#even mj's impressed

[leapinarmadillo]

ohhhh. i forgot that people used to say michael was getting surgeries in order to look like diana ross. ugh. i don't think there's anything to that but............ugh.

[ongreenergrasses]

i just saw ur tags on the annie cresta week post and im so on board w you writing about her partners if you’d still wanna do it!! i love fics where annie has prior relationships bc yall already know our girls roster was FULL <3

COOL if one person is gonna read it then i’ll do it but genuinely. this woman stumbles out after being held by the Capitol for weeks and very possibly tortured and Katniss’s first thought is that she’s lovely. she’s well spoken while being a 23 year old newly pregnant widow so if she’s not feeling miserable i’m sure she’s eloquent and i can see her being pretty funny. we know she’s kind, she shows that kindness to Peeta. all this to say that people were one hundred percent throwing themselves at Annie’s feet she’s such a catch

[anarkhebringer]

Getting hit with the Normalcy(tm) switch with FFXIV and not caring about it anymore means all the drama on Twitter has me grabbing popcorn instead of groaning and hoping my game doesn't break after every petty plugin dev dispute

[eupheme]

Not to be the little gremlin obsessed with Chappell Roan BUT… reader thinking Logan is too cool to want a proper relationship with them, so when things get physical they insist things are just “casual” in order to protect themselves from getting hurt. But secretly you’re in love with each other, so honestly, neither of you want things to be casual at all… (mutual pining my beloved) please & thank you!! Love you!

ahh hi hi avo I LOVE this song, and this request, and you - I could so see this being a situation that Logan and reader find themselves in. I had so much fun writing this, I hope you like it! (I added a couple winks to the lyrics as well.) 💖 thank you so much for sending this to me!!!

casual | variant!logan howlett x f!reader

1.2k | posessive!logan, fwb(???), use of alcohol, mutual pining, references to oral sex and PiV.

It doesn’t matter that your heart flips when you look at him. It’s Logan. It’s just casual.

It certainly feels like a dream, watching your worlds collide.

The heft of Logan’s palm fitting into your friends as he shakes their hand - the five of you squeezed into your usual booth in the corner of the bar.

You’d say the past couple weeks had seemed that way, as well. A late-night dose of bravery spiraling into something so raw and intense and real, that you feel like you could choke on it.

Even now, there’s heat in your cheeks as your eyes flick his way. Something stirring in your chest at the way his other arm slings across the back of the booth almost possessively.

But like all dreams, there comes a moment where you have to wake up.

Because you know it’s not.

Because you know your feelings aren’t requited. How could they be, when it’s Logan you’re talking about?

A legend.

A lone wolf.

Someone important, someone whose name carries a weight. Who saved the world, from what Wade tells you.

And you’re - you.

So even if you know what he looks like beneath that flannel, know what his mouth feels like when it presses against yours - what he sounds like, when he comes - you know that this is nothing.

It’s casual. A distraction, for both of you.

And if that’s how it has to be, then you’ll do your best to show him you’re cool with it.

You just hadn’t expected this moment to come so soon. It had been a genuine offer, your “you wanna come with?” when the hour rolled around for your weekly trivia night.

Not thinking his head would cock to the side. The look he’d give you - that arched brow, as his fingers splayed out across your bare hip. Still crowded together on your couch, sweat-dewed.

The “sure, sweetheart” that slipped out.

And now you’re introducing him as your friend - that quick history you’ve perfected - rattling off the “you know, Wade from work’s roommate” even though Wade didn’t work at the dealership anymore.

He had made enough of an impression that none of your friends had forgotten.

And you ignore the bitter jolt in your stomach, when all Logan does is hum.

You think you must have assumed right.

He doesn’t correct you.

Logan quickly solidifies himself as an asset to the team. He gets a lot of the history questions that you’ve always struggled with. A shy quirk of his lips when your friends cheer, and you get swept along with it.

His hand ending up on your thigh along the way. Squeezing, when you chime in. Almost as if forgetting - it’s easy to, when you’re having fun like this.

A low rasp in your ear, when the host takes a break.

“Lemme get you another.”

You can only nod, as he eases out - taking your glass with him.

It only takes a second, before MJ’s hand slaps down on yours.

“That’s Logan?” She hisses - leaning forward, “The one who-”

“Yes.” You cut her off, ignoring the sideways glance her boyfriend gives you.

You never should have told her about that.

Had a hard enough time climbing into your car without thinking about it, yourself - the way he had man-handled you in the passenger seat. Thighs thrown over broad shoulders.

Fingers twined in his hair, as he made you moan in the dark parking garage. Too eager to make it up to your apartment.

She frowns, the words petering out, “But I thought-”

Your teeth worry at your lower lip.

“Yeah. Me too.” You sigh.

MJ knows how much you like him.

Really like him - butterflies, and everything. How it’s been years since you felt this way - slipping from you during that rushed phone call at 6 am the morning after your first night together.

Her eyebrows raise, and it’s a look you know well.

“It’s, you know.” Your hand waves, “It’s casual. It’s-”

It’s easier, this way.

Maybe if you keep repeating it, it won’t hurt as much when he moves on.

The look she shoots you is one of pity, just as a drink is set down in front of you.

Your teeth clicking against each other as the words are swallowed. Forcing a smile as Logan slips back in the booth next to you.

The next round starts a moment after, and it’s a welcome reprieve.

You miss the way his eyes narrow, as yours fix firmly on scorecard in front of you.

But you don’t miss the way his hands stay folded on top of the table, for the rest of the night.

You suppose he must have remembered where he was.

“You wanna come up?”

He lingers outside your apartment door, hands jammed into his pockets. That look from the bar is back - all dark, narrowed eyes.

A low sound in his throat, close to a scoff.

“That what you want, sweetheart?”

Your eyebrows raise, “Well, yeah. I mean-, that’s what we usually do, right?”

He’s spent just about every night at your apartment. His things still scattered across your room. A leather jacket slung across the chair that’s tucked against your vanity.

Logan’s lips twist at the edges, eyes dropping.

“Suppose we do.” Those hands slip from his pocket, crossing over his chest, “Back when I thought we knew what we were doing. But now…”

His head shakes. A tick in his jaw.

Your stomach drops.

“What do you mean?”

Logan huffs, “The bar, baby. Is that how you really feel?”

A step closer, until he’s caging you in. Voice dropping, rough and low - near gritted out.

“Does this,” His fingers flick between your chest and his, “feel casual to you?”

Your heartbeat gallops behind your ribs.

“I thought-,” You manage, “Thought that’s what you wanted.”

He’s too close, now. The dip of his head, those eyes burning in their shades of brown and gold.

“Now, why would you think that?”

You swallow, “Because you’re you, and I’m-”

“You’re?” He prompts, but you go silent.

A sigh, when your head dips.

Unable to say it out loud.

“Driving me crazy all night, you know that?” He rasps, “Giving me those looks. Calling me your friend, when we both know your mouth was around my cock this morning.”

A low rumble in his throat, “When I still taste like you.”

Your breath hitches, as his hand thumbs at your jaw, tilting it up.

“Lemme ask you again.” His mouth is close enough now to ghost against yours, “Is that how you really feel?”

Your head shakes.

“Wanna be yours.”

It’s breathed out, just as he kisses you.

His body pressing flush, as your hands twine around his neck. A palm around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as he deepens it.

Desire thrumming to life inside you, washing out the dregs of insecurity that you’ve been carrying this whole time. Melting them away completely with the hungry sweep of his tongue, the way he swallows your soft moan.

There’s a flash of white when he finally leans back, with the curve of his lips.

“Good.”

His hand closes around the knob. A rough twist, as his another arm wraps around your waist.

Walking you backwards, into the dark.

“Then let me show you exactly how I feel.”

thank you so much, again!! 💖

[baelabong]

ᴜɴꜰᴀɪʀ

(ɢ!ᴘ ᴍɪɴᴊᴇᴏɴɢ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

plot/warnings: mj with a small size kink

rq: no, just wanted to

By simply wearing that small skirt to dinner, you didn’t expect this would be happening. The evening had begun with laughter and light conversation, the soft glow of candlelight casting a warm hue over your table. You felt confident, the fabric of your skirt teasingly accentuating your figure, drawing Winter’s gaze in a way that made your heart race.

As the night progressed, Winter leaned in, her voice low and playful. “You know, I can’t help but think how stunning you look tonight.” There was an innocence in her tone, but it was laced with a hint of something more, an undertone that made the air between you electrifying.

You returned her gaze, a smile playing on your lips, but before you could respond, she added, “It’s almost unfair how tempting you are.” After she had said this, you didn’t expect for you to end up …. Here.

"Huh," Winter panted in between breaths. "You like getting filled up by me?"

Nodding your head frantically, you throw your head back as you feel her hands grip your waist. With one of her hands, she moves to the bulge evident in your stomach, her fingers pressing down firmly, her impressive eight inches adding to the intensity of the moment. A shiver of pleasure courses through you at her touch, the sensation sending waves of heat through your body that clash with the chill of the winter air around you.

"Look at you," she murmurs, a smirk playing on her lips as she gazes at the outline of her thrusts beneath your skin. "So eager, so needy. You love being filled, don’t you?" Her voice drips with a mix of teasing and authority, making your heart race faster.

"Yes," you whimper, your voice barely a whisper, but the desperation is palpable. "I love it."

She chuckles darkly, the sound sending a thrill through you. "Good. I want to hear those pretty little sounds of yours." With that, she grips your waist tighter, her fingers digging into your flesh as she thrusts deeper, filling you more completely. Her movements are rougher now, a primal need driving her actions.

“Tell me how it feels,” Winter demands, her tone firm and commanding. You can see the hunger in her eyes, a raw desire that urges you to give in to her completely.

“It feels so good,” you manage to pant, your back arching as pleasure radiates through you. “I—I can’t get enough.”

“Such a good little toy,” she taunts, her voice low and sultry. “You love being my plaything, don’t you? Just a little thing for me to use.” Her words are laced with a mix of dominance and degradation, and they send a rush of excitement coursing through you.

“Yes, Winter,” you moan, feeling utterly consumed by her. “I’m yours. Just yours.”

"That's right," she growls, her hands moving to grip your thighs, pulling you closer as she thrusts harder. You can feel her veiny cock hitting all the right places inside you, making you gasp and moan in delight. Your head falls back against the wall, the sensation overwhelming. "And I’ll make you feel every inch of me."

You could barely keep your composure as the pressure built within you. “More, please,” you begged, your voice shaky with need.

“More?” she echoes mockingly, her lips curling into a wicked smile. “You’ll have to earn it, darling. Show me how much you want it.”

With that, she thrusts deeper, hitting the perfect spot that sends waves of pleasure crashing over you. Your body responds instinctively, and you can’t help but moan loudly, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room. "Winter!"

“Pathetic,” she whispers, her breath hot against your ear. “Moaning like that for me. You’re just a needy little thing, aren’t you?” Her words are both degrading and electrifying, pushing you further into a haze of desire.

“Yes! I’m so needy!” you cry out, your body writhing against hers, desperate for more. “Please, don’t stop!”

Winter's grip tightens as she picks up the pace, her thrusts becoming more forceful, each one sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. "You’re going to take it all, understand? I want to hear you scream my name."

You nod, barely able to form words as she continues, her body moving with a fervor that leaves you breathless. “Winter! Oh god, I—”

“Louder,” she commands, and you comply, letting your voice rise in an ecstatic melody of pleasure and desperation. “That’s it, just like that. Let everyone know who you belong to.”

Feeling a surge of boldness, Winter suddenly flips you around, positioning you above her. "Now," she says with a wicked grin, "it's your turn to ride me."

With her hands guiding your hips, she helps you settle down, slowly taking her length inside you again. You gasp at the sensation, feeling her fill you completely, the pressure building as you begin to move. You can feel every inch of her, her veiny cock hitting all the right spots as you start to roll your hips.

"That's it," Winter encourages, her voice low and sultry. "Show me how bad you want it."

You pick up the pace, bouncing on her, feeling the heat radiate between you. Each movement sends shocks of pleasure coursing through your body, and you can’t help but moan her name. "Winter, oh god, it feels so good!"

“Look at you,” she growls, her hands gripping your waist tightly. “So fucking perfect. Just a little slut for me, riding my cock like your life depends on it.” The degrading words only spur you on, making you crave more, to give her everything she desires.

You lean forward, your hands pressing against her chest for support, feeling the muscles beneath your palms. The sight of her beneath you, her face twisted in pleasure, only pushes you further. "Please, tell me I’m doing good," you plead, your voice breathy.

“Such a good girl,” she praises, thrusting upwards to meet your movements. “You take me so well. Keep going, don’t stop.”

With each thrust, the pleasure builds, your body crying out for release. You can feel the heat pooling in your core, every thrust bringing you closer to the edge. "Winter! I’m so close!"

“Come for me,” she growls, her voice thick with desire. “I want to feel you fall apart around me.”

As Winter thrusts up into you, deep grunts escape her lips, each one filled with raw desire. "God, you feel so good," she breathes heavily, her voice thick with pleasure. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes in the room, blending with the intoxicating rhythm of your movements.

"Keep going," she urges, her breath coming in quick bursts. "Don't stop; I want to feel you." Each thrust sends a shockwave of pleasure through both of you, her body tensing with every movement.

"Winter, I—" you begin, but the words are lost as she pushes deeper, her grunts growing more primal. "Ahh, yes... just like that."

Suddenly, she shudders beneath you, her body tightening as she nears her peak. "I'm close," she gasps, her voice trembling with need. "So close..."

With one final thrust, the world around you fades away, and you’re overtaken by pleasure, your body quaking as you reach your peak. "Winter!" you scream, the sound echoing off the walls as waves of ecstasy wash over you.

Winter holds you tightly, feeling every tremor as you succumb to the bliss she created. "That’s my good girl," she whispers, her voice filled with satisfaction as she rides out the last waves of your pleasure with you.

Winter lets out a soft, breathy laugh, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You know," she says, her voice teasing, "maybe you should think about stopping the pill."

You look at her, a mix of surprise and intrigue crossing your face. "What do you mean?"

She leans in closer, a playful smirk on her lips. "Just imagine it—us, a little family. You’d be so cute pregnant with my child." Her laughter fills the space, light and warm, making your heart race with the thought.

[fangswbenefits]

Family

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Miguel is a natural when it comes to being a father.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

No warnings! Pure fluff! Dad Miguel.

A flock of birds took flight from a nearby tree and the ruffling of the leaves was a clear indication that there was an intruder nearby.

Your moment of peace and quiet was short-lived, but you remained still, folding under your head as both you an Miguel soaked up the Summer sun.

"Pa~pá!" sang a small voice from inside the canopy.

"Ye~ah?" Miguel said, focused on his dimensional travel watch.

"Look at me~e!"

"I'm looking."

"You're not looking!"

You wrinkled your nose at him behind a faint smile, “Miguel O’Hara, I will smash that watch into a million pieces if you don’t focus on your daughter.”

He glanced up at you. “The multiverse—”

“—can wait,” you reassured him, nudging his arm with an elbow. “Jessica is more than capable of taking over for a couple of days.”

He nodded, but only half convinced, which was good enough, considering this was the first time Miguel was taking a few days off from the never-ending stressful work of keeping the canon intact.

It was pleasant enough to be able to go to earth-616B on a little family trip and enjoy the countryside with the guidance of Peter, MJ and little Mayday.

But Miguel was… well, Miguel. A natural worrier who disliked handing over his responsibilities to others.

“Hey, you have something on your face,” he suddenly said in a low voice.

“What is it?” you immediately brought both hands to tap along your skin, searching for anything unusual.

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, which sent your heart into overdrive.

“Nice one, O’Hara…”

He replied with a teasing smile that you were so used to loving.

“EEEEW!” your daughter’s voice tore through the empty field, effectively distressing the surrounding fauna.

You watched as Miguel turned off the bleeping device on his wrist and rose from the meadow to his full height, headed toward the tree.

“Alright, little spider, come down.”

You spotted child of five descending upside down from a branch by her web, two front teeth missing, face covered in smudges of dirt, but beaming brightly at the signt of her dad.

“Papá!”

He helped her reach the ground safely and ruffled her unruly hair. “You need to be careful.”

Even from a distance, your heightened senses allowed you to feel the adoration in his voice.

The girl was wiggling now with barely suppressed excitement. "Hey, papá?"

Well, if that wasn't the most mischievous tone of voice you’d ever heard. "Hmm?”

"Do that thing."

"What thing?"

"The thing!"

"What thing?" he asked again, feigning confusion.

"THAT thing!" she cheered. "Where you go bzzzz and vssssssh and then BAM!”

"Oh," said Miguel. “That thing."

"Yep!”

"Maybe not," he sighed, but when her uplifted face began to wobble, you knew he had little choice. "Well, don’t tell mommy.”

"Yeeeaah!"

He brought a finger to his lips that she promptly mimicked. “Shhhhhh,” she then giggled.

“I can hear you!” you shouted, sitting on the grass to offer your seal of approval that came in the form of a wide smile.

You trusted her with Miguel, because Miguel trusted her with no one else but you. He would never consciously endanger his child, so you grew to accept that some of their playtime might involve something a bit riskier — as long as no loss of limbs was on the table.

She looked so tiny next to his impressive height, but was definitely a miniature copy of her father.

“We carry them inside us for months only for them to come out looking exactly like their father,” Jessica had once said and you wholeheartedly agreed.

He was wearing casuals, but his suit quickly began to engulf his entire body, leaving him only unmasked. Your daughter was bobbing happily along beside him.

"Stay back," he warned her lightly before sendind two laser-like red strings to coil around a thick branch, and effortlessly bending it into an arch until the tip hit the ground.

"Yey!" she yelped in excitement, toddling off toward the branch.

"Alright. Now, be careful.”

She met this warning with as much enthusiasm as she had for being offered an unlimited supply of candy of her choice. It didn't take much to excite her and you couldn't help but smile and follow as she began climbing up the branch with steady steps.

As she reached the middle, her knees bent as a way to maintain balance. “Do it, do iiiit!”

Miguel chuckled and the twin strings loosened ever so slightly in order to have it wobble up and down, sending the young child into a spiral of pure bliss.

“Faster! Faster!”

“Steady yourself,” he advised instead and she did as she was told, lowering herself and extending both arms as if riding a wave.

To a young spider, this was the closest thing they could get to a bouncing castle, so you didn’t mind this at all.

And neither did Miguel, because he instructed for her to climb onto his shoulders and offered the sweetest and most genuine smile ever.

He let go of the tree branch slowly, and his suit retracted at once, the little girl sliding both arms down his face for support and planting a kiss on top of his head.

“Did you have fun?”

"Yes!" she immediately said with a screech.

"And you’re strong and brave?”

"Yes!"

"And you know I love you, don't you?” he said as he paced toward you with her bouncing on his shoulders. “And mamá too, right? We'll always love you."

She was, delightfully, still very much of fan of such cheesy displays of affection. "Yes," she chirped happily.

You rose to your feet, feeling warmth spread throughout your body at the wonderful sight in front of you.

Miguel, for all his stubbornness and grumpiness, was a marvelous father. It was second nature to him.

"Another kiss?”

She leaned over and planted a noisy kiss on Miguel’s temple and giggled when he did his best to wipe it off with the back of his hand.

You welcomed them with a tight embrace and the feeling of a soft caress along your face as your daughter gave you a toothless smile.

"Let’s head out to uncle Peter’s house for a bath,” you said, pecking the palm of her hand.

“Don’t need one!”

Miguel squeezed her tiny calfs lightly. “Young lady, you do as your mother says.”

“But—”

Another squeeze and she bared her teeth, two tiny fangs emerging.

“Miguel, she’s showing off her fangs,” you said, feigning terror.

“Fangs away!” he said with a smile, bouncing her up and down his shoulders, which had her explode into a laughter.

Masterlist

[northopalshore]

hii! love that last post from you <3 you're alw so great and detailed! i was just wondering what are the signs of a really rich spouse... mostly wondering because based off reading your posts i've gotten the impression mine might be? (i have sun,venus and groom in 2nd house in gpc)

Hello!

Rich Spouse Indicators

in the Natal birth chart, Juno & Groom Persona Chart

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

Listed most to least likely. Also how wealthy they are accordingly.

꩜ Jupiter in the 8th House (juno, natal)

꩜ Jupiter in the 2nd House (juno, gpc)

꩜ Libra 8th house (natal)

꩜ Venus in the 8th house (natal)

꩜ 8th house ruler in 7th house (natal, juno)

꩜ 8th house ruler conjunct jupiter

꩜ 7th house ruler in the 8th house (natal, juno)

꩜ Part of fortune in 2nd (gpc)

꩜ Part of fortune in the 8th (natal)

꩜ Fortuna (19) in 2nd house (juno, gpc)

꩜ Fortuna (19) in 8th house (natal)

꩜ venus in the 2nd house (juno, gpc)

꩜ libra/taurus 2nd house (juno, gpc)

꩜ 8th house ruler in 2nd house (natal)

꩜ 8th house ruler in 4th house (natal) This means they could be born well off.

꩜ 8th house ruler in libra

꩜ Jupiter in Libra in general

Examples:

ฅ Princess Diana has her 8th house ruler & part of fortune in the 7th house. Her sun trines Neptune retrograde in the 10th house in Scorpio. She married into royalty, a family with a long history & that is prestigeous or closed to the public. She has a public marriage but you can see how restrictive it was. (Natal placidus chart, leo over the 8th house)

ฅ Michael Jackson has Jupiter in his 8th house. His first marriage was with Lisa Marie Presley (Elvis Presley's daughter).

ฅ Debbie Rowe, Michael Jackson's 2nd wife also has Jupiter in the 8th and well.. she married Michael Jackson.

Off topic but I have very similar placements to her lmaoo no wonder Michael Jackson has always been my celebrity crush/my type. Jupiter in the 8th, same sun, rising, mercury & venus. Our moons are opposite (hers in Libra, mine is Aries)

I can't marry MJ though TT. Rest in peace, love. We'll take it from here.

ฅ Meghan Markle's 8th house ruler is in the 3rd house but it's in libra. Her Jupiter is also in libra & it conjuncts Saturn (her 8th house ruler). She married into the British royal family.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

To answer your question:

Sun & Venus (as well as Mars) in the 2nd house (GPC) to me, means that your future spouse is someone with taste. I'm not sure if I can definitively say he is wealthy (specifically HOW wealthy lmao) but it would only make sense for someone with their drive & aesthetics so heavily focused to be at least well off yes?

Being in the 2nd house, it's likely he'll be spending a lot of his time into earning money and his appearance or even belongings. Always making sure he looks his best.

Groom here means he'll be even more so after marriage. Perhaps he'll be the one to fixate on the aesthetics of your home.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

Hope this helps 🫶🏻

Thanks for reading!

@northopalshore

@northopalshore 2024 all rights reserved.

[deadsetobsessions]

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.2

[Pt.1]

Peter’s no stranger to memories that comes as nightmares. There’s something different to them, the taste of terror that’s tinged with a feeling of “that’s happened.”

Flashes of Aunt May, dying as he stood next to her while choosing the city over her? Old hat. Inky darkness surrounding MJ falling as Peter reached for her, over and over again? Been there, seen that, didn’t even get a sick scar out of it. Racing against the clock to defeat some bad guy or an unknown threat? That’s his Thursday.

But this?

This isn’t his. It’s real, Peter could tell that much. Sure, it’s wrapped up in silk hisses and heart crushing terror, but Peter could always tell whether a nightmare was a nightmare or whether it was a memory.

This was a memory. Not his. His. It’s complicated.

“Your father, papito, he-,”

Then, it’d be the ruffle of his hair, brown eyes. It reminded him of his mom. But the crease of these eyes were different. Hardened, mean. Even towards him.

“Well, he said no, but I knew what he really wanted.”

The base of Peter’s neck always crawled when he remembered that line. His spider-sense warned him that whatever he’s remembering, he would not like.

“Ey, Peter.”

“Huh?” Peter blinked, looking up from where his arms were elbow deep in wires.

“Don’cha need gloves with that?” Frank asked, munching on some jerky. They were sitting in the living room, repairing a TV and a washer Frank had somehow managed to lug back to the apartment. It’s a toss up between Frank’s network of orphans (Peter included), street rats (these things are not mutually inclusive), or his own slightly higher than average strength. Not that they needed to thrift broken things, considering Peter’s funneling money from offshore bank accounts belonging to this America’s 1%. They just made it so easy! He and Ned had been hacking into government bases in middle school back on his world. This world? Not even a challenge. Regardless, this was kind of like… Frank’s version of those fancy sensory boxes for Peter.

“Oh, no. It’s not plugged in, see?”

“How’re ya gunna know it works then?”

“Plug it in after I’m done. Turn it off and on, you know?”

Frank stared at him, then rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“If you burn down that portion of the house, at least we’ll be warm for a bit.”

“Thanks. Your confidence in me is astounding.”

“You talk like an old man.”

“I do not! Excuse you! If I’m old, you’re the expired knock off cup ramen in the back of a convenience store!”

“Yo, shrimpy, that’s rude, ya hear?” Frank snickered, impressed at the quip. The Alley kid turned brother stood up to plop next to Peter.

“So… you gonna go…?” Frank made a whooshing sound and held his hand in a web shooter position.

“Tonight? Prolly. Anything I should look out for?”

“You’re gunna get yourself killed, but yeah, heard the gang’s back up north.”

Peter flashed a smile, dimples coming out. “I’ll try not to. Thanks, Frank.”

“Anytime, Spidey.”

Frank, though little (to Peter), was a good friend. Then again, considering Peter saved his ass both in mask and out of it, it’s to be expected. One would think that after eight years of hiding his identity, Peter would be better at it. Then, he got punted into a different world and got made by a child.

To be fair, the circumstances all but screamed Parker Luck, so Peter’s not counting this instance.

See, the first few days of this sudden cohabitation, Peter had asked Frank to find them furniture. Both because he was getting real sick of eating on the floor and because Peter needed to fix his suit to match his much younger body. Then, once he readjusted the shrinking nanotech and the spider legs to fit him in a way that wouldn’t break him, Peter had promptly swung out of the building and went patrolling. He stuck with the wandering Frank, taking out muggers and robbers and everything in between and past that around the area where Frank is.

Looking back, Peter realized how lucky he was when he decided to go on the “helping joyride” at the beginning of the evening. His spider-sense activated way later in the night, the moment where he began seeing and sensing the cameras that kept pointing towards him. He ducked and dodged out of the way, and eventually, the feeling left. Somebody was watching. And he doesn’t know where they stood on the moral side of things.

Anyways, it happened after three weeks and a half of going out and just… settling into life in Gotham. He had already been struggling to find a way home, scouring the libraries around Gotham on any subject that would aid in his multiversal travel. Peter would like to know which emo kid named this city.

Eventually, Parker Luck decided to strike once more.

“Get back, freak!” The lady brandished a wicked knife.

Talk about deja vu.

“Oh no! Knives! My greatest weakness!” Spider-Man yelled, sticking to the shadowed windows as he let his voice echo in the alley. Gotham had a lot of nice hiding places. Spider-man dropped down on her head like a bat out of hell and webbed the knife out of her hands. He webbed the mugger up onto the alleyway above normal reach, and told the man to call the police.

Frank screamed, just as Spider-man wrapped it up, loud enough to reach his enhanced hearing.

“Wait-!” The man tried to stop him, but Peter, small, trained, and having readjusted his reach, slipped away.

“What’s your name?!” The guy he saved yelled at his back.

Spider-man, distracted, yelled back, “SPIDEY!”

He shot webs upwards and used them to slingshot his way towards where Frank was. And… car! Peter used his webs to swing up, up, and let himself fall to gain momentum. At the last moment, Peter shot a web to the top of the car and pulled himself to it.

Shit, shit, shit. He’s stupidly attached to the kid, and he was stupid enough to let Frank go out into Gotham looking both well-fed and well clothed.

The world slowed as he locked eyes with a terrified Frank, who was getting dragged into a car.

The world narrowed to speed and Spider-Man landed on top of the car roof, sweeping his leg out and thankfully remembering his much shorter reach. His foot collided with the kidnapper’s face with the equivalent force of a grown up, slightly annoyed Peter Parker who’s letting his strength go a bit unchecked. Basically, they went flying, blood spewing out of the undoubtedly broken nose Spider-Man had just given them.

Standing on business, the shorter webster promptly flipped down wards as he all but glued the would-be kidnapper to the curb.

“You alright?”

“You’re- You’re that new mask.” Frank whispered, scuttling away from the car where he’d been dropped.

“Yeah, man. You okay?” His voice modulator came in clutch.

“Fuck. Fuck, I gotta-” Frank stumbled. The kid looked like he was one bad break away from snapping. Peter hated it when kids got that terrified look on their faces, it reminded him of himself, helpless as Ben bled out because they should never have to fear something that much.

Something’s wrong, though. As much as Peter wished otherwise, Frank was a Gotham bred and true alley kid, through and through. These kids don’t spook easily. Peter already stopped a couple of kidnappings and at least two of the kids had yelled at him to stay out of the way before unloading a rain of nut kicks on their kidnappers that left Peter wincing for days in sympathy. Frank being this spooked? Something’s going on.

“Woah, easy there, I’m not gonna hurt you,”

Frank shot him a half hysterical, half condescending look. Yeah, that’s more like it.

“Ob-obviously. I have to go before more of them comes,” Frank muttered.

“More of them? You know what they want?”

Frank stared at him, looking up and down at his blue, red, and gold ensemble.

“I can help,” Peter promised.

“What’re your thoughts on metas?”

Suspicious.

“Uh, they’re fine? Depends on the person, why?”

Frank sighed. The skinny teenager, barely 14, tugged at his hair. “They’re traffickers. Meta kids, mostly, so the Bats don’t do nothing. I- uh, I got caught.” He held up a thin wrist, showing Peter his new accessorie, a think metal bracelet that was beeping red.

Peter cursed in his head. Fuck, of course he’d stumble into a-

“Caught? You’re a meta?”

Frank nodded. “Strength. This is an inhibitor, illegal kind, you know?”

Well, that explained how he got all of those furniture without struggle.

“Right. Hey, don’t stress, kid, I’m a meta too.”

Frank blinked.

“What?”

Peter walked up the side of the car and did jazz hands.

“You’re a meta?! But- but you’re a mask operating in Gotham!”

“Yeah…? Is that weird?”

Before Frank could reply, Peter’s sense screamed and Spider-Man shoved Frank away from the spray of bullets.

“Move, Frank!”

Peter flipped away, vaguely aware of Frank’s gaping realization. He took down the shooters in quick succession, stopping the speeding car with his bare hands and some webs.

“Shooters, no shooting!” He yelled, liberally applying force he tended to keep under wraps. Frank was like a brother to him, and there is no universe where Peter Parker would hold back when his family was in danger.

When he got back to Frank, who had oddly stayed instead of running, Peter found out why the kid stayed.

“Peter?!” Frank hissed lowly, looking more pissed off than terrified. “Are you fucking insane?! Why are you running ‘round as a mask?!”

“Shhh!” Shit, he got made. “Come on, get back to the apartment and we can talk there. I’ll get rid of this-”

Peter casually snapped the bracelet in half, tearing the tracker out, and tucked it away to study later.

“Fuckin’- shit, fine, but you’re explaining everything, motherfucker!”

They split, Peter guessing correctly that he was in another lecture of a lifetime.

——

“Your vigilante name is Spiderman?”

“Hey, I can hear you say it without the hyphen! There’s a hyphen in there!”

“You’re not a man! You’re a twerp!”

“I’ll show you twerp, you-”

Five minutes of tussling later, in which Peter did not try to bite Frank’s arm off, thank you very much, Frank leaned back on the couch.

“Besides. People in the streets are calling you Spidey, anyways.”

“Spidey?”

“Some dude you saved from a mugging said you told him.”

Peter slammed his head on the floor where he was laying face down.

“Ughhhh.”

——

“He could have been great. I saw his potential.”

Anger. But he shouldn’t be afraid. The woman loved him.

“Hey, Peter. You’re up here again.”

“Hi.” Peter stayed curled up. His mind had refused him sleep for the last three nights, causing dark circles to appear underneath his eyes. The memories of what he assumed to be this world’s Peter was merging with his. What he’d seen so far did not fill him with confidence of a happy childhood. Flashes of wielding weapons, the sterile smell of a metal dissection table, and hundreds and hundreds of spiders crawling over him, getting startled into biting down. Plus, the stress of tracking down the meta trafficking circles in Gotham was no joke. He doesn’t know Gotham nearly as well as he knew New York, and he had to be extra careful running around and trying to catch every bit of the circle before making any moves. Frank was helping with his network of homeless Meta kids, but the traffickers were everywhere except for Crime Alley.

He should be dead. They sold his body to an organ harvester who dumped his venom filled corpse on the side of Gotham. At least he didn’t have to worry about killing his alternate version.

“Everything all right?” Red Robin clambered down to sit next to him, cowl hiding the concerned scrunch of his brow. He’s never seen Peter like this.

Peter grumbled, staring down at another alleyway. He knows his alternate died. His shit excuse for another sold his body to an organ harvester, when he seized on the operating table, who dumped his venom filled corpse on the side of Gotham. At least he didn’t have to worry about killing his alternate version. He does, however, have to worry about missing vital organs.

“I… remembered something.” Peter remembered a lot of things. And pretty much none of them were good. This Peter suffered a lot in his short life.

Red Robin nodded. The issue of Peter’s spotty memories had come up in their discussions over the past month.

“Ah. Something unpleasant?”

Peter thought back to the voice who, despite all of the other, highly traumatic memories, haunted his brain like nothing else.

“He didn’t live up to it. He refused to kill. So I made the decision for him.”

“Yeah. Not for me, but unpleasant that I know about it.”

“Yeah, I get that. You wanna talk about it?” Peter hid a small smile. Even though Red Robin kept his tone light, the concern still bled through. Warm. It made Peter feel warm. Even if it appeared that the Bats don’t really care about the trafficked meta kids… maybe Red Robin would come save normal kid Peter if he got kidnapped. A backup plan to consider. For now…

“Sure,” he said. Red Robin waited patiently.

“I think, I remember someone. Maybe, maybe my…” Peter grimaced. “My mom? She… told me something. And uh, I think I’maproductofrape.”

“Oh,” Red Robin said, so awkwardly that Peter had to crack a small smile despite the gravity of the topic. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too. Not myself, but for…” Peter waved a hand. “You know.”

“Yeah.”

“She wasn’t a good person,” Peter whispered and hated how he missed the browns of her eyes- her middle name was Marie, and god, Peter wished he hadn’t known that because he gets why her eyes reminded him so much of his own mother- and she besmirched everything Mary Parker stood for.

“You have our combined potential, Peter. Make sure not to be like him too much and live up to it, papito.”

“It’s okay, to love her even if she hurt other people,” Red Robin said, gently ruffling his greasy hair. Peter’s spidey-sense tingled and he ducked away. Red Robin withdrew his hand. “Because you can’t really help that. Trust me, I’ve tried. You just have to make sure they don’t get the chance to do what they did again.”

Cold, cold voices and his voice gave out from screaming. “You really are your father’s son. Never being able to do what’s necessary.”

And Peter wondered what happened to Red Robin and who hurt him. Peter would just like to talk. Red Robin reminded him of himself, way back when being Spider-Man meant finding out Harry became Green Goblin. Pained. Tired.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. But that’s not really a problem, considering the last thing the organ harvester said before dumping him in an alley. “She’s dead in a ditch in Siberia or something. I’m not really worried she’ll do it again.”

“Uh.”

“It’s cool,”

“Right. Have you… remembered your dad?”

“Yeah. He’s in Gotham,” Peter unfurled a little.

“You want help tracking him down? I’m good at that kind of thing.”

Peter glanced at Red Robin. “I think you just admitted to being a stalker.”

“Vigilante,” Red Robin shrugged, like it explained everything. And yeah, it kind of did. Peter snorted.

“Nah, it’s okay. I don’t want to meet him anyways.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t know about me,” Peter ticked off his fingers. “I’m a literal walking, talking, breathing reminder of his trauma. And I don’t need a dad.”

Red Robin looked at him silently. Peter doesn’t think about it.

He never wanted to see his parents suffer. An alternate version of his dad, hurt so irrevocably by an alternate version of his mom?

Peter hated that this Catalina dirtied his mother’s name, and went against the most fundamental parts of what the spider symbol was meant for. And considering he’s been doing this longer than her, he had first dibs on defining it. He’ll look after his dad, as long as he’s stuck in Gotham. It’s only right.

“His name? Oh, my son, it’s Richard Grayson.”

——

Peter, who Trusts his instincts: no head rubs?? awwwww

Tim, who’s been trying to get a dna sample for the last month: how does he keep evading me?? He must be a genius or a spy or- *spirals down the conspiracy board*

——

Tim: I’ve connected the dots!

Peter: you’ve connected jack shit

——

Listen, the moment I learned Catalina Flores’ middle name, the pieces clicked, okay? Like legos. It’s like, former FBI agent in this one and former CIA agent in Peter’s home universe? Wow. Middle name Marie? Mary Parker? Incredible. Spider themes run in the blood apparently?? They both have brown eyes!! Trying to do good with no qualms about murder!! (I’m assuming since Mary Parker was SHIELD and I don’t think SHIELD cared much for the sanctity of human life if it threatened the country or something)

[luxthestrange]

TWST Incorrect quotes#699 Master Manipulators-

When Daddy Malleus is finally resting after a loooong meeting with the council his sons come to ask him to play with him but Malleus is too tired to play...his two sons have other plans-

Grim*Bringing his younger brother to a huddle an whispers* Okay, Mj, this is going to take a serious please face...

Mj: Yes, serious!

Grim: Let's get these ears down~ *he folds back Mj's ears downward*And I'm going to need to see tears!

Mj now has tears in his eyes and a pouty trembling lip

Grim: That's good! And let's hold these! *Gives Mj a Crocodile plushie and rabbit toy; the toys squeak as Mj hugs them*-Okay, let's do this~

The scene changes back to Malleus on the couch, Grim and Mj walk up to Him

Mal*Opens one eye and sees them* What do you want?

Pov zooms in on Grim and Mj,Mj whimpers as Grim speaks; the scene focuses on Grim or Mal when either one of them speak-

Grim*Tear eyes hugging Mj, ears down* Why do you never play with us?!

Mal*Sits up and looks at the two in shock* What?!

Grim: You're always at work!

Mal*Confused and hands up* I'm never at work!

Grim: It's like you don't even love us!?!

Mal*Looking offended at the two*...You are joking, right?

Grim: How can you not love your own children?!?

Mal*Sighs and rubs his face* Aw, cheese and jam! Alright-

Grim and Mj*they both giggle as they run away*Hooray!!Hehehe~

Mal: That was impressive...

[heatherholloways]

PSA

Hi RPC. About a year ago, I recalled seeing some PSA's about a roleplayer that was making female writers in the RPC very uncomfortable and s*xually harassing them. He is unfortunately back and actively searching for new people to write with.

His current alias is Deco, but he's been known to go by MJ, Omar, Duncan, and many other names. His past known URLS are apache-gold, overrridewrites, wineandwisdom, and thesevenking (there may be more.) His most current URL is fullofmuses (I would advise you block him and report him.) Long story short:

This user will approach you to plot, supposedly looking for romantic plots. He will only reach out to you if you are a female mun. Once he gains your trust, he will ask for your Discord. He will push your boundaries and try to force you into plots that you may not be comfortable with. He comes off in a way that's very approachable and friendly but will quickly turn sour, even violent, if you do not agree to plot with him on his terms.

He has a history of flirting with/making unwanted advances towards RPers even if they have not given any impression that they're interested in it, discusses plots and tries to push his ideas on you even if you are not comfortable with them, and ultimately tries to set up you up (mostly women in their 20s) to plot with his "father" or "other friend."

He has a few major plot points he is interested, but they almost always revolve around 1. a couple with infertility issues and the female seeking out getting pregnant by someone else 2. a relationship where the female character cheats on the male character 3. inc*stual plots, often times with a female character cheating on her significant other with a father figure. It is always the female OC cheating on his male OC, a third party being needed to help with conceiving, and will usually have infertility, breeding, and inc*st as common themes within.

Please do not fall victim to this person. He is extremely manipulative and does not care about your writing. He uses roleplaying as a way to find and harass women, and if he finds out any information about you OOC, he will not hesitate to continue harassing you outside of the RPC/Tumblr. He found Tumblr after following a roleplayer that he'd been harassing and chasing her off the original platform they were on.

Red flags, patterns and signs that it is him that you are interacting with:

He only writes male OCs.

He is very interested in Marvel/DC and Game of Thrones/HoTD.

His plot/genre interests include a variety, "slice of life" and "dramedy" being some of the main ones.

His rules are always the same/mention being interested in writing "unorthodox" plots.

He messages or DM's you seemingly out of nowhere to ask if you're looking to plot.

He claims he works at an airport to some capacity (either handling luggage, doing security, sometimes even as a pilot.)

He says he's in his late 20's, usually 28 or 29.

He says to be based in either Colorado and/or California.

He constantly talks about himself, his physical appearance, and/or his personal hygiene.

After he settles a plot (if he doesn't get blocked or ghosted first), he asks roleplayers if they are willing to plot romance and/or smut with either his father or his friend.

His likes and following list are always public.

He makes himself out to be the victim if he is blocked by other writers to try and gain your sympathy.

He talks in a way that makes it sound like he is supportive of your plot ideas but always tries to spin it to fit what he wants, even if you've stated you are not comfortable with it.

This person's known Discord accounts:

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐁𝐎𝐒𝐒 #9647

intrepid thoughts. #2115 (his "dad")

underscorebluff.#5950

lektro.#9073 (his "friend")

ruggedblade (most recent as of June 2024)

I have confirmed the above facts and all the information with multiple people who have talked to him, have experience writing/plotting with him and/or have been harassed by him OOC.

Please keep yourself safe from this person, as he's been harassing women in this space for years.

[webslingingslasher]

omg stark!reader meeting mj and ned for the first time and being super nervous bc she wants her boyfriends best friends to like her

this is so small but it's a lil cute so

“I’m gonna puke.” 

The two worst first meetings in a relationship: the parents, and the friends. 

And fuck what anyone says, the friends are way harder to impress. Parents only hear the good shit, but when you walk into that room with Peter, Ned and MJ you know they’ve heard everything. The good, the bad and the ugly. 

“They’re more nervous of you than you are of them.” 

You flail your arms at your boyfriend, “they’re not coyotes, peter!” 

“You wanted to do this!” 

It’s true, you’d been dying to meet them. But now outside of Peter’s apartment with just a door blocking everything it felt very real and very terrifying. “I can’t back out now, I’ll look even worse. You’ll have to drag me in there.” 

“I’m not dragging you in there.” 

You whine and stomp your foot, “you know who they are right? They’re like, super smart and have great homes and they-” 

“Honey, please don’t tell me you had a PI look into my friends.” 

You look away, “well…” you talked through your boyfriend’s groan, “technically, no. Happy had files on everyone already.” 

His finger shot out to you, “snooper!” 

“I hate not having the upper hand!” 

It was a deafening confession, you felt slightly ashamed and looked at the trim in the hallway. 

“I don’t know them, peter. And they’re your best friends, they’re going to comb me over with a fine tooth comb and I don’t have one thing on them. They know you so much better than I do, and I’m scared that if I do something dumb they’ll convince you to dump me.” 

Peter’s arms wrap around you, “not gonna happen. They already like you, because I like you, okay? And the even level here is that you’re a goddamn stark. Let ‘em talk shit, you can ruin their life in ten minutes.” 

You squeeze him, “it’s embarrassing but more than anything I just really want them to like me.” 

Your boyfriend looks over at his apartment door, he rubs at your shoulder lightly. 

“Well, you can’t make a friend out here.” 

You push away and back up against his door, “fine. But I'll go first.”

[kiwiana-writes]

hi MJ!! for the sleepover weekend asks, i'd love some fluffy and a few hurt/comfort firstprince fic recs! and and for fmk: bea, june and nora from rwrb! okay thats it byebye ~saturday xoxo

Forgive me: I sat on this one for so long it's now officially NEXT weekend, at least in my part of the planet, so I guess answering this is also me kicking off this weekend's slumber party ����

I'm doing FMK first, even though I need you to know this is CRUEL. Fuck Nora, marry Bea, kill June, but I am absolutely relying on Nora's smarts/Pez's cash to get her out of this situation.

Anyway:

FLUFFY FIRSTPRINCE FIC RECS

take me back to San Francisco by @getmehighonmagic: this has a sequel languishing in my emails for that magical future day when I'm capable of reading again but I have no doubt it'll be just as incredible as part one, which is FUCKING DIVINE. Also I just... really wanna go to San Francisco.

You love me! You love me? by anarchyat4am: How often I shoehorn a rec for this fic wherever it might be even remotely applicable is sort of a running joke by this point but I stand by it actually. This is a massive comfort fic for my trans ass.

Confidential Memorandum by @sherryvalli: this fic is so stinkin' cute I feel like I need to book a dental appointment every time I read it.

Dick, Dick, Dick (You Down) by @everwitch-magiks: do I feel a deep abiding kinship with Henry's anxiety being read as rudeness in this fic? Maybe, shut up.

Getting Clinical by @cha-melodius: Yes I'm biased because this was a gift for me, no I don't care, IT'S A FUCKING DELIGHT.

In His Wildest Dreams by @myheartalivewrites: This fic is a fucking fluffy blanket of joy.

If at first you don't succeed by @clottedcreamfudge: I am lowkey obsessed with CCF second first impressions and Alex being blissfully unaware until he's not.

HURT/COMFORT FIRSTPRINCE FIC RECS

a shard or two by @aeithalian: you don't read WIPs? I don't care. Read this one. I beg of you. Hands down the most criminally underrated fic in this entire fandom in my opinion. It is so, SO good. I reread it all the time in between chapters, I am hoping DESPERATELY the author will let me ficbind it when it's done, and I will scream about it from the fucking ROOFTOPS to convince y'all to read it. No cliffhangers, no relationship drama, just the meatiest post-canon deliciousness.

(but i knew you) baby, kiss it better by saintsnames: age gap my beloved, sex bloopers my beloved, two idiots in love MY BELOVED.

i ask you how you’re doing (and i let you lie) and even though we know it isn't true by @matherines: double-reccing even though these can be read separately because HAHA OUCH MY HEART. Both of these fics just fucking flayed me alive????

you were more than just a short time by @hypnostheory: DAVID 😭😭😭😭😭😭 mind the living fuck out of the tags but FUCK this is good. Heartbreaking, but good.

Downburst by @cricketnationrise had me clutching my face from start to finish I swear to god.

So I Will Weather the Storm by @sparklepocalypse: while reading this, picture me just screaming ALEX YOU FUCKING DUMBASS at my computer the entire time and it'll be like you were right here with me the first time I read it!

The Domestication of Household Spiders by @cultofsappho: if Spider-Man Alex has no fans I am dead etc etc. This is so fucking SOFT from start to finish.

[Sleepover weekend!]

[liz-allyn]

bittersweet: sugar + vice vol. 2 (pt 2) [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: "okay. about last night..." [mob!peter parker x oc!MJ] continued immediately from part 1 "Love on the Brain").

words: 5.6 k

tags: fluff and angst, my favs. food. stupid wealthy person antics, jealousy, boundaries, some world-building, PG-13 references to spicy memories from Pt. 1.

Part 2 - Bittersweet

The doorbell chiming yanked Honey unceremoniously out of her morning grogginess as she exited the bathroom. The bell tolled through her throbbing headache, causing her to squeeze her still-gummy eyes tight. She could only think of one word.

Peter.

Honey felt slightly guilty for throwing him out of his house last night. Even if it was an extravagant house. Even if it was at the top of an unconscionably expensive, 5-star hotel, where he could easily afford another place to stay. 

Very slightly.

Even if she threw him out immediately after the most outstanding sex of her life.

Worrying her lip, she debated her next move. She let out a long sigh, tugging on the lapels of the spare bathrobe she'd found. She forced her legs to move, retracing the steps buried in the lust-filled haze of her memory. 

Impatient, the door chimed again.

Her gait was more of a ginger waddle, and every muscle beneath her neck felt like it was made of jelly. Her body beneath the waist hummed. She could describe it as falling between a tender tingle after a deep tissue massage and the aching burn she'd imagined would follow a CrossFit session at the top of Everest. 

Images from last night flooded Honey's brain. How Peter had pleasured and defiled her. He bent her body deliciously, fitting her to and around all of his aching needs while elevating her toward a new stratosphere of ecstasy. 

She stowed those thoughts away. There would be a time for them later. Probably later that night. Maybe even in a week, after her body finally recovered.

For her own dignity's sake, she would not let the morning after Peter Parker walked back into her life be that time. 

She stepped towards the entrance and saw the tattered remains of the clothes she wore last night scattered in the dining area. Shredded like a wild animal had gotten to them. 

She averted her eyes, grinding her teeth as the door chimed again.

"Alright!" she hissed. "Hold your horses––!"

She gripped the doorknob and swung open the door, clipping her tone immediately.

A wide grin beneath a thin mustache and furrowed, silver, bushy eyebrows greeted her.

"Good morning, madam," the older gentleman stated.

He wore a crisp, fitted white uniform and a pleasant smile. She blushed immediately, gathering her bathrobe tighter at her chest, and gawked at the seven uniformed hotel staff in the hallway. 

The man who greeted her had a warm, olive complexion with bronze freckles. Sunspots dotted his face, blended together the tiny wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. "Pardon our intrusion."

Honey jumped out of the way without much time to react as the gentleman dutifully led the staff into the penthouse. Wide-eyed and tongue-twisted, she stared with wide eyes as the man motioned for his staff to follow. 

The scent of coffee filled the entryway as a young man rolled in a cart. It was stacked with an impressive display of cream, sweeteners, and tea bags circling two gooseneck, stainless-steel coffee pots. Her eyes followed the kid as he passed, her stomach growling at the familiar aroma of fresh Colombian coffee beans.

Honey opened her mouth to speak but hushed again as a middle-aged woman in a double-breasted white uniform pushed in another cart stacked with silver serving platters with cloche dome tops.

She could feel the steam wafting off the cart and had just enough time to move as she saw two more women, each with their own cart of linens and sizzling serveware, following behind. 

Honey's stomach growled while her gaze followed. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut short again. Two more uniformed women walked in wearing matching steel-gray housekeeping dresses. The sleek dark fabric was contrasted with white cotton trim on the short sleeves and the high, Peter Pan collar of the dress.

They moved like a rising surf—fluid, swift, and unstoppable—as they crested and split in opposite directions. They were gone again in a flash. 

Honey barely had enough time to see them disappear before the heat of the subsequent presence was at her back. Her head snapped to the open doorway, and immediately, her face fell flat.

Peter.

His lithe form leaned against the doorframe, and she was sure he would've occupied the entire space had it not been an oversized 8-foot door.

Peter's presence came with a lightness Honey was unused to. Specifically, the light beige Ralph Lauren suit over a lilac button-up.

"Mornin,' sunshine," he drawled through a lopsided smirk. 

The sunshine seemed like it was radiating from him. Sun rays reflected off the linen of his suit. A quick coy smile revealed a flash of his white teeth. His eyes glowed warm amber hues, highlighting the roasted chestnut of his hair. Despite it being freshly cut and combed and his waves being tamed with hair product, a stubborn curl peeked over his forehead, like a flower leaning towards sunlight.

Like the flowers in his hand. He held a thick bouquet of mostly yellow daisies and ivory roses. In between the perfectly crafted arrangement, stalks of delicate, purple flowers protruded from the thicket. They brought out the lilac in his shirt.

She reexamined it again.

Not lilac. 

Lavender. 

"M'surprised you're up this early," Peter dreamily murmured, observing her with starry eyes.

Honey looked down at the flowers pressed against his chest, then back at the gold in his gaze. She observed the gentle curve of his smile.

Honey's face was the polar opposite, with icicles to prove it. "I'm surprised it wasn't the cops at the door." 

It was like popping a metaphorical bubble. Or one of his lungs.

Peter's eyebrows dipped as he pulled his lips into a frown. She turned her back to him smoothly, letting the door swayed open behind her. The door creak followed the sounds of her retreating steps.

Peter shot a quick glance toward the sky. He dragged in a breath and let his shoulders sag. Somewhere in his mind, the phrase 'Well, what did you expect?' echoed. He let the air out of his lungs, and turned on the unflinching charisma.

He followed her— because, of course, he did— meandering in with something of a swagger.

"Y'know, that's a good point," he said matter-of-factly, "now tha'cha mention it." He studied her from behind, watching her pad through his home, searching for the rest of her clothes. 

Peter continued, slyly. "I'm surprised they didn't show up last night. All that screamin' you did when you were ridin' me..."  He couldn't see the embarrassment on her face, but he noticed the way her back stiffened. "Surprised they didn't think a wild animal was on the loose," he added, lips curling with satisfaction.

"Congratulations!" she replied, her tone bright with feigned enthusiasm. "You went thirty whole seconds without bringing up your dick! What. An. Achievement." She pointed expectantly towards the dining area. "Are you hosting a party to celebrate your success?" 

She observed the kitchen staff curiously. They were in prime form, quickly and quietly retrieving plates, serve dishes, cutlery, and linens from the cart. They flowed through their movements, like synchronized swimming. Her gaze drifted towards the housekeepers spraying and wiping down the table surface with cleaner. 

Heat spread across her skin as she recalled how they had desecrated that spot just hours ago.

Blinking the memory away, she watched the servers step in place of the housekeeping staff. They tossed a linen tablecloth flat over the surface, setting the table for a fancy breakfast.

"Brunch for the Royal Family?" she commented.

Peter peeked over to see the flush on her cheeks, the way her skin heated up as she looked away from the dining table. Setting the bouquet down, he smirked. He knew exactly what was on her mind.

"A queen, actually," he shrugged, suppressing the faint curl of his lips. He wasn't here to gloat. "More of a date, really." He watched her next move intently.

"Well, that's my cue," Honey muttered. "I outta get going. Especially if you plan on eating anyone else out at the table." Her chin held high, she turned her back to him once again.

A strangely familiar sound— like a sharp, slick whipcrack— echoed from behind. She felt a tug on her midsection, then went flying backward. The force yanked Honey off her feet—just as it had the night before. She landed in Peter's arms with a shocked squeak.

"What the fuck?" she shrilled, grasping at the foreign substance on her back. It suddenly occurred to Peter that they hadn't discussed what Peter was using to reel her in, like many aspects of his complicated life.

He turned her towards him like manipulating a doll. Smugness and affection layered on his expression, like the cat that ate the canary.

"What is that?" Honey gawked. As she pulled her hand away, she inspected it closely this time. Shimmery, silver twine made from gossamer threads tangled around her fingers. "Jesus— is that... coming out of you?"

"No," Peter chuckled, amused by her horror.

She observed him, confused by his immunity to the web's stickiness as he casually tossed the string aside. While she was distracted, he gathered her close to his chest. At any other point, she would've fought him—because, of course she would. Her curiosity drove her attention.

Her eyes were on the black leather cuff around Peter's wrist. He'd worn it many times before. Honey just assumed it was an odd piece of jewelry. Maybe he didn't like the feeling of $30,000 designer watches on his skin. 

Now, the glint of a tiny metal device hidden beneath the leather caught her eye. Her eyes darted to his other wrist, spotting another device as his fingers enveloped her shoulders. 

She blinked curiously between the balled-up silk, to the leather cuffs, and to the hotel employees. They didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. They were likely instructed not to see anything.

Eyes still wide, she blurted, "Seriously, what the fu—?"

A fierce kiss silenced her. Peter smashed his lips to hers, capitalizing on the slight part of her mouth, and slipped his tongue inside. If he could've inhaled her into his lungs, he would have. He noticed faint pressure from Honey's palms against his chest, stubbornly resisting, as usual. The tension drained slowly as she succumbed to his grip. 

Maybe she quit wanting to escape him. 

Maybe she realized he was inescapable.

Peter was the one who couldn't escape Honey. Nor did he want to.

Seconds turned hazy. Peter was dragged deeper into a maelstrom. The longer he tasted her tongue, the more his blood surged like the swell of the tempestuous ocean against a sea wall.

Lust filled his lungs and his brain with gale-force winds. 

Peter remembered last night, too. God, he was already half-hard just thinking about it.

Before he melted from the memory, he pried his lips away from hers. The act took all of his power-of-will. The most he could manage to sacrifice was a couple of inches of distance apart. Peter was already a mess, chest heaving. Honey looked just as wrecked—swaying unwittingly with shaky breaths.

Peter whispered to her, his voice dark, "You're outta your mind if you think I'm lettin'ya walk away." 

A pulse-pounding shudder racked through her body. Peter swore he could feel her pelvic muscles flutter in response. It triggered a sick feeling of validation of the sinful desire polluting his mind. For a moment, he felt free to wallow in its toxicity.

That voice always managed to subdue her. Peter locked this information away for later. 

He was also aware that he needed to touch her. He craned his neck a little further until his nose kissed hers. The action grounded them both. A flicker of levity broke through the lust, and his familiar smirk returned. "And you're batshit crazy if ya think I'm here for anyone else but you."

Honey gazed up at him owlishly, still locked in a haze. She only vaguely registered the breeze as the staff rushed past them. Her cloudy eyes found their way over to the dining table, now fit for a queen. Or a Good Housekeeping magazine cover. 

The door slam pulled her back to the present.

"I thought I made myself clear last night." Peter bit his lip as he said it, holding the sides of her face as he oozed with charm. His sultry eyes fawned over her. "M'not lettin' you go. Not again."

"Let me go, Peter." Honey's voice was firm with a stone expression.

Immediately, Peter's shoulders dropped a full inch, and his voice pitched into a whine. "Will'ya stop being so stubborn—?"

"Let me go, Peter."

"Fine. You're mad at me—Y'made'ya point. Now, can we just talk about this? Like adults? Just sit down—"

"Let. Me. Go. Peter."

Honey's voice seemed to echo as she said it, charged with an electrical current threatening to fry him alive. It was more than a sneer; it was an ominous rattle before a bite. 

Instantly, the teasing nature of their banter evaporated.

Peter blinked several times, like he'd been sucker punched. He was unsure of how to respond. A tick formed in his jaw as he observed her, watching intently, gears turning. Lips pursed together into a thin line.  

Seconds stretched out uncomfortably as she just stared back.

Honey's spine as she stood in front of him—stood up to him—was steel. The little line between her brows popped out like a switchblade, her eyes skewering him just as deeply.

If she was afraid of Peter's unreadable expression, she didn't show it.

Seconds ticked on in their stalemate, during which dozens of scenarios played out in Peter's mind. At least a dozen of those scenarios were inappropriate ways of... making her do it. 

Didn't matter what it was. 'It' could easily be anything Peter wanted. 

He had the power—not just metaphorically.

Peter had enough strength in the upper half of his pinky to simply bend her to his will.

Peter's throat felt so tight it began to ache. A dry swallow rippled through his neck. Then, he made his choice.

His hands opened, releasing her with a forlorn expression. The moment he did, Honey took a giant step back—a recoil. He could've sworn he heard a faint gasp fill the gap they formed, like she'd been holding her breath.

In terror, he realized with disappointment.

Honey curled her arms around herself. His eyes dropped to the floor. 

That look cut him deeper than any blade could. 

"Honey," he said softly, emotions lodged in his throat. Burning mist clouded his vision. He wasn't here to cry, either. But his heart felt heavy all the same. "I just wanna talk."

"I thought you wanted to have breakfast with me."

"I do—!"

"Then ask me!" she snapped, frustration heating up her words. "Ask me! Instead of dragging me around like you're some…some caveman!"

Peter glanced up. The way she spat out the last word gave him pause. 

He studied the pout on Honey's lips. The angry scrunch in her nose. Arms crossed, jaw firm. She glared up at his tall stature, looking courageous and formidable. At the same time, her eyes betrayed her vulnerability. She was desperate to be heard.

Honey had demolished every obstacle placed before her. Even if the obstacle was him, she made it look (and him feel) three inches tall.

The ferocity of her gaze could intimidate a tiger.

Simultaneously, the butterfly wings of her lashes could charm a viper. 

The bow of her lips could force a king to his knees.

How can she not know this? Peter mused with wonder. How on earth was she unaware of how much power she possessed?

Significantly more than he could ever have.

Honey could make Peter do anything.

"If I had five minutes left on this planet," he began, eyes brimmed with an ocean of unspoken words, "I would want them to be with you."

A pause filled the room, consuming all of its oxygen. Peter held his breath in anticipation.

A surge of terror tightened in his chest, but it was tangled with something deeper—an overwhelming sense of adoration. To the outside world, they were two halves of the same sunset, golden rays that kissed a dark, cold earth. 

Honey gazed at him intently. "I would like that," she said.

And he finally could breathe again.

"—But I can't."

Honey stated it matter-of-factly. As if she didn't just reverse the planet's rotation. Peter's gaze dropped to the floor as his heart shattered. He was close to falling apart entirely.

"I can't… I-I…" her words trickled out, trying to support her stance with a lack of conviction. Or direction. Or sense. "I have things to do." 

That sassy tone of hers was back. Peter lifted his eyes to hers, "Oh?"

She shrugged, "Important things."

"Oh," he nodded along, furrowed brows in a serious expression.

"Yeah." She mumbled, almost too quiet to hear. She fidgeted with her fingers, threading them together, until finally, she grasped her arms into a comforting hug. "Like normal people."

The last part was meant to be a jab. "Normal?" Peter replied with decorum.

"Like… taxpayers."

"Hmm."

"—and moms…" she gulped dryly, "on TV." 

Peter nodded conspicuously as if he were fully supportive of her bullshit. His patronizing politeness only frustrated her further.

"Okay, like most people have things to do," she argued harshly, "like bills to pay, people to see—

"Bills."

"And chores! Tasks. Responsibilities."

Peter snorted with feigned enthusiasm, "Wouldn't know anything about that."

"Well, I have a job to get to," she blurted, solidifying her position. "I need to go home and shower and empty my dishwasher, bring my clothes to the laundromat—"

"Uh-huh."

Frustration carved out her tone. "And you know what else? You don't get to hijack my whole day just because you found a couple of hours in your schedule, Peter!" 

He had nothing to say to that.

"And before you ask," Honey pointed a polished fingernail at him, "don't get hung up on last night! You're still in the dog house." She turned to leave but stopped to add, "Or… people house!" 

A moment passed, but she still wasn't done.

"If I had a dog, you would be it!" she growled. "Outside, in the winter, in a tiny wooden shack of shame!" 

Then…

"–Not that I would ever do that to a dog, but maybe a-a cold-blooded— if you were a turtle, or…wait, that doesn't work— A fish! You'd be on your ass! Or fin— is that Portuguese linguiça sausage?" 

Her demeanor had flipped like a switch, from cold to curious, as soon as the smell of food hit her. It was as if the entire conversation had never happened until that point.

Peter couldn't help but smile. "From that place you like," he confirmed, his tone enticing. 

She paused, silent.

Mused.

Deliberated.

"Alright. First—sausage," Honey blurted out, 

decision made. The irritation in her tone seemed directed at herself.

"Then," she warned, "you're in the turtle-fish house!"

She spun on her heel and sauntered towards the buffet as if she'd dropped a mic.

"Okay, so hit me," Peter said.

Honey glanced up at him. The look she gave suggested she was willing to do exactly that.

They sat at opposite ends, so far apart at the dining table that it was almost comical. Only a few minutes had passed since they agreed to sit and eat together. It might as well have been years. Every moment was packed with awkward silence.

Straight-faced, he lifted his arms, extending them in a welcoming gesture. "Let's hear it. I know you got questions. I got answers. Let's go."

"Oh?" she lifted her eyebrow as she pinned him with a mocking glare. 

"Yep," Peter shrugged, maybe a bit too aggressively. "Let's hear 'em. Fire away."

A tension-filled moment of silence settled between them. The whole time, Honey skewered him with her glare. Then—

"Where should I start?" she spat hotly like lava erupting from a volcano. "Should we start from the top? Gimme three hundred words on how you spent your summer vacation." Each word sizzled off her tongue. "Or should we rewind a bit and talk about the ropes of glue shooting out of your body?!" 

An amused laugh burst from his lips, his teeth flashing wolfishly. "I mean… yeah—" he smirked. "When ya put it like that, I'd be willin' t'give you a demonstration—"

"Grow up, Peter!" Honey snapped, her fork clattering on the china.

The accused straightened his shoulders and mouth into a line. 

Contempt filled her incredulous glare. "Y'know what? Let's talk," she sneered, her anger releasing. "Let's talk about you since you're the center of everyone's universe. You, right now. Peter Parker, the Boss." She was flippant, each word intended to pierce his prideful armor. 

"What's been goin'on in your world, huh?" she questioned, pleasant in her tone. "How's crime?" She said it like referring to a common relative.

Peter shot her a brief glare, only encouraging her patronizing. 

"Must be good," she remarked. "What's the mortgage on a ten-thousand-square-foot condo in Manhattan nowadays?"

"Wouldn't know," he shrugged, picking his fork back up to take another bite. He pondered quietly as he chewed. "I bought the whole building."

The crassness of his declaration gave her pause. Honey hated how cocky arrogance looked as good on him as one of his Ralph Lauren suits.

"You bought— a hotel?" she asked in confusion.

Peter's eyes slid over to hers, looking like the devil as he brought a coffee mug to his lips. His eyes were twin flames, burning into her like he was trying to ignite a fire in her belly. Sipping a hot beverage seemed like a lewd act. 

Depraved thoughts filled his skull as he laved his tongue across his scorched lips. He pulled the mug away, and his mouth glistened. He watched Honey's reaction expectantly. 

"Yup," was all he said.

She stared at him, face unreadable. Not the kind of way she stared at his hands or his mouth.

"I suppose…" she crooned in a silky voice that edged on seduction and trepidation. For a moment, Peter's belly flipped with the excitement of a fisherman sensing the first slight tug on a lure. "The fact that Wilson Fisk used to own it had nothing to do with that decision?"

A bucket of ice water had been dropped on him. Coldness stabbed his heart and splintered his bones. 

That name.

The name that paralyzed him. Made his hair stand up on end, even after all these years. She exposed a nerve with just a couple of words.

"Oh," she said knowingly, reading him like a book. "Are we still afraid to say his name?" 

Peter's own words echoed back at him.

"...We don't say his name..."

Peter traveled to the day he rescued Honey from Fisk's men. He remembered inexplicably snapping at her, his hackles raised at the thought of what Mayor Wilson Fisk could do—what he had already done—to Peter's family. What depraved violation he would have done to this unassuming, bright-eyed girl. 

Unassuming, only because she had no idea at that point that she was his. 

The memory blurred and morphed into a twisted reflection of the current moment. 

Innocent. But smart.

Trying to ignore the sudden pulse behind his eye socket, he lifted a shoulder and dropped it. Peter's practiced indifference returned to his face. He returned to his plate, calm and collected. "I'm layin' down plans—"

"With Carol?" Honey finished, eyes narrowed into slits.

Peter's eyes shot to hers, and he looked truly confused momentarily. His expression only seemed to anger her further.

"Is that who you're 'layin' down plans' with?" she asked lividly. There was no concealing it. Honey's eyes were sharp enough to cut his throat.

"What?" Peter blurted out. "Carol??"

God, he hoped he didn't look as stupid as he sounded.

"Yeah!" Honey hissed back, hopping to her feet. The chair creaked loudly across the marble floor as she shoved it away. “Carol. Fucking. Danvers.”  Honey spat each word out like they were sour. "I believe that's her full name, no?"

Peter's brow arched, bewildered. Confused.

"'America's Sweetheart'!" she added through gritted teeth, pushing her fists into the table. The plate clattered at the impact. "Captain America?" she said as if to aid his memory. "You know?"

He blinked. 

She bordered on shrill. "The one with America's Ass?"

Of course, she referred to the former Air Force pilot who became a TikTok sensation, a pop star, a fashion model, and a feminist icon. Everyone's favorite.

Typically, Honey wouldn't resort to bashing another woman, avoiding the "cycle of patriarchal misogyny which pits women against each other," to quote her sister. But deep within her fiery eyes, jealous voices conspired against her rationality.

Meanwhile, Peter's eyebrows squished together, as if he couldn't quite grasp what language they were speaking. "Wha-What're we talkin' abo—?"

Her glare was razor sharp. "What's Carol laying down, huh? What's she like?"

Peter stared back with eyes like saucers and an empty thought bubble next to his head. "She's… Fine?" 

It took less than one second for him to deeply regret his answer. 

"Oh, I'll bet she is!"

Something wild sparked in Honey's eyes like a crackling bonfire. She rounded the table marching towards him. "Y'think I'm stupid? I follow Deuxmoi, asshole!"

Peter let out a long groan, practically dragging his fingernails down his face. "Honey—"

"Don't 'Honey' me!" she sneered, adding a mocking dramatization of his voice. She threw her hands up in front of her face as if waving them at an invisible breaking news chyron. "'Carol Danvers spotted at 1Oak last night with alleged Syndicate crime boss Peter Parker... Is Captain America About to Break Bad?'"

Frustration filled his tone, "That's—! That was noth—"

"Oh, don't gaslight me, Peter!"

"I'm not!" 

"Don't gaslight me about gaslighting me!"

"That was all TMZ bullshit, and you know it!" Peter shot back, now on his feet as well. She pursed her lips together, shaking her head in disbelief. Peter took a steadying breath. "Yes," he admitted, more composed, "I met her at a club, yeah. Because that's where she wanted to meet! I had a business proposition–"

"Business?" she bitterly laughed, crossing her arms. "You two goin' in on a new restaurant? Hipster gastropub called Peter's Cockpit?"

"Jesus Christ, Honey, I didn't fuck her!" he exclaimed in a near whine, waving his arms like a windmill. "It was—" he fumbled over his tongue. "Nothing else happened! No one is in anyone's… cockpit…" 

He winced at his own words. Raw memories from last night flared up in his chest. "Where d'ya get off accusin' me, huh?" he interrupted, suddently. "What about you and Pedro, eh?"

Honey's eyes bulged out of her head in shock.

Peter was referring to, of course, the sexy, hazel-eyed waiter that flirted at the restaurant the night before. Clearly, Honey didn't see the correlation. 

"Pedro!?" she bellowed in disbelief.

"Pedro!" Both of their voices echoed off the stone of the lavish suite.

Honey groaned so loudly, it was a roar. "Pedro's gay, you dunce!" 

Peter's brows furrowed as he considered this. "Come again?" 

"I've known him since junior high! He helped Becca get her first job when she was 15. At that very restaurant!" 

Silence.

Peter blinked, a trench forming between his eyes. 

More silence.

"So. You're... not... ...into him?"

Honey scoffed at the question with a rueful chuckle. He sensed she would've laughed if she hadn't been so furious. "Seriously? I've seen rainbows that were straighter!"

He felt his skin fluster. The thumping percussion inside of his chest leveled out to a dull thud. His heart ached all the same.

Peter's eyes rested on her. She stayed rigid, arms wrapped tightly around herself in a way that reminded him of a tree fighting to remain upright in the wind. A cherry blossom braving an early-spring cold snap.

Her eyes were cast to the side, and filtered sunlight gave her an ethereal glow. Anxiety reflected across the color of her irises.

"Did it hurt?" Honey asked, barely above a whisper.

He tilted his head at her question, glancing briefly at the shimmer resting on her lower lashes. Her voice was meek but raw with unspoken emotion, like a wave of tears being held back. "Thinking I wanted him?" He recognized her attempts to look anywhere else but at him.

Peter's chocolate eyes softened. "Did you want it to?" he questioned gently. Not an ounce of judgment thrown her way. "Hurt me?"

His beautiful girl swallowed dryly, blinking the shimmer away. Her eyes wandered to the floor. "Maybe," she replied thoughtfully, discovering it herself. 

Peter hadn't expected her honesty but wasn't surprised. If anything, he found it disappointingly refreshing. 

He watched her fidget with her hands. "Regardless," she said, clearing her throat. "I guess now you know how it feels." 

Shame brimmed her gaze as it bounced off the walls and floor. Peter considered her expression, silently reading all the emotions she could not conceal.

"Carol isn't what you think she is," Peter said, matter-of-fact. His ferocity had calmed, and his arrogance had dissipated like a storm cloud. Tiredly, he ran his hand back through his hair. "Matt heard that she might be making the leap into politics. People are saying she could make a play for Congress. Maybe even the governorship." 

Honey stared at him in silence. Waiting.

"I was hopin' I could convince her to stick a little closer to home," Peter sighed with a half-shrug and a dim spark of hope in his smile. "Somewhere... maybe like City Hall."

Honey arched a brow, processing. "Mayor," she said, contemplative. "You want her to run against Fisk." 

He looked sheepish now, pocketing his hands. "Lotsa people think she could win."

Honey's eyelids narrowed. "Do you even vote?" 

"She'd have mine," Peter replied without hesitation, then his eyes snapped to hers. "And no," he added, muted but coy. "Before you say anything, that wasn't a euphemism. Or an objectification of any of her..." The words dwindled as he struggled to form the right word. "...Assets."

Peter cringed after saying it, and he could've sworn that her eye twitched.

"I wasn't lying, Honey," he added. His heart was in his throat. "Last night. When I said, 'There wasn't anyone else for me.' I meant it."

She was silent momentarily, but a million words bubbled up behind her glassy eyes. "There has to be something else for me," she whimpered, vocal cords tight. 

Her vulnerability was in plain sight. No further posturing. The heartbreak in her voice felt like a knife jammed between his ribs.

"I can't—I-I just can't..." Honey struggled, losing her composure. 

"I don't…" Peter muttered half-consciously. Terrified at the realization. "What-what are you saying, you-you don't wanna be with me?" 

The tears bubbled up again on her lower lash line. Her plea ground out miserably, voice breaking, "There has to be more to me, to my life, than just being… yours."

He blinked at her, confused.

"I can't belong to you, Peter," she replied. Tears glided down her cheeks, now flooded with raw emotion. "I can't belong to anyone else." 

His Honey shivered before him, choking back sobs. She barely looked strong enough to stand.

And that's when it hit him.

The sharp contrast between the woman who stared him down and the shivering girl before him became apparent. It was day and night, fire and fear.

Fear.

"Mari."

The word snapped her out of her downward spiral. Wide-eyed and caught off guard, Honey's gaze flicked up to his.

Peter gazed at her with a worried line between his brows. He focused on her eyes, made impossibly brighter from tears. The sight broke his heart.

Peter took a careful step forward, the way one would approach a wild horse. The slightest twig snap might send her running.

"I'm not trying to put you in a cage," he offered gently. Saying those words were painful, in a nauseating way. "Not again."

The gentle relief he spotted in Honey's gaze tore through his sternum. Peter couldn't decide whether he would rather bleed out or trap her away beneath his ribs.

Peter's hands itched, desperately wanting to close the gap between them, wipe away her tears with his thumbprints, and blanket her with his hold. Vigilantly, he kept his heels glued to the floor. He'd like to think he did so out of respect for her wishes and not with fear that she'd run away from him.

"I'm— I'm not," he babbled, dread filling him. Everything felt suddenly upside down. Reversed. He was a stranger again, with a frightened girl trembling in his bathtub. The thought terrified him. "If-if-if that's what you think—"

"I love you so much," Honey declared, clear as a bell. His heart was in his throat again. He swallowed it down, afraid he would empty his stomach in front of her. "I really do."

The opposite emotions tugging at his psyche felt like an ax swinging downwards, severing thick brush with a satisfying whistle. They culminated in a wet chopping sound—the split of his heart in two pieces.

"It's the first thing I think of in the morning and the last thing I think about at night." She dabbed at her chin with the back of her hand, taking a measured breath. "Sometimes I think that it's all I have left."

His heart sank. "But it can't be, though. " 

The knowingness of his voice pierced her further. "It can't," Honey replied gently. Sorrow weighed down the corners of her mouth, though he could tell she was still trying to smile. "I need to love myself." The last word had her lip wobbling.

Peter tightened his jaw, trying to channel the energy of his agony into something other than tears.

"For now," Honey added. The soft reassurance flickered like candlelight, providing the only warmth he could hold onto.

Peter locked his jaw and nodded slowly, understandingly. The more he thought about the equation, the more sense it made to him. 

It wasn't about him.

He declared, resolved. "You're the boss."

A/N: Go ahead. Let's hear it. If you loved this, reblog. If you thought it could be better, give it a like. If you hated it, do nothing. Thanks to my muses, now and forever. 🦌 Back to S&V Masterlist • Back to Main

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[bittenbyyou]

Smitten

High School!AU | Peter Parker x Reader

genre: fluff

description: Just Peter Parker falling for you and coming up with the silliest plan to talk to you more.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: some Spider-Man Homecoming spoilers, Peter being a dork lol

a/n: Hello! This is my first time writing for Peter and I’m such nervous posting it, but I adore him and thought the origin story of how my bf and I got together suited Peter so well. Lol. So enjoy! 

The first time Peter heard about you was in freshman year when you were ranked number one in academics, earning jealous stares from everyone. But not from him; he was rather impressed.

Sophomore year was when your name came up again through his ex-girlfriend, Liz. Turns out you were her partner for an English project, which he didn’t think much of. He was happy with Liz… until he defeated her dad, who turned out to be a villain called “The Vulture”, and she and her mom moved to Oregon afterwards…

Anyway, it was now junior year and for the first time ever, he had a class with you—good ol’ AP U.S. History. 

“Dude, over here,” Ned called out from the first row of seats near the back corner. Peter smiled at his best friend and made his way over, taking the seat behind him.

“Hey Ned.”

“So glad we have another class together.”

“You said it.”

The two made small talk until you arrived, taking the seat next to Ned. He was mutual friends with a lot of your friends, so you felt comfortable sitting next to someone you were at least acquainted with rather than a stranger.

“Hi Ned,” you said sweetly.

“Oh [Y/N], you’re in this class too? Nice!” Ned gestured a hand towards Peter. “This is my best friend, Peter.”

“Peter… Parker, right?” you asked. Peter was surprised you knew his full name, but then remembered Liz. He nodded his head a few too many times, but you found it endearing. 

“Y-Yeah. Hi.”

“Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m [Y/N].”

Wow. You were cute.

“Sup losers,” a deadpanned voice said from behind you. You turned around to see MJ, jumping out of your seat to give her a big hug. 

“MJ! We’re in the same class, yay!”

“I know you’re not hugging me this early in the morning,” she said with her index finger raised. 

“You know you love me.”

“Ew.”

She gave you two pats on the back and you let go, giggling at her expression of faux disgust. You returned to your seat, which was in the middle of MJ and Ned. MJ then quickly whipped her head around to look at Peter.

“Sup Parker,” MJ said with a salute of two fingers.

“Hey MJ.”

“You met [Y/N] yet?”

“Yeah, Ned introduced us… you know her too?”

“Met her in an elective. She looked lonely.”

“You make me sound like a loser with no friends,” you said, pouting your lips. 

“I have no friends either.”

“You have me!” you chirped.

“And what about us?” Ned asked, gesturing back and forth to him and Peter.

“Whatever,” MJ brushed off. The three of you laughed while Peter watched, feeling somewhat left out even though he was mentioned. 

“I’m a bit jealous. You all already know each other,” you said. Wow, you said exactly what he was thinking. They knew you, but he didn’t.

“Well the only person you don’t know is Peter and I only met him because of the decathlon. He’s really not all that interesting,” MJ said, smirking in his direction. 

“Are you serious? Peter’s the coolest,” Ned said, hyping him up like a true best friend. “Peter knows Sp—”

“Dude!” Peter exclaimed, hinting at him to shut up with his deadly glare. 

Ned chuckled nervously. “I mean… you’ll get to know him, [Y/N]. And he’ll get to know you.”

*Ding!*

Saved by the bell.

From that day on, the four of you grew closer. Group work was always in teams of four in that class which worked out perfectly. Peter quickly learned you hated presentations because you would freeze up and trip on your words, so he volunteered to present instead just to hear you thank him and flash that sweet smile.

At lunch, Ned always invited you and MJ to join him and that’s when Peter learned how passionate you were about food. Specifically the school’s chicken alfredo. 

“It’s delicious!” you said, doing a little happy dance after eating a forkful of pasta. 

“It’s gross, processed food. Do we even know if it’s chicken?” MJ asked, eyeing the meat on her fork suspiciously. 

“I don’t care, I’m still eating it,” you said, enjoying the noms. 

“Aren’t you lactose intolerant?” Ned asked.

“That’s not stopping me.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” Peter said without thinking. Everyone stared at him with a variety of expressions. MJ was skeptical, Ned was confused, and you were surprised. 

“I literally saw you eating ice cream yesterday,” MJ pointed out. 

“And his bowels paid for it,” Ned lied. Peter let out a nervous laugh.

“Hah, yeah, I was on the toilet… for hours.” You placed a hand over your mouth, trying your best not to laugh. “But I’m fine now!”

“Are you sure you should be eating lunch today then?” you asked. “Wouldn’t want your bowels to hurt again. I’ll do the honors of reducing food waste and eat it for you.”

MJ and Ned stared at Peter. Well, MJ was daring him to eat it with her piercing eyes while Ned gave him a knowing look.

“You can have it,” Peter said warmly, sliding his tray of food over to you.

“Yay!” you cheered. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Because honestly seeing you eat and doing that happy dance again filled him up more than any food could. You were too cute.

Peter was sure of it. He definitely had a crush on you. It took him until almost the end of first semester to realize it, but he knew now. 

He liked how smart you were. The way you answered any question the teacher threw at you so flawlessly was a mystery to him because history bored him. 

He liked how funny you were. The way you were passionately defending why mayo was the superior condiment against MJ and her love for ketchup made him die of laughter. 

He liked how kind you were. The way you helped another girl plan a dance for her quinceanera despite having so much homework. 

He liked how cute you were. The way you fell asleep in class after being the first to finish your test. 

He even liked how clueless you were. The way you knew absolutely nothing about Star Wars but still allowed him to ramble on and on about it in class and listen to him with a caring heart. 

Yup. He definitely liked you. 

A lot.

But he didn’t know how to tell you. You two didn’t hang out outside of school at all and he was so darn shy. It wasn’t until he and MJ hung out at Ned’s place one day when an opportunity arose. You were invited to his house as well, but you declined because of some projects you left till the last minute. 

The trio were building Legos and at one point Ned had to go downstairs and help his lola cook dinner while MJ and Peter remained upstairs. She was sitting on Ned’s bed while Peter was on the floor continuing to build the Lego Death Star. 

“I’m going to give you some advice, Pete,” MJ started to say. Peter looked up at her in confusion.

“About what?”

“About [Y/N].”

His eyes started to wander around the room. “W-What about [Y/N]?”

“What do you think about her?”

“What do I think a-about her? What’s not to think, she’s sweet. She’s nice. She’s kind.”

“Those are synonyms.”

“She’s smart. God, she is so smart, and she gets my jokes and actually laughs at them and—”

“Yup. You like her.”

His face fell. “No… No… No~.”

“So should I call her for you?” She whipped out her phone and Peter panicked.

“Don’t!”

“Why not? You have got to talk to her.”

“I do talk to her.”

“Outside of school,” MJ specified. “I have her number if you want it.”

“No, she’ll find it weird if I text her out of nowhere.”

“So you’re going to continue staring at her when she’s not looking like a total creep?”

“I don’t… I don’t stare,” Peter mumbled. MJ rolled her eyes at his denial.

“You do,” she teased. “Look, I’m going to the restroom. Here’s my phone. Do whatever you’d like with it.”

If Peter was a creep, then MJ was a psychopath because who would let anyone use their phone so freely? He still took the device from her hands and waited until he was alone to tap your name in MJ’s messages. His heart was racing at the thought of having your number, but he didn’t feel ready for it. 

So… he did something else.

5:44 PM | MJ🖤: Hey 🙂

Yikes. He really was a creep.

5:45 PM | You 😇: Hi MJ! What’s up? Did y’all finish building the Legos?

Peter smiled to himself at your enthusiastic greeting. 

5:45 PM | MJ🖤: No, not yet. Ned left us to help with dinner. How are you?

Your next reply didn’t come as fast this time. Peter panicked, wondering if he said something weird. Then again, this whole situation was borderline crazy.

5:49 PM | You 😇: I’m doing my homework. It’s so boring. Wish I was with you all. 🥺

5:50 PM | MJ🖤: We wish you were here too. 💖

Peter saw the thought bubble with three dots pop up, eagerly waiting for your reply. 

5:50 PM | You 😇: Hey MJ… I have a question.

5:50 PM | MJ🖤: Go for it.

5:50 PM | You 😇: Who are you? Lol.

Shit. Shit. Shit. You knew. Oh my god, Peter’s life was over. He got up off the floor and started pacing around the room in panic. 

5:51 PM | You 😇: I know you’re not MJ… so either you stole her phone and I’m going to have to report you for identity theft or she let you use her phone. 

5:53 PM | MJ🖤 : Okay, it’s Peter. Don’t report me. 🥺

He held his breath for your next response, facepalming himself for getting caught so fast.

5:53 PM | You 😇: Peter, why are you pretending to be MJ? If you wanted to text me, I could’ve just given you my number. Haha.

5:53 PM | MJ🖤 : Wait, really? I’m sorry. Idk why I did that.😅

5:53 PM | You 😇: Yeah. Here’s my number XXX-XXX-XXXX. Please text me as yourself. Lolol. 

Peter had the biggest grin spread across his face as he fell onto Ned’s bed in relief. He couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. By some miracle he did it. He got your number… he actually got your number. 

“Why are you staring at my phone like a creepy serial killer?” He looked up to see MJ leaning against Ned’s door frame. 

“Uh… I got her number?”

“How?”

“... You’re going to kill me.”

[reverieblondie]

Costume Party

Pairing: Peter B. Parker X Fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with some Plot, Exhibitionism, Praise, Mask-Kink, Protected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it), Fingering, Pining.

Summary: At a costume party you run into a guy with a very impressive Spider-Man costume....He seems familiar...

A/N: So, I am not ashamed to admit it! I think Peter B is hot and needs more fics about him. For this story MJ and Peter are divorced. If you enjoyed this Halloween themed Fic, please checkout my Halloween Fic with Miguel here.

Word Count: 6,245 (Not edited very well, sorry)

“I can't believe how crowded this place is, it’s not even Halloween yet?” 

You shout in the crowded bar filled with an array of costume-clad people. It was a week before Halloween and people were already out and about getting the Halloween festivities into full swing. Your friend Bea laughs at your remark.

“Well some people are trying to get the most out of their costumes, it's no fun you only get one night to enjoy it.”

“Like Mallory?” pointing your finger to the dance floor you see your friend Mallory dressed as an amazing Jason Voorhees tearing it up on the dance floor drawing in a crowd. Let's just say Mallory takes Halloween very seriously. 

Taking a moment just to appreciate your friend Bea breaks the silence, “Never thought I would see Jason twerking…” 

“You have to love her enthusiasm” you respond hypnotized by the slight. 

“Well Kitty Cat, I think Jason could use a dancing partner and Barbie is just the right person. Are you going to join us?” Bea dressed as cowgirl Barbie begins to dance over to Mallory as she keeps her eyes on you for your answer. 

“You two go for it, I'm going to walk around, maybe get some fresh air..” 

With that Bea gives you a nod and starts dancing with Mallory, rewarding you with the image of Barbie dancing with Jason Voorhees. Not being much for dancing you start walking around the party and watching the different costume-clad people having fun and interacting. There are Vampires, Werewolves, Nurses, disgraced celebrities, and ghouls galore! Costumes ranged from professional cosplayer level to a dude in a Spider-Man tee shirt and a plastic mask. No judgment though you went the basic route with your costume going as a sexy kitty, a costume that Mallory had loaned you from her vast collection. 

Mallory being the Halloween fanatic had invited you and Bea to this costume party at a popular club and with it being October, of course, it was a costume party. Not minding too much you had Mallory pick out a costume for you and off to the club you went. 

In all honesty, you needed a party to attend, work was starting to stress you out due to your boss being well a dick. Now three hours in the club is in full swing, the crowded floor and booming music all though enjoyable was starting to give you a slight headache. So needing to find a way to soothe your headache you decide to go outside to get some first air. 

Pushing your way through the club you find a backside door. Perfect! Haphazardly swinging it open, you hear a smack followed by a low groan. Quickly stepping out in the cool night air you see a guy in a very impressive Spider-Man costume rubbing his hand over his nose. Shit- 

Feeling guilty you rush over apologizing profusely, “Oh, I am so sorry! Are you okay?”

“Why are you swinging doors open so-” The masked man quickly stops mid-sentence looking at you in what seems to be a surprise, you can only assume due to the mask covering his face, but the white lenses grow wide looking at you so it tipped you off. Clearing his throat he finally looks away before speaking, “I’m fine don’t worry about it”

“Well I feel bad I smacked you pretty hard, is it broken?” You try reaching for the mask to lift it but he quickly holds his hands up moving away and stopping you. 

“I’ve taken worse hits, it’s no big deal really” He lifts his mask and reveals his lips and the tip of his nose. “See, not even bleeding,” he says with a slight smile. 

Woah, diggin the scruff there my guy, plus that cute smile? You couldn’t help yourself from blushing slightly. He lowers his mask again, seeming to be leaving but you interject. “Um Wait, I still feel bad! Maybe I can buy you a drink? To make up for my reckless door opening?” 

He seems to think for a moment, rubbing his hand on his chin. Watching as he eyes you for a moment, you can't see his eyes but you have a feeling he is talking to you all in. Adjusting your skirt you give a sweet smile trying to persuade him. 

“You're not going to hit me again, are you? kitty?”

The playful pet name has you biting your bottom lip quickly. Okay, flirt. Not knowing the way that costume is showing off his arms, the playful teasing, or maybe it's the mask but you're intrigued by him.  

 “Not unless you give me a reason too” you playfully say, opening the door and turning back for him to follow you in.  

“Well I will tread carefully then,” he follows closely behind you. 

Making your way with Spider-Man in tow, you push past all the different ghouls. Finally making your way to the bar you hand him a menu looking through one yourself. “Just try to steer away from the top shelf please.” 

This gets a laugh out of him as he leans against the bar, something about his laugh seemed familiar in a way but you couldn't place it. “I thought you were making up for hitting me with a door?” 

“I am, but you didn't bleed, if you had bled you could have gotten top shelf.” You tease and it causes him to laugh more, you're kinda surprised by yourself flirting with a random stranger but there is something about him that you just can't help it. The bartender finally makes their way over to you two, inquiring about your orders. Spidy orders an Old-fashioned while you order a Sbagliato, you can’t let him drink alone now, could you? 

Receiving your drinks you two sip and start chatting, common small talk, but both of you dance around the obvious question ‘What's your name’. Lost in the conversation you're just drinking the tall man in. Two things circle your mind as he talks; One you're really into the way his lips curl against the glasses rim and two his costume is really impressive now that you look at it closer. 

Spider-Man, New York's favorite hero, has become one of the most popular costumes. They ranged from kids' costumes to adults and even offered a sexy Lady Spider costume that you have seen a few times tonight. But this guy's costume was impressive. Not only did it look high quality, but it was like it was designed just for him to show off his assets. Was he completely jacked? No, but those strong arms and solid chest still had you blushing.

“I like your costume, Spider-Man he's a good one” This catches his attention and he looks towards you before responding. “You don’t think it's a bit…Overdone?” 

You chuckle “Maybe, But I'm dressed as a sexy kitty. I can't exactly judge someone on having an overdone costume.” This causes him to laugh sliding closer to you. “Plus, your costume is really impressive, looks professional quality.” reaching over lightly brush your fingertips across the web pattern.

“Well, I like your costume, I think you pull it off well, the ears are a nice touch” he turns to look at you and you can feel your face blush from the compliment. For a moment you feel his hand slightly graze your lower back, but it's only for a second before he moves away taking a long sip of his drink. Poor thing wants to flirt but doesn't want to seem like a creep. Giving him some reassurance to the flirting you squeeze his forearm feeling his muscle. 

“So, is the mysterious guy thing a technique of yours?”

He looks at you with a crooked smirk “What do you mean?” 

“You know, the whole masked man thing? Flirting with girls but never revealing who you really are, keeping us as strangers.” 

“Are you sure we are strangers?” he quickly interjects. oh? 

“Are we not?” you inquire with a smirk, something about him is familiar but you still can't place it.  

“Well, we have been talking for a while now, I think we have at least turned to acquaintances by now.” ah, that's what he means. “Well, I usually know my acquaintances' faces.” 

He leans in more, his mask still lifted showing off his grin “Well, what's the excitement in that?” 

-----

Now you're not exactly sure how you ended up in a dark booth but here you are still talking to your mystery man, he was right about the excitement, it made the flirting and slight touches just a little bit better.  

“I swear if my boss wasn't riding someone's ass he would die!” throw your head in your hands, somewhere in between small talk and flirting work was mentioned and you took the chance to vent. As you are ranting you feel a finger brush against your cheek then tucking a strain of hair behind your ear. You stop talking and feel all your breath escape you, his soft touch has your heart racing. 

Sliding closer to you he's whispering in your ear “You know kitty cat, it sounds like you need some stress relief…” -oh, word? 

“Is that so? And how are you going to relieve my stress?” I ask arching my back to lean in closer

Leaning in, he plays with a strain of your hair, he's so close to you know you feel his warm breath tickling your ear. The warmth radiating off him just causes you to shudder in excitement. “I figured I could fuck you so good you forget about your job…” 

The bluntness of his comment has your skin tingling with a sudden rush. With a shaky breath you respond, “T-that's big talk For s-someone who hasn’t even kissed me yet…” 

“Well then, let me kiss you,” he gently grabs your chin and brings you closer to his lips. Feeling the heat of your body rising to a fever you lean in with half-lidded eyes lips in a slight pout waiting for him to kiss your flushed face. Even though you can't see his eyes you can see the smile stretching to his lips and the blush starting to creep across what you can see of his face. 

“Please” is all you can whimper before he gently leads his lips to yours, the kiss is slow but intense. It made your body feel like you were on fire only to be cooled by his hands sliding up your thighs to then grip your hips bringing you closer. 

One of his hands plays with the hem of your skirt before slipping under to brush gently against your ruined panties, causing a quick gasp to escape your lips. Taking his opportunity he slips his tongue past your lips allowing him to taste you, while his finger pushes harder against your clothed folds pushing the ruined fabric further against your clit. 

Breaking away from the kiss you whine breathlessly as he continues to brush against your wet cunt. “We’re in public…” 

He just smirks as he slips his finger under your underwear running his long finger over your dripping slit, this causes a sudden moan to rip through you,  “shh, I know, your going to have to be quiet, there are other people around kid..” his honeyed voice teases as he continues to slowly push his finger in to curl into you. 

Shaking your head no you can't help but tighten and squirm as he touches you. Unable to contain yourself by letting out quiet moans as your wetness starts dripping down his fingers. Wanting to push you over the edge he starts rubbing tight circles at your clit with his thumb, which has your head being thrown back with a gasp. 

Ever the opportunist you're figuring out he kisses and licks your neck up to your ear. “Shh, We could go somewhere more private if you want?” 

Breathless trying to keep your cool you can only release a ‘mhmm’ before he's pulling his finger out of your weeping slit. Before you can complain you see him take his coated finger in his mouth, shutting you up. Surviving around he sees an empty-looking bathroom and nods his head towards it. Eyes completely blown, face fulling red you can only nod in agreement. 

Chuckling at your lustful expression he adjusts your cat ears on your head. Downing his drink he takes your hand and leads you out of the booth, he walks behind you and whispers in your ear, “I’m going to take such good care of you, such a good girl, you deserve to be taken care of” his soft phrases have you melting and eager to get him alone. 

 Before you can get to the bathroom, you quickly stop remembering something important, pulling him closer to whisper in his ear. 

“I will meet you over there. I have to get something from my friend really quickly.”

He pulls you for a kiss and bites your bottom lip when he pulls away. “Hurry, I need to make you feel good.” 

Nodding quickly you run off to go find your friend. Looking like a mad woman you're scanning all over the club for your friends till you see a shoulder-shimming Jason and you quickly make your way over. 

“Mallory, I need to get something from you!”  you say desperately as she continues to dance.

“Nuh uh call me by my name please” she teases as he swings her hips around.

“Uhhg, Jason I need a condom” 

Mallory suddenly stops dancing and slowly turns to you. “Excuse me-“

“Just give me the fucking condom!” You say you are fully frustrated, you have a sexy man wanting to ravish you, you don't have time for any teasing, you're hot and horny and need to go!

Mallory looks at you confused before reaching into her wallet and giving you the contraceptive. Before you can rush off she grabs your arm. “Just know you wouldn’t survive a horror movie.” 

Giving a quick ‘Thank you’ you run off to Spider-Man.

———

Rushing back you see him leaning against the wall near the bathroom. As you approach he is quick to grab your hand and lead you in. As soon as you're through the door he's locking it and pressing burning kisses to your lips backing you up to the cold wall. Gasping at the feeling of his hands slowly rubbing all over your curves he makes you wetter. 

“So pretty,” he mumbles as he brings you away from the wall, bending you over on the sink's counter in front of the mirror. Quickly peeling away your shirt he kisses up your spine and massages your breast. You can't help but push your ass into his strained cock feeling him twitch as you rub against him. placing his hand on your jaw he lifts your head to face the mirror. Kissing along your neck, Confused you go to make a snarky remark “What am I ah-”

A moan rips through you as two fingers are slipped through your puffy folds into your slit stretching you open instantly. He can only chuckle and he moves his lips to your shoulder, kissing you as he sinks knuckle-deep into your tight cunt. Moans slip from your lips as the stretch he's causing you, and this is only his fingers.

 After a single moment for you to adjust to his fingers, he curls them into you looking into the mirror watching as your face contours in ecstasy. “Nuh uh, Kitty, keep those eyes open, look at how gorgeous you are….” 

Shooting your eyes open you see his mask eyes on you with his lips cooing sweet words while he pushes faster into you curling slow and deliberate. Mouth hanging open you start to push your hips into his hand more.

“Oh, that feels good huh kid? You work so hard, like a good girl…”

.

All you can do is nod as you approach your high, feeling yourself clench around him approaching your orgasm. 

“Feels so good, I do work hard…” you moan out watching him through the mirror. He smiles and hums pushing you down further spreading your legs out further, now hitting your sweet spot. You can't help how you're moaning, and he just smiles like your moans are music to his ears. 

“A good girl like you, I can tell you do, ride my fingers till you cum, you deserve it….” Being supported by the squelching sound of your wet cunt and his sweet phrase you start rocking yourself back and forth faster and faster, slamming his long fingers into your dripping wet cunt. Chasing your high the orgasm rips from you and you cream all over his digits. It drips down his fingers falling to the floor. 

“Cumming so pretty for me,” he coos and he takes your costume off, you're still coming down from your high so you lazily watch through lidded eyes as he strips your skirt and panties off. Then swiftly peels down his suit and pulls his cock out and it's already pebbling with pre cum. Pumping his cock he watches your aroused clit swell and your spend slit clench around nothing. While rolling on the condom he coos at you. 

“You want to cum again?”

Watching him pump himself you let out a whine of yes arching your back to entice him to put it in. Chuckling he gathers your arousal around his cock teasing you further. 

 “Please! I need it!” 

“Oh? You need it alright, going to make it where you won’t forget about this cock kitty cat. Now look forward, I want those pretty eyes watching me.” 

Sliding into you smoothly his cock stretches you deliciously making you moan as he pushes further, filling you up. Your hands splay out over the sink counter, it's pure bliss that makes your mind clear of all the bullshit you have had to endure till this moment. Forget him fucking you so good you forget your job you're forgetting everything. He slowly starts his positioning into you, you can feel him resisting the urge to slam into you from the tight grip on your hips.  

“Oh your such a good girl for me, taking me so well”

He thrust into you faster into your messily wet cunt, His increased pace making your second high come all too quickly. Looking up you see him biting his lip as your pussy tightens around him, feeling him leaning over you, feeling sloppy kisses and nipping at your shoulders and neck as he rails into you deeper. Feeling his tip kiss your spot that has you seeing stars. 

“Don’t cum yet kitty, I want to feel you clench down on me more” his heavy breathing fans over your ear before he's kissing your earlobe. 

All you can do is whine as he keeps throbbing and pushing you. The shooting pleasure has your knees buckling and your body shaking. Moaning from you and him bouncing off the wall you feel him grab a handful of your hair and bring your eyes to the mirror. 

“Taking me so good, so good… ”  He thrust harder, losing all the remaining restraint he once had. Looking forward in the mirror your face is flushed, hair completely ruined, biting your lip hard. The knot in your stomach feels like it's about to burst. 

“Ah, I need to cum!” 

“Ah, cum on me baby,” 

Feeling your pussy clench tighter on him, his words make your knot snap as his cock throbs within you. Vision blurring your orgasm washes over you dramatically causing you to scream out and you make a mess all over his cock. Helping you ride your orgasm he reaches his fingers to your cunt he plays with it sending you further over the edge. 

Finally, with your cunt fluttering over him, you feel his cock throb and spurt while inside you reaching his high. Panting, he holds himself up on the contour, arms keeping you caged underneath him. It's quiet for a moment before he gently pulls out of you. Rubbing your back he carefully leans you up supporting you as you finally stand straight, your legs feel like jelly. 

As you catch your breath, he seems to have recovered mostly. Helping you get cleaned up, fixing your hair, and handing you your costume. As you get dressed you feel like you should say something to him, ask his name, ask for his number maybe? You want to see him again. 

“So um…” As you start to speak up he sees your nervousness. Quickly getting his costume back on he leans over and presses a kiss to your lips, then to your neck, moving to your ear lightly nipping at it to make you laugh. 

“I will see you next weekend on Halloween, here, okay?”

“Okay” 

With that, he puts his mask down helps you readjust your costume and walks you out of the bathroom. Before he leaves he whispers to you,” I can’t wait to see you again kid.” Kid…He keeps calling you that, it's familiar…

when you turn around to look back at him he’s gone.

——-

Typing away you are trying to get all of the meetings with the chief organized, you also have to organize all his paperwork, take all his calls, Go in and scribe for all his meetings or whatever rants he is making that you want you to write down. Then order him lunch, get his dry cleaning sent and delivered, and make sure he has dinner reservations to whatever place he's craving that night. All this while he is yelling at you to bring him coffee or whatever else he needs from around the newsroom. Working for J. Jonah Jameson was rough, especially as his assistant. 

While you are trying to get your work done you also have Bea in your ear, she was a copy editor at the Daily Bugle, however today she was ignoring her work, and all she could talk about was…

“I can’t believe it! I’m still in shock! You had sex with some random guy at the club!” 

People around your desk look at you two with puzzled expressions. Lowering your head you grimace “Yeah, why don’t you say it a little louder I don’t think the marketing department heard you.” 

Lowering her voice she continues to say “I’m sorry Y/N, I just can’t believe you hooked up with a random stranger at a club, that's pretty spontaneous…and you didn't see his face at all?” 

“Well, not fully I saw his lips and the tip of his nose…” 

“Kinky…so when you see him again are you going to wear a mask too?” rolling your eyes you look at her unamused “Are you done?” She laughs and hugs you as you continue to type. “For now until I think of more jokes or come to ask for more details.” 

During the hug, Jameson calls for you. Bea lets go of you and starts heading back to her department giving you a sad wave as she goes. Quickly rising from your desk grabbing your notepad just in case you hurry to your boss's office to see what he wants. Pacing in his office he is yelling at someone over the phone, a common tone for him. Jameson darts his scowl towards you and snaps at you, you quickly get ready to write something down but he shakes his hand and mouths the word ‘Coffee’ pointing to his empty mug. Ah, of course, go fetch him coffee. 

Backing away from the doorframe you suddenly feel that you are pressed against someone. Quickly turning your head to apologize, your breath catches in your throat. Smiling down at you, you're met with a familiar set of brown eyes that always makes you feel giddy, Peter B Parker. Carefully he places a hand on your waist gently moving you through the doorway. 

“Sorry kid, I have to squeeze past you,” he keeps his smile on you as he slips past. Once inside he takes his seat in front of Jameson's desk waiting for him to finish his call.

 As you're walking out you can't help but look over your shoulder to steal a glance of Peter, but when you do you catch Peter doing the same to you. Shooting you another smile you feel your face warm and quickly go to make your boss's coffee. 

Making your way back to Jameson's office, coffee made just how he likes you see that Peter is showing him his latest photos of Spider-Man. Glancing at the photos you are reminded of how talented Peter is, definitely one of the best freelance photographers that works for the paper. 

Honestly looking at some of the pictures you have to question how he was getting such incredible shots, he would never reveal his secret though. Peter had been gone for a couple of months, a nasty divorce apparently which made you rather sad. Peter was one of the nicest guys at the paper, he always talked and joked with you, treating you like an actual person, not everyone is always so nice. 

Now he was back you were excited that the Bugle would have some quality pictures and you got to see more of Peter again. Being honest with yourself you have a bit of a thing for him. Kind, super smart, incredibly funny plus not bad to look at either, how could you not end up with a crush? Though when you two first met he was married so that meant off limits, then the divorce happened and he did not take it well. Now that he's finally back he seems okay, you notice that he talks to you more and you two share more stolen glances but that could just be wishful thinking on your part. 

“Y/N!” Suddenly snapped from your thoughts you see your boss and Peter staring at you. 

“Yes sir?”

 Jameson rolls his eyes “I said quit your daydreaming and hand me my coffee!” Nodding you quickly hand him his coffee and decide that it’s time you took a break. 

--------

Plopping down in the breakroom you lazily look down at your coffee sighing. If only your masked stranger was here to relieve your stress again. Mind wandering back to that night you feel your face heat from what he said to you, how he touched you, his lips…lips…reminiscing back you think of that smile and the conversations, he seemed familiar? Especially that smile…and what did he mean when he said we might not be strangers? 

Face contorted in thought you fail to notice that Peter has walked into the breakroom. Reaching the top shelf Peter pulls down a mug and pours himself some coffee looking over at you he must see you lost in thought, “Penny for your thoughts?”

His voice startles you for a moment breaking your trance, Peter looks at you expectantly waiting for you to speak, You couldn’t repress the words flying from your mouth as you stared at Peter, “Would you fuck a stranger?”

“Uh, I mean I think I could manage it for sure. But I would hardly call us strangers?” He says with a smirk. Huh? -Deja vu

You roll your eyes you brush off the words with a laugh “It’s not a proposition it was just a question” 

“That’s a pretty specific question?” 

“Well, this weekend I was at a party and I met this guy…and he was so funny and charming that we, you know…” 

“Had sex” Peter says frankly finishing your sentence for you. 

“Yeah had sex” 

“Well sounds like your not strangers” 

“That’s the thing though, he kept his mask on…” 

Peter gives a long whistle “y/n? You are a freaky little thing aren't you?” 

Something about how he says that makes your body rush with excitement, it feels…familiar…shaking the feeling away you continue. 

“Do you think that's weird though? Like I didn’t see his full face at all.” 

Peter smirks to himself as he pours sugar and cream into his coffee. As he sits down he stirs his coffee listening to you ramble, “Well, I think it's up to you. Did you like it?” 

“I mean yeah, but it's still weird…but like a good weird, you know? It's exciting.” As you look up you see him listening intently to you, his eyes bright and smile soft, it makes your heart skip for a moment. 

“I probably shouldn’t be talking to you about this, I'm sorry..”

“Doesn't bother me, I'm the one who asked '' He playfully nudges your arm and you can't help but giggle. “Are you going to see him again?” 

“Yeah, same place Halloween night…kinda nervous about it” 

“Why, I mean you two already had sex at the club?” 

“Yeah, wait…how did you know we had sex at the club?” you look towards him with furrowed brows. Peter looks surprised for a moment but quickly responds “I heard your friend talking about it.” -of course he did…

Sighing you put your head in your hands. Peter pats your back “It’s not that bad I don't think everyone knows…yet..”

With a pout you place your chin in your hand leaning on the table, “It's not that, it's the mystery guy.” 

“What, you don't want to see him again?” 

“I do, just…what if he doesn't want to see me again?” 

Looking down at your coffee you're kinda in shock that you're confessing all this to your office crush, who does that? But suddenly you feel a familiar gesture, a finger sliding across your cheek tucking a strain of hair behind your ear. Looking over to Peter you see that same smile, it's just like...You feel your face heat up. Peter's face looks equally flustered, quickly he moves his hand and grabs his coffee. Standing quickly he mutters how he has to go, before he's out the door he turns around, “he would be crazy not to want to see you again y/n” 

With that, he leaves you a blushing mess. 

--------

“I’ve seen several Spider-man, are you sure none of them are your guy?” Bea says, taking a sip of your drink and adjusting her large hat for her ‘sexy witch’ costume. 

“No, his costume is high quality like a professional,” you say with a slight lisp, feeling irritated that the fangs for your ‘sexy vampire’ costume are making you talk weirdly. You go to take them out but Mallory quickly stops you.

“Hey don’t take them out, it breaks the illusion!” you sigh and stare disheartened at your friend Mallory in her idea of a sexy costume ‘sexy Mothman’. 

Bea had begged us all to dress sexy this go round and you and Mallory begrudgingly agreed so Mallory helped you get your vampire costume and even decorated you up with some blood, while she did her twist to a sexy mothman. 

“Maybe he's not here? Running late?” Mallory questions

“The party is in full swing, maybe he's in the bathroom waiting for you,” Bea nudges playfully. 

Sudden realization hits you and you quickly chug your drink down. Bea and Mallory look at each other and then back to you once you're done. Finishing the drink you slam the glass on the contour, “I think I know where he is” 

At a hurried pace, you make your way from the bar in the back of the club to the back door where it all started. Nerves swirled around in your gut, you hoped he was here, you wanted to see him, feel him, talk to him. You didn't want this to be another one-night thing, you wanted to know who he was and you had an idea or well maybe it was just wishful thinking. Having a week to agonize about who he was you had a pricking thought of who you imagined him to be. 

Making it to the door that started it all, you take a deep breath, take out the fake fangs, and open the door carefully this time making sure it doesn't fly open to hit any unsuspecting Spider-Men. Making your way out the door you don't see anyone and it causes your heart to sink. He's not coming.  

Suddenly you feel a hand on your hip, while the other brushes your hair back to expose your neck. You are scared at first till you hear that same honeyed voice “Glad you learned to open doors carefully kitty.” 

Surrendering to his touch you let his lips caress your neck, “I'm not a cat anymore, I'm a vampire.” turning you see that half up spiderman mask with that same sly smirk, you wrap your arms around his neck “I see you're still Spider-Man” 

He laughs and backs you deeper into the alley pressing you against the wall “Well, I wanted you to be about to recognize me” 

His lips quickly find yours kissing you passionately. Feeling his hands on your ass he swiftly lifts you making, you instantly wrap your legs around him. Looking around you're a little surprised “Really? In the alley? You're kinda the expansionist huh?”

He quickly catches your lips in another searing kiss then you feel his hand eagerly pawing underneath your dress, and then he stops suddenly. “Oh, you're a dirty girl. No panties tonight?”  

“I figured they would get in the way,” you say with a playful shrug.

He quickly lifts your dress more and starts to finger your already wet cunt. Moaning and squeezing your legs tighter around him you give into the familiar stretch. 

“Already so wet for me, pretty girl you're just perfect for me.” 

Kissing on your neck he's already rutting into you, it seems like he's as eager as you are. Your soaked cunt was getting his suit's crouch wet as he continued to rub into you, maybe it was him or the fact that you two could easily get caught by a wandering pedestrian, but you were burning with need. 

“Please...I need you…” you beg breathlessly

He kisses your lips quickly putting his suit pants down. Looking at him confused he just smiles, “What? I made adjustments for easy access, just for you kid.” 

Finally freeing his cock he has you hold on tightly to him as he swiftly rolls a condom on. Safe sex is hot sex, right? While sucking and kissing your neck to your collarbones he rubs his cock in between your folds making sure you're wet and shaking with need. 

“Come on spidy, I need you…”

With the last bit of begging leaving your trembling lips, he pushes in between your folds into your soaked heat with a loud groan. Thrusting in and out of you you can't help but moan and clench down on his length.  

“Ah, y/n…you feel so good…” 

As soon as your name slips from his lips he stops his thrusting and stills. Looking down with wide eyes your mouth is agape, “did…Did you just say my name?” 

Hesitating for a moment he tries to find the words but suddenly he's met with your lips crashing down to his eagerly devouring him. With the passionate kiss, he fucks into you faster than before breaking the kiss and grabbing your ass hard to thrust into you harder. Getting all your breath thrust out, you can hardly speak as you approach your high.  

“So you know, ah, my name?” 

He nods breathlessly continuing his rutting, cock throbbing. “Yeah, your costume, doesn’t hide your identity, Fuck!” 

Throwing your head back from the feeling of how deep he is, your moaning and confessing your own secrets as he fucks your roughly. Your Orgasm is about to rip through you, stars blur your vision. 

“I know who, ah…who you are” 

Kissing along your neck he faces you and whispers to your lips, “Yeah? Say my name then..” 

Feeling the knot in your stomach about to snap it's now or never. Holding onto him tightly he's pushing his tip right into your sweet spot, bringing your moaning lips to his ear and whispering the name you're hoping to be him. 

“Peter, Peter B Parker '' While you say his name you grab the rest of his mask and reveal the rest of his face, you are met with those heart-melting brown eyes. And that sexy smirk. There he was in all his glory, your mystery man- Peter B 

“Well you're quite the little detective, you should get a reward kid…”  You smirk and give him a kiss rocking your hips into him as he thrust harder. Breaking the kiss you moan, “Just make me cum Peter!”

“Anything you want, pretty girl,” Rutting deeper and grunting heavily in your ear, your knot is snapped and you're creaming all over Peter's cock. Fucking you through your high he finally cums from your tight cunt clenching around him trying to milk him dry. 

Carefully he stands back up both of you staring and panting at each other. Peter quickly pulls your dress back down, then tucks his length away. His hands cup your face and he litters your face and neck with kisses, seems happy you figured his secret out. 

“Have any more secrets for me, Peter?” You say smugly holding up his mask. 

Peter smiles at you and takes the mask from you. Grabbing a hold of your hips once more he pulls you close to press against his chest. “I could tell you, or I could show you?” 

-This should be good…

[panda-writes-kpop]

I'll crawl home to her ~ k. mj.

a/n: only one week late woo!! improvements are happening, y'all!! happy belated jiu/minji day! wrote this at the request of @dark-night-insomniac - enjoy, my platonic soulmate <3

tw: arranged marriages, love at her sight trope, running away from responsibilities (me too), quick mention of blood, reader is a professional little shit

wc: 1.8k

summary: your party-crashing antics go awry when you sneak into the engagement party that celebrates the union of the oldest Kim girl and another high-ranking member of society. you don't expect that Kim girl to be Minji, the one you've been dreaming of for weeks, or for Kim Minji to recognize you right away.

♡ Masterlist ♡

To mask oneself is often a way of hiding emotions, to shield yourself from any physical, mental, or emotional harm. A mask hides your identity from the world and yourself, if you keep the mask on long enough. For you, a mask was most useful for some good, old-fashioned hell-raising.

Dressed in your second-best outfit (to sneak into the party required going through a muddy stretch of road, and your maid would’ve had a fit if you got something on your future engagement outfit), you slip past the guards and head inside of the Kim manor.

You adjust your mask as you’ve landed directly in enemy territory - the Kim family and yours have been feuding for many generations- and you didn’t need the backlash from your appearance. 

Siyeon links her arm with yours as you navigate through the party, one that was supposed to celebrate the engagement of the oldest Kim girl to another. You felt bad for the girl - the Kim family was old-fashioned, and had taken to arranged marriages to marry off for the girl. At least your family lets you decide on your marriage partner, even if the stuffy clothes and constant public appearances could be a little much for you.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Siyeon whispers as you hand her a vial filled with a red liquid. 

“No, but it’ll be hilarious if we manage to pull this off.” You say as she hides the vial within the deepest pockets of her overcoat. 

“Why do I have to help with all of your schemes? Why not drag along one of my cousins?”

“Dami would never agree to do something this daring, and Gahyeon would babble to her parents and get us caught before we even started.” You explain before placing a hand on her shoulder. “Remember, if you get caught-”

“-Play the foreigner card, I know.” Siyeon finishes your statement before smiling to herself. “My life would be too simple if we weren’t friends.”

“There’s the Siyeon I know.” You rub her shoulder before offering her a parting sentiment. “Be careful, and make sure to keep your head down if you run into a Kim.”

“Got it.” She blends into the moving crowd too easily as you allow yourself to be pushed towards the main center of buzz and activity. The gardens surrounding the manor are gorgeous, but they don’t hold a candle to the interior of the manor itself.

The ballroom that you find yourself in is expansive and wider than you could’ve imagined, covered head-to-toe in expensive wallpaper, flooring, and decorations.

“It’s beautiful.” One of the party-goers stares in amazement as another comments on the interior.

It’s tacky, you think as you automatically roll your eyes, and you’re impressed too easily.

Is your home nearly as fancy as this? No.

Do you feel a small spark of jealousy within you? Perhaps.

You drown the negative feelings with a glass of champagne. Maybe two glasses would be the best way to enjoy the fireworks to come?

It’s all fun and games, games that you’ve played plenty of times before, until you see her.

You know who she is - she’s a Kim girl, but you were completely unaware that she was the oldest Kim girl. 

Your first and only interaction with her happened when you were out with Siyeon, playing around as you normally did.

“Ah, I apologize, ma’am.” You bow to the girl who you’ve nearly sent tumbling to the ground, all because Siyeon has bad aim.  

“No, it’s alright, my dress is the only thing that is harmed.” She turns and shows you the small amount of mud on the bottom of her skirt.

“Let me pay for it,” You say before noticing the Kim family crest on her attire, “and I can walk you home if you’d like?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” She nods before taking her arm. “Forgive my rudeness. My name is Kim Minji.”

“Minji,” You repeat to yourself, “what a lovely name.”

You both had chatted for hours, long past the time it would take to clean her dress and walk her back to the manor. Minji never questioned how you knew exactly where the manor was, or the fact that you made a few shortcuts to avoid your home.

“Thank you for your utmost kindness,” She smiles before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, “and good night to you.”

“Good night.” You mumble to her as she lets go of your arm and heads inside of the gates.

It was worth the lecture from your housekeeper for being late to dinner, and you weren’t able to keep the smug smile off of your face until you fell asleep that night.

You never forgot Minji, she was the girl in your dreams. The one you’d dream of running away from this fanciful life with. You weren’t sure that your feelings were mutual - you only met her once, of course. 

Minji looks radiant in her princess-style dress that spills out over her feet and onto the floor. You’d swear she was a princess herself if the family crest on her arm didn’t give away her current familial standing. 

You notice that her fiancé is off in the distance, drinking a little more than they should. They weren’t royalty, not by any means, but a respectable match for a lady of Minji’s standing. 

Minji greets a few of her closest friends and family before wandering into the crowd. You find yourself pushing through the many people inside of the ballroom, wondering if you’ll even be able to catch her before she sees the one she’s supposed to marry. 

Luckily, the crowd breaks just enough for you to see the back of Minji’s dress. Once you’re an arms-length away, you lightly tap her shoulder as you think of something to say.

“Thank you for coming to my party, you’re-” Her beautiful smile causes your heart to pound as you’re left speechless. “You’re the stranger from a few weeks ago, the one that helped clean up my dress and walked me home.”

“How did you know it was me?” You ask.

“I could recognize you in a crowd of millions, and besides,” She leans in close to you, “I saw the family crest on the inside of your overcoat.”

“Ah,” You shyly pull the overcoat closer to your body, “you know my secret, then?”

“It wasn’t much of a secret to begin with, really.” She shrugs before backing up and laughing. “What mayhem are you here to cause?”

“I wasn’t-”

“-I know of the things you’ve done, and I must say, I’m quite… amused by you.” Minji folds her arms after fixing her hair. “You have such a notable reputation.”

“Now you sound like my mother.” You roll your eyes before silently laughing. “I knew you were a Kim girl, and I was surprised by your kindness and grace. My parents had raised me to hate your family, but I’m starting to think that they were just blinded by past feuds and bitterness.”

“We should make new beginnings for ourselves, then. Wipe the slate new.” She offers you her hand, which you gladly take. “To new beginnings?”

“To new beginnings.” You take a sip of your champagne as she squeezes your hand.

“May I tell you something, in confidence?” She asks as a waiter takes your empty glass.

“Of course, Minji, you may.” You let go of her hand as she takes your arm and leads you to a nearby balcony.

“In all truthfulness, I haven’t been able to sleep without seeing your face. You’ve managed to consume my sleeping moments, as well as some of my waking ones. I never knew how someone could be so enchanted by a stranger, but you, you’re… so different.” Minji softly confesses to you. “I was okay with the arranged marriage, it was always going to be a part of my life as a Kim, but now I want so much more.”

“I’ve felt similarly, in all honesty. I never was one for balls and suitors, but you have completely changed my mind. My foolish tricks were not the only things that brought me here tonight. I was hoping you would see me, and maybe I would have a chance, but…” You trail off as you stare at her fiancé. “You have someone here for you.”

“I-” She pauses as a guard storms into the ballroom.

“There appears to be… unsavory company in our midst. We are requesting all attendees report to their nearest guard to be checked for the family crest that they adorn.” The guard announces as a few more appear behind him.

Well, shit.

“C’mon, I know of a secret passageway. I can help you escape.” Minji pulls you towards the exit as you try to hide your face with your overcoat.

~

Your escape from the party was a lot less eventful than you expected. You ended up in Minji’s private garden when the passage door closed behind you.

“I don’t think I will be able to express my gratitude for you, Minji.” You say before sitting on a park bench.

“It was my pleasure to help you.” She gently pulls up her skirt before sitting next to you. “Pray tell, how will you make your daring escape?”

“The hedges aren’t too tall or thick, so I could climb over or squeeze through them, depending on the durability of my pants.” You lightly pick at the stitching as she laughs. “Then, I will use the nighttime to sneak away to my home, where my housemaid will surely belittle me until I fall asleep.”

“It sounds perfect, except for one thing.”

“What’s that?” You tilt your head in confusion.

“Doesn’t the adventurer, after escaping near death, need to show their affection for the love interest before they leave?”

You chuckle before lightly smacking your head.

“Of course, how could I forget?”

You lean in and softly kiss her lips as her arms wrap around you. You deepen the kiss as your arms meet her waist, and you find yourself missing her lips as soon as they leave yours.

“Would the love interest like to travel with the adventurer, explore the world a bit, before settling down?” You unwrap yourself from Minji before standing up and offering her your hand.

“What would their family and friends say?”

“Nothing bad, if they truly cared for the person they were traveling with,” You smile as she grabs your hand, “and I truly care for you with all of my heart.”

“Then I suppose a bit of traveling couldn’t hurt, then.”

The two of you wander into the night, far away from the places you call home, in hopes of finding what truly lies behind the walls that have entrapped the both of you. Maybe you’ll find peace, or another place to stay.

Or maybe you’ll realize how much you need Minji, how you’d crawl home to her from the pits of hell if you had to.

Maybe you’ll find nothing at all and return back to your normal lives.

But as you hold Minji’s hand and run through the forest with her, it seems like everything is possible. The world is at your fingertips, ready for a new story to be told by a new generation.