" Angel said in disbelief.

"It's great right?" Charlie said, a smile on her face. "Keep going!"

Y/N giggled.

"'Hey, you," Angel said, pointing to Sir Pentious.

"'Who, me?'" Sir Pentious said, batting his eyelashes.

"'Yeah, you look like a kid who could use some devil's dandruff,'" Angel said, a bored look on his face. "Oh, for fuck's sake."

"'Not me,'" Sir Pentious shook his head. "'I have to go home and study."

"'Come on kid, it'll make you cool like me...'" Angel said. "The crack head.'"

"'The only cool thing here is to say no drugs,'" Sir Pentious said. "'Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to not have sexual intercourse before marriage!'" Sir Pentious announced proudly.

"Yes! Oh bravo, bravo!" Charlie exclaimed, standing up and clapping. "Wow, Pentious, at this rate you'll be redeemed in no time."

Y/N looked over at Angel, seeing a look on his face that she had never seen before on him.

"I...I'm going to bed."

"I am so proud of you, Sir Pentious." Charlie said while Angel walked off, ignoring him. "That was amazing!"

"Hey, Angel?" Y/N said, walking over to him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah I..." he said, turning away from her. "I'm fine."

"Hey," she said, touching his arm. "Y'know if you need to talk, I'm always here."

"I said I'm fine Y/N," he snapped, jerking his arm away from her.

As Angel walked up the stairs, she couldn't help but feel sad.

"Everything okay, my dear?" a staticky voice asked.

"Yes, everything's fine,"

It was late at night.

Tossing and turning, Y/N couldn't sleep. Her mind was on a variety of things. The hotel, Angel Dust, Vox...

Alastor...

Deciding that sleep was no longer an option, Y/N got out of bed and started to walk around the hotel.

As she walked down the stairs, she heard voices.

"I hated that song! Why are you so lame?" came Nifty's voice. "Not a bad boy!"

Y/N laughed silently. She loved it when Nifty said the most out of pocket things.

"Good first day," said Charlie's voice. "Let's get some rest."

At the sound of footsteps, Y/N hid behind a pillar, not wanting them to see her. She knew they would ask questions.

When she knew they were gone, Y/N came out of her hiding spot, walking into the room that they all came out of.

Walking into the room, she saw the watch that Sir Pentious was wearing on the ground.

Somehow, she knew that this had something to do with Vox. No wonder Sir Pentious randomly showed up.

Smirking, she picked up the picked up the watch, turning it on.

Vox appeared on the watch screen.

"What!?" Vox's angry voice said.

"Hello there, Vox, missed me?" Y/N grinned seeing the surprised look on his face. "You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that next time, hun."

She laughed, hearing Vox scream out in rage. She dropped the watch and, crushing it with her boot.

She walked back to her room, laughing all the way.

Little did she know that a certain Radio Demon was in the shadows, watching her interaction with Vox, thinking to himself.

i am so excited for the new episodes of helluva boss

i hope they have striker

i want to get on my knees for that man so bad

stay safe and drink lots of water <33

xoxo, Izzy

Taglist 💋

@maksdust

@trippoverrt

@slytherin4ever

@lucifers-silhouette

@a-small-tyrant

@mo-0-o

@cutiebimbo

@mommymilkers0526

@mikariell95

@al-of-the-stars

@martinys-world

@bibliophile-yomna

@mysticwitchcraftco

[gameo-archive]

"Do you have any inside jokes you could share? Or just your favourite jokes broadly? I’m going on holiday to London in March, any recommendations for non-touristy activities? Do you remember your dreams (sleeping ones) and could you share any?"

Transcript below:

"G: Right, oh, hello Tan, it‘s George here from… Percy Jacks— sorry, Dead Boy Detectives. J: And Jayden from Per— Dead Boy Detectives. G: Both filmed in Vancouver, both excellent shows of the supernatural variety. So, you‘ve asked us a few questions, Tan, and we are gonna get straight into them, so… question number one: Do we have any inside jokes we could share. Could we share? J: We probably have inside jokes but could we even explain them? Not really. It‘s most of them is just like noises and like weird just quotes from random things. G: Yeah, that's the thing, they kind of evolve as we're spending time together. Cause when we were filming the show we were literally in each other's pockets every day, so… Also, they just wouldn't be funny to you. J: No. It's like… you gotta be there for it to be funny. G: Not in like an exclusive way but, like, even Kassius didn't find a lot of them funny. J: No. Nobody did. G: Nobody did, no. J: You would have just thought we had like Tourette's or something. We'd just walk around set just shouting things and making noises. G: There's the shag smash one. J: Yeah. G: That's quite funny J: That was quite funny. But, I mean, is that an inside joke? Well, that's a joke anyway, so let's talk about that. So, obviously I had the line in episode… G: Three? J: Three, where I have to say, oh you know, we shag, smash, you know. Get it on, whatever the line was. And for some reason I was doing it in this voice where, when we were reading it and rehearsing it, I kept going ""shaaag"", ""smaaaash"". Again, probably doesn't sound that funny to you right now but at the time we found that absolutely hilarious and when it came to the actual rehearsal and when I tried to say it normally, it was the first time I said it normally, and we all were just on the floor. G: And the crew who watched the rehearsal—there's about over a hundred of them—they were not impressed. J: They had no idea G: They had no idea because… because it was a British joke. J: It was a super British joke. And they were all literally like this. G: So we then had about twenty minutes after that rehearsal to actually filming the scene which you see, which is now available for everyone to see. We had twenty minutes to get our you know what together. So we were literally lying down one by one and standing on each other's chests… J: To get the laughs out. G: …to compress them and get the laughs out. And it worked, didn't it? J: It did. G: I couldn't… I'm sure if you watch that scene, I'm not looking at him when he says that line because… J: I think I was looking at your bowtie as well, I couldn't look you in the face. G: Probably. It was towards the end of the day as well, wasn't it? J: Yeah, it was G: And sometimes towards the end of the day you get the giggles a little bit. But it means that we were having fun and that's the main thing. Erm, you said you're going on holiday to London in March, any recommendations for non-touristy activities. J: Well, I let you take this part, because I'm awful with anything touristy or non-touristy. G: I mean, it's not too touristy but you should visit the Greenwich Naval Museum because we filmed the very first part of the Pilot there, so you can go and reenact it, should you wish. J: Oh, I got one. Go to the Sherlock Holmes Museum as well. Me, George, and Kassius actually went there for some pre-filming research. G: In Baker Street. Yes. Do we remember our dreams and could we share any? I don't remember my dreams. J: I do remember some but they are just so blooming random. I had a dream last night that I went to my nan's house with my little brother and we walked in and she jump-scared us and I woke up. G: Fascinating. J: Yeah. G: Well… Both: Let's end the day with that."

[sassy-bi-latina]

I have a new ramble incoming that might get me in deep waters with some bl stans. I'm sorry, I TRULY mean this with no hate.

First and foremost, I want to say I in NO WAY, SHAPE OR FORM mean hate towards Fourth nor Gemini

Context:

If you know me, you know I'm a ff reader, if you don't know me, well now you do. I mainly use AO3.

I'm currently watching 23.5 degrees, I love it so I went to read some fics.

There are 115 fics under the show's tag. I got excited thinking people work fast, absolutely not realizing the pilot trailer was out in 2022. I knew I've been waiting. I just didn't realize how long.

Previously to 2024, there were only 3 Ongsa fics.

Okay I'm rambling here and I'm not gonna edit the post. I write as I think.

So this is the context. Which brings me to my point.

I'm actually happy Fourth and Gemini are not part of the project anymore. I don't know them as actors. But I'm sure they would have done great. But I'm glad they aren't here.

As I said, there's 115 fics in total as of right now, Sunday 31st of March, but once you filter out Night/North you are left with 37, and that still leaves you with some other mlm tags. If you filter those out, you're left with 22. TWENTY. TWO. fics in TOTAL. And excuse me but I find that sad. And you might think, oh maybe you filter out some Ongsa/Sun fics when filtering everyone else. Yeah, I did, like 3 where they weren't main. And not even the ones left are only theirs but they're sapphic ships of the show. It's 25% of the totality of the fics made, in a show THEY ARE STARING.

Look, I'm the first to say, ship whoever you want, don't let canon cut your wings. I'm okay with people shipping, I'm happy people love something so much they decide to make art about it.

And this post isn't about going against these two actors or their fan base. It's mostly a I'm tired post.

I'm tired that sapphics in media always come second or third or whatever place but never first. Not even in their own shows. It's discouraging.

I'm tired of popular sapphic shows in western media getting cancelled left and right. I'm tired of barely there rep in the asian countries' media I watch. I'm tired of being shadowed by the latest pretty mlm couple.

So yeah, I'm happy they're not here. I know their fans could have brought more views which is a bonus. But I feel we would have media flowing with people talking about them and we want companies that GLs can have the same pull.

I'm happy that we still have gay men rep because I don't want that being pushed aside. But I prefer this approach where the focus are not one but two sapphic couples.

I also like that the boys aren't models and that they look nerdy. And soft and just, I just like this approach better.

If you read all this, thanks!! If you read all this and you're a fic writer. Continue that fic you left forgotten or are unsure to finish. You're marvelous and I love you. Y'all kept me sane during hard times.

Final note, I want to remind, once again, no hate to the actors nor their fanbase.

I also don't know how much sense this all made. Sorry for that.

[artist-issues]

'Start listening to Twenty One Pilots!!' you said.

'It'll be fun!' you said.

And now this is my mental state whenever I listen to them.

What have you done to me 😭

(ok but seriously I actually am really thankful. You've made my life a whole lot better and introducing me to these guys has been one of the best parts of my year. I'm very happy I sent you that ask in July, thank you <333 Thanks for them and for you. I'm glad that we can now lose our minds together. Especially rn, since its 9:54, lets go!!!)

Sorry 😬 it is both a blessing and a curse

I’m super glad too! Not everyone likes to dive into something like twenty one pilots, and I don’t have anybody I can talk to about it in my day-to-day life, so this has been delightful!

[crowsource]

🐦‍⬛ 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇, 𝚙𝚝. 𝟷 —quotes taken from the album of the same name by twenty one pilots. some edits have been made to allow for rp purposes. feel free to adjust for pronouns/names/etc. [ part 2 here! ]

❝ Cover me. ❞

❝ I can't believe how much I hate. ❞

❝ I'll be right here. ❞

❝ You'll have to grab my throat and lift me in the air. ❞

❝ If you need anyone, I'll stop my plans. ❞

❝ You'll have to tie me down and then break both my hands. ❞

❝ Cowards only come through when the hour's late. ❞

❝ Everyone's asleep. ❞

❝ I know I shouldn't say this. ❞

❝ I probably shouldn't show you, but it's way too late. ❞

❝ This is not enough. ❞

❝ Don't feed me to the vultures. ❞

❝ I am a vulture who feeds on pain. ❞

❝ Please keep me down from the ledges. ❞

❝ Can't stop thinking about if and when I die. ❞

❝ We're surrounded. ❞

❝ Are we still in love and is it possible we feel the same? ❞

❝ If I keep moving, they won't know. ❞

❝ What they throw at me's too slow. ❞

❝ I'm just a ghost. ❞

❝ Anybody listening? ❞

❝ I'll morph to someone else. ❞

❝ When everyone you thought you knew deserts your fight, I'll go with you. ❞

❝ I'll go with you. ❞

❝ Stay with me. ❞

❝ You don't need to run. ❞

❝ They're callin' for your head and they're callin' for your name. ❞

❝ Did you know I was grown with you? ❞

❝ If you find yourself in a lion's den, I'll jump right in and pull my pin and go with you. ❞

❝ I'll be back when it's all complete. ❞

❝ I'm runnin' for my life. ❞

❝ I felt I was invincible. ❞

❝ I despise you sometimes. ❞

❝ I'm so sorry I forgot you. ❞

❝ Can you build my house with pieces? ❞

❝ I've always been collected, calm, and chill. ❞

❝ I never look for conflict for the thrill. ❞

❝ For you, I would get beat to smithereens. ❞

❝ What's my problem? ❞

❝ I want you to follow me down to the bottom. ❞

❝ Keep your wits about you while you got 'em. ❞

❝ I could give up and boost up my reputation. ❞

❝ I could go out with a bang. ❞

❝ They would know my name. ❞

❝ Our words are loud, but now I'm talking action. ❞

❝ How could he go if he's got everything? ❞

❝ I'll mourn for a kid, but won't cry for a king. ❞

❝ Promise me this: if I lose to myself, you won't mourn a day. ❞

❝ Move onto someone else. ❞

❝ Can we give this some room for a new point of view? ❞

❝ Well, I'm refusing the weapon. ❞

❝ I'm not disrespecting what was left behind. ❞

❝ Maybe we swap out what it is that we hold so high. ❞

[forcebookish]

hi! thank you for representing forcebook nation hehe 💕 i'm just a bit confused as to why they're not a bit more... idk, popular? talked about? in the only friends fandom 🤔 compared to khaotung and neomark, i mean 🤔 to me, they just have insane chemistry but oh well...

thank YOU for loving forcebook!! 🧡💙

i ask myself this every week, anon. especially LAST WEEK HOLY SHIT THAT SEX SCENE WAS SO HOT THAT I'M WRITING FIC ABOUT IT...

anyway. i'm sure i've already talked at length about this, but i guess it's because they're fairly new on the scene? they debuted as a pair only last year. before then, book was a model/in a boyband but only had bit parts in dramas before; force was only in two dramas before enchante, one where he played a DAD to a SIXTH GRADER at TWENTY YEARS OLD sorry that's not relevant it's just funny to me. firstkhao, on the other hand, were pretty well-established individually before they were paired up. same with neomark.

for a lot of bl fans, this is their first forcebook drama. that could be for any number of reasons, but it might be because they heard exaggeratedly harsh reviews of enchante and abaab or, again, because forcebook are so new they might have overlooked them for more established actors/couples. abaab was what got me into bl so... can't relate *flips hair*

plus, it seems like as far back as the pilot trailer everyone was determined not to love topmew, even foxmochis (not blaming anyone, just kind of a bummer😔😔😔). lotta folks' hearts and minds have been closed to them unfortunately. but you're right!!! their chemistry IS insane and it's only gotten crazier since last year. it just... radiates off them, they feel so real. every episode it makes more and more sense why p'jojo wanted them for the roles, they're perfectly cast.

even if too much of the fandom is ignoring them, we know the truth and i'm so excited to be a part of the "forcebooked and blessed" era😌

thanks for dropping in, anon!!! let's keep showing forcebook the love they deserve!!

[notebookmusical]

Happy birthday!!! Yay I'm glad your voice is a little bit better but it's also funny to me that I have no idea what it even sounds like either..as many times as you've talked about it. It's one of the weird things about just talking online. For me, I get in the habit of just thinking everyone sounds like me haha jk. Also your crafty painting looks good! I admire your dedication to make so many bracelets since I'm not crafty at all..maybe that's something I could work on in the new year. Yes I want to see Company and I said possibly Mean Girls but I won't really know until it gets closer. Ooh I think seeing Spring Awakening would be so fun and cool!

So I can't remember if you're 26 or 27 today..but a fun fact is that Paramore has a song called 26 and Fall Out Boy also has a song called 27! I actually just became aware of the 27 one this year lol and have only heard it like twice but still! I also learned of a song called 24 this year by Switchfoot when Tyler Joseph of twenty one pilots covered it. So there are songs from 22 to 27 and I find that so cool. Right where you left me wasn't out when I turned 23..although I really could've used it back then and Nothing New but I had 23 by Jimmy Eat World which is one of the best most favorite songs ever! Also Blink 182...lol. And the pretty reckless, Taylor Momsen's band has a song called 25. But since we were just talking about Paramore and Fall Out Boy, I thought I would share! The only thing is..I'm not sure they even mention a lyric in the song..I think it's just the title. I hope you are liking their first album and the songs I recommended..but I'm glad you're going in order. Let me know what you think but also take your time! I'm sorry if the list of songs I recommended seemed overwhelming..I just love a lot of their songs.

So in a new quote Hayley Williams talked about how Taylor originally wanted her to sing on a different vault song and now I'm so curious which one it was. Possibly Electric Touch or I can See You. If it was I Can See You, that wouldve been awesome but I'm also happy with Castles Crumbling too. When we first heard I Can See You, my sister said the song fit Fall Out Boy more and he should have sang on that one instead of Electric Touch but the collabs are so good. I also suspected maybe it was Drama Queen cuz Hayley said she didn't connect to it or the sound that much..idk. but it makes me happy it was her choice cuz a lot of Paramore fans were complaining at first that Hayley didn't get to sing or show her vocals enough. I love their friendship and will be happy when they are back on tour together.

Wow it does seem like a lot of vinyls but think of it as a treat to yourself. I've never understood having a vinyl for one song though..I find that so interesting lol. You mostly have good taste and it seems like it makes you happy. Also..I like the new url and I'm definitely going to listen to the Fruitcake EP next week closer to Christmas! I did watch her new video though.

So I did not get a chance to watch the Eras movie yet but hopefully soon. But I did see the pics Taylor posted of her bday and I loved her outfit sooo much! She looked so good and really happy. Some people even have theories about TS11 based on the outfit but it also just felt like Midnights to me! However I'd love an album where she leaned into astrology or constellation stuff too. My sister loves stars so it could be really cool and I wonder what it would be like but it seems similar to Midnights too. I don't think this is as soon as other people think but I think it's fun to think about sometimes. Anyway I think today is also the day the CATS movie came out and I went to see it cuz I was soo excited my two worlds were colliding. Did you ever watch the movie..lol. I know some people were unhappy with it but I thought it was fine..I think people just don't get the musical, and it didn't really translate as a movie or onscreen at all. But I loved the musical with the costumes when I saw it last year and I like a lot of the songs. I'm pretty sure Today is also the day I watched La La Land for the first time too!!! Big day for my worlds colliding! I can't remember if you watched it..but that movie was literally made for me and loved up to my expectations! Now Taylor confirmed the choreographer from La La Land was recommended by Emma and she wanted something more theatrical for this tour..so I'm excited to pay attention to it more when I watch the movie! stuff like focusing on different dancers throughout will be interesting.

Omg I think I forgot to ask you your favorites on Folklore and Evermore! So please tell me and I will try to answer your question. I don't think my rankings have changed much, but I loved the rerecordings and it especially made me appreciate Speak Now more. For me, I don't spend a lot of time replaying full albums and her older music feels too nostalgic so I don't really hear it so I always put it last..sorry but that's the only reason. I guess I just prefer her newer stuff more. I think it would be Folklore, Rep, Red, Lover, Midnights, Evermore, Speak Now, 1989, Fearless, Debut. The middle was hard and I'm sure switch around a lot but I'm sure of my top 3 and bottom 3 I guess. What about you? I hope you have fun at your hockey game and have a fantastic fun birthday weekend!!! 🩷🩷🩷

thank you so much!! 🥺🥺 my voice is actually mostly back — except i was talking to my friend last night (one of my best friends came over with the blank space stabby cake and told me to go at it and stab, which was quite fun) and my voice got a little squeaky near the end! and isn't that so weird? i have a little made up voice for a lot of my internet friends, and it never matches with how they actually sound in real life! i love crafty time! i was thinking of tracking that in my new planner for next year (i'm terrible at habit tracking, which is something i want to be better at too)!

mean girls could be fun! i was supposed to see taylor louderman's last matinee, but then had to sell my ticket to a friend (i was ... hungover) and then missed it when it was in seattle on tour! i'm quite curious about the movie though.

i turn 26 today! which is quite horrifying! trying not to think too much about the birthday scaries! i started listening to some fall out boy too — i listened to the so much (for) stardust album twice, and i really liked it! i definitely need to listen to it more so i know the lyrics for the concert, but i'm really excited now especially since i know i like a lot of the songs! i will go listen to 26 by paramore in a bit 🤍 i was using "25 years old, oh how were you to know" from dancing with our hands tied and "i was 25 and afraid to go outside a millennial that baby-boomers like" from give yourself a try! you are totally fine! i was talking to a friend (who also loves paramore + FOB) about my quest to get into their music and how i usually listen to albums on my walks with toto! but we get distracted a lot (we usually run into neighbors and such) but it's been fun!

i could see hayley on either of those songs! and i do think (from my brief FOB knowledge) that patrick would also sound really good on i can see you! i think it's really interesting that the same thing happened with lana — fans were like "there's not a lot of them on here", and then it turned out to be their own choice!

thank you for the url compliment! and i hope you like fruitcake! i just think it's fun! :")

i've been seeing a lot about the new theories and i'm definitely curious! andddd yes i did see the cats movie (at home) and i... am not a cats the musical fan haha. we actually have beef. my mom and i saw it on tour and someone broke into my mom's car during it and i have been like 😡 that's the show where my mom's car got broken into 😡 ever since. but the dancing/choreo in that show is beautiful, and i loved the taylor song for it! i did watch la la land! i was reading about the mandy moore interview yesterday and thought that was so cool!

ooh i think my favorites on folklore are: cardigan, mirrorball, this is me trying, and peace, and then on evermore: marjorie, right where you left me, cowboy like me, coney island and long story short! </33333 everyone's least favorite is always debut 😭 my top three are: debut, red, and speak now, and then i think folklore, fearless, and evermore, then lover, midnights, 1989, and then reputation. i'm not quite sure of the middle rankings but i am also confident in my top three and last three!

thank you so much! i'm super excited for the hockey game 🤍 hope you have a nice weekend!

[bat-bytes-back]

Saying this as a Twenty One Pilots fan btw, I been lovin' they music since I was in like elementry right? I used to even have a backpack from them

I gotta say though, it's a hard listen sometimes. I'm sorry. 😭 most of this is directed towards Blurryface (which pains me to say, as it brings so much nostalgia and comfort), I feel like it's got the worst of it by far... I cannot go 2 songs on that album without Tyler being like "guys, the music industry, it's all the same! Me though, I am different. but they won't LET me be different! It sure is tough out here... oh also, mental health mention here too btw. So anyways, the music industry-" dude I PROMISE you that NOBODY is forcing you to be the same I PROMISE.

also, buddy, you do not have to explain the music to us dude... you don't have to say how "these lyrics aren't for everyone only few understand" or "this song is a contradiction because of how happy it sounds, but the lyrics are so down."... show, not tell...

also while we're here can we talk about how Tyler REALLY likes to dance around his music being part of the rap genre? lets REALLY dissect that one. Lets really dissect WHY he refuses to say his music is a genre that it literally is.

basically all of this is to say that this sounds REALLY pretentious. Like, headache inducing pretentious. And also Tyler and infact fellow TOP fans really need to dissect why they refuse to call TOP music Rap.

[exospherethoughts]

There's way too much stuff in my head, I want to rip it all out and beat it to a pulp so I can breathe.

I'm remaking my résumé so it looks nicer and has all my updated info on it, but now I just feel pathetic. I've done so little, I have no publications, I have no real job experience, I don't actually know shit about physics, I'm slow and stupid, and my brain/body are too fucked up to handle a 9-5 job. I don't know what I'm doing and I don't think I can finish this degree (much less get a doctorate) and I don't know what I'm going to do once I'm out of university.

I wish I could talk to you, just to feel less alone and vent and get a (virtual) hug. But trying to be open and honest with you when you respond once or twice a week has really been messing with me. I know you're insistent that you do want me around, but idk, if I want someone around then I *want* to talk to them, so I tend to respond almost daily. Your excuse of not liking texting doesn't make any sense to me considering that you were happy to text back and forth for hours on end while you were still here. I hate texting too, so I lean towards calls for staying in touch over distance with people, but even that seems to be too much for you. So I'm sorry, but I'm struggling to believe you really want me in your life as more than just some acquaintance. And right now I cannot spare the energy to try and handle how awful that makes me feel, I'm too preoccupied trying to handle being around my parents 24/7, so it's easier to just stop talking to you. As much as I miss you, this way I can't end up saying anything I shouldn't. Besides, people like me better when I'm quiet. Quiet me is good me. Then I can't be a drag. I know I'm always too much. I know. Especially now with this almost two-month long depressive episode that's continuing to get worse, and the stuff with my parents, and the OCD, and my physical health problems, and the anorexia relapse, and how bad the cutting urges have been getting, and and and and. I'm really fucked up and I break everything and everyone I touch. Even the things that make me happy are too much, I get too excited about music, I care too much about twenty one pilots lore and music, I'm too invested in crosswords, I have too many stuffed animals, I really do love music too much, I care too much about certain books, it just goes on. My dad always tells me I need to learn to be more concise because nobody will want to listen to so many useless and irrelevant details, they'll just zone out and get bored. Quiet me is better me. Maybe if I'm quiet and stop talking about myself then I'll stop being such a nuisance. People will like being around me more. I don't think I know a single person who overshares more than I do. I hate myself so much for it. Time to disappear again? Just not physically this time, only mentally, and this time it'll be intentional instead of whatever the fuck happened for all of 2022/2023.

[arabellas]

i do not mean this in a hating way whatsoever. im not trying to “cancel” you or anything like that. i come from a place of genuine curiosity. but ive seen you be very adamant and vocal about not supporting racist/zionist people and boycotting certain works and artists because of it. so im surprised to see you post twenty one pilots. i was a huge fan back in the day but that one tweet tyler posted mocking blm changed everything. i still love their old music but ive completely separated the art from the artist and i dont support any of their new stuff now.

are you aware of that tweet? it wasnt long ago it was right after george floyd. people were begging them to use their platform to talk about blm and tyler posted a pic of him in platform shoes saying “since everyone wants me to use my platform”. do you think theyve genuinely apologized or changed?

im just surprised to see you so vocal about boycotting things like dune and pjo but make gifs of twenty one pilots.

i wasn't really listening to their music at that time and i didn't have twitter, so i wasn't aware of the impact in real time but i did some research and what he tweeted was very insensitive, there's no excuse. i found his apology on twitter here and he talked about it on some livestream here, so it seems like he didn't ignore the disappointment of his fans and addressed the issue which is good (the bare minimum but better than just sweeping it under the rug).

i'm not really a part of the fandom anymore, it's one of the most toxic ones i've ever been a part of (not to mention the death threats to tyler's baby and people telling him to end his life all the time) but i genuinely forgot that happened and was just excited about their new stuff, especially because there were references to their old stuff which reminded me of when i was very into their music.

since you brought up dune, i'd like to quickly mention the whole timothee situation. he made a joke on snl making fun of the genocide happening right now and let's say he couldn't say no it because of the contract (which i highly doubt), but the thing is, he never acknowledged that it was wrong. no apology, nothing, just hoping that people will forget (at least i couldn't find any apology when i last checked, correct me if i'm wrong) which leads me to believe he doesn't think it was wrong. even to this day. even after everything that has happened since, no acknowledgement of his insensitive joke that thousands of people saw on live television.

i do believe in second chances and that people can learn from their mistakes, educate themselves and be decent. what tyler did was fucked up but he did apologize for it and it seemed genuine. but i'm sorry if posting gifs from their new music videos came off as insensitive from my side, that wasn't my intention.

[blooming-violets]

Hi, my angst queen. I'm sorry it took me so long to reblog this chapter. I am a turd but I've had these quotes saved on phone since I first read i and now I feel ready to talk about them. I was emotionally damaged.

1: Peter is such a broken man. I know that's obvious but this chapter really highlighted it nicely. The pain he feels for losing Gwen is still so raw. A wound that will never fully heal. And, yet, his love for Gwen doesn't dampen his love for Honey. Even being in an au story, it still has so much of the heart of tasm Peter for me. I always love when fics bring in Gwen and Peter's devotion to her because I don't think it should be something that's erased. It can't be erased. Even in an au. He can be forever scarred by her death, have a deep love for her forever, and still have just as a devoted love for someone else.

The scene of Gwen telling him it's okay to rest now and giving him the choice to live or die brings tears to my eyes (I cried about four different times in this chapter so thanks for that). He could let himself pass on if he wanted to. He could stay with Gwen where ever that otherworldly limbo space is. But he choses Honey. It's almost like he's saying his final goodbye to his old love. He's letting her go. He's finally allowing himself to start to close the door on that heartbreaking chapter of his life. Waking up is going to cause so much pain but all that pain will be worth it if he can spent another second with Honey, keep her safe, and finish what he started. "It breaks his heart and makes him whole." I'm not crying, you are.

2: Eddie and Miles. I love that Eddie calls out exactly what Miles is. A child. A sixteen year old child. No one else really seems to be grasping that concept or doing much about it. I'm sure they've vaguely tried but probably not very hard. I bet a lot of it stems from the fact that most of them probs got into the line of throwing yourself into danger at a young age too. But then there's Eddie. Who's angry that Miles is even here. He seems to be the most reasonable out of everyone. The voice of reason that no one listens to. That's how I view Eddie.

"Some people only know how to love by how much they suffer." Eddie: The Unwanted Therapist of the Group. This line stood out to me. I reread it about ten times. I stayed on it. I savored it. I let it sink into my skin. It rang far too true and too close to home for my liking. I could go to therapy for years to get this kind of clarity and then here's Liz and Eddie, slapping me in the face with some hard truths. I don't really know what else I want to say about that line but it now lives in my heart. I like it. That's all.

AND THEN Miles cries after their argument/conversation/hard truths because he's a young boy who just wants to please the people he looks up to. And cue the second time tears blurred my vision. I get way to invested into characterization and their motivations for everything and reasons behind every single little action and I get far too connected to them and pour my heart and soul into them and then I destroy myself as I live through them. Always have been a whore for good character development and always will be.

3: Peter and Honey. "When it was too quiet, she was left with nothing but the parroting mockery of her inner dialogue." I'm going to be hipster for a second so bear with me. Back in 2013 when Twenty One Pilots released their Vessel album, before they got super mainstream, the first time I ever heard the song Car Radio, it felt like someone was putting my mental illness into words I could fully relate to. Tyler's car radio is stolen and now he is forced to sit in silence as he drives with only his thoughts for company and his thoughts want to lead him to committing suicide. There is something so connecting to people who share mental health issues with each other. I could never meet a person but they could relate to me in a way that no one in my personal circle could. Sitting in silence when you're someone with trauma is the equivalent to someone screaming horrible profanities at you until you can't take it anymore. Honey is in that same boat. Therefore, I feel like I can see her, peering inside of her brain, to understand every single action that she has taken up to this point. i know I'm speaking about a fiction character but I think that's what good literature should make you do. I want to go back and trace every single step, every tiny action, every word said and every word unsaid to be able to form a complete picture of a character. That's my favorite thing to do. It's why I loved my english classes so much. Let me take an imaginary person and make them real inside my head. Let me bring them to life with through your writing. I don't just want to read a story, I want to experience it fully and completely. I want to live inside of it. I want my life to disappear as I read your beautifully crafted words.

I'm skipping around a little bit, this happens a bit later but ties in: Silence—always jabbering, when will you ever shut up?—it was deafening. Driving her insane.

I think this is the first time in a while that we, as the audience, have heard that side of Honey's shameful voice breaking through her thoughts. It used to happen all the time earlier on. Then it dulled down for a bit. But now it's back. The guilt is too strong. Her negative thoughts are winning. That demeaning voice in her head is back with vengeance. She's falling back into her old ways and I wanted to point that out because I'm going to bring it up later with Miguel but it also fit in nicely with the "silence is deafening" part I was just talking about.

“There wasn’t anywhere else I wanted to be.” 

The truth sounded strange coming from her lips, shamefully. As she met Peter’s eyes, he watched her sullenly as if he were thinking the same thing.

I really like the use of the word "sullenly" here. It's not a joyous reunion. Sure, he came back from the dead for her. She's happy he's alive. They're both silently agreeing that this is where they want to be. But it's not happy. There's still too much guilt. I'm sure when Peter looks at her right now, he's only seeing the flashback of her holding a gun to her head. He's realizing the extent of her trauma. He's realizing exactly what he missed and how badly he fucked up by missing the signs. He'll blame himself for that because, like Eddie said, the dude like to suffer for those he loves. They are there with each other, where they want to be, but there is a heavy air of morose still lingering between them. Things that need to be talked out but can't yet. A silent weight hanging over them.

Peter has a narcissistic side to him. Not in the typical way that he's obsessed with himself and thinks he's better than everyone but that he thinks everything is his fault. Idk if calling that narcissistic is the right word but it's the only one I could think of right now so I'm going with it. "Honey was running from me" "I'm the bad guy" "She's scared of me" "Me, me, me, me, me" He's too obsessed with making himself suffer that he failed to see past that. It once again ties into what therapist Eddie said. Woe is me. I need to suffer. I don't deserve love. Me, Me, Me, Me, everything is about me and how badly I hurt. Not once thinking that maybe Honey has actual, deeper, scarier problems than himself. So much so that he knew John was involved with her in some way and he still brought him into his home. (im waiting for you to reply to this, i dont remember if this is this is true or not but if its not then ignore this yelling).

“Makes sense—why you never trusted me.” The corners of his mouth twisted downward as his eyes went glossy. Heartbreak flayed his voice. “He’s what you see when you look at me.” 

This is what I mean but his narcissism. He's still not really fully thinking about Honey and the trauma she went through but instead throwing himself a pity party. It makes her have to grovel and beg that it's not true when she really shouldn't have to. I think it's a nice touch because this relationship has always had a toxic air to it (that's an understatement lol) but that's what makes it real to me. If you were writing about the perfect, ideal couple without any issues then it would be boring af. Real life couples have toxic traits and issues that need to be worked on. They have mental illness and baggage. They aren't perfect. They fuck up and make mistakes, big and small. It's all about deciding what is worth sticking around for and what is working changing. Peter's narcissism is not the same as John's (once again, still don't know if I'm even using that word correctly). Peter's can be corrected and changed over time. He can heal and grow and learn. John can not. That right there lies in one of the biggest differences between the two. One of them is worthy of change and willing to do so and the other couldn't even comprehend the idea change if he wanted to. They are not the same.

Love, ya dummy.

And he isn't. Peter isn't like anyone else. Good or bad. He's an enigma. And so is she, in a way. They both hide themselves close to their heart. They both put on faces for the world to see them a certain way. They both have cold darkness inside of them and burning light. They are two halves a whole.

4: Miguel's questioning. This is the part that really fucked me up the first time I read it but that was my own issues coming into play. I really lived through Honey too closely for this that I had to take a step back and get control over myself. Sometimes I attach a little too deep to characters I love and I struggle to separate them from myself. I feel when they do and replace my feelings with theirs. It's a weird dissociation thing I've been doing since I was a kid and I'm working on it in therapy okay. ANYWAY this hurt me too much.

To me, Honey is super fragile right now. She was literally just about to kill herself a couple hours ago. Her bad thoughts are bad (see back to the negative thinking during the silence points). Her guilt is too strong. In Miguel's eyes, he sees this as her fault. In Honey's eyes right now, she sees this as her fault. She is not blameless but she is a pawn in a bigger game. Her entire life she has been used by people "stronger" than her. It started with her mother, moved onto John, then ended with Peter (who also used her as a pawn at times). Manipulated, used, discarded, abused, beaten, torn down. That's what Honey has been used to her entire life.

She is a rat but a rat who has known nothing but abuse and violence Dogs who are bread from puppies to do nothing but fight are going to continuing fighting because that's the only way of survival they know. Sorry to compare you to a dog, Honey, ily. Her survival mode is all she knows. Now that any little shred of safety net has been snatched from her, she is spiraling deeper into the darker, guilty parts of her mind.

And Miguel only helps to push her there. I know he's thinking of the safety of the people in his group. I understand exactly his side and his point and where he is coming from. But it hurts my heart in a way that I can't properly describe.

Mercilessly, he drove right through whatever shield may have existed. “You stabbed us in the back!” he accused, pointing his finger at her. “You were offered multiple chances to come clean, but you refused, and people died. You could’ve done the right thing, but you didn’t. So I’m sorry if I’m not as sensitive to your predicament.”

Like "hey let's push the suicidal girl deeper into the darkness because I'm pissed off" and it makes me sad and if Peter was fully with it, I think Miguel would have been in trouble. "Not as sensitive to your predicament" aka "I don't give a shit that you were so physically and mentally abused and raped and broken by an evil, psychotic man because you tattled on us boohoo"

I wanna scream at him that you're all a bunch of mobsters. Everyone is gonna stab you in the back. You think those random ass guards you employ are gonna be loyal to ya?? (okay I have the foresight of the future but still) This shit is gonna happen! You're dirty, scheming mobsters. This is the life ya chose. Fucking get over it and stop whining lol She's just a random ass woman from a coffee shop. She is not your enemy.

I think why it upset me so much is because if I was Honey, that would have just pushed me back into my suicidal thoughts so hard and I get so protective over that.

And then there's Felicia with the voice of reason.

Felicia fixed sorrowful eyes on her. “Hobie’s death wasn’t on you,” she softly explained. “Between Fisk and the Feds, there are some hefty prices on our heads. Money like that makes loyalty difficult. That night, it didn’t matter what info you had. It was one of our guys that helped pull the trigger. Most of the time, we’re pretty good at picking out the bad apples. Not always.”

Her and Eddie are the real heroes of this story. They are mobsters. Death and back stabbing is the life they chose. It's part of the game. It's not the fault of an abused woman who was dragged into this without her consent.

God, I would literally go to war for Honey jfc I gotta calm down.

5. The battle. Peter waking up from a half dead state to go into full protection mode mmm good shit. Reminds of Joel and Ellie in ep6 of The Last of the Us. "Hello, yes, I am on death's door and I can not move or form coherent thoughts.....wait....the one things I give a shit about is in danger?? Never mind I'm up and ready to murder the entire world!"

I like that Honey's dissociation comes into play multiple times throughout this story. It's so on point for people with trauma. Scary shit happening? Nope. Go to a different place and now everything is okay and nothing is scary and I feel nothing.

There's this wonderful moment where the chaos is going on and raging around them but Peter and Honey are locked in this embrace. A protective bubble formed around them. Reminds me of this picture a lil bit.

The second Peter leaves her, Eddie is right there to take over. Or to try to, at least. It's his voice that pulls her back away from Peter's disappearance. Their friendship is pure and good and you're going to destroy me but we aren't there yet so let's enjoy and appreciate alive Eddie while we still can.

Fucking Helen, jfc.

Honey's protectiveness over Miles. Once again, he's just a kid in the middle of a war. It's sad and heartbreaking.

On a different note, you are so good at writing action where there is nothing but pure chaos going on in every which direction. I don't think anything will ever beat the tunnel scene in heat of the moment but this is a close second.

Honey throwing her shoe to confuse/distract a man about to kill Johnny is the most hilariously beautiful moment. A perfect blend of comedic tension to break through the horrors.

“Now it’s them or him,” Jess declared firmly, jerking her forehead towards Johnny. “You choose.”

Okay, this, mixed with what we know about chapter 20...*chefs kiss* I don't know if this was intention or a happy accident but yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Good good. I like.

Ah, yes, here comes my favorite part. You scalp that asshole, baby, you're doing so good. Mama loves you. Such a good boy.

The monster turned human again with a single glance at the one he loves. The beauty and the beast. My favorite trope. Honey is the one who humanizes him. Honey is his heart and his soul. She is his guiding light, his north star, the one he looks too to keep him grounded. And she's not afraid. She loves him. All of him. Both the man and the monster. The Jekyll and the Hyde. He is hers to keep. Ya I'm crying again whatever

"Are you hurt?" "I lost my shoe." I know it's the pure shock talking but holy shit I love her.

Johnny "I saw it over there...I'm okay too...thanks for asking" Storm.

6. Eddie. I don't have much to say. There's not much to be said. His death saved the kid. He sacrificed himself for someone who was too young to be there. I hope Mile's doesn't let that sacrifice go to waste. I hope he can see exactly what it is he is in and what this life leads to. Eddie is the hero. He is the heart. The voice of reason. The one people overlook. He's a loyal friend. He's a good man and I hope he gets to finally rest in peace.

Look, I wrote you a novel and I'm not rereading it bc it's so long and I have a horrible tendency to forget words when I get too excited and type too fast so I apologize if some of this is completely unreadable but I think you're great and that's all.

sugar and vice, pt. 19 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: your sins will find you, eventually.

words: 10.3 k

chapter warning: heavy chapter warnings for dire!whumpy situations, death, g0re, g!uns, vi0lence!

series warnings: mob-typical bang bang violence, wh-mp. hurt/comfort. s-xu-l situations. spousal ab-se. family trauma. dr-g use. coercion. manipulation. kidnapping. gore. blood. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships.

This version of TASM Peter is not canon. The relationships and characters here are not healthy.

Don't date a mob boss.™️

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you don't remember anyone having to figure out who else was on the landline so you could use the phone, then have you really lived? maybe wait on this one.

Back to Part 18.

Part 19

“Peter, wake up.”

The voice he could hear wasn’t his own. It was soft. Feminine. Gentle, like being awoken from a dream. He was comfortable wherever he was. He didn’t want to wake up.

“Peter, wake up,” the voice implored.

The sound of it made his heart ache. How could such a comforting sound cause him so much pain? ‘Bittersweet’ wasn’t the right expression. ‘Blissful agony’ was more accurate.

“Peter,” he heard again, the tones of the gentle voice pulling him from a dreamless slumber. Then, just like a dream, the voice faded into the abyss with a whisper. 

“Hold on...”

Heaven, he thought. He was in Heaven.

The sound of her voice made him want to fall down and worship. Made him want to die. 

“Gwen...” he mumbled—perhaps only in his own mind. He couldn’t move his lips. Couldn’t feel anything anymore. 

What a blessed relief.

His heart throbbed as he felt himself flying. He wasn’t sure if he was sinking or soaring, but it was all so fast. All out of his control.

“You can let go now.”

“Grab ‘em!”

Gwen?

“Get ‘em up on the gurney!”

“It’s time, Peter. Time to go home.”

What do you mean by ‘home’? You’re my home. You’re my path.

“C’mon, Pete, don’t you fuckin’ do this—”

“Is he breathing?”

“I can’t find a pulse. I need the paddles.”

“Jesus Christ, Pete...”

“It’s okay, Peter. You can rest now.”

“Goddamnit—wake up, man.”

“CHARGING. STAND CLEAR.”

“Clear!”

A stab to his chest. A bite to the back of his neck.

“Hit ‘em again—clear!”

His whole body jolts. He’s sticking to the ceiling of a subway car.

“You have a choice, Peter. You don’t have to go back there.”

I want to stay with you, Gwen. I don’t wanna leave.

“Clear!” 

His skin is on fire. Electricity ravages every muscle in his body. It sears his flesh and scrambles his brain. And all he can see is a pair of sparkling eyes.

Her eyes.

“Stay with me, Peter.”

“Pete, stay with us!”

“We can be together, finally. Like we were meant to be. They can go on without you.”

Her eyes. Beautiful, glittering eyes, full of warmth and sunlight. Sweet. Eyes like Honey.

“Goddamn it!” —“Again!” —“C’mon, Spidey!”—“Clear!”

The web catches Gwen by the chest, but it’s too late. It was always too late.

“Peter, please. Please. You can’t do this. You can’t do this right now.”

There is rapid whispering—murmuring, like a desperate prayer. But it’s not Gwen’s voice that he hears. It’s a voice that makes his chest ache just as much.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about everything.”

“You need to wake up, Peter.”

“Please, baby, please wake up. I’m so sorry. Just please stay with me.”

I can’t. I can’t go with you, Gwen.

“Peter, don’t do this.”

“Please just come back—”

“Why would you want to go back?”

“I need you... I need you to wake up.”

She needs me. Miles needs me. My family — my family needs me. I need to be with them. 

A pair of green eyes are staring at him, but not in anger. Instead, there’s understanding. There’s compassion. There’s a hint of pride within the emerald hues.

“Peter, please, I’m sorry. Please come back to me.”

I need them. I need to make this right.

From her cloud in Heaven, she smiles at him. It breaks his heart and makes him whole.

“Clear!”

The next jolt racks his brain and yanks his consciousness from the abyss. He’s reborn again, blood-covered, gasping, and sputtering on a gurney surrounded by worried faces. Every muscle in his body spasms. His heart groans as it flutters back to life. Air slices through his lungs like razor blades. He coughs and shudders, shrinking away from the harsh light of the living.

“Thank fuck!” he hears a hiss from next to him. It’s Eddie. How did Eddie get here?

He pried his eyes open, pupils adjusting to the light. 

Eddie was looking down at him, hazel-gray eyes full of joyful tears. “Don’t you ever do that again, you crazy bastard,” he chuckled. Two giant hands wrapped around Peter’s face as he embraced him lovingly.

Peter’s focus shifted as more faces came into view. 

Helen Cho stood above him as she worked the pump of a blood pressure device cuffed around his bicep. She paused only briefly to wipe sweat from her brow. Miguel leaned back against a wall with eyes closed and face pale as if he was moments from throwing up. Felicia leaned over him, glaring at him with relief and fury. He couldn’t tell if the smirk that appeared was from the joy of his survival or glee from plotting his future demise. Each of them looked like they had run a marathon. 

Peter’s left hand suddenly felt warm. His eyes shifted in its direction, and he followed the small hand barely covering his own. 

There she is, he thought. The eyes that brought him back from the dead.

His Honey.

The kind eyes of the woman he fell in love with—against all odds, toppling all of his defenses—were fixed on him. They shimmered with tears as she struggled to keep a steady lip, gazing down at him like he was a miracle. She held his hand tightly as if afraid to let go. He was certain she was holding onto him with the intent of grounding him, but it looked the opposite. Instead, she looked overwhelmed with relief and on the verge of collapsing into a heap of sobbing gratitude.

Oddly enough, on the edge of life and death, he was the one who felt lucky. He felt contentment with the heat of her palm over his hand. He found peace in the loving look in her eyes. 

He found a hope worth holding on to.

They were almost too late, Honey thought. 

They found Peter exactly where Felicia thought he would be, more or less. Near Long Island City, not far from the Ravenswood Power Station. At a clock tower with a broken face.

Peter was at the bottom on a pile of rubble. It was a horrifying sight. His broken form was covered in dirt and dust, blood trailing from his ears and nose. 

He was dead. He looked dead. She knew he had to be dead.

Suddenly, she couldn’t stand straight anymore. The air escaped her lungs, like a vacuum into space, as she stared at his motionless body. The sound evaporated and fragments of worried statements drifted by—goddamn you crazy sonofabitch—sweartogod you better be dead or i’ll kill ya—as Felicia and Eddie descended upon his body.

Blinking back tears, the vision of Peter’s corpse swam in her eyes. 

Her mind was elsewhere.

It was night. She was at the mountain retreat, sitting up in Peter’s bed. She leaned over him, carding her fingers through his hair. Her heart ached with sympathy, forehead furrowed with concern. He sobbed into her lap like a child, curled into the fetal position. 

That night, they would fall asleep hand-in-hand.

Her fingers twitched at the memory.

Hours had passed. She was sitting, perched anxiously on the back of a plastic bench, with arms wrapped tightly around herself and her eyes hawkishly observing the rise and fall of Peter’s chest.

They were in what Peter had referred to as “The Bunker.” 

It was the abandoned, unfinished ‘Roosevelt Ave.’ subway station beneath Queens. Inside the decrepit station of chipping, art deco arches, and web-covered, stained glass skylights, was a row of abandoned subway cars left to rust on a track. Unlike the rest of the station, they were buzzing with energy.

They had been modified and outfitted to serve different purposes. One car held a weapons storage cache, a server room in the next, a sleeping and dining car lined with several cots and booths, a laboratory with a mishmash of equipment from the 1990s, and finally, a medical bay, which they were in.

Peter was unconscious. His body was bloodied and bruised, stretched out in a gurney, hooked up to IVs, wires, and electrodes. Monitors beeped around him, as fluid bags slowly drained into his system.

He looked like he’d been run over by a tank. 

Whatever Peter attempted to do at the clock tower, it appeared as if he’d broken himself trying to do it. 

A watercolor portrait of purples, reds, and blues covered the pale canvas of his torso. It looked as if the entity—Venom, as Eddie called it—had been ripped from his body, pulled out through his pores. In its wake, it laid waste to his flesh, leaving bruises that bubbled under his skin and stained his complexion in blackberry tones.

Peter had fallen unconscious just a few seconds after being revived. Dr. Cho informed the group that he still had a pulse, but she was uncertain how long it would take him to wake up again. 

Or if he would. She didn’t have to say the part they were all already thinking about.

At the moment, he was sleeping, and Honey felt obligated to watch over him. His eyes twitched behind his lids, and she wondered what he was dreaming about or if he was dreaming at all. And if he was dreaming, she hoped it was a good dream. 

Selfishly, she hoped she was in it. However, a familiar, bitter voice assured her that her presence would technically make it a nightmare.

Whatever anger she held, the boiling contempt fueled by her paranoia and fear, evaporated once she saw Peter’s broken body. It was a confusing whiplash of emotions—to want to shoot someone one moment and to weep over their corpse the next. She resented the conflict in her mind but understood the clarity of her heart. 

She loved Peter. Without a doubt. 

Whether that was a good or bad thing, she wasn’t sure. She’d been wrong about such things before. 

But now, she wasn’t focused on the dark thoughts rousing suspicion in her mind. Instead, she was focused solely on his eyes, the way they shifted beneath the eyelids as he slept. She pictured their golden hue, indistinguishable from sunlight. She envisioned charting the constellation of beauty marks on his body. Kissing the tiny wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that formed whenever he smiled. Worshipping the artistry with which the gods carved out his jaw and molded his features.

She only looked up from her dutiful watch when she recognized Miles’ voice. Her eyes darted over as the teen emerged through the sliding doors. He was winded like he’d been running. Ripping off his beanie, his mocha eyes were wide with terror as he gazed at Peter’s state.

“Miles,” Felicia breathed a sigh of relief, alerting the others to his presence. He locked his worried gaze on his mentor. Other anxious faces occupied the back of the car as Johnny followed behind Miles and joined Miguel and Eddie. 

“You shoulda called me,” he protested with indignation. The complaint was directed at everyone. “Why didn’t you let me know what was goin’ on? I coulda been there to help!”

“Honestly,” Felicia answered with an exasperated sigh, “I didn’t know what we’d find. Wasn’t ready to deal with that.”

“That’s bullshit,” Miles snidely argued. “One of y’all coulda died out there!” The tiniest crack formed in the tone of his voice. He clamped down on his jaw. “Pete coulda died out there! And, what, I was just supposed to sit around—?”

“And stay alive,” Eddie muttered under his breath. He sat with arms and ankles crossed across a subway bench. They turned to him, Miles fixing him with a scolding look, but Eddie didn’t shrink away. “That’s the whole point of this, kid.”

Miles’s eyes flashed lividly. “Call me ‘kid’ one more time—”

“That’s what you are!” Eddie snapped back, overcome with frustration. “Jesus Christ, you’re sixteen! Can you blame him for tryin’ to let you just be a kid for a little while longer?”

“Mira pendejo, I don’t need you to tell me—”

“No, Pete should tell you!” Eddie growled, cutting Miles off. The beefy man stood abruptly, striding towards the teen. “But since he might not ever wake up again, I’ll speak on his behalf! So shut up and listen!”

Miles snapped his mouth shut, though his eyes screamed lividly. The scowl on his youthful face made it look like he’d bitten off his own tongue. Eddie leered closer, making the teen puff up his chest, looking up only an inch to meet Eddie’s eyes.

“The world is shit,” the older man said, undeterred by Miles’ bravado. “I know it. You know it. Pete knows it better than anyone. Your uncle dragged you into this mess, but Peter tried to give you a way out. Away from all this crap. Away from Fisk. That’s why he took on the Symbiote! Not because he was chasing a high, not because he was on some power trip—he did it because he loves you, kid.”

“By almost gettin’ himself killed?” Miles snapped back. “That’s his love language? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie grumbled with a frown. Even he understood that Miles was right about that. “Some people only know how to love by how much they suffer.” He paused momentarily, keeping a stern expression while trying to conceal how much the statement resonated with him. “You either die a hero or live to see yourself become the villain. Pete doesn’t want this life for you. Trust me. You don’t want it either.”

“How do you know that, huh?” Miles said through gritted teeth. His eyes shimmered in the greenish lights of the subway car. “How do you know what I want—how does he? He doesn’t get to make my choices for me. Maybe I wanna decide for myself! Just like he did!”

His hazel-gray eyes drooped as he quietly contemplated the boy’s statement. “You do have a choice, kid,” he said, sorrow etching his features. “Just like he did.” The flared tempers simmering beneath the surface had burned off, leaving only a painful discourse behind. “And he wanted you to do better.” 

Miles fell silent. His chest pumped slowly as he glared up at Eddie, jaw tensed. Cords tightened along the side of his neck, pulled taut by stubborn rage. Heat built up behind his eyelids, pushed along by tears threatening to break free. He sniffed, angrily wiping at his face, trying and failing to remain stern. 

For his part, Eddie took no satisfaction in Miles’ inability to argue further. The train station was silent. From her vantage point, Honey could see the boy’s lower lip begin to quiver before he angrily bit down on it. Felicia stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Miles, albeit awkwardly. 

As soon as her arms circled him, the teen’s resolve collapsed like a house of cards. His face crumpled, lines skewing his expression, and he buried his face into Felicia’s neck. Miles’ shoulders shook as sobs racked through his body. 

As she watched, Honey realized she was crying along with him. 

Hours passed.

More of the Spiders arrived. 

Noir made an appearance but kept himself scarce. One look at Peter’s proximity to death and he spared himself from the stages of grief that would inevitably follow. 

The woman Honey heard be referred to as “Redback” and “Jess Drew” arrived shortly after. She held an air of graceful authority and cautious collectedness. Although her composure was betrayed by the sight of her chewing her lower lip as Jess observed Peter. After that, she stayed away from the medical car, preoccupied with Miguel and Felicia as they discussed strategy.

The biggest surprise was the fleeting glimpse of a woman Honey had never seen. First, she saw quick movement behind the dirty subway windows. Then, a blurry silhouette zoomed across the rear exit between the cars. Finally, the doors slid open, and a pair of dark eyes blinked in her direction. A Victory roll of thick black hair pinned on the crown of her head poked out from behind the seat. As she leaned in, curtains of straight black hair cascaded off her shoulders in a pointedly-vintage 1950s style. The stranger spied on them, glancing worriedly at Peter and warily at Honey.

She was a twitchy, young-looking woman with an oval face and glittering eyes. For a gangster, her mostly-black outfit was more reminiscent of West Side Story than The Godfather. In true Rockabilly fashion, she wore a motorcycle jacket over a feminine red-and-white polka dot tank top, black skinny jeans, combat boots, and a bright cherry lip stain. 

“Um... hello?” Honey asked with a shaky voice, unsure how to respond to whatever she was doing.

“I know who you are,” the woman called back from the shadows, still not fully entering the car. 

Honey blinked. “Oh... kay...?”

“You never met me,” the woman affirmed, “if anyone ever asks you.”

“Um... I’m pretty sure I haven’t anyway.”

“Peni,” the voice called from the shadows. Only then did a face appear for longer than a few seconds. “I’ve watched you on camera. Hi.”

She almost did a double-take at the blunt information. Miles had mentioned the name ‘Peni’ before when referring to the team’s ‘tech nerd.’ But, whatever Honey was expecting, this wasn’t it.

As quickly as the introduction was made, it was over. Peni disappeared from view, the doors closing.

Once again alone with Peter, she stared at the empty doorway. “Hi.”

Honey was never good with silence. When it was too quiet, she was left with nothing but the parroting mockery of her inner dialogue. She recounted every word she said to Peter before the monster took over. She told him everything, and the fact that there was nothing to hide behind anymore terrified her. 

What would he think of her now?

What did she think of herself? What did she think of Peter? And what would be the first thing she would say to him if she ever got the chance? 

Just as her eyes began to blur for the dozenth time that hour, she spotted that the chance had arrived. 

She held her breath. “Peter?” 

The injured man stirred gently, lungs shakily taking in the stale air. The orbs of his eyes swam behind tightly-closed lids that were stained purple. A breathless groan crawled out of his throat. 

Awe-struck, a short chuckle escaped her suddenly, with tiny tears budding in the corners of her eyes. “Hey...” she sharply exhaled, tightening her lips to keep them from trembling. One hand tightened around his fingers while the other covered her heart. “Peter... I’m—” She swallowed hard, her tongue twisted around nothing, tears dripping past her widening grin. “Hi.”

The slightest movement of his head triggered a grimace. Gently, he pried his eyelids open, like awakening from a 1,000-year sleep. She fought the urge to erupt into gleeful laughter as he laid eyes on her. Joy washed over her, sweeping her along a river of relief.

She blinked away her tears as she lost herself in the soft hue of his eyes, mesmerized by the facets of cognac and smoky quartz that rested tiredly on hers. They were, without a doubt, the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen.

A crease formed between his thick brows. “Are you here?” he murmured in a wary voice.

The smile slipped off her face at his question, eyes blinking rapidly. “I’m-I’m here.” His face didn’t soften. She suddenly thought of awful soap operas where a lead character wakes up from a coma and is stricken with amnesia. The thought stirred fear in her, followed by confusion. “I’m... right here.” Would things be better if he didn’t know who she was? 

Silence. He studied her. She observed the color of his eyes dim somberly. Sadness pulled at the corners of his mouth. It twisted her heart. 

He remembered her, alright.

“Why?” he croaked.

She took in a sharp breath as if a needle had stabbed her. She was shocked by the question, and in her confusion, it afforded her time to think about it.

Why was she here?

Only a dozen hours ago, she wanted to shoot him dead. Just an hour before that, she wanted to lay in the warmth of his arms forever. A handful of months before that, she was his prisoner.

Their relationship had changed so many times her mind couldn’t keep up with what her heart was feeling. Pure instinct drove her actions, for better or for worse.

But since all of her darkest secrets spilled forth from her mouth, and Venom spilled forth from Peter’s darkness, everyone had been focused solely on bringing Peter home safely. Herself included. Once Peter had been found, no one explicitly told her to follow them to the Bunker.

Instead of doing the thing she was most comfortable doing— running— she had remained at Peter’s side. 

What’s that about?

A million answers swirled — I was forced to be here, I was afraid to be left behind, I had nowhere else to go — but none of them seemed right. Finally, Honey found a response that made sense. Her instincts dictated her words.

“There wasn’t anywhere else I wanted to be.” 

The truth sounded strange coming from her lips, shamefully. As she met Peter’s eyes, he watched her sullenly as if he were thinking the same thing.

Silence returned. The ever-present foe was broken only by a shaky cough rattling Peter’s bones. The look on his face suggested that every breath was agony. 

Silence—always jabbering, when will you ever shut up?—it was deafening. Driving her insane.

“Dr. Cho wasn’t sure if—” She stopped short, anxiously rephrasing her sentence, “Um, wasn’t, uh—wasn’t sure when you’d wake up.” Her free hand rubbed her knee. The statement left her queasy. “I didn’t want you to be alone when you did.”

His lashes fluttered open, eyes full of melancholy as they rested on her. “Sweet girl.”

She gripped his hand and sat inches away, but it felt more like lightyears. It was as if Peter had died in the fall, and all that was left was a shell. The coldness of each moment pierced her heart further. Yet, despite this, she lifted her chin with resolve.

“I, um... I know it technically makes me a hypocrite,” she began softly, “but I’m trying not to be mad that you tried to get rid of the Symbiote alone.” She met his eyes with a sad gaze. “You coulda died.”

He watched her with an unreadable expression.

“I know it’s not fair for me to be angry,” Honey reasoned, swallowing down her emotion. “But when I thought you were gonna die, I was mad. And then I was sad. And scared. Maybe more scared than anything.”

His eyes drifted downcast towards his feet. “M’sorry.”

“Me too. What I did—it was... it was bad—”

“I didn’t know.”

She knitted her brows together. “Didn’t know I was sorry? Or didn’t know it was bad—?”

“Didn’t know...” he replied with a weak tone, “...what he did to you.” 

Her jaw clenched tightly as heat rushed to her cheeks. She had wanted to talk but was now regretting it. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that discussion. 

Peter’s eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, forehead creased with sorrow. “Didn’t know what you were runnin’ from. Thought it was me. But it was him.” 

Tears brimmed as she gazed down at him. A frigid smile stretched his lips—the kind that doesn’t warm the eyes. Bitterness and sorrow weighed down his expression.

“Makes sense—why you never trusted me.” The corners of his mouth twisted downward as his eyes went glossy. Heartbreak flayed his voice. “He’s what you see when you look at me.” 

He mumbled it aloud, but he wasn’t speaking to her. Instead, he was lost in a prison with bars of guilt and locks of self-loathing. 

His misery cut through her like a knife to her heart. Irony mocked her. Earlier that day, she foolishly almost killed herself over the idea that Peter and John were the same. But, facing Peter in the present, she couldn’t think of anything further from the truth.

“No!” she stuttered in distress. “No-n—Peter, that’s not—I don’t, I swear I don’t.” 

Remorsefully, she shook her head, welling with tears. He met her eyes again, and all she could see was despair. It was like watching a ship sink into the ocean. Like watching someone she loved drown before her eyes.

Loved.

“Peter,” she whimpered, jaw wobbling, “I... you don’t...I don’t....” Her inability to communicate infuriated her. Impatiently, she thrust the words out, “I-I love y—”

“Don’t say it,” he whispered, voice strained. He snapped his eyes shut, tearing her from his sight. “Please don’t.” It was the most desperate of pleas. 

“Don’t say anything.” His voice broke on the last word. A flood spilled past the gates of his lids, rolling over whatever strength he had left. “Whether it's true or not, I don’t think I know what’s real anymore.”

Her soul shattered at his admission, and she could only nod. The trust between them— what little bit there had ever been— was broken beyond repair. No fixing it this time.

“Holy shit—he’s awake!” 

She heard Johnny’s voice over her shoulder, reminding her of where they were. She looked over at Johnny, standing in the doorway of the sliding emergency exit, as he called out to the adjacent car. “Doc! He’s awake!” 

Within several seconds, the car was flooded with excitement. Honey sheepishly wiped her tears away, back straightening, as bodies crowded around her. Felicia and Miles were closest to Peter, followed by Eddie and Miguel. Johnny leaped over a bench seat to join the pandemonium from the other side. Helen pushed toward the front after Felicia ordered the group to make way. 

Reluctantly, Honey released his hand, standing up to give Helen her place at his side.

The doctor immediately went to work with a flashlight beaming in Peter’s eyes and her fingers on his pulse, asking him how he was feeling. 

“Living the dream,” he weakly replied, with no lack of sarcasm.

“You’re lucky to be living at all,” Helen remarked coldly. “Anyone else taking a fall like that would’ve been a splatter on the pavement.”

Honey faintly responded out of earshot, her voice mouselike and thick with grief. “He’s nothing like everyone else.”

In the early stages of dawn, Honey was in the dining car surrounded by the others. Peter had passed out soon after he awakened. He slept soundly in the medical car under Helen’s observation. The doctor explained that the best thing for him would be to let him rest. Moving him would be dangerous.

Miguel pointed out that they were compromised, so there was nowhere safe to move him.

With that grim frustration, he questioned Honey before the rest of the gang. It was difficult to talk about her trauma. It was even harder to admit her betrayal to those she knew best. It was torture to talk about both things in front of everyone—strangers, like Jess and Noir, or Johnny, now catching up on what he’d missed earlier. Or Miles—especially Miles.

Part of her wanted to be offended by the interrogation's coldness and Miguel’s gruff tone. Who was he to treat her like she was a criminal? 

But as soon as that defensiveness reared inside her, she cut it down. She was a rat, but did she have to be a hypocrite, too?

“Tell me again,” Miguel demanded firmly. “What else did you tell Walker?”

Honey slumped down in the bench seat with her arms folded. “Names,” she grumbled bitterly. “Times.” 

With each answer, she felt her skin burning from the rising heat of contempt. There was no more hiding from it. The most she could do was be as honest as possible. 

She resigned herself to scrutiny as an act of penance. “Who came and went. When they went. Where they were going. Locations.” 

Miguel’s eyes went wide with alarm. “Did you tell him about this place?”

“No,” she bit back. “I didn’t even know this place existed.”

Unsatisfied, he glowered, “When did you last talk to him?”

“I didn’t talk to him—”

“Then how did you communicate?”

“Give it a rest, Miguel,” Felicia scowled, unimpressed by his ‘bad cop’ persona. 

Honey didn’t feel like she was on Felicia’s good side either, but she did feel somewhat shielded by her presence. 

Mercilessly, he drove right through whatever shield may have existed. “You stabbed us in the back!” he accused, pointing his finger at her. “You were offered multiple chances to come clean, but you refused, and people died. You could’ve done the right thing, but you didn’t. So I’m sorry if I’m not as sensitive to your predicament.”

Shame filled her face as she cast her eyes downward. Nothing could shield her from the guilt. 

“That’s enough,” Felicia said, shooting impatient eyes at Miguel.

“Not until we know our people are safe!”

“I said ‘enough’!”

Miguel took a step back. Felicia didn’t raise her voice often, but it felt like the ground itself shook. Her eyes flashed red as she skewered him with her gaze. Quietly fuming, he glared at his superior and then stormed off.

Tiredly, Felicia sighed. “Where are we with backup?” she asked, pressing her lips into a firm line. “Who’s checked in?”

“Peni’s running comms,” Jessica replied. “Pinging everyone’s GPS now.”

Eddie mumbled through a tired yawn, “You got GPS trackers on everybody?”

“On the phones,” Miles explained. “She hacks the OS before we hand them out. Allows her to access them remotely.”

Idly, he scratched at the scruff on his face, replying, “What’s the point in that?” Then, a loud squelch from the overhead PA system erupted. Eddie nearly jumped out of his skin as if God herself were speaking.

“Means I can mine all your data and spy on you when you look up porn,” Peni’s voice echoed over the loudspeakers in the car, further startling Eddie.

“Jesus!” Eddie cursed. He hissed, eyes cast upwards at the speakers. “I don’t look up porn on the Spider phone!” 

Alarmed, Johnny whispered, “Can she really do that?”

“Can we please stay on task?!” Felicia glowered.

“Miguel’s right.”

The group refocused their attention on Honey. Her head was lowered, eyes glistening. “This is my fault,” she whispered sorrowfully, replaying the series of bad decisions that brought her to this point.

When she glanced back up, she was met with more silence. Painful, but not unkind.

“I, um... I don’t—I’m not good... with... trusting people,” she said sheepishly. “Not good with... letting anyone in.” She hesitated, her voice shaky as she breathed through the heartache. Patiently, the others were waiting for her to continue. 

“I... I know it’s not worth much, but I’m sorry.” She swallowed hard, her eyes rimmed with tears. “I’m sorry about Hobie,” she said with an expression like she had eaten glass. “I should’ve stopped this a long time ago.”

Felicia fixed sorrowful eyes on her. “Hobie’s death wasn’t on you,” she softly explained. “Between Fisk and the Feds, there are some hefty prices on our heads. Money like that makes loyalty difficult. That night, it didn’t matter what info you had. It was one of our guys that helped pull the trigger. Most of the time, we’re pretty good at picking out the bad apples. Not always.”

Honey stared up at her with furrowed brows, nodding graciously as she accepted the tiny reprieve from guilt.

“Plus, it helps to see everything everyone does with their phone when they’re in the bathroom.” The Voice of God chimed in again, but Peni was standing in the car's doorway this time. Eddie nearly clung to the ceiling with fright. 

“How are you doing that?!” he exclaimed.

Peni rolled her eyes incredulously. “By logging keystrokes, duh—”

“No, not that!” Eddie hissed.

“Not to mention, that’s a huge invasion of privacy,” said Johnny.

Eddie looked over at the tiny woman. “Do you have this place wired or something? Or bugged?”

“Wired?” their tech nerd scoffed. “Bugged? What do you think this is, Goodfellas?”

“Good movie,” Noir stated firmly. 

“That’s the one with Leo, right?” Miles asked.

Johnny blanched at the teen’s response. “Wait, what did you just say—???”

“For your information, Eddie, I don’t have to plant microphones to hear your conversation,” Peni arrogantly teased, nose in the air. “What do you even think phones are for, dummy?”

“Dude!” Johnny was still staring at Miles like he’d grown extra arms, the two of them squabbling. “Don’t tell me you’re confusing The Departed with Goodfellas—!” 

“Nah, man, that’s the one with the mumblin’ dude who's like ‘you come to me on the day of my daughter’s wedding—’”

Johnny’s voice soared to new heights. “That’s The Godfather!”

“He gave me a phone!” Blurting out with alarm, Honey shot up to her feet. 

Jess stared, brows furrowed with confusion. “I think we’re past that—”

“John gave me a phone!” she clarified, eyes darting to Felicia and Peni. “He told me to always have it on me... Jesus Christ! He was listening! The whole time— he could hear everything!” 

The rest stared in confusion while Honey grappled with the next horrifying thought. 

John heard everything. 

Every conversation. 

Every detail. 

Every secret.

He had everything.

“Oh God,” she breathed, face full of terror.

She paled at the memory of being in her bed, curled up in Peter’s arms as he divulged his deepest secrets. The phone that would damn them all was inches away, tucked securely in the box frame. 

He knows everything.

Her eyes went wide, filling with panic. “They’re coming—”

“Get down!” Peter's strained voice cracked through the silence.

A moment later, a cacophony of gunfire, pelted metal, and shattering glass surrounded them. Bodies hit the subway car floor like dominos, wedging between walls and beneath seats. Honey landed hard on her side, knocking the wind out of her. 

Screams rang out all around as glass rained down on them. Pops of automatic gunfire rolled on uninterrupted, like spokes on a wheel. Honey could feel tiny pinprick stings from shavings of metal and splintered plastic, like a wasp's nest had consumed the car. The exposed parts of her skin were battered with debris. As she cowered, a heavy weight dropped on her back.

The second she recognized the cinnamon and cedar scent, she opened her eyes in astonishment. Peter was there—fully awake, with wires and IVs still attached. He protected her, blanketing her with his body while she clutched him tight. She buried her face in his warmth while hell rained down around them. 

“Agghhhh!” — “Stay down!” — “Cat! Get back here!” — “Kill the lights!” — “There’s too many of ‘em...”

Voices called out frantically, rolled over by the crashing waves of gunfire. 

At a certain point, she wondered how long the guns were firing. Was it five minutes? Five years? The constant barrage of blamblamblam pierced her eardrums and rattled her bones, driving her insane with terror. Her heart must have outpaced the bullets. She felt Peter’s arms tighten around her, securing her to his chest. 

She focused on his body heat, his breath on her neck, and the vise of his arms. It was deja vu, eerily identical to the night he carried her away from Fisk’s garage. 

Her mind transported her away from the train back to that day. She trembled in the steaming water of the bathtub, trying to read his warm eyes— the color of caramel and chocolate and bourbon—while he diligently dabbed at the adhesive covering her mouth. The only roughness in his touch came from the calluses on his fingertips. 

She has no reason to trust him. But she does anyway.

His long, gentle fingers. They laid out a spread of plated charcuterie and sandwiches cut into triangles onto a picnic blanket overlooking a gorgeous vista of the Catskills. That’s where she is now. Nervously, he frets about the forgotten wine, pushing his fingers through his thick hair. He looks boyish and shy. 

She has every right to be terrified. But she isn’t.

She held Peter so tight she was concerned about breaking his bones and damaging him further. But she was incapable of prying her hands from him. No one could. 

There was no escaping this. They were trapped. Any moment now, everything would go black. Seconds away from the darkness. Centimeters from death. 

And there wasn’t anywhere else she wanted to be.

The gunfire let up for a few moments. A pocket of air in which to breathe.

“Goddamn it, it’s S.H.I.E.L.D.!” Miguel’s voice hollered from outside the car, although hearing him over the ringing in their ears was difficult.

Honey wasn’t listening anyway. She was listening to Peter’s voice as he crooned a heartachingly pure rendition of ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You,’ a song she felt might as well have been written about them. 

“Honey, look at me.” His alarm brought her back to the present. He stared down at her, his eyes anxiously searching her face, while he hoisted himself above her on his forearms. 

The moment she locked eyes with his, tears filled her gaze. Fear, joy, desperation—it overwhelmed her, hitting her like a tidal wave. He was still injured, she noted. The skin on his face and exposed upper body were still marked up with bruises and minor cuts. But his eyes—the tang of oranges, the golden tint of an Old Fashioned—reflected how alive he was, despite his earlier outward appearance. 

Adrenaline surged through his body as he caged her with his forearms. By contrast, his voice was as soft as a feather. “Honey—talk to me.” He whispered, breathless with fear he was struggling to contain. His eyes regarded her like she was something intricate, delicate, and precious. “You okay?” 

Her lungs were empty. Her vision was blurred with tears. But she nodded quickly, her chin wobbling.

A glimmer of relief crossed his features as he caressed her cheek. “Okay, s’okay... you’re okay, I gotcha—” It was unclear who he was reassuring. “You’re gonna be okay, ’m gonna get you out.” 

She had no reason to trust him. But she did. Her head continued to nod, and a little hum escaped from her throat in agreement.

“Stay down, okay?” he said placatingly while his thumb brushed the delicate skin beneath her eye. “Stay right here. I’m comin’ back.” 

“No, please! Please don’t leave.”

“I’ll be right back—”

“I-I can’t, please, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can—”

“I can’t lose you!”

His breath hitched. She felt his heart skip beneath his chest. Adoration pooled in his eyes. “I’m coming back. I promise.” He kissed her forehead softly, allowing his gaze to linger just long enough for a reassuring half-smile.

She had no reason to believe him. But she had to.

Before she could protest, he pushed himself up to a low crouch. Then, in the blink of an eye, she watched him leap from the ground and cling to the ceiling of the subway car. Stunned, she watched him crawl barefoot to the emergency exit at the top of the train car. Then, silently and swiftly, he disappeared through the port hole.

“Nancy! Stay down!”

Eddie’s voice... and his silly, endearing nickname. She was still on her back on the floor. She glanced up to see an upside-down viewpoint of Eddie as he reached for her. Next to him, Johnny and Jessica took cover beneath the table. “Stay right there! I’m comin’ to you—”

Another barrage of gunfire erupted, and he flattened to the ground. A scream ripped out at the rear of the subway car. Honey glanced down to see Miles crumpling into a ball as bullet holes sliced through the metal dangerously close to his cowering form. Beside him, Helen dragged herself along the ground sluggishly. She was covered in blood.

“Miles!” Honey shrieked. Her body moved of its own accord. Jarring drum hits rang out from both sides as she army-crawled toward the teen. The gunfire began to become more sporadic, with more frequent pauses. 

“Reloading, let’s go!”

“The lights! The lights!”

Every inch felt like a mile, but she pushed on with her belly to the ground. She reached Miles first, pulling him to the ground and hugging his body closer to hers just as another wave hit. Honey guided Miles along the floor toward Helen as soon as it passed over. 

The woman gasped and sputtered as she writhed in pain. Blood soaked through her right side, from her torso to her thigh. Eyes horrified at the damage, Honey searched Helen’s face desperately.

“To-to-tuorn-tourniquet...” the doctor said through chattering teeth.

“Gimme your belt!” Honey said to Miles. “Stay flat!”

The teen diligently reached for his nylon belt, shifting around to loosen and remove it while keeping his back to the floor. Honey took the belt from him and helped Helen wrap it around her thigh.

Just as she pulled it tight, the lights switched off. Frantically, Honey searched the cabin with terror, struggling to adjust to the darkness. More shouting, unfamiliar, followed by howls of fear and pain, surrounded her. From her vantage point, she could see shapes outside better now that the cabin lights were out.

Black-clad figures outfitted with S.W.A.T. gear and carrying more artillery than a small militia tip-toed around the car. She watched as one of the infiltrators passed by a window opposite from her. A pair of dark boots dropped onto the gunman, taking him to the ground. She gasped, ducking closer to the floor as the gunman was beaten and had his rifle taken. Then, she recognized Noir by his black trench coat, finally releasing her breath. 

The relief was short-lived. Noir turned and fired the weapon, which looked like a shotgun, at an incoming attacker. The bang was accentuated by a splatter on the windows, like a can of stewed tomatoes had exploded. Honey yelped at the sight before covering her eyes. She felt her stomach rolling in her belly.

A crash forced her eyes back open. She looked through the darkness to glimpse Felicia’s silver hair and the glint of a silver knife. She fought hand-to-hand with another armed combatant twice her size outside the train. The stout man was no match for the smaller-framed woman’s speed. She attacked him from all sides, burying her blade between his ribs like fangs on a viper.

Another goon rushed at her, knocking her flat on her back. Honey’s heart nearly stopped with panic as she watched the gunman aim his weapon at Felicia, prepared to fire. Suddenly, Miguel leaped out of nowhere with the talons of his gauntlet raised.

The razor-sharp blades attached to his forearm rang out as they cut through the air. Honey had no idea what type of metal they were made from, but it was sharper than anything she’d ever seen. With a woosh, the blades sliced through the rifle barrel like a blade of grass. In shock, the gunman dropped the rifle and drew a pistol instead. Miguel sliced through the man’s wrists with the same ease, separating his hands from his body. 

She looked away as another spray of crimson covered the walls and seat. She heard the gunman cry out before being silenced with a sickening squelch. 

Miguel was suddenly yanked backward by a brutish figure, pulling him off the train. 

“Miguel!” Felicia called out with alarm. Within seconds she uprighted herself and barrelled outside to back him up. Honey attempted to follow her with her gaze, but another burst of gunfire erupted, so close that she could smell the burning of her own hair.

“I’m comin’!” Miles hollered. Honey stayed down, too afraid to look up. 

“They’re coming through the rear!” she heard Jess’ voice from nearby. 

“Keep ‘em away from the train!” Johnny’s voice.

Where was Peter? 

She felt sick. She hadn’t seen or heard him since he vanished. The idea of him meeting a brutal end made her dizzy. It made her flesh clammy. Bile crawled up her throat, with a rising panic close to a scream. She clamped her mouth closed to keep it all inside. She couldn’t think about Peter being hurt right now. She could barely think at all.

A gunshot, followed by a male groan. 

“Storm!”

She squealed as Johnny collapsed through the train entrance and landed hard on the ground. From her hiding spot, she saw blood soaking his right shoulder.

Her eyes went wide. “Johnny—!”

Another footsoldier boarded the train behind him, wielding a bloody combat dagger. Dazed from blood loss himself, the soldier collapsed on top of Johnny, the knife raised up high. She watched the two men struggle, trembling beneath a seat. It reminded her of lions thrashing, burying blade-like claws into one another.

More gunfire erupted nearby, jolting her out of her reverie. Johnny’s attacker straddled him and bared his weight down on the hilt of the dagger. Arms shaking and hands slick with blood, Johnny clutched the blade, trying to keep it from piercing his chest. 

Her eyes narrowed on the attacker. The man wore face paint to obscure his features, like some deranged Navy Seal. His tactical clothes were solid black, save for a white, geometric eagle patch on his shoulder. This was ‘SHIELD,’ or whatever Miguel called it. 

Honey saw the strain on her friend’s face, noting the weakening of his muscles. If she did nothing, Johnny would be stabbed to death right in front of her.

She needed to intervene.

Do something.

She glanced around desperately for a weapon.

The men were snarling with lips curled back. The attacker raised his fist above the hilt, ready to bash the knife into Johnny’s chest. Suddenly, he was smacked in the face by a midweight object. Dazed, he blinked through the darkness to spot a blood-splattered ballet flat on the ground. He looked up, glimpsing its owner.

Wide-eyed, Honey stared back at the SHIELD agent as he set crosshairs on her. The man bounded forward, lunging at her. She screamed, crawling backward like a crab, as the man grabbed her by the ankle above her bare foot. He held the knife high, preparing to plunge it into her chest. A blam rang out, stopping him in his tracks, as a bullet tore through the man’s heart. 

As her attacker toppled backwards, Honey turned around to see Jessica holding a smoking pistol. Without a second thought, the woman rushed up to Johnny and lowered herself to his side. “Are you hurt?” she asked Honey, offhandedly as she examined his stab wound. 

Honey shook her head ‘no.’ 

He grunted in pain as Jessica put pressure on the wound beneath Johnny’s collarbone. “Get his gun,” she ordered as she worked. Honey blinked at the gunman’s corpse, hand still clinging to a bloody knife.

“Get the gun!” Jess repeated, eyes intense. “Works a lot better than a shoe.”

She blinked. “I... I can’t.” 

The Woman glanced up at her with a hard line between her brows. “It’s either them or you. Who’s it gonna be?”

Honey stared back, face blank. Jessica pressed her lips together. “I have to check on Cho. Put pressure right here.” Honey crawled towards them, replacing Jessica’s hands with hers. She gulped dazedly, watching the sticky, red warmth pool around her fingers. He hissed in pain, but diligently, she held the compress firm.

The Woman stood quickly and shuffled over to the dead man, retrieving his sidearm and knife. She returned with the pistol in hand, ejecting, examining, and replacing the magazine like flexing one of her muscles. She wrenched back the top of the gun, letting it slide back in place with a lock. 

Honey watched the whole thing, jaw agape like it was a magic trick.

Deftly, she flipped the weapon around, presenting the grip end to Honey and placing it in the woman’s hand.

“Now it’s them or him,” Jess declared firmly, jerking her forehead towards Johnny. “You choose.”

Bewildered, she warily took the weight of the gun as Jess disappeared toward the back of the train. “Don’t shoot anyone we know!” the Woman called out. 

Honey stared at the gun, then found Johnny’s sweating face. “It’s okay,” she whispered, putting weight back on his wound. “I’m gonna take care of you.” She swallowed the tremor in her voice, putting on a face of confidence, despite her terror. 

She could pretend to be brave? Right?

Another spray of shots pierced the cabin overhead, and she crouched down to cover Johnny. 

The barrage of shots eased again, pausing for a blessed few seconds. “Incoming!” she heard Miguel shout outside. “Ultraman’s here!”

Ultraman? What...?

The emergency lights in the tunnel dimmed as a whirring sound began to ring out. With eyes like saucers, she witnessed growing pandemonium outside. More shouting and panicked footsteps echoed in the darkened tunnel, followed by a slowly-building roar, like a jet engine coming to life.

“Get down!” she heard Miles’ voice behind her. He leaped over the bench seat and pressed his body over hers and Johnny’s. Suddenly, the train jerked sideways, knocked off the track like a toy. The bodies inside were tossed to the opposite wall as the car toppled over.

Head throbbing and eyes blurry, Honey gazed around attempting to get her bearings. A bright, red light erupted, a beam cutting through the floor of the car, just a few feet away from where they had been thrown. She watched in horror as the vehicle was sliced in half like a loaf of bread.

Shrieks from terrified men echoed outside. The car rocked, metal twisting as the train's rear tore away. With her jaw agape, she peered down the train car, now opened up like a tunnel. Finally, her eyes found the source of the commotion.

A ten-foot humanoid robot smashed through the bodies of the SHIELD team, knocking them down like bowling pins. She watched in stunned disbelief as the robot’s giant legs trampled fallen soldiers beneath its mechanical feet. The arms of the robot were as thick as steel beams but faster than a human’s. They thrust out in all directions, tossing adult bodies like rag dolls. The machine was a red-and-yellow blur, with shells bouncing harmlessly off its bulletproof skin.

“C’mon,” Miles grasped Honey’s shoulder, pulling her to attention. “We gotta go!”

“What is that thing?” she gasped.

“It’s Peni!” he shouted back. “Now, c’mon, let’s move!”

Shaking the astonishment away, she followed Miles’ lead. She grabbed Johnny’s legs as the teen hooked his forearms underneath the injured man’s shoulders. They grunted from the effort of hoisting him up.

“m’sorrym’sorrym’sorrysorry...” Miles rattled off as Johnny wailed in pain. “Don’t be mad at me!” 

The two carried him towards the tunnel opening, wobbling as they walked. Honey spotted movement from beside them— a gunman peering into an emergency port hole.

“Miles! Look out!” a voice boomed. She glanced over to see Eddie flying across the car, tackling Miles as the automatic weapon started firing. She screamed, dropping herself and Johnny to the ground, as bullet holes pierced the side of the car. 

When she looked up, she stared at the white-eagle emblem on the shoulder of the agent as he turned his gun from Miles to Honey. The man crawled through the port hole, just feet away from her. 

Horrified, she looked around until she saw the pistol Jess left her with lying in the rubble between her and the attacker. Eyes wide, she scurried on her hands and feet, crawling towards it. The gunman rushed her as soon as he saw what she was doing. 

For the second time in her life, Honey fired a gun. She jolted from the shocking recoil after the trigger had been pulled. The man howled and dropped to one knee. Stunned, she watched the man writhe, having taken the bullet in his shin. 

He looked up and glared at her with a murderous stare, fumes coming from his nose. Her jaw went slack as he lunged at her. She fired the weapon again, this time hitting him in the torso. It barely slowed him down, planting into the Kevlar of his vest. Before she could adjust, the attacker’s hand was wrapped around her throat, and he wrenched the pistol from her fingers.

“Fuckin’ bitch!” he spat at her, wheezing from the impact to his bulletproof vest. “Can’t wait ‘til he tears you a new—” 

The man’s grip dropped immediately as his head wrenched backward. 

Honey looked up in awe to see Peter, splattered blood beading down his chest, towering over them. Teeth gritted, he held the man by his hair, his massive hand expanding over the crown of his head. Then, with an enraged growl, Peter jerked his arm back. 

She watched the gunman jolt as his scalp was ripped off so forcefully that the top of his skull came with it. The man flailed, legs twitching sporadically like he’d swallowed a power line. Finally, Peter released his body. With blank eyes, he slumped to the side, brain matter spilling out.

She trembled at the horrific scene, watching the attacker go limp. Her wide eyes traveled up to her rescuer. 

Peter Parker. Half monster. Half man. Chest heaving, animalistic eyes roving, his savagery on full display. Her jaw hung open as she regarded him with horrified awe, with several thoughts swimming through her head.

One. 

He looked feral. Blood trailed down his face and torso in tiny crimson rivers. The ghastly sight made him look both dead and alive. More beast than man. Even without the Symbiote attached, his eyes were blown black from adrenaline. She thought about how Eddie mentioned Venom ‘reacted differently’ to Peter. And now she could see why.

Violence was in his very nature. He wore it around his shoulders like a cape. Carnage was his crown. The blood staining his flesh only made him stand taller, like a conquering barbarian on top of a mountain of skulls. He never needed Venom to become something monstrous. The violence was visceral, and he could never be separated from it. Not completely.  

It was terrifying to witness. She should be terrified.

Two: she wasn’t. 

She realized this as he locked eyes with her, suddenly going still. She watched him. He watched her. Both of them thinking the same thought.

This is who he was. Peter Parker.

Not Venom.

Not Ben Reilly.

Not any other false name he used to conceal himself in the darkness. As much as it terrified him, he was the darkness.

His eyes softened as he looked down at her, like a switch had been thrown. He turned docile only under her gaze. 

This was also who he was. And she realized that she didn’t want him any other way.

“Are you hurt?” Peter quietly asked, crouching before her as he scanned over her figure. Eyes glistening, she nodded, her mind stricken with deja vu. He reached out delicately with bloody hands and tipped her chin upwards until their gazes met. 

She swayed as exhaustion collided with her, weakening her muscles. “I-I...” she mumbled, jaw agape and shoulders limp, staring up at him with a hypnotized expression. “I... lost my shoe.”

He blinked in confusion before glancing down to see one of her ballet flats was missing.

“I think I saw it over here,” Johnny muttered through gritted teeth, snapping them out of their bubble. They turned to see him sprawled out on the ground, holding his shoulder with a thin sheen of sweat on his face. “I’m okay too, by the way.” 

“Johnny!” Peter said, alarmed. They dropped back to the ground and flanked the bleeding man. “Can you move?” he asked, brows furrowed. 

The blonde grunted as he held onto his pectoral muscle, blood soaking half his shirt. “Sure. Flesh wound.” 

A cocky smile filled with pearly white teeth assured them he was still relatively ‘normal.’ They breathed a sigh of relief as Peter delicately helped him up into a sitting position.

The attack had ended.  Honey wasn’t entirely sure when. The whirring steps of the robot approaching caught her attention. She looked down to see the red-and-yellow mecha-spider  step up to the opening of the train car. “That’s the last of them,” Peni’s mechanized voice declared. The robot’s torso opened to reveal Peni sitting inside. The wizard behind the curtain with painted blood-red lips.

“They’ll be back,” Peter said grimly before turning to Honey.

Tears filled her eyes as she stared back at him. Guilt gutted her, breaking her heart and every bit of strength left in her body. “This is all my fault.”

Just as Peter was about to reply, the broken sound of Miles’ voice clipped him short. The teenager whimpered, dread filling his lungs, “Guys...”

Peter and Honey turned towards Miles, seeing the teen crouched over on his knees. A body lay before him. They scurried to their feet, rushing to his side. Honey froze mid-step, eyes wide with horror.

“Eddie...” she gasped.

The burly man was on his back with a gaping hole in his chest. Slowly, it pooled with blood as he wheezed in short spurts. Miles leaned over him desperately, trying to stop the bleeding with his soaked-through beanie. 

Eddie looked ashen, the life drained from his face. His eyes were wide as they stared up at the ceiling, filled with horror and awe. He sputtered and coughed, his lungs struggling to keep the liquid out. Blood tinged his lips. 

“Eddie!” Honey yelped, dropping to her knees to bring her hands over Miles’s. 

It was like trying to hold back a river. All eyes were now on Eddie’s dire situation—Noir, Felicia, and Peni approaching quickly. Jess and Miguel looked on from the back of the car, both of them pausing momentarily from trying to assist Helen.

Miles gazed down at his savior, lip wobbling and hands shaking. “He... he pushed me outta the way. He-he saved me—” 

“Christ!” They heard Felicia curse as the silver-haired woman rushed over and touched Eddie’s pulse. Honey glanced at her, watching fear capture the fearless.

“We need help over here!” Peter called out, voice strained with panic that Honey had never heard from him before. He was winded with terror as his palms enveloped Miles’s, frantically working to stop the bleeding.

“Cho’s hurt bad,” Jessica called back. Beside her, Miguel was hooking his arms beneath the doctor’s legs, hoisting her up off the ground.

“It’s okay, we-we got this,” Honey called back. Hysteria slowly choked her. “I-I can fix this! I can patch him up!”

“But Helen—”

“I can do this!” Honey hissed, desperate tears spilling down her face. “I just need a-a med kit or... Sutures! I can sew it up, all she’s gotta do is walk me through it.” 

“Sweetie,” Felicia uttered under her breath. Honey froze in her gaze, her blue eyes glazed with tears. “She’s not even conscious...” 

She wore a mournful expression, condolences pouring silently from her mouth.

Honey would have none of it. Defiantly, she shook her head, lips pursed into a straight line. “I’ll figure it out myself!” she choked back a sob. “Just—somebody, get me the med kit! Get me—” Honey blocked out the worried stares that surrounded her. 

Instead, she focused on Eddie. She thought about cupcake frosting smeared across the scruff of his chin. His benevolent nature as he pulled in drags of smoke, offering peace to the world in return with each outward breath. She pictured his hazel-gray eyes weighed down by heavy bags and a lifetime of failures. Despite that, his eyes persevered to retain their brightness. 

He was tranquil amidst the turmoil of his life. Grateful despite his misfortune. In the middle of their war, he was a pacifist. A peacemaker. 

He saw everything. He saw Peter as a brother. He saw Honey as a friend. He saw both of them as worth saving.

And now she saw the light fading from his eyes. “I can do this,” she whimpered weakly, tears spilling down her face. “It’s okay. I can fix this.”

“Honey—”

She paused, feeling the featherlike brush of Peter’s breath across her face. Hesitantly, she met his sorrowful gaze, her heart aching at the sight of tears trailing down his cheeks. He was silent, fixing her earnestly with a knowing look. He didn’t have to say anything. She could read the hopelessness written on his face.

There was no fixing this. 

Somberly, they gazed at one another, both of them mirroring each other’s grief.

“S..ssay,” Honey heard a tiny voice whisper beneath her. She looked down to see Eddie looking up at her, teeth chattering. His lips were curved into a faint smile. “Wh—why the-the-the l-long face, N-nancy?”

It was like her heart literally ripped in half. She struggled to keep her sobs muted, clamping her mouth closed.

“Y-you... sh-should e-eat a Peanut Butter co-cookie, or so-somethin.’” He grinned wide, his teeth stained red. Tears dripped from her chin as she hiccuped out a small smile through her anguish. 

His eyes traveled from her face to Peter’s. Though he appeared more composed than Honey, Eddie knew what Peter looked like when he was in agony. 

“T-tha-thank y-you-u,” Eddie shivered, staring up at Peter with love in his eyes, “for s-saving my life.” 

Red-eyed, Peter winced like he’d swallowed glass. He breathed through his nose, afraid that if he opened his mouth his soul would spill out.

Eddie gazed at him with a lopsided, lazy grin. “Don’t b-be too ha-hard on yourself.” Another cough shook him, staining his lips even further. Peter released his hold on the wound to wrap Eddie’s hand in his fist. He held on tightly as if to steady him against a heavy current.

“M’mm-’m afraid to-to die, Pete,” Eddie said with a shaky voice. He faltered for a single moment. Fear prodded at him as each expansion of his chest became heavier. Each breath came up shorter than the last. 

Then, as stubborn as ever, he smirked with a flicker of light filling his glossy gaze. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he considered the irony. “Th-that’s-s gotta co-count for s-somethin’, right?”

Peter squeezed his eyes shut, nodding tearfully in a silent reply. When he opened them again, the current was stronger. The light was fading as it began to pull him under. Peter and Honey gripped tighter, as if their resolve could hold him.

“S-s-so...” Eddie said, locking eyes with Peter. “Thank... you.”

Into the darkness, he drifted away.

Continue to Part 20

{back to the masterlist}

A/N Sorry for the tearjerker cliffhanger! This story is coming to a close in just a few chapters (maybe 3 or 4). Thank you for sticking with me this long. I hope that the next chapter will have everything you've ever dreamed of.

[honey-dew-woo]

possible rooster dating hangman’s sister headcanon??🫡

I tried. It might suck. But I tried lol

Masterlist

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

Being Hangman's sister and having a crush on Rooster would include...

>You'd be Hangman's younger sister.

>I don't know, you just are

>I mean you know your brothers an asshole, no doubt about it

>i mean for christ's sake you grew up with him

>you of all people would know.

>so when you got recalled to the same detachment as him, you internally groaned when you found out.

>i mean you love him, you really do

>but god he can be a dick.

>when you first show up to Penny's bar and the crew is all there, they're a little nervous

>Hangman had briefly mentioned you, and there was a running bet that you'd be just as much of an asshole

>So when you show up and act like... a decent human being... everyone's so shook?

>Bradley  had watched you from across the bar

>lowkey it was kind of creepy? 

>Until Phoenix introduced you two

>hitting it off like instantly?

>"Back off my sister, Bradshaw."

>"She's her own person, Hangman. Why don't you let her make her own decisions?"

>Penny was so close to having Maverick kick both of them out...

>Tension so thick you'd have to cut it with a knife.

>Hangman would shake it off and go play pool

>You would play pool too

>While you're not a jackass, you are a pilot

>Incredibly competitive. 

>You would talk shit to anyone and everyone you'd play pool against, similarly to your brother

>But you wouldn't ever get as serious with your insults

>Speaking of serious insults

>Whenever Hangman brings up Rooster's dad

>You were livid. Pissed. Seeing red.

>You shoved your brother off of Rooster.

>"What the hell is wrong with you?"

>"What, Y/N? You still want to be a sensitive little girl for the boy you have a crush on?"

>You didn't slap him.

>You punched him.

>Knocking him off his feet, stumbling back into Coyote, who helped him up.

>You're seething with anger as you storm off. 

>Like seriously? God how is he such a dick?

>You'd find Bradley now twenty minutes later in a break room

>Maverick would pass you on the way out

>He'd think about stopping you but decided against it, Bradley just needed a friend right then

>You'd knock before entering.

>Honestly Rooster didn't know whether to accept the company or tell you to leave him alone

>A part of him thought you were on Hangman's side of the altercation

>He ultimately didn't say anything, but looked up at you with hurt eyes

>Not sad, or angry, just hurt. Defensive, almost.

>"Hey."

>You'd stop next to the couch where he's seated, patting his shoulder 

>"Hey."

>"I'm sorry about him. He's just such a jackass."

>He wouldn't say anything, just look up at you with those eyes.

>God those eyes

>You'd have to bite your cheek to prevent a frown from taking over your face

>"Bradley, I-"

>He'd cut you off before standing, placing one hand at the base of your jawline, making you look up at him

>"Can I kiss you?" He'd ask, staring into your eyes

>"No." You'd smile, warmly at him before placing your hands over his shoulders, behind his head.

>"I'm not going to kiss you so that you can get back at my brother, Bradley. But what I am going to do is be here as your friend until you two get over whatever the hell this shit is."

>And so you did. 

>And he didn't push it, either.

>But after the mission? When Hangman saved his ass and the two were good again?

>As soon as Rooster made it off that plane he found you again

>Neither of you hesitated this time, kissing each other happily

>Hangman would sarcastically clap.

>"If you hurt her-"

>"I won't."

[fictiophillia]

Heya! This is the first time I‘m making a request so I hope I‘m doing this right ^^‘

I really like your writing with Mammon and an INTP MC, and I was wondering whether or not it would be ok to ask for Mams with an INFP Mc? And maybe instead of smut there could be some comfort? I‘m just really stressed rn and he‘s my comfort character :‘)

If not it‘s totally ok and I hope you have an amazing day ^^ <3

HEKAMDIAKSBSKSBJA OFCC I'm so happy that y'all like my writing lmao rn it's 05:03 am I just woken up and I couldn't sleep, although I saw it is for comfort and I shall do it now. I couldn't choose a song, there were many good ones (when y'all realize the songs are the same mbti lol) and I'm running out of battery :') sorry if it's short btw

Mammon comforting an INFP reader

warnings : no horny time in this one 😞 only fluff fluff cuddles and fluff

gender: neutral

You two would definitely be the cutest pair in all Devildom.

It's like you share the same mind.

"What if mayonnaise came in cans??"

"That would suck because you can't microwave metal"

"Good morning to everyone except those two."

He loves how caring you are with him.

He doesn't get why you overthink all the time but he'll be there comforting and reassuring every time it happens.

You two were a match made in heaven *drums*

Han han got it? bc heaven- and he's a demon-

I'm going to shut up now-

Any physical contact such as hugs, holding hands, laying his head on your lap/chest, he loves it all<3

If you're the one for physical contact tho? that's ok too!

He'll be sending you those love-ass crackhead memes at 4am

"Mammon it's 4am"

"Ya saying I can't love ya at 4am???"

"Mammon we literally have to get up in a couple of hours"

Maybe your not the only one overthinking c:

Although he overthinks mainly because of insecurities he has gained from living with his brothers so make sure to comfort him too about that later, as he is always here to comfort you <3

Comfort time wouldn't include much moving, I think you'd stay home and in the literal meaning chilling and Netflix.

(If you're ok with contact) He'd pull you to lay your head on his shoulder, laying his head on top of yours- as much as he'd like to be the only laying on your shoulder.

(If you're not) He'd crack a joke every now and then just to see you smile.

He just loves you so much and he can't help but tell other people about it.

"Mammon it is the 29th time you've said it today, WE WOKEN UP 3 HOURS AGO-"

You can see his eyes shinning when he sees you across the room 🥺❤️

Talking about shinning-

You could be smaller, weaker, even softer than him and he'd still see you as his knight in a shining armor.

He'd also give you anything shinning he took interest in, could be a bracelet, could be a rock, it's really random lmao.

You make him think outside the box, you take out the most creative side of him.

You can see right through his charm when he's trying to get out of situations such as Lucifer's scolding.

You teach him to be more thoughtful and observant, not so be impulsive when doing things.

He takes on adventures and takes you out of your funk of overthinking.

He pushes your limits to help you grow.

He helps you to be more confident in social situations.

You're both very chaotic already and together you're just creating more chaos (in a good way!!!)

"How do I flirt with someone???"

"Throw rocks at them"

"Thanks dude."

You both spend time trying new things as you both hate repetitions.

You both hate being restrained and limited, so you're free around each other, he trust you and you trust him too.

He's your demon and you're his human<3