#i never thought i'd be giffing them again 😭😭😭😭😭

[kathrynmhahn]

Law & Order SVU 25.01

[mrsfitzgerald]

san sebastian - ausländer♥︎

[melanieph321]

Erling Haaland x Reader - The Confession Part 1/2

I never thought that I'd find myself in this predicament. 😭 I'm actually quite embarrassed. But it's the gif that inspired me to write this fic so thank you @ruben-dias, for posting it.

Part 2

Summary - Erling has had a crush on Reader for a long time, but Reader is clueless about it since she never thought a guy like him could like a girl like her. Nevertheless, the truth unfolds when Erling gives Reader a ride home after a lake party with their friends.

Enjoy!

Summer in Norway was cold. Sure the temperature in the air was warmer than in the winter. But there was no way that your friends could convince you to get in the water with them.

"Come on Y/N. It's not that bad. You just gotta get through the first chock. Your body will get used to the temperature once you're in the water."

"Yeah, no thank you." You said.

There was no such thing as a first chock where you came from. Where you came from the water was swimable right away. You were fine where you were, sitting on the bank of the lake, watching your friends splashing away.

At one point you had gone to lay down, basking in the warmth of the sun. When suddenly, a large shadow was casted over you, blocking the light.

"Hot dog?"

You removed you sunglasses and was forced to tilt your head all the way back to meet the height of, "Erling?"

His eyes squinted in the sun, hair dripping wet with lake water. In his hands he carried two hot dogs coated with ketchup and mustered. "This one's for you." He said, offering you a hot dog.

You eyed the ketchup coated piece of meat, trying not to grimarce at the stench of it. "Oh, that's very sweet of you Erling, really. But I don't eat meat."

"No?"

You shook your head. "No, sorry. It was very kind of you though."

You watch Erling pull back his offering, a slight dent between his brows. "Well, can I get you something else then?"

"Huh?" You had put your shades back on, preparing to lay down again. However, Erling still stood by your side, blocking the sun.

"Can I get you something else?" He shrugged. "Maybe something to drink?"

"I don't drink."

"Not even water?" He frowned.

"What, no. I do."

"You do. Great! Water it is."

"Erling, no." You stopped him from retrieving a bottle of water from the cooler. You didn't mean to come off as rude as you did. However, water dripping from Erling's hair was dampening your towel.

"Not water? How about a soda?"

"No, Erling." You sighed. "What I was meant to say is that I'm not thristy or hungry at all. So please keep your hot dogs and leave me alone."

Erling's expression faded, like a puppy dog denied of a treat. "Right, sure." He nodded. "I'll leave you alone."

"Thank you."

You fell back onto your towel, hearing how Erling's footsteps made their way back to the lake, to the others. You wouldn't have made much of your encounter if it hadn't been for your friend, Nicole, pulling you aside at the end of the day, while everyone else helped carry things back to the cars.

"What have you done to Erling?" She asked.

"Pardon?"

"Don't act dumb Y/N. I saw the two of you talking on the beach earlier. What did you say to him?"

"What do you mean?" You thought back to your brief and quite pointless conversation. What had been so sagnificant about it?

"Look at him." Nicole said, and nudge you in the direction were Erling was helping the others load things onto the cars. But unlike the others,  Erling wasn't loading things onto the cars, he was throwing them. It was impressive. How he carried an entire BBQ over his shoulders just to throw it onto the flat bed of your friend's car.

"Careful with that." You friend hissed, displeased with Erling who muttered to himself as he stomped away.

"Do you see now?" Nicole said.

"What, that Erling almost damaged Tim's dad's BBQ grill? Yeah, that was pretty foul of him."

"No, Y/N." Nicole groand. She put her hands on your shoulders, attempting to shake some sense into you. "Can't you see what mood Erling's has been in ever since the two of you talked?"

"So? What does that have to do with..."

"Because he likes you, Y/N. He really likes you and apparently you told him to leave you alone."

"I....what?" It was a little bit hard to comprehend, Erling Haaland, into you? Since when?"

"He's had a crush on you forever." Nicole explained. "But apparently everyone knows accept for you."

"Accept for me..." You mumbled, glancing towards Erling's. You saw the damage you had caused, how his usually contagious smile was totally wiped away, replaced by a deep frown that didn't really suit him.

"You should talk to him. Maybe apologize."

"Apologize?" You frowned. "But I didn't...."

"At least set things straight." Nicole nodded. "If you don't like him back at least be honest about it, maybe then he can move on."

"Right. Move on." But how the hell would you do that?

Part 2

[tua-five]

Season 3 Episode 1!!

I am so excited for this season. Especially today's episode.

⚠️⚠️ If you haven't watched any of this season, I'd advise not to read any of my posts in the next 10 days. Get to it! ⚠️⚠️

I am very much so sorry about how long this is. There is a lot to say today. I wish I could've added more gifs, but of course, it limits me to 10.

Let's all be real. We ALL thought the dance off was real. 100%. It's definitely something they would do.

Okay, I'll jump back a bit now. It's a nice touch that they showed Ben being birthed this time. Since the 10-second clip at the end of the last episode, Ben is the biggest anomaly.

And then there's the matter of 16 rather than 43. Which we'll find out why in a couple of episodes. I do wonder, however, if this time, Reginald told the Sparrows about the other 9 powered kids.

Then the next big difference is the Sparrow Academy being introduced as their names and then Aka #1 or etc. It makes me wonder if Grace still named them or if Reginald did it this time.

Also, can we talk about Marcus?? What are his powers? Okay. So, after a quick Google search, he has Superhuman Strength and Enhanced Resilience. But that is the exact same powers as Luther, and somewhere along the way, I believed that that was not possible.

Actually, I want to talk about all of them, so maybe I'll make a separate post for that.

Anyhoo, Ben saying "cute hat Sundance" was really funny.

But Klaus checking to see if everyone could see Ben too was cute, but it was actually sad. He had to make sure they could see him because Klaus didn't believe that he was actually alive. He just thought that Ben was back. That maybe even though (their) Ben is gone, that maybe he came back when they came home.

Luther's love at first sight moment is just like "ugh, again". But it is cute.

I also want to talk about Grace, but that is far too long, and it will veer too far off from today's episode.

Yeah, so the first time around, I definitely thought that the whole footloose scene was real and was definitely gravely disappointed that it wasn't. Luther saying "Protecting our honor, bro" was definitely weird, but I mean... that's the whole show, so.

Speaking of this scene... Jayme's powers.. She has hallucinogenic spit, which first she spits on Diego and then later Five. It is assumed that the spit makes you hallucinate what you desire most, so for Five, it was obviously his "love" Delores. Which then transformed into a human, and of course, he started making out with it. Diego, however, hallucinated a dance off?? I mean, obviously, I could definitely see him wanting that. My point here, though, is that Five acted out his desires/with it. Diego is sweating when he comes out of his delusions, so if it wasn't so bizarre, you could imagine him actually acting it out, running around the house dancing. Although, it didn't actually happen, and he didn't act it out. Because if he did, everyone would be looking at him weird, not only Jayme looking at him. But it's funny to think about him running around dancing to seemingly nothing while the others just watch in astonishment.

Viktor being the one to want to talk it out is so real. He was never one for violence until it was forced out of him. Quite literally.

Also, "Ben-er-ino's" haircut is pretty bad. Klaus wasn't lying.

So much just happened in 3 seconds. Diego calling Christopher a litter box, Diego understanding it?? How?? And him saying his hair is nice and was era appropriate 😭

Even though it's so simple, this will always be one of my favorite lines"

"You're alive, that's great. Or possibly horrible, I'm not really sure yet."

"Is that some kind of weird smack talk?"

"It's more of an existential problem, really, Ben." *Flips hair casually like he's not fighting his supposed to be dead brother.*

Diego is definitely the most unhinged Hargreeves. And that's saying a lot. "Who's your daddy? I'm your daddy! Who's. Your. Daddy?"

There's a lot of great little lines in here, and none of them are appreciated. Like Jayme saying, "Hey short pants... what's up?" In a sing songy voice.

And Marcus and Luther.

"See, bigger isn't always better."

"Is that what you tell your girlfriends?"

Marcus does have a temper tantrum, though. He literally stomps his foot like a little kid on Luther's chest. Makes me want to say "aww, are you a wittle angy? 🥺"

"I'm not your father, young man. Not anymore. Biscuit?" Reggie says it so ominously and then so sweetly, "Biscuit? 🤠"

"I don't know.. I've just never had my ass handed to me like that before. It's like, here you go 🤲 it's your ass 🤲🍑"

I feel bad for Five. Which I've said before, but I'm saying it again. It's always on him. They just got back from being demolished by the Sparrow Academy, and Allison is like, "Shouldn't you know?" Like, no. Not all the time. How is he supposed to know? Yeah, five, it's going to take you more than 20 minutes and a dramatic brain injury to figure things out. Diego is mocking him and how his powers are so hard, and Allison is like, Five, where the hell is the briefcase. Like, how is he supposed to know?? Not everything is his fault.

Grace being infatuated with "God" in the basement will always be weird to me.

Klaus will always be Klaus, though. "I missed you you slutty ol' dame. Absorb her, absorb her into your bosom."

I'd hate to be Patrick, though. Like.. some random lady calls and tells him to tell a Claire that mommy misses her.. and then that random lady breaks into his house. Like um... yikes.

Also, can we talk about the Sparrows running on treadmills and Christopher pretends to, just floating in the air spinning?? What???

Marcus telling Reginald to sit like a dog is crazy though. I do feel bad for him. They've got him hopped up on pills and everything. Even though he turns out to still be manipulative.

"I kissed Sissy goodbye a few hours ago. Give or take 50 years." Viktor 😭 sweetie 😭😭

Viktor went from being sweet and innocent with that little talk with Marcus, to straight-up threatening him. "Because your team is good. Better than mine, maybe. But I don't think you're better than me, Marcus. I ended the world, twice. And you? You're just meat in spandex." Like, dang!! Okay, pop off, I guess.

Also, I love how the siblings make sure Five doesn't feel like a kid even though he looks like one. Or, at least Luther and Diego the most. Luther, on countless occasions, has called Five "old man," and Diego just said, "So sput it out, Boomer!" That was funny, I'll admit.

"So if you ever see your other self—"

"Kill them." Of course, Diego would say this.

"Sleep with them." Klaus???

"😦🫥... Avoid them." Exactly. The only obvious answer??

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I agree, Luther.

"Oh, come on. As if you wouldn't climb Luther-Mountain." No, Klaus. Luther would not do that to himself. That is just crazy.

Lila dropping Stanley on Diego is bizarre, by the way. And claiming he's their son. I can't believe I even believed that. I mean, he's not even the same ethnicity as either of them. Diego was right when he kept saying "alleged son."

I'm really sad that they killed Mr. Pennycrumb in the first episode, though. But at least he made his show from the comics.

It's also sad that Five truly believes that the apocalypse is over. You, my old sir, did not win. Sorry to say.

Gif collection

Okay, I'm going to waste my last 5 gifs on this because it was hilarious, and everyone must relive it again. Moments like these show that they're siblings.

[ingravinoveritas]

hi again! you might already know about this, but i really felt like bringing it up to you!

turns out michael's mom is pretty active on twitter and these past few days she's been engaging nonstop with tweets talking about aziracrow being in love. she's definitelymichael's #1 fan, but i couldn't help noticing the amount of not-about-characters stuff she seems to engage with too. Among tweets talking about Aziraphale's loving stare, queer fans making our usual queer jokes and remarks about them, michael reading fanfiction, miles maitland gifs, there's a good amount of... this. She surely has liked random stuff among the 14.6k rts/likes she has, so i'm attatching some examples of what she's been liking and rting because-- what the hell (i even spotted one of your tweets in the mix!) she even liked a tweet calling AL and GT innefable wives ??

my first thought was how embarrased i'd personally be if my mom was seeing comments online about me and my best buddy being madly in love, let alone engaging with them, but after it settled i'm just... in awe that this probably +70 y/o woman is being this supportive over social media 😭 so heart warming (btw i'm sorry for randomly popping up into your questions twice today- i have literally made this account after finding yours, feeling a bit less alone in the world)

(Grouping these two Asks together since they are related.) Ask #1: Hi there! No need at all to apologize for being in my inbox twice in same day. I'm so glad that my blog has been helpful and meaningful to you, and that you felt compelled to write in as a result. Welcome aboard!

So, Mama Sheen. She's been doing this for years--at least since 2019, when I first started following Michael on Twitter--but I will tell you my slightly crackpot theory, which is that for a while back in the day, I thought that maybe her account was actually Michael's secret alt account. (What better place to hide than in plain sight, after all...). I'm not so sure about that now, of course, but it's been really interesting to see her retweeting so much shippy stuff involving Michael and David, and as both you and @tamose pointed out, she especially seems to have ramped it up since GO 2 came out.

I also wanted to touch on you describing Mama Sheen as Michael's #1 fan, because although I wholeheartedly agree, it's a curious thing to me that we can more easily see her as Michael's number one fan than his own girlfriend. It's Mama Sheen--not AL--who has been retweeting all of this, who's been cheering him on, engaging with fan content, and retweeting all things Ineffable Husbands/GO 2. I've written on my blog previously about how I've never really seen AL be supportive of him (and how she spent much of 2020 and 2021 making fun of his appearance/fat-shaming him), as well as how she is not at all part of that polyamorous/throuple dynamic with Michael, David, and Georgia. And while I know the lack of engagement and carefully calculated interactions/posts could be chalked up to her not being able to promote the show due to the SAG strike, that doesn't really excuse her tepid support of Michael himself.

(Also, don't even get me started on the cringeyness of Georgia and AL as Ineffable Wives, not to mention how insulting it is to David and Michael personally and to their work as professionals to suggest that they are replaceable/that Georgia and AL (or anyone else) could play Aziraphale and Crowley and give us the same dynamic and chemistry we saw on screen...)

But yes, going back to Mama Sheen, I have long thought that she seems to ship Michael and David, and how sweet and heartwarming it would be if Michael brought David over for tea or dinner--especially because his own mother passed away several years ago--and no doubt Mama Sheen would dote on him and make sure he's fed and happy. It's especially interesting to contemplate when we see this picture from the Bright Young Things UK premiere in 2003, which almost looks like Mama (and Papa) Sheen posing with Michael and his kilt-wearing Scottish boyfriend:

Beautiful. Well, it's certainly something delightful to think about, at any rate. Whatever the case may be, I fully agree that it is lovely to see Michael's mom being so supportive and accepting of her son, particularly in the midst of such a hostile, anti-LGBTQ climate in the UK. We love you, Mama Sheen! ❤️

[therentyoupay]

just want to quickly tell you that i really admire your dedication in completing your 'at the center' fiction, which is WOW, absolutely commendable!! ( and expanding other drabbles as well??? i'm blown away ).

although we've only been following each other recently, i hope to be like you someday and have the motivation to keep posting updates for my fics no matter how long it takes 🥹 okay that's all and have a very nice day!!

thank you!! 😭😭😭😭🙏🙏💖💖💖💖 so much!!! for your sweet comments and for the encouragement and for dropping by to leave a message 😭😭💖💖💖💖💖🙏🙏🙏🙏 I HOPE YOU, TOO, HAVE A VERY NICE DAY ✨

and i'd like to also take a moment to say a few words about (✨forging, fostering✨) the motivation to keep posting updates for fics (no matter how long it takes!!!!), but first, i'd also like to very briefly share with you two of my all-time favorite fanfiction WIPs (one is ongoing 20+ years, and the other is 10+) to help contextualize my response:

#1. ————

More Than Human (Words: 332,245 | Complete: No) by sbj "Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal." - Camus {High School AU!RrB/PpG}

FIRST PUBLISHED: January 31, 2009

LAST UPDATED: June 18, 2019

As of January 7, 2024, the chapter updates span 10 years, 4 months, and 21 days

#2. ————

Re-Entry (Words: 568,178 | Works: 22 | Complete: Yes) and Re-Entry: Journey of the Whills (Words: 923,940 | Works: 59 | Complete: No) Obi-Wan Kenobi, while still a young Padawan, suffers an injury and wakes up with all of the memories, experience, training, and Force-strength of Old Ben Kenobi. {Time Travel AU!Star Wars Re-Write} by flamethrower

FIRST PUBLISHED: October 1, 2002

LAST UPDATED: December 30, 2022

As of January 7, 2024, the chapter updates span 20 years, 3 months, and 6 days

————

these WIPs are only two examples! tons of my favorite stories have spanned multiple years of progress!

mine! ————

at the center (Words: 395,094 | Complete: No) by @therentyoupay Legends and fairy tales, magic and myths, and—at the center of it all—a story of a young, future-Queen and her young, ageless-Guardian; a girl cursed with fear and a god frozen in time, and all of the reasons why seeing isn't always at the heart of believing. {Guardian AU!Jelsa}

FIRST PUBLISHED: January 17, 2014

LAST UPDATED: January 2, 2024

As of January 7, 2024, the chapter updates span 9 years, 11 months, and 22 days (happy almost 10th anniversary!! ✨)

thoughts & feelings! ————

everyone writes at their own pace, in their own time, with the best resources they have, according to whatever life stage(s) they are at 💕

~most readers generally express gratitude and understanding and patience! fandom culture (across fandoms) shifts and changes all the time, so while there are times in fandom (generally) in which the ✨entitled expectation✨ is for fic authors to "WRITE FAST, PUBLISH OFTEN," there are also times in which readers go out of their way to share beautifully encouraging messages like "even if you never update again, i am so grateful for what you have given us (so far)!" and "i will wait for this story to update for the rest of my life, and i will be happy with an update no matter how long it takes" and, often—both messages at the same time. 💖

a good skill to develop is the mental strength to withstand the not-so-nice messages while absorbing the positivity of the lovely ones! i don't post or respond to the really nasty anons i sometimes receive 👀 like the ones that accuse me of having "abandoned nearly all [my] fics"—i personally delete them immediately! anons like that do not deserve someone else's ✨energy✨. (for the first time—i think, ever?—i did post someone's confusing? rude? anon the other day [i.e., i am a hoarder who creates suffering by withholding fic updates?? i think??], but i attribute that choice to publicly post [my reaction gif to that anon] to my current Life Stage™ and my hard-earned self-confidence in the knowledge that I Can Do Hard Things. ✨ my development of that muscle has come from finishing other long-progress fanfics, and, to be honest, Real Life Milestones like going to grad school [twice] and Doing a Dissertation ✨). all in all, the motivation to keep updating is really, at its core, about having the will and the time and the mental energy and the passion to dedicate time to something that you really want to do, even through all the obstacles and nonsense, which takes mental (and emotional) strength! 💖 develop and fortify your mental fortitude! 💖💖💖💖 it's a lifelong process! ✨

and lastly, and most importantly, in my opinion... regardless of whether or not you think any potential readers might be out there (chances are there WILL BE, but that's not the point!!!), just keep writing... and write what you want, and write for yourself! whether you update in two days, or ten years, or twenty-two—do it, anyway!! 💖💖💖💖💖

LOVE YOU, THANK YOU, GOOD LUCK 💖✨ (and keep me posted lol)

[the-marshals-wife]

Alright, I am in love with Wrecker having kids of his own. 🥺 he'd be such a sweet dad and I can't wait to see the rest of the batch as fathers! I was wondering though, would you ever do this for the 501st or any other clones? Cause I'd be here for it for sure 🥺💕💖 Especially if you did Hardcase becoming a dad, that goof ball would be adorable ahhh! Anyways, I can't wait to read the rest of the batch!! 😭💖💕💞💖💕💞

A/N: Oh my goodness yes, time for some Hardcase representation! I think there'd be a lot of similarities between Wrecker's and Hardcase's parenting styles. Thank you for your continued support of my writing and blog! 💙

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Having A Child With Hardcase Would Include

Description: Hardcase x Fem!Reader. As with my other clone headcanons/preferences, it's a Y/N insert story with the number of children I envision reader and Hardcase having.

Rating: General audiences (with a spicy reference if you squint), AU fluffiness where Umbara turns out different and this sweetheart gets the life he deserves 😌| Gif credit: user rexsjaigeyes

There is never a dull moment with Hardcase

If you thought parenthood was going to slow him down in any way, no you didn't

Becoming a father only amplified his playful, witty personality, something you didn't think was scientifically possible

When you told him you were pregnant, he all but bounced off the walls

Hardcase was "so kriffin' excited" to become a dad

He said exactly that to every person that crossed his path for weeks on end, especially his brothers

"How did I get so lucky? I can't believe it."

("Me either. Y/N actually thinks the galaxy can survive a smaller, louder version of you" - Fives, probably)

You were admittedly a bit nervous about becoming a parent, but as always, Hardcase had no fear

He tackled the learning curve head on, and it brought you so much joy and confidence to see his paternal instincts kick in as you both prepared for the arrival of your little one

Suddenly, he was aware of every hazard he'd never paid attention to himself, and in just a few hours, he completely baby-proofed every inch of your apartment

He even kept track of the days in your pregnancy, counting down to your expected due date

He loves (to attempt) cooking for you

Is he great at it? No. Did he burn everything at first and almost set your kitchen on fire three times? Definitely. Did he get better with practice and learn to make your favorite foods just the way you like them? Absolutely

Lots of cuddles watching holos together

Whenever he had to leave for the day, he would always kiss you first and then your growing belly

"Can't leave without telling our baby goodbye."

You adore how much he says that - our baby - and how much he's already devoted to being a dad

On your difficult pregnancy days, he would always be by your side to talk to you and tell you jokes until you were smiling again

Love At First Sight

From the moment your daughter was born, he was wrapped around her little finger

"She's so beautiful. Look what we made. No growth chamber or anything."

You jokingly reminded him that that was technically your role

"Oh...right. Of course. Great job! Not a single crack in the jar. Better than Kamino!"

In the weeks after your daughter was born, it was a battle to get Hardcase to put her down, literally

"Where I go, she goes."

Many naptimes were spent on her daddy's chest because he simply didn't want to let her out of his sight

(Sorry to report that diapers are you division, though. You just can't put your poor darlings through that again...)

Seeing him dote on your little girl so much only made you fall in love with him more; you were proud to call him the father of your children

Oh yes, children. You weren't done adding to the ranks of your little battalion, and neither was your cyare

A year and a half later, you gave birth to not one, but two sons

More than a few tears were shed as Hardcase held the twins in his arms

You better believe he was telling everyone about it too, calling many of his brothers to share the news before you even left the hospital

("We're doomed" - Fives again, probably)

How do you do, fellow kids?

Hardcase is a child himself at heart, which means he is your children's first and favorite best friend

Whatever they're interested in, you can bet he's into it too

He watches more children's holos with them than you do, and you're the one who stays home

Seriously, he knows all the words to the theme songs, the lore for each show, and the powers and skills of every character - it's a big thing that he and the kids bond over

Boredom is not a word in your house

Whatever your children ask for, Hardcase ensures they get (within reason)

He's likely getting something for himself too, especially if it's sweets

They want to build model starships? He's first in line at the market in the morning to get the kits

Your daughter wants to play dolls? You better believe her daddy is on that floor doing the right voices and following the story lines (and maybe causing the occasional pretend explosion or starship crash because he lives for the Drama™)

They all want to turn the livingroom into a battlefield to fight imaginary droids? Guess who their commander is

"Why not promote myself? I earned it!"- Hardcase when you teasingly pointed out his new rank

You enjoy getting in on the fun too and being the Zillo Beast attacking the barracks or the queen taken hostage that the dashing commander and his squad have to rescue from a den of bounty hunters

I cannot stress this enough: ANTICS

Pillow fights and roughhousing? HE probably started it

He's taking the fall for it too, because he'd rather face a firing squad than see any of his little troopers in trouble

In the everyday domestic disputes, discipline obviously begins and ends with you

You had to convince him that timeouts were not equivalent to capital punishment

Even then, you have to stop him from letting the kids out early

Bed times? What are those?

Speaking of bed, you had to invest in a bigger one because your beloved couldn't bear sending any of the kids away when they wanted to sleep with mom and dad

Seriously, he cannot say no to his babies

No night is complete with out tickle fights, either

Despite often having a foot in your ribs (which doesn't always belong to a child), you actually love sleeping with your family near and wouldn't have it any other way

Exception: the kids get sent to their own beds immediately when mommy wants a tickle fight with daddy. Commander's orders.

It's not only fun and games

With a little coaching from you, Hardcase was able to find balance between work and play, especially as the kids entered adolescence

It's not his strong suit, but he genuinely tries to help them with their academy studies (eventually they learn to go to you first; dad is for times of desperation only)

He is, however, at the ready any time they need a good joke or exciting story to brighten their day and banish their stress

Family holo night is mandatory

There's usually bickering over what to watch - i.e. your partner and offspring are disputing which loud, brightly-colored animated holo to put on - but diplomacy resumes as soon you bring the snacks out

Sometimes you just can't help but laugh and watch the chaos

All of your children certainly inherited their father's bold enthusiasm for life and passionate courage

When your daughter began to experience bullying at academy for standing up for a friend, Hardcase wasted no time expressing how proud he was of her for doing what's right

He was equally supportive of the boys when they later showed interest in weapons training and possible careers in the military

Just as when they were younger, he is always there for them to make them smile and feel secure and loved

There's no limit to what Hardcase will do for his family, and you wouldn't trade one day of your beautiful, whirlwind life with him for anything in the galaxy

[sarnai4]

Facial Expressions

As a quick thought (and spoiler alert), I love how the facial expressions Dagur has. I mean, I can almost play a game of looking at random pictures or gifs of him and trying to guess if he's good or bad. Like this:

He's good here🤣. I wish I had a gif of right before he shoved this poor man in the chicken seed because he was so into that moment. Or may I present:

I legitimately couldn't even figure out which episode this was because I kept searching for Season 1 and 2 episodes where he had a spear. No one would've convinced me that this 😈face came from redeemed Dagur. I had to watch it for myself, but this is him about to spar against Mala. He looks like someone's about to die. And then you have this cute moment:

Too bad he would've happily gutted anyone of the Berkians immediately after being out of the hug. Bad Dagur shouldn't be allowed to have cute moments. It's confusing. He's still my favorite hero and villain, but it makes me feel like I need to be redeemed if I'm "aw"ing the evil times. Last one. I promise.

He looks so calm! It's deceiving! This is the same episode where he howls at the moon and tries to kill Toothless. I think the only time he ever looks this calm and at peace again is when he's looking at Heather right before he tries to sacrifice himself. He'd just accepted that death was okay if it kept his little sis alive😭. I should try to play this game with someone who's never seen the show. If any of you try, please share the results because I'd love to see them.

[loganhowlctt]

Anniebanannie I just want to tell you (yet AGAIN) how much of a blessing your gifs are on my dash, on my life, on my entire existenceee! I've been quite disappointed with Mando this season (do share your thoughts if you have time to spare, I'd love to hear them!) but seeing your gifs just make it all the better! Sending you tons of love 🤍🤍🤍

man idk what else to say but thank you?? i always feel so blessed seeing a message from you in my inbox 🥺🥺

yeah honestly this season of mando is not it i can't believe we waited 2 years for this 😭😭 where did my space western go?? why is din a side character now?? like literally in s1 and s2 i had an abundance of din moments i could gif, and in some episodes this season it was like searching for scraps 🥲

episode 1 was alright but it was just kinda downhill from there, though i do feel like they're kinda picking it up again with ep 7. but i still don't like how much it focuses on bo-katan (who i've never been a huge fan of and because of this season even less so). i am so very scared with what will happen to din in the finale, i've seen many different theories going around and none of them predict anything good. and i really don't like this "marvel-fication" of star wars, with almost all the shows weaving into eachother and what will seem to culminate in a movie what will basically be star wars: endgame. like i don't care about thrawn mentions leave that for the ahsoka series and give me back my father and son show 😠

i just get very upset and frustrated when media has so much wasted potential. what i would've loved to see is din being separated from grogu from an entire season, and get some character growth from both of them. does din really want to go back to his bounty hunting days like nothing happend? does he really want to redeem himself in the living waters, or does he want to live by his own ways and be able to show his face to his son? maybe we see grogu struggling more with his training because he can't let go of his attachment to din, so it would make more sense for him to choose din in the end because he would never be able to be a full jedi.

i'm very curious to see what the finale will be and how it will set up season 4, just let din be alright i don't care about anything else 😭

[mushroomwriter]

hermanos anon again, all the best for your exam!! ooh, i'm very interested in whatever you'll gif, i'm sure it will be lovely! and thank you once more asdfjsk i'm absolutely starved for hermanos content (and the spinoff didn't provide at all) so you are doing God's work <3

Oh, it was exactly the same for me! It's a long story but at first I really wasn't interested in the show at all, but my family would put it on during every meal so I'd catch a few episodes here and there, I even missed the bella ciao scene at first. But during s2 when tokyo confronts Sergio about Andrés knowing his name, and we get like a 10 sec flash to the bella ciao scene, that was my first time I went "what's going on here" and the seed for my hermanos obsession was planted XD If you'd said to me back in 2019 that 5 years later these 2 would be my favourites and I'd still be loving and missing them, I'd never have believed it lol. I rewatched some scenes I'd missed, by the s2 finale I was invested and the hermanito reveal made me cry 😭💔

You're not alone, I will never recover from that either. In fact, allow me to make the scene worse for you - there's one thing I noticed when rewatching the show. When Tokyo dies/Raquel 'fake' dies, both times Sergio is pleading with them too to get away or give him up. But you'll notice in both cases he's adamantly giving "orders" in a sense, he doesn't use the words "por favor". There's only one scene where he switches from orders to child-like pleading, and that's the hangar scene. He's pleading, begging Andrés to leave and he screams 'Andrés por favor' desperately.

(pt 2) Sergio really is so comfortable with affection from Andrés, love the way you put it! And hahaha Andrés is the most Unhinged Bastard Man but that flies out the window with hermanito, he's always so fond of him. One of my favourite things about their relationship is how they are both such cold/reserved people otherwise but around each other they can show their genuine emotions, it's beautiful. The guantanamera scene is like a perfect time capsule of their bond, the mingled grief and love, the joy and the sorrow, the smiles and tears. And how despite Andrés is the one with a death sentence looming over him, it's him trying to cheer up Sergio, just like in the Bella Ciao scene it's him singing "che mi sento di morir" and continuing on till Sergio smiles. Anyway it's truly such a precious scene and I love how it ends with their silly little dance moves, gives me so much serotonin :') Please don't apologise about replying late, I loved reading your thoughts too! It's such a joy to find a fellow heist brothers fan :D I just hope I'm not bothering you with my rambles asfdfjsk I've been thinking abt them a lot lately 😅 Thank you for the gifset again and for being so kind, hope you have a great day 💗

hi there!! I'm finally here! Thank you so much for the well wishes, I passed! I really hope so, I'm still in search of inspiration... maybe I need to rewatch their scenes a little more... Aw, don't mention it, I also have a high need for hermanos content tbh (I knooow, I didn't have a lot of hope but a tiny teeny part of me did hope Sergio would show up and I'm so sad he didn't!) it's a honour to be able to provide some food 🫡

Oh, that's cool! I remember that scene in season 2, and I love the shot we get of the hug there, like you can really see how protective it is, the way Andrés crandles Sergio's head and back... so yeah, I can totally see how that moment planted the first seed for your hermanos obsession! The hermanito reveal was such a gut punch, there is little to do...

And wow, thank you, this did indeed make that scene even worse for me, I didn't think it was possible! You're so right, oh no... really, the way Sergio sobs "Andrés, por favor!" is so child-like and heart-wrenching... literally a little brother begging his big brother not to leave him, and knowing on some level that he'll never be able to make him change his mind... I need to curl up into a ball for a while ahhh

That's definitely one of my favourite things too, they're so calculating but around each other they feel safe and comfortable enough to let their guard down... brothers!! Yesss, that's such a big brother moment for Andrés! Like he can be pretty self-centered but there he clearly puts Sergio's needs above his and I melt! Side note about the bella ciao scene, I wonder if Andrés singing "e se io muoio da partigiano tu mi devi seppellir" on his own was supposed to be some sort of foreshadowing of the fact he'll die and Sergio'll survive... I mean, "and if I die as a partisan you must bury me" is basically what happened, isn't it? Except that now I'm struck by the thought that probably Sergio couldn't bury Andrés, coudn't take care of his brother's body... OH NO. On a happier note, I love the way Sergio asks Andrés, "we're the resistance, aren't we?" in the bella ciao scene, it almost sounds like it used to be an inside joke, maybe something they told each other when they were younger, captivated by their grandfather's stories... And yes, Sergio "I don't dance" Marquina WILL dance if his big brother so requires :D

I'm glad to hear that! I hope you'll see this reply too (the last few weeks have been pretty hectic, I was either busy or super tired all the time) and rest assured your rambles don't bother me at all, I LOVE THEM! ❤️ Thank you for your enthusiasm, truly, I hope you have a great day too!

[tua-five]

Season 3 Episode 10

"Oblivion"

There's a couple references to all seasons here

The last episode of season 3. Tomorrow is the day.

Ben flicking the tail 😭

This is so sad. I'm not ready. I'm so scared. Just thinking that Luther and Klaus died... I mean, I know everything is fine at the end of the episode, but right now... they're like, dead dead.

It's crazy how Klaus doesn't like pineapple on pizza. Him out of all the siblings, should.

"Nah, it's like the old man said. Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, and three times ain't gonna happen 'cause I'm not a gibbering idiot." Fair enough.

"Hey, buddy 🤗"

"You 👿"

Speaking of the bouncy house. When Klaus lands, he says, "This is someone's idea of heaven?"

There's a couple of things with that. First of all, yes. Second of all, the fact that it is, means it's most likely a kid. And it's really sad to think that a kid died. There's a whole birthday party behind them... so that just makes me curious.

Also, him saying this means that that is how it works. When you die, you go to a place that you imagine to be heaven.

Reginald does have a point. Ben says that he made it happen. Being in Hotel Oblivion. But seriously. He did nothing to contribute to that fact.

Love how Five came out of the room, and it changed to number 5.

Reginald is genuinely surprised when Klaus comes. Just thought I'd point it out.

"You're going to ruin everything!"

"Oh, if I had a nickel for every time I heard that, I'd have a dollar."

Well, you know. Maybe this time, it's better to ruin everything.

They're all like, which idiot sibling rang the bell, when really it was the idiotic manipulative Sir Reginald Hargreeves.

Diego panicking and asking what floor is so real, though.

"Revenge looks good on her."

"Would you shut up and help us kill this thing?"

And then Ben just sits there. Watching.

And again, Five with the axe 😭

Love that for him.

Oh, yay. Ben finally contributing. I think part of it is because part of him is still umbrella Ben. And scared of his powers.

That or he's just a wimp.

And I love the Lila-Viktor duo. "This feels oddly familiar."

"At least this time we're not aiming at each other."

Very true. Now kill it.

Great. Now Five has lost his arm.

And Luther... 🥺😢

And the life being sucked out of them... (for some of them again if we go back to season 1).

The most impressive thing about reginald isn't that he is an alien. It's that his monocle stayed on when he fell over and died.

Ray being here, in this timeline, isn't right. He said it himself in season 2. He didn't want to come with to 2019. He had to stay for the movement. And now he's here. That's got to mess things up. The huterrfly effect. I don't care if it's a whole new timeline and it's reset. It isn't supposed to be like this.

"Obsidian Memorial Park. Graciously donated by Sir Reginald Hargreeves this 1st day of October 1989."

That date seems to always pop up. We all connect it to the Hargreeves's birthday. But it was never about them, was it? No. It's always been about Reginald. And Abigail. I'd say it's the day she died, but that isn't true. Reginald came to Dalas after she died way before 1989. So something else happened.

"Well, what are we supposed to do?"

"Live our lives." Yeah. And that's what you do. For six years, five months, and two days. Because you guys will never get peace.

What I don't like is Five looks so distraught. Confused. Yet there are no words when he looks at Viktor. Then turns and leaves.

And they all live their lives separately. Trying to figure out how to be normal again. For some, just trying to figure out how to be normal, how to live, for the first time. While Allison and Reginald get the life they wanted.

And Ben goes away on train. After being rude and grouchy, he smiles.

Here's a few gifs, but I'll actually create separate posts of just todays gifs.

[moonyslove78]

Holy fuck @liz-allyn ! 😳🤯 I may actually be rendered speechless here!

Just kidding, you know I can't let a chapter (especially THIS chapter) slide by without spilling the entirety of my heart and soul out in review form. So, I'll immediately apologize for how long this is... but here we go!

First, I'd like to address this...

heavy chapter warnings for S&V John Walker

Because that absolutely is the best possible trigger warning you can give for that asshole, dickhead, bitchass mother fucker, pathetic abusive son-of-a-bitch, CUNT!

Yeah, I think it's safe to say I have a severe hatred for John Fucking Walker.

So the beginning of the chapter already had me in tears…

The obvious solution was to trim her nails. She had to. It had to be done. They didn’t own a pair of nail clippers, Honey knew that. But it was on her to fix things. She was in charge. So she took a pair of kitchen scissors and tried her best.

This tore my heart into shreds. 💔😢 It's the "tried her best" that got me good, because it shows the weight of the world on her shoulders already, at such a young and impressionable age. I just couldn't imagine the pain she went through growing up in the household that she did. And it breaks my fucking heart.

“You know. In case you ever have to hide a dead body.”  It was a joke. Until it wasn't. John changed that.

Ouch... one hurt a lot to read. The wound is still fresh with this one and it's awful that it had to be THIS tragedy that made it become "not a joke" anymore. And then the realization following this statement that the only thing left of him was the blood she was covered in, so she didn't want to wash it away... UGH! I seriously miss him already and I'm gonna cry and be salty about it for a moment... so you'll have to excuse me here.

You know my ass was cheering for her (better late than never, IMHO) when she glared at that fucking phone before tossing it in the toilet bowl! I know it's not even important to THEM now, but in my eyes, this was a turning point for her. She needed this to be able to move on....and hopefully forgive herself for the decisions she made because of it.

Ben and May’s wedding rings. Tarnished. Stained with blood. He quickly reached for the towel.

😭😭😭

This killed me just as much as the part about Honey cutting infant Gabby's nails with kitchen scissors. He wasn't at all triggered by his appearance and pain he was feeling physically. But he did NOT want Ben and May's rings to be tainted by the blood that stained them. My heart broke for him all over again. Because all I was picturing was a young heartbroken and rageful Peter Paker pulling their wedding bands off their cold, bloody hands and cleaning the blood off of them, just to put them in a safe place until he could find a better place for them... next to his heart. 💔 Ugh! My feels!

Perfect for concealing weapons. After all, he was dressing for a funeral.

Yes, and that funeral shall be a JOYOUS one! (Seriously, fuck John Walker...)

“Thought you were getting some sleep.” Peter’s tone was flat. His eyes flicked back to his reflection as he tugged on the lapels of his blazer.

Not when you're dressed like that and I know what's happening! I think not! I am attending the same funeral, you can bet on that! And boy am I glad she stood her ground! When he asked her "And what, ya think killing him is gonna fix it?" My mind was totally screaming, "YES! YES, it definitely will help, at least!" Her response was even better though.

“I don’t care about feeling better!” she barked back. He neatly flinched at the sharpness of her tone. Fury bubbled beneath her skin. “The only thing I care about is that he suffers.”

I couldn't have said it better myself, Honey! 👏 (I couldn't help but use this gif here because I needed some kinda comic relief in the moment. 😅)

The fact that she knew immediately, by just the short statement of "Too many people have already gotten hurt." that this meant he was going after John without telling anyone else blew me away. To me, that spoke volumes of not only his character, but her knowledge of such. She knows him so well now, that she knew just by those words alone, he wasn't risking informing anyone else of what he was doing because he knew they wouldn't let him go in without backup. And he wasn't going to lose anyone else.

“Rollins, don’t you dare bring the car around!” she commanded, blocking Peter’s path and skewering him with a defiant glare.

YES!!! I loveeeeee that she was taking charge of the situation here. The fact that in the beginning I would've never thought I'd see the day where she demanded something of Peter's "employees" (I will now use that term loosely for asshole Rollins... I fucking knew this fucker couldn't be trusted... but that's for another part of this review) Let alone when it is going against a command that Peter gave them. And I am living for it!

There was sooooo much about the next part of the chapter that completely blew me away. First, her saying "You're not doing this for us, Peter!" made my heart clench! Because in other words, she was saying that if he was thinking about them he wouldn't be risking his life. That he wouldn't be selfish about the revenge factor and would realize what Peter being in danger would be doing to her. To everyone.

“If I were doing this for Eddie,” he said, “I’d make ‘em watch me kill everything he ever loved, ya feel me? ‘Course, I highly doubt you were ever on that list, so you’ve got nothin’ to worry about.” She barked a bitter laugh. “So this is, what, payback? Your stupid, dick-measuring way of defending my honor?”

This was such a formidable statement. It literally gave me chills reading it. Though, I almost feel like John doesn't have anything/anyone he's ever loved... he's that much of a heartless spineless-- I'm gonna stop myself before I go off the rails again, or else we'll be here all week. 😂

But her response threw me! I was NOT expecting that. 👀

“No,” he said, deathly grave. “For what he did to you—I would keep him alive for as long as I possibly could.”

Talk about chills.

The fact that he wouldn't outwardly say the words "somebody else I love." But she already knows he does....makes his next words even more heartwrenching.

“I need to do this, Honey,” he whispered ruefully. He had calmed slightly, swallowing back his rage.  The only thing left behind was a tiny, heartbroken remark. “It’s the only thing I’m good at.” The corners of his mouth turned down sharply.

💔💔💔

The fact that he truly believes this to be true hurts so much. I just wanna wrap him in a big hug and sob that he is so much more than that. That he is better than just that. 😢

The admissions that he knew that she was running from something in her past, that there was a reason "the feds"/John had her doing their dirty work, that it absolutely did hurt him when she lied to him, that it wasn't just "business"/him using her as he tried to make himself believe at first and that all along he was afraid to ask her to tell him the truth, not only because he was afraid of what he would do when he found out... but that he thought that he was the reason for all of it, when all along John just wanted a way to get to her and he knows that he led him to her... This confession was something I'd definitely wondered about before. Wondering exactly how much he knew... It was slightly confirmed when Felicia mentioned knowing some of that information in the last chapter, but now knowing why he didn't push the subject makes it even more profound. He really believed deep down that she could never love him because that's what John wanted... it just makes me hate that dickhead even more. I should probably breathe before I go off on another tangent about how much he deserves to rot.

But no matter what, the fact that Peter was willing to risk everything to make sure she was free... free of all of it. He was determined to make sure she never had to live in fear. Running and hiding to save herself. That was fucking beautiful. 🥺❤️

And then, he was there... And his fucking traitorous henchmen!

Fucking Rollins... and the other two dicks. I can't say I didn't expect there to be an insider (besides Honey) but this just cemented the fact that John didn't need to involve her at all, much less in the threatening way he had. And in the moment Peter realized this, the betrayal ran even deeper.

Yet, his ability to produce the amount of blatant sarcasm and heat in his replies was pure perfection.

John’s humorless gaze turned into a cold glare. “I don’t know if you’ve heard,” he added vindictively, “but that’s my wife you have behind you.” His eyes lightened, and a callous smirk formed on his lips. “You mean that’s ‘your wife’ I’ve had beneath me,” Peter sneered lewdly.

This probably shouldn't have sounded as hot as it did, coming from Peter in this moment. But fuck if it didn't... 🥵🔥

“Yeeaah,” Peter chuckled mockingly, fueling John’s anger. “She told me all about you. Short story. If ya catch my drift.”

😅😅😅

This killed me! Just as much as the rest of his insult following. 👏😂 And what was better was that it gave him the reaction he was looking for. Of course, he wouldn't John Walker if he didn't go for the killing blow right out of the gate. He couldn't be a man and face his "foe" head on. He had to bring Honey down to make himself feel more powerful.

Though Peter wasn't having any of that. It was the “Anyone touches her, and I’ll send ya back home to your families in garbage bags.” that did it for me. Apparently for John, too. Since the "bringing Honey down" option didn't work in his favor, he figured bringing Gwen up would. And he knew that he hit a nerve with his words there, so why not test out the Honey theory for a second time. His willingness to say anything to make Peter doubt her, as well as himself, is such a John thing to do. Yet, all it did was make Peter hate the asshole even more. This was very evident in the way he replied with "Gloat all you want, asshole... She still dumped you."

And I was so relieved when she finally spoke up, the second the lie about him "pleasuring her on their date"! I was so worried that he was going to keep spewing lies upon lies because she wasn't in the right frame of mind to refute them.

And their, although ultimately in vain, thinking/working together to try to gain some kind of upper hand. Without a word being spoken between them, besides his words of "reassurance" that this was their chance... was something I didn't know I needed until I read it.

I am certainly glad our man Peter has a high pain tolerance and heightened healing abilities... This poor guy's been through the ringer physically in the last few months but more specifically the last couple days. SOMEONE (yes, I chose that color specifically for a reason 👀) will have to be sure to take good care of him later... *wink wink nudge nudge* 😂😅

I was saying while reading that next part "Can someone pleeeease come help Peter!" Like, I have all the faith in the world that had A. John not had Anti-Venom living inside him or B. Peter still had Venom inside him, that he could've handled shit on his own. But in his condition, with the deck stacked against him, I was just glad to see him holding his own in the moment. Surviving.

What I didn't expect was for Honey to take the reigns and throw herself at John's mercy. (when we all know, her more than anyone, that he hasn't got an ounce of it) I almost had a moment of "oh shit, this is actually about to happen... and Peter may possibly be in no place to prevent it... which is going to kill them both even more..."

But, Honey came through like the absolute badass we knew she is!

Or should I say Maricella now? 😍😍😍

THIS was an ultimate MJ moment if I've ever seen one! You don't know how much I wanted her to be "MJ" and you completely blew my expectations, for not only her name itself, but the reveal out of the water!

Her command that she was none of the names John's called her... and that she will not allow him to have that power over her any longer. THIS IS WHAT I CAME HERE FOR! (Well that and the beautiful love story that played out with it... and the smut in the future... okay, so I'm here for multiple reasons, but this is one of the main ones... 😂

“My name is Maricella Jimenez,” she hissed, sounding out each syllable carefully. “And you will remember it.”

Having this being the finality of her statement was completely poetic. Before she FINALLY was able to, and in the most perfect way, exact her revenge on (I like the way Peter worded it best) that "pathetic… wife-beating sack of shit"!

When we asked for justice to be served, that's exactly what we got. And though I know Peter had wished it could've been him to finish this. I am so glad it was her! This was what needed to be done. And how you did it, couldn't have been more perfect.

And thank goodness she had some "practice" with aim & shoot in the last few hours because she made those last few bullets count. Along with yet another moment of Peter and Honey synchronizing their attack. Even if not purposely.

There's soooooo much I could say about the next few parts but I've already taken up a LOT of characters and a ton of your time. So I'll just say that I was holding my breath the entire time. Waiting for the pin to drop. Hoping and praying that it wouldn't be her disassociating that would be his downfall.

He let go. Let go of his rage. Of his vendetta. Of his grief. Of his fantasies. He let go of the idea of Honey. From the depths of his bitter heart, he gave her his unconditional love. "What I want..."

It was in that moment that my heart simultaneously died and was jump started again.

That kiss was magic, Liz! 😍

The more I read, the more giddy I got! I mean, I know they've shared kisses before, but something about this one... okay, EVERYTHING about this one, screamed perfection on both parties side's. And I cannot WAIT to see what that "What I want... is for you to touch me." statement leads to! 😮‍💨

I am so excited to read the next part, I can't even deal! I just hope I'm not at work when you post it because I don't know how I'll ever be able to get any work done! 😅😂

And knowing that this amazing series is nearly over... I don't know how to feel about that! It's definitely going to be a bittersweet moment. Because I obviously (as well as, I'm sure, all of your loyal readers) hope to see a beautiful, long awaited growth, love-filled, happy ending... I also am very attached to these characters you've created and will hate to see it end.

You're truly brilliant, Liz! There are some fantastic writers here in this fandom, but I've not yet read a series with writing quite like yours. And the fact that you're such an amazing person, is just the cherry on top!

I will continue to shout it from the rooftops and in my abnormally LONG chapter reviews. (Like may as well be a novel long 😅) But it's nothing but the truth.

This work of art deserves a damn book deal!

sugar and vice, pt. 20 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader-oc]

summary: no more running. no more cages.

words: 10.7 k

chapter warning: heavy chapter warnings for S&V John Walker (it's a warning), SA, de@th, g0re, g!uns, vi0lence!

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

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

Don't date a mob boss.™️

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you don't know these TWs by now, then don't go here.

Back to Part 19.

Note: your comments and notes keep me alive, but please be careful to use section breaks and spoiler tags!

Part 20

Once when she was a little girl, she cut her baby sister’s nails. She had to. It was something that their mother would have done—should have done—but she hadn’t been home in several days. Her older sister had the most experience, but she was stuck working a double shift. Rebecca had been sick with a cold for days, and Selena was just a toddler. 

After all, it was her job to look after her younger siblings.

So that left Honey in charge. 

Poor Gabriella. The infant couldn’t stop scratching her face. Red lines marked up her round cheeks like tiger stripes. Honey knew if any of the children had too many marks, people would start to notice. Then something bad would happen, her mother assured her. People would come and take Gabriella away.

She tried everything to prevent the baby from digging her tiny claws into her own skin. She tried rolled socks as makeshift mittens. She tried using a bath towel as a swaddle, but that turned out to be an awful idea once the infant realized she was stuck and didn’t like being restrained. 

By contrast, being tied up wasn’t something that ever bothered Honey.

The obvious solution was to trim her nails. She had to. It had to be done. They didn’t own a pair of nail clippers, Honey knew that. But it was on her to fix things. She was in charge. So she took a pair of kitchen scissors and tried her best. 

After that, she was never okay with the sight of blood.

It used to bother her tremendously. She’d become agitated for a few days out of every month. Her other sisters would joke about it. ‘She must be on her period.’ They were right. 

As a teenager, the smallest knick from shaving her legs in the shower would send her into a dizzy spiral. Over time, it got better. John changed that.

Mrs. Walker became an expert at cleaning up blood. She learned to ignore the smell or at least put a dab of Vicks beneath her nose to block the stench. 

The only helpful thing she learned in high school chemistry was how blood cells expanded when coming in contact with warm water. Thus, her teacher told her, cold water was best for removing blood stains. 

“You know. In case you ever have to hide a dead body.” 

It was a joke. Until it wasn’t.

John changed that.

She sat on the tiled floor of her bathroom, shoulders slumped and expression blank. Now, it was impossible to get rid of the blood on her hands. She could strip off her clothes and burn them, but she felt it on her skin. She could shove an entire eucalyptus tree up her nose, but the scent would linger.

She was stained in rust colors, starkly contrasting the pristine ivory of her bathroom. Silently, she gazed at how the blood crusted on her skin, following the ridges of her pores like brush strokes in oil paint. The cotton hoodie and joggers she’d been wearing were soaked through. There had been so much carnage and death she didn’t even know whose blood she was wearing.

Helen’s. Johnny’s. Her own, probably. Blood from ‘that’ guy, whose scalp was torn off.

Eddie’s blood.

All that was left of his life stained her skin. She should be nauseous by now. She should be at least a little woozy. But, instead, the thought of just washing him away made her want to die inside. 

She would wear it, then. Needed to wear it—she had to. On her arms and face. On her neck. On her chest, like a scarlet letter. Irreversably stained.

Is this what it means to be desensitized to gore? 

Indeed, she felt nothing at all.

What happened, happened. The Bunker was in shambles. It would take months to repair. Would have if Peter hadn’t instructed them to burn everything left.

Every piece of incriminating evidence, every tool at their disposal, and every chapter of their history was on fire underground. Nothing would be left, no matter when the fire department showed up. Johnny had re-routed the gas lines years ago. With the flip of a switch, everything would go up in flames. Nothing could be salvaged. It would be an empty cave filled with useless, charred artifacts from an irrelevant time.

On second thought—she considered—that’s what she felt.

It was as good of a description as any.

After that morning’s attack, she was dropped off at the Penthouse. Peter would follow soon after, they told her. She shouldn’t wait up.

She had limped into her bathroom to clean off the remnants of the massacre. There she remained, for over an hour. Couldn’t get up off the floor. Couldn’t force herself to get in the shower.

At this rate, she may never be clean again.

Her eyes wandered to the smartphone beside her, tucked near her thigh. 

John’s phone.

This was the weapon that killed Eddie Brock. 

The second she had entered her room, she pulled the cursed object out from the box spring. She wanted to hand it over quickly so that Peni could analyze it. Could... study it, or whatever it is that tech nerds do. Honey would do anything to fix things.

But nobody cared about the phone. It was as good as a gun without bullets. A time bomb, two seconds too late. It was of no consequence.

She picked up the smartphone, glaring down at it with contempt. Sticky red fingerprints covered the cracked screen. Her blood. Their blood.

Eventually, she came to a stand. Then, bitterly, she dropped the phone into the toilet bowl, submerging it in water. 

Peter was finally home. But it didn’t feel like home.

His home was on fire, riddled with bullet holes. Just like the home he grew up in.

He stood before the full-length mirror in his wardrobe and wiped the blood stains away with a damp, pink-tinged towel. His flesh was now rubbed raw. The cotton fabric felt like sandpaper against his tender skin.

The obvious solution was to take a proper shower. But he didn’t have time. He only needed to get enough blood off to pass in broad daylight without someone calling the cops if they saw him. He wouldn’t get very far if he looked like an ax murderer.

With all the rage he held inside, an ax was unnecessary. Overkill. And yet, not enough ‘kill.’

He had redressed in clean clothes, wearing a pair of midnight-navy trousers with creased edges that were sharp enough to cut. He paused midway through buttoning a crisp, white dress shirt, momentarily taking in the gruesome sight of himself. 

His torso was a canvas splashed with deep purples and reds, stretched over a frame of broken ribs and pinched nerves. His eyes rested on the delicate box chain around his neck, which held two gold wedding bands near his heart.

Ben and May’s wedding rings. Tarnished. Stained with blood.

He quickly reached for the towel.

Minutes later, he carefully shrugged on a matching double-breasted blazer, wincing as he pulled it over his shoulders. Every part of him felt broken, in every possible way. But physical pain hadn’t stopped him yet, not when something more important was driving him.

He regarded his reflection with tight lips. He didn’t wear this jacket too often. It was a tuxedo cut and hung looser than he was accustomed to, making his frame appear boxy. A little too retro, maybe. 

Perfect for concealing weapons. After all, he was dressing for a funeral. 

His skin prickled. He was familiar with the sensation. He recognized it instantly, like an earthy scent before a rain shower. Honey’s reflection came into view as she approached the doorway behind him.

The sight of her covered in blood made his stomach clench. He reminded himself that it wasn’t all her blood, and only then did the tension in his chest release. But not entirely.

“Thought you were getting some sleep.” Peter’s tone was flat. His eyes flicked back to his reflection as he tugged on the lapels of his blazer. 

He didn’t say it as a question; rather, he stated it as an expectation.

She stared back, unfazed, wearing a stone expression. “What are you going to do?” 

Similarly, it wasn’t a question. More like a demand.

He briefly glanced at her before returning to the mirror. His jaw set firmly. “You don’t wanna know.”

She marched into the room. “You’re going after John. I want to help.”

“Help me?” he repeated with a scoff. “I don’t think so.”

Her forehead creased, offended. “Look, I can help—”

“Just what do you think is about to happen right now?” he snapped. He squinted his eyes, turning on his heel to face her. “Ya think we’re just gonna pull up on ‘em and that’s it? Ya think he’s just sittin’ around at home watching TV?”

“No,” she said. Her tone was unwaveringly resolved. “I think he’s expecting you to come after him.” 

“No shit,” Peter sighed with frustration. “I’m expecting to be expected.” He fixed a stern gaze on her, tension pulling at his vocal cords. “Only difference is I don’t care if he knows I’m comin’, or how many cops are in my way. There’s only one way this ends, and it ends bloody. And you don’t want any part of it.”

He brushed past her and stomped towards his bureau. Her eyes followed each movement, crackling with lightning bolts. “Fuck you, telling me what I want!” she hissed. “This is my mess, too!”

He pivoted toward her. “And what, ya think killing him is gonna fix it?” His face went grim, sorrow etched into his features. Remorse welled in the bottom of his eyes. “Think it gets easier after that? Ya think it’ll make you somehow feel better—?”

“I don’t care about feeling better!” she barked back. He neatly flinched at the sharpness of her tone. Fury bubbled beneath her skin. “The only thing I care about is that he suffers.”

Peter contemplated her for a quiet moment. “Well,” he said, voice soft. His melancholy briefly overshadowed his rage. “You don’t need to worry about that.” 

He didn’t meet her eye. Instead, he studied the grain of the wood beneath his feet, letting his shoulders deflate. He looked beyond tired, deep lines creasing his features and flecks of gray in his beard. Yet, when he lifted his chin, his eyes were resolute. He arched his path to avoid her.

Unsatisfied, she trailed him with fire in her eyes. “How will you know where to find him?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Who’s going with you?”

“Stop asking questions, Honey.”

She grasped him by the shoulder and yanked him around to face her. “Jesus Christ! The phone is gone, you unbelievable asshole! Do you really think I’d tell anyone—?”

“You’re not getting involved,” he stated firmly.

“Not involved? Are you fucking serious?!”

“Too many people have already gotten hurt.”

“Holy shit,” she blanched, freezing in place. Her eyes widened in horror. “You’re not telling the others, are you?”

He paused, for eons, she thought. Peter tried to keep his face neutral, but it was useless under her scrutiny. His eyes were ablaze with stubborn resolve, lips in a line. He turned his back and continued down the staircase.

Blinking rapidly, she watched him walk away. She felt dizzy, but not from weakness. Instead, rage pulsed through her veins, each blood cell embedded with fear. She rushed after him, hot on his heels. 

“You’re going in alone?” she growled, her nose crinkled. “That’s your fucking genius plan? Go in, guns blazing, and hope you don’t get yourself killed?!”

“I have no intention of getting killed,” Peter said. “Not unless I’m taking him with me.”

His reaction enraged her further as they approached the base of the stairs. “Who does that work out for, huh?” she spat. 

Ignoring her, he marched on. Peter spotted one of the guards standing watch outside his office door. “Rollins!” he ordered, voice booming. “Bring the car ‘round.”

“Yes, sir—”

“Rollins, don’t you dare bring the car around!” she commanded, blocking Peter’s path and skewering him with a defiant glare. It was as if she dared him to move her. His dark eyes flashed angrily as he clenched his jaw. He looked as if he was considering it.

Rollins stared at the two of them, back and forth. Frozen with indecision. 

Enraged by his sudden hesitancy, Peter’s nostrils flared. He shot a dangerous glare at the guard before glancing down at the young woman with ire. 

He lifted his gaze back to his man, narrowing his eyes. “Rollins...” Through gritted teeth, his guard’s name sounded more like a declaration of war. 

Rollins sprang into action. “On it, sir.”

As his guard disappeared, she kept her feet rooted to the floor like a mythical beast guarding a castle. She breathed flames from her mouth and conjured curses and plagues with her gaze.

“You asshole—you’re in such a hurry to kill yourself!” she said viciously. “Who for, huh?! You think this is about the others? For Miles? You’re not doing this for us, Peter! And you’re not doing it for Eddie, either!”

“You’re damn right, I’m not!” he snapped indignantly, jabbing his finger into his bruised sternum. “I’m not doing this for anybody but myself!” 

Heat radiated from him in waves, like steam from a hot spring. He bent his neck, leering over her. Volume dropped low, his voice thickened into a threatening rumble. “If I were doing this for Eddie,” he said, “I’d make ‘em watch me kill everything he ever loved, ya feel me? ‘Course, I highly doubt you were ever on that list, so you’ve got nothin’ to worry about.”

She barked a bitter laugh. “So this is, what, payback? Your stupid, dick-measuring way of defending my honor?”

“This isn’t about you, Honey,” he said, dark as night. He leaned down until his lips were inches from her forehead, eyes as cold and sharp as a jagged iceberg. “If it was—knowing what I know now,” he added breathily, “I promise you—it wouldn’t be anything like this.”

A misleading smirk formed on his lips, betraying the brutality staining his thoughts. She felt the heat of his rage in each whispered word. 

“No,” he said, deathly grave. “For what he did to you—I would keep him alive for as long as I possibly could.”

The unabashed, murderous smile on his lips sent a shiver down her spine. Her discomfort didn’t faze him this time. He didn’t care how scared she was of him. If anything, the more afraid she was, the better.

“He’s a disease,” Peter ranted, directing his frustration back towards himself, “that I’ve allowed to spread. He’s a threat to everything I give a damn about! And I will not let him hurt somebody else I lo—”

Blinking, he cut the sentence short, just millimeters from a leap he wasn’t willing to take. She stared intently up at him, unaware that she was holding her breath.

He pursed his lips, eyes heavy with regret. He looked away, avoiding her gaze while he composed himself. Finally, he took in a slow, tense breath. “I need to do this, Honey,” he whispered ruefully. He had calmed slightly, swallowing back his rage. 

The only thing left behind was a tiny, heartbroken remark. “It’s the only thing I’m good at.” The corners of his mouth turned down sharply. 

She didn’t hesitate. “Even if that were true, you don’t need to do it alone.”

He shook his head in frustration. “Why are you so desperate to know what it’s like to kill somebody?”

A vicious yell burst out of her mouth. “I already have killed somebody!” she shouted, as if it were obvious. Her voice echoed off the walls while anguish pooled in her eyes. “It’s my fault Eddie is dead! I know it is—”

He shook his head again. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine—”

“Of course, it’s your fault!” she roared. “It’s both of our faults!” 

The comment stunned him, only slightly less than the bitterness of her tone. He snapped his mouth closed, taken aback. 

Despair twisted her face, and anger lit up her eyes. “Don’t you get it?” She was green with sickness, spitting out words like they were poison. “This is what he does! He turns people against each other!” 

Peter stayed quiet as he observed her intensity. Her feet were rooted while her whole body raged, “He turns you against yourself! He twists you up until you can’t even trust your own instincts! Until you hate yourself enough to feel like you had it coming!”

A dam had broken, and a river of acid spilled through her lips. Resentment from years of abuse writhed in her chest like a tsunami, threatening to flood every street in New York. Her fingers itched to wrap around the collective necks of the city and drown it in her devastation.

She pointed at Peter, eyes flashing furiously. “You’re willing to get yourself killed because you feel responsible for every bad thing that’s ever happened!” She jabbed her thumb back at herself. “I’m willing to suffer in silence because I feel responsible for every bad thing that’s happened!”

“Meanwhile,” she added, with a livid hiss, “John Mother Fucking Walker—who is actually responsible for all of this—feels Nothing. At. All!  Because he is a fucking psychopath!” 

Peter blinked, contemplating her in silence. Her firm eyes narrowed on him. “That’s how he beats us, Peter!” she exclaimed. “Fear! Guilt! That’s how he wins!”

The frustration in her voice reverberated off of the walls, sending a tremor that penetrated the bedrock. Peter observed her, stoic save for the sorrow in his gaze. 

Her chest heaved as unshed tears dampened her lashes. Exhausted, she sighed heavily. “I am tired of letting him win,” she said in exasperation. She was more composed but no less grave. “And if you think you’re gonna do what I think you’re gonna do—which is go after him alone—then that’s exactly what will happen.”

Peter’s eyes glistened, red-rimmed and raw. His silence stretched on forever until she was nearly inclined to  choke him for a response. Eventually, he simply bowed his head, casting his eyes down.

“What if fear and guilt are the only things I have left?” It was a meek, feeble reply from someone so powerful. She blinked up at him, watching as he chewed on his lower lip. “Wish it wasn’t that way. I wish I had—” 

He stopped, leaving the thought unfinished.

“Doesn’t matter what I wish, does it?” he said. “Doesn’t matter what coulda been.”

A crease formed between her brows. Her face softened. “Peter—”

“Just let me say this, please,” he blurted out with urgency as if the words would claw their way from his chest. “I need to.” She regarded his desperate gaze, and eventually, she bobbed her head gently.

He gazed down at her. His lower lip twitched for a moment. “I had my suspicions about your past,” Peter explained mournfully. “Knew something bad happened, but... bad shit happens to everyone, though. First, I thought it was your mother. Then after Pym, I... I figured it was some old boyfriend, some jerk who treated you like trash.” 

Her face flushed red. When she looked back at him, his glazed eyes were fixed on her. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. With shards of glass on his tongue, he murmured, “I-I didn’t know... wh-what he—”

“I don’t blame you, Peter, if that’s what you think—”

“I didn’t wanna know,” he firmly replied, silencing her. Guilt weighed down his features. “Didn’t wanna ask, if I’m bein’ honest.” He gulped, nearly choking on his words like a razor blade stuck in his throat. “I was afraid of what I would do if I knew the truth.” 

She felt warmth sting her eyes, tears budding at the corner of her lids. 

“I thought, I guess—” Peter’s voice tremored before he pressed on. “I-I thought I could save you. From what, I didn’t even know. Maybe that was my mistake all along.”

He raked his fingers through his hair, eyes heavy with shame. “I was so stupid. I’m the one that let him in. I let this act—this dance between us—I let it go on.” He sniffed with a bleary gaze. “He played me against me,” he declared with finality. “My fear. My doubt, self-hatred—whatever you wanna call it. Whatever voice in my head that tells me... th-that you... You could never love somebody like me.”

She flinched at that. Her resolve to remain stoic buckled under her feet.

His eyes dropped to his feet. “I told myself this was just business, and that if the Feds could use you, so could I.” Vulnerability poured from his eyes as they met hers. “I pretended it didn’t kill me every time you looked me in the face and lied.” 

Despite his apology, her stomach twisted with shame. 

“And each time it happened,” he explained, “I couldn’t figure out what they had on you. Something awful, I figured. Something that scared the shit out of you.”

Peter looked at her somberly, lower lip wobbling and eyes dark with regret. “I thought it was me.” 

Her face crumpled at his admission, grief seizing her at last. She bit down on her lip to keep a sob from escaping. 

“It’s like he already won,” he said, with a broken soul. “I thought I was the one he wanted.” He sniffed, peeking down at her through wet lashes. Deep, raw heartache thickened his voice. “Turns out, it was you all along. And I led him straight to you.” 

Her vision flooded with tears at his admission. It sounded like a confession from a dying man. After a few gut-wrenching moments, Peter lifted his chin and met her eyes, resolved. “That’s why I’m doing this without you, Honey. This is my mistake to fix.”

Overwhelmed with grief, she stared up at him in a daze. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she gently shook her head to protest. 

“I’m sorry, Peter,” she said. It sounded like a eulogy.

His eyes glistened as he nodded, love and loss in their depths. “Me too.” 

He gazed at her, the coffee color of his irises shining bittersweet. She stared up at him in adoration and agony. She debated whether she should wrap her arms around him and cry or kiss him dizzy. 

He paused, letting his eyes linger, then turned away and trodded down the hall. “I’m gonna fix this, Honey,” he said. “I promise. You’re free.”

Perplexed, she darted after him. “Wh-what—?”

“No more running, no more cages,” he resolutely replied. She followed closely as he approached the oak doors to his office. “Won’t hafta be afraid of anyone comin’ after you. Not Fisk. Not me. And not some asshole ex. ‘Cos win or lose...I’m ending this. Tonight.”

She fluttered her lashes with concern, following him blindly into the room. 

“Why wait?”

Honey stopped short in her tracks like her feet had been fused to the floor. Peter froze. Swayed dizzily. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck didn’t just prickle, as they had been since the beginning of their conversation. It inverted, the sensation feeling like his skin had peeled off and been turned inside out.

John Walker coolly watched them come to a sudden stop. He lounged back casually in the executive desk chair with a devil-may-care expression and his leather oxfords up on the tabletop. Stunned, they stared at the lithe man with growing alarm. The icy blue of his eyes twinkled with delight at their fear, fixing them with a Cheshire smile. 

“Why don’t we do this right now?” he shrugged nonchalantly.

Each bruised muscle in Peter’s body went rigid. In a matter of moments, he was hit with a surge of emotion that he barely managed to contain beneath his skin. Pupils dilated, fingers shaking, heart pounding—fury washed over him, and all Walker had to do was smile. 

Over the sound of blood rushing, Peter registered the fluttering palpation of her heart.

His Heart. 

His Honey.

She was terrified. 

It reminded him of the moment she walked in on the meeting between him and “Steve,” only this time it was worse. 

An arctic chill surrounded her from the ice running through her veins. She paused mid-breath, rendered motionless, eyes wide with horror. For a moment Peter worried if she would ever start breathing again.

His palms began to tingle. He kept his attention straight ahead, while he fought between the urge to comfort her and the visceral need to tear John’s face from his skull. 

Before he could do either, another warning sensation—sharp and jagged, like his name being carved into a chalkboard with a steak knife—sliced through his brain.

After having been suppressed, ignored, and nearly incapacitated by the Symbiote, his senses were in overdrive. Every cell in his body alerted him to impending danger, which came in the form of footsteps.

He turned quickly, dragging Honey behind his back, as he laid eyes on the new threat. Three of his guards, Malick, Ward, and Rollins—fucking Rollins—stepped into the room. Ward and Malick were vigilant with their weapons drawn, but Rollins sauntered at a leisurely pace. He glanced over at his boss, unworried, and a malicious grin widened his lips. 

Peter’s shoulders slumped as he realized that their bullets were meant for him. He frowned sourly, betrayed. “Jack,” Peter coldly muttered, hiding his disappointment beneath the threat in his tone. “Wha’cha up to?”

Rollins simply shrugged. “Sorry, Boss,” he smirked. “‘S’just business.” 

Peter’s eyes darkened as he observed Gideon Malick aim his pistol at Honey, while Grant Ward slammed the office door closed, locking them in. With Rollins drawing his sidearm, three guns were now trained on him and the shaking woman behind him. 

Peter couldn’t see her face but didn’t need to. He could feel her fear radiating through his fingertips. Her body became both lighter and heavier as if her bones had turned to water. He sensed her increasing dissociation, barely tethered to the Earth and dangling at the end of his reach. Only terror cemented her feet in place. She was sluggish as he pushed her closer into his back as if he could somehow hide her there.

“I have to say, Pete,” John called to him matter-of-factly. Peter split his attention between his backstabbing guards and the monster seated behind his desk. “At first, I was impressed with your organization. But it seems like you have a few serious issues with staff retention to sort out.” John spoke with a self-satisfied smirk, kicking his feet off of the desk and coming to a relaxed stance. “You should think about setting up a meeting with H.R.”

“Believe me,” Peter glowered at John, briefly glancing at Rollins with clenched teeth. “It’s a priority.”

John took an unrushed stroll to the front of the desk before leaning back on the corner’s edge. He moved through the office as if it was his home. It was unnerving for Peter to consider how many times he might have been there without his knowledge, with his treacherous guards granting him access to anything he wanted.

“‘Course, I always thought you shoulda gone into human trafficking,” John said, with a mockingly sincere tone. A crease split Peter’s brow, his face twisting with revulsion. “You would’ve made a very lucrative pimp.” 

Peter glared at him, disgusted, as he chuckled softly at his own joke. The laugh faded, as did the humor in John’s ice-blue eyes. They narrowed with contempt, looking beyond Peter to the trembling girl behind him. 

“Lord knows you got the world’s biggest whore right behind you,” he sneered maliciously. “With a mouth like hers, you’ll get anything you want. If you throw in an extra five-thousand dollars, of course.”

Peter felt her bristle at the jab, and he reached back further to steady her. 

“Don’t look at her,” he ordered coldly, never breaking eye contact. “You don’t get to look at her. Ever.”

The blonde snickered, licking his lips scandalously. “Oh, I’ve done a whole lot more than just look.” 

Peter’s jaw tensed at that. 

John’s humorless gaze turned into a cold glare. “I don’t know if you’ve heard,” he added vindictively, “but that’s my wife you have behind you.”

Despite his own outrage, Peter kept a straight face. He listened intently, studying how Walker’s nostrils flared and how his pulse sped up at the sight of the couple embracing. 

Good, he thought. He needed every second of time he could get. 

Peter took a step backward with her, slowly approaching the wall. 

His eyes lightened, and a callous smirk formed on his lips. “You mean that’s ‘your wife’ I’ve had beneath me,” Peter sneered lewdly. 

The remark splintered beneath John’s skin. Peter watched with satisfaction at how the blonde’s brow twitched. He could smell the agitation leaking out through his pores. 

“Yeeaah,” Peter chuckled mockingly, fueling John’s anger. “She told me all about you. Short story. If ya catch my drift.”

Peter took another step backward, bumping her along, teeth flashing with amusement. “In fact,” he parried, matching John’s sardonic tone, “maybe you should talk to a doctor about your little problem. You know, instead of torturing women.” 

John glowered with his lower lip curled. “Well. Since we’re sharing.” He tilted his head with a predatory grin, while his eyes shot daggers at them. “I wouldn’t trust everything she says. The girl’s a freak. She tell ya about all of her filthy rape fantasies, too?”

Her breath hitched. A tiny shiver racked through her body. It was barely noticeable to the other men, but to Peter, it felt like a tectonic movement. He could hear the way her stomach shifted, her nausea roaring in like a rising tide. 

“She likes it rough,” John snarked. “It’s practically the only thing that gets her off. Pretty fucked up, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you.” Inwardly, Peter seethed, resentment darkening his gaze.

“‘Course not. Why take my word for it?” John laughed, having momentarily taken the upper hand. He glanced around at the other traitors mirthlessly before turning back to Peter. “Why don’t we just find out for ourselves?”

Peter’s anger spiked at the insinuation, rage stuttering his heartbeat. He watched as John glanced at Rollins and the other men with a menacing grin. Cruel laughter trickled from the traitors that made his blood boil further.

He took a measured breath. “I know you boys don’t know me that well,” Peter remarked calmly. “But lemme be very clear.” He slid his eyes over and leveled a threatening glare at the men behind Rollins. “Anyone touches her, and I’ll send ya back home to your families in garbage bags.” 

Peter’s men dropped their smiles suddenly. He heard a stutter in the heartbeats coming from that direction as they attempted to suppress their reaction. “Don’t take my word for it,” he said directly to Rollins with a murderous gaze. “You know what I’m capable of, Jackie.”

“Is that what you did to Gwen?”

Peter’s anger spread through him like epinephrine as John carelessly spat out his deceased wife’s name. His shoulders tensed, and the cords in his neck pulled tautly. 

“You send her back to her daddy in a body bag?” John snickered. “Sure—Call me a shitty husband. But at least my wife never took a swan dive off of the Brooklyn Bridge.” 

The fresh swell of rage in Peter’s belly twisted him into knots. A gentle press from a tiny palm on the middle of his back was the only thing that anchored him. 

“Oof. Hit a nerve, did I?” John grinned with satisfaction at how the color drained from Peter’s eyes and complexion. “What else did you two lovebirds talk about?” he said. “She tell ya about our little talks late at night?” He grinned salaciously. “Lotsa juicy stuff.”

Peter swallowed hard, unflinching. 

“She told me everything,” Walker continued. “Her plan to seduce you. To pretend she cared about you. How much she despised you.” John tilted his head, musing. “How’d you put it, Peach? You could ‘never love a monster like him’?” 

He heard a soft gasp from behind him. As strong as their resolve was, the remark punctured its armor. Honey clenched the fabric of his jacket, her touch pleading for forgiveness. Steadfast, Peter took another careful step backward, keeping her close.

“‘Course, that’s no big surprise,” John continued ruthlessly. He could see through Peter’s indifference, knowing each word cut into him like a jigsaw. “‘Everyone that ever loved you is dead.’ Ain’t that right?”

Honey gripped Peter’s shoulder tighter, a swell of nausea creeping up her esophagus. Her vocal cords were paralyzed, with nothing but a whimper escaping her lips. “No...” she muttered breathlessly, stunned and enraged by the twisting of her words.

“Poor, pitiful Peter Parker,” John said in a sing-song voice. “Sad, psychotic little orphan boy. No mommy. No daddy. His aunt and uncle both turned into swiss cheese.” He punctuated each word with viciousness, spitting them out like curdled milk. “Clinging desperately onto the memory of his dead whore.”

Nostrils flaring, Peter glowered at John, dipping his chin. Another step backward nearly had the woman behind him up against the wall, backing her carefully up to a marble-top bar. “Gloat all you want, asshole,” Peter mumbled with disdain. “She still dumped you.”

John’s eyes flashed red with a serpentine hiss sliding off his forked tongue. “And yet, I’m the one that finger-fucked your girl while you were on your little date! Greedy slut was wetter than a swamp when I touched her—”

“Liar!” she screamed, voice cracking like shattered glass. 

She lunged forward but Peter blocked her. He practically shoved her back, her spine hitting the edge of the bar. A chorus of chuckles erupted, with Rollins, Ward, and Malick joining in on John’s amusement. She stumbled backward, using her hands to steady herself until she came in contact with a metal object on the bar top.

A camera.

Peter’s old camera. On top of the box disguised as a book.

Both items were out of place. 

Presented out in the open, where they shouldn’t have been.

Honey’s eyes darted back up to the front. 

“S’okay, Honey,” Peter muttered, his glare still trained on Walker. He held his arms behind his back as if to hide her from view. It formed a ‘cage,’ concealing her movements as she stealthily shifted the camera, keeping her eyes forward. “The longer this clown talks, the more desperate he sounds.” 

John’s eyes flashed with malice. “Oh, you wanna hear what desperate sounds like? How ‘bout I push your little bitch off the roof, huh? Have your men make you watch me turn another woman you love into Humpty Dumpty. She’ll be runny eggs on the sidewalk in a matter of seconds—”

“Why are you all still smiling?” Peter sharply cut him off. He shifted his glare from John to his snickering accomplices. “Is it ‘cos you're scared? Or are ya just that stupid?” The laughing ceased immediately as Peter fixed John with a cold gaze. “Either way, you’re about to be a dead man.”

With her hands behind her back, she blindly fumbled to lift the lid of the box. Her fingers scavenged across the bottom, expecting to find a weapon of some kind, or a knife, or perhaps even—

“Lookin’ for this?” John said. The bang of a gunshot deafened her. 

A splatter of wet, hot liquid covered her cheek and she flinched at the sound of an agonized cry. She screamed. At the gunshot. At the blood. And at the sight of Peter dropping forward to his knees in excruciating pain. 

“No! No! No!” 

She could hear her own shrieking in the distance as she grasped at him. Groaning, he writhed in agony. His hand, once again bloody, clutched a bullet hole piercing his upper right shoulder. She threw her already-stained palms over his, adding his blood to the fresco decorating her flesh.

Tears spilled down her cheeks. Lip wobbling, she glanced up with wide eyes as John pointed Peter’s pistol at them menacingly. 

“Did ya really think I wasn’t gonna search this place for weapons?” he scoffed in offense, glaring at them through slitted eyes.

Nostrils flaring and teeth clenched tight, Peter breathed through the pain. He scowled up at John feeling like a flaming sword had severed his arm at the shoulder. His heart hammered as he watched John raise the pistol again, this time aiming between his brows. 

“Please, don’t!” Honey sobbed. “John, please! I’m begging you!” She wrapped her arms around Peter as if she could shield him. 

The smile faded from John’s lips. Contempt radiated from his blue eyes, turning them into blackened sapphires. “C’mon, Peach. We both know you can beg better than that.”

Peter shoved her away from him, jumping to his feet. He charged and knocked John’s aim off target. Another shot rang out and pierced the wall next to her. 

Shrieking, she dropped to the floor and cowered down. 

With one bloody hand on John’s wrist, Peter smashed him in the abs with his injured arm. He put his back muscles into the punch, snarling as the bruised flesh burned like his body was on fire.

His rage partially numbed the pain as Peter advanced forward. He shoved John back into the desk. The injuries made each move sluggish, but Peter managed to land another hit, this time to John’s face. With his other hand clenching the gun, he slammed it into the tabletop, loosening John’s grip. With another vicious whack, the weapon fell from his hand and clattered out of reach. 

Amped with adrenaline, Peter reared his uninjured arm back. Balling his fist into a cannonball, he drove it down hard enough to break through concrete. 

Right into John’s palm.

He blinked, stunned. Looked up at John. His face twisted with confusion, as the supposedly weaker man grinned smugly up at Peter. 

“Oh, yeah,” John smiled with red teeth, slowly crushing Peter’s hand like an empty aluminum can. “And then there’s that.”

With a flick of John’s wrist, he inverted Peter’s arm and tossed his body like a garbage bag. Peter collided with the wall and toppled to the ground, sending plaster and drywall raining down. 

John straightened up, taking labored breaths as he adjusted his light blue collar, now dotted with tiny spots of crimson. He fixed Peter with a wry smile. “I know about your little science experiments, too,” he smirked. “Your buddy Eddie stole the outdated model. Say ‘hello’ to Anti-Venom.”

John rolled his shoulders, tipping his head to crack his neck. As his joints popped, he rolled his eyes back into his skull—literally. Honey gaped with horror as she watched her ex-husband grin at them with a demonic stare, pure white engulfing his eyeballs. The milky, opaque clouds in his eyes seemed to part in the middle, like a crocodile opening an inner set of eyelids, revealing the dilated pupils of his sadistic stare.

Peter struggled to get on his hands and knees as John stalked towards him, feet heavy with malice. Honey screamed with almost no breath, “Peter, look out—”

In a flash, John was on him, jabbing his elbow into his back. Peter gasped at the stab to his spine, feeling another rib snap. The force slammed him chest-first back to the floor. With dazed eyes, he glanced blearily at the secret box, now tossed to the ground a few feet away. Photos of May and Ben were scattered about, among the shards of broken glass, chunks of wood, and twisted metal.

Weakened from the fall, the gunfight, and now the beating, Peter strained to reach for the box but was stopped short. Walker’s steel fingers clamped on his shoulder, yanking him to his feet. He jabbed a boulder-like fist into Peter’s sternum, violently ejecting the air from his lungs. 

Honey sprang to her feet, grabbing a chunk of wood and charging toward them. Rollins and Ward were there instantly, scooping her up and restraining her. 

She writhed desperately, screeching as they twisted her arms back. The sound of her attack vexed Peter, as he straightened his back, landing an upward thrust of his fist into John’s chin. 

“Get off of her!” he hissed at Rollins and Ward, but John intercepted him. 

Like thrashing wild animals, they pummeled each other until sweat and blood coated the floor. Yet, with every hit, John seemed unfazed. Whatever was running through his body was just as formidable as the Symbiote that had once possessed Peter. Both men tossed each other about, but Peter was at a disadvantage.

“Stop!” Honey cried out painfully in a shrill voice, which wrenched Peter’s heart. “John, don’t do this! Stop it!” 

Peter swayed with cloudy eyes as he felt John hook his fist into his jaw. It felt like being hit in the face with a brick. Right after, John landed another jab with the opposite hand. And then a third. And a fourth.

“No, John! Please stop! Just stop! Please!”

His vision blurring, Peter jabbed left, only to have his wrist caught in John’s grip. With a twirl, John wrenched Peter’s arm out of its socket. He doubled over and howled in agony, his dislocated arm hanging limply at his side.

“John, stop it, stop it, please, stop!” 

“When I’m done with you,” John whispered in Peter’s ear, “Fisk will have to scoop up what’s left of you with a shovel.”

Fighting to stay conscious, Peter met the man’s vindictive glare. John’s piercing blue eyes locked onto his. “Yeah. Wilson Fisk. I said his name. Wilson. Fisk. Meanwhile, you’re running around, afraid to say it like he’s Bloody Fucking Mary.”  

Peter was on the floor again, launched into a glass console table. Unable to break his fall, the glass and metal crunched under the momentum of his body, shattering in all directions. He rolled, coughing up blood, his face covered in bruises and cuts. His vision swam, gaze darting across the room until he spotted the secret box. 

With one arm limp, he dragged himself forward with the shoulder that had been shot, inching closer to the overturned box. He flicked the container away, his eyes landing on a delicate watch-like device. He reached for it.

John’s foot came down hard, stomping on his web shooter and crushing it beneath his foot. Peter choked back a frustrated scream, having another weapon fall short of his grasp.

“John, please! I’ll do anything you want! Just please don’t do this!”

John lifted his foot and slowly brought the sole down onto Peter’s wrist. He cried out, grimacing at the crushing pressure of the grown man standing on his forearm. 

“You know what else I call ‘em?” John said, ogling Peter as if to gloat. It was a victorious stance. He was like a giant about to crush an insect. A bloody half-smile hung on his chiseled face as he waited for Peter to make eye contact. When he finally did, John provided an answer. 

“Sir.” 

A crease formed between Peter’s brows as he gazed up at John, panting with shallow breaths. His face paled with realization.

“Yeah,” the blonde crooned with an evil smile. “That’s right.” A horrifying picture emerged from Walker’s self-satisfied expression. "Arrogant little prick. Did you think that you could beat the Kingpin?”

John crouched down low, leering over Peter like a vulture about to peck on its prey while it was still living. 

“Did you think changing your name and hiding underground would stop him from wiping you off the face of the Earth if he really wanted to?” Walker sneered in disgust. “You’re only still alive because he allows it!”

Honey sobbed with tears streaming down her face as John revealed his hand to them. Beside her, Rollins chuckled darkly, relishing in his boss’ despair. 

“You have the audacity to run your mouth all over town,” John hissed, pouring putrid waste into Peter’s ear, “like you’re gonna walk him right up to the Pearly Gates! Like you’re judge, jury, and executioner! The monster at the end of his book!”

Peter pressed his lips into a thin line, rage boiling beneath his battered flesh. John reached down, gripping him by his thick tuft of hair and wrenching it back. The action forced Peter to gaze up at him; his neck bent backward and vulnerable. The way Walker glared at him, he half-expected the man to grow fangs and bury them in his throat.

“Well, I got news for ya, Peter Parker,” John spat out each word mockingly as he narrowed his eyes. “Mr. Fisk doesn’t give a shit what you call yourself.” He fixed Peter with a beaming grin made up of pure, sadistic evil. “He doesn’t even know who you are.” 

He let the words hang in the air as if they were going to carve themselves into Peter’s headstone. For his part, despite his physical agony, Peter held himself steady. Kept his eyes fixed on John’s. Kept his jaw set firm. Anger pooled beneath his chest, cleansing him as it spread through his body.

“Guess you’ll have to explain it to ‘em next time you see ‘em,” Peter muttered, his lip curled into a snarl. “Might be curious to know who it was that killed him.”

The smile dropped from John’s eyes as a fresh wave of fury overtook him. He glared down at Peter, who fixed him with an insolent smirk. 

“And for the record,” the beaten man glowered in defiance, his gaze glittering with spite, “I’m not walkin’ him to the Pearly Gates—I’m takin’ him straight to hell. So you be sure to save him a seat... you pathetic... wife-beating sack of shit!”

John growled and pulled his arm back. Drawing on the power of the entity inside him, he envisioned putting his fist through Peter’s skull and not stopping until he hit the concrete beneath their feet.

“I won’t fight you.” 

The men froze at the tiny whimper, the voice carrying it shattered and frail. 

John glanced over to see his ex-wife hanging limply in the hold of the two guards. Her eyes were empty, her face colorless and ashen. The woman swayed like a bedsheet in the wind.

“You can do whatever you want with me,” she spoke meekly, her spirit detached from her body. “I won’t fight back. I won’t run away.”

Hopelessness marked her features as nausea threatened to choke her. She wished that it would. Drowning in her own bile was a better fate than witnessing the grin form on John’s face.

“Please,” she mewled desperately, eyes red and glossy. “You’ve already won. He doesn’t matter anymore. Let Fisk finish him off.” Her voice trembled, quivering in her throat. “You can have me. However you want me.”

The silence that followed was deafening. John leered, foaming at the corners of his mouth. Lecherous eyes appraised her from head to toe. His chest heaved with short pants, like a rabid animal in heat. 

“Atta girl,” he murmured with satisfaction before tossing Peter aside like a rag doll. 

Peter coughed raggedly, choking on his red-tinged saliva, and rolled to one side. Gripping his wrist and using his foot for leverage, he wrenched his shoulder back in place with a sickening pop. An agonized whimper squeaked out, despite his best efforts. 

John crossed the room in a few strides and gripped the woman by the throat. “No,” Peter gasped through bloody lips, exhausted and breathless from fear. “No...nono...please—”

“Where the fuck are you goin’, Boss?” Malick barked as Peter struggled to stand. The guard stalked forward, gun trained on him. 

Ward joined him, grabbing Peter by his wounded shoulder and kicking his shin out from under him. Their boss was on his knees again, held steady at gunpoint, with Ward pushing the barrel of his weapon into Peter’s temple.

When Peter looked up, John was dragging Honey by the back of her neck, scruffed at the nape like an animal. She stumbled as he forced her behind Peter’s desk, kicking the chair away. He shoved her forward. The veneer stung her cheek when she collided with it, and she let out a whimper.

“Let her go!” Peter writhed desperately. Ward whacked him over the back of the head, driving him forward. He put his foot on Peter’s spine while Malick twisted his wounded arm behind his back. With his chin scraping the floor, he peered up through the fringe of his lashes. “Don’t fuckin’ touch her! You hear me?”

“Get ‘em up,” John ordered coldly. “He’s gonna wanna see this.”

With a hand on his hair and his arms locked in place, Peter’s men yanked him to his feet. He pulled himself forward, only to have Ward dig his fingers into the bullet hole, tearing at his flesh. They pulled him back down on his knees, driving a foot into his calf. Helplessly, Peter writhed, thrashing against their hold a few mere yards away from the terrified girl. 

John sauntered up behind Honey, a smug grin plastered on his face. The woman lay motionless like a possum, bent over the edge of the desk. She stared at the mess of objects on Peter’s desk, shards of the battle. They shifted in and out of focus as her glossy eyes welled with tears. She let her mind take flight, drifting off to a cabin in the mountains. 

“No!” Peter felt his voice crack and a scream lodge in his throat. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you, Walker! Ya, hear me? Look at me, you sonuvabitch! I’ll rip ya apart, sweartogod—” 

John glanced at Rollins who kept careful watch over his boss. “If he makes a move, put a bullet in his back. That way he can still watch me snap her neck like a toothpick.”

Panic surged through Peter at the order, his amber eyes bright with terror. “I’m the one you want, yeah?” he pleaded, chest heaving. “Fight me like a man, you fuckin’ coward!”

John ignored him. He pressed his hips up against the seat of Honey’s joggers. He gripped the collar of her zip-up hoodie, tearing it down her shoulders.

She was elsewhere. Watching Peter’s fingers dance across the ivory keys of a piano. She liked being wherever she was. It was always easier for her to go there. Always easier for her to run away.

John ran his greedy hands down her spine and back up again beneath the filthy camisole she wore. His touch felt like a centipede crawling across her skin. A shudder racked through her as vomit climbed up her throat.

“Somebody’s excited,” John chuckled sadistically. 

She breathed out a silent sob. She climbed the limbs of the maple tree in her backyard. Picturing the home she would make there one day.

John leaned down, pressing a rough kiss to the back of her shoulder. “Just like old times. Ain't that right, Peach?”

It was like being shocked by electricity. Letting her fingertips brush against the metal of a wall plug while still in the outlet. Every muscle in her body tensed. Her eyes darkened. Pupils blown wide.

“I don’t like that.”

John paused as his hands reached the waistband of her sweats. He glanced up at her, still amused, eyeing the back of her head. “What’d you say?”

She blinked. Her vision sharpened. “That’s not my name.”

His brow furrowed, his agitation spiking. “You’re gonna have to speak up.”

“I said ‘that’s not my name.’” Her volume grew louder, every syllable coming out sharper and more jagged. Her teeth ground together as she fixed her gaze forward, focusing on the grain of the wood. 

“My name isn’t Peach,” she hissed. Molten-hot fury filled her while her tone hardened like rapidly cooling lava. “I’m not your Peach. I’m not your Kitten.” 

Each word punctuated with a twitch in her eye and a tremor in her voice. 

“I’m not your Doll Face. Or your Whore. Or your Pawn.” 

Acid rolled off her tongue as she trembled with anger. Her rage was so thick she nearly choked on it, barely able to form words. Slowly, she pushed herself up off the desk, her spine turning to steel even as he towered over her.

“And I’m not your fucking wife,” she gritted her teeth, eyes black with hatred. “Not anymore.” 

She turned her head to glance back at John, leveling him with a vengeful look. 

“My name is Maricella Jimenez,” she hissed, sounding out each syllable carefully. “And you will remember it.” 

The hand positioned on the desk sprang forward at his face so fast that John could barely see it. His head whipped back and all he could register was white-hot, piercing pain shooting through his skull. 

John roared, reaching up with one hand to cover his face while the other hand dragged her off the desk to the ground. The guards jumped with shock, mouths agape, trying to discern what just occurred.

“Aggghhh!” John cried out with an agonized scream. Enraged, he clawed at his face, growling like a mildly-wounded grizzly bear. His thirst for blood compounded.

“Fucking bitch!” he roared, the creature inside of him twisting his vocal cords. When he straightened, half his face was covered in blood. His fingers shook as he struggled to see the damage she had done. 

His men gazed at him with dumbfounded stares. Which he could only half see. 

With a four-inch shard of broken glass from the console table lodged in his left eye socket, he’d never see anything out of that eye again. 

“You fucking bitch!” he sneered, practically drooling with outrage. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you, you fuckin’ bitch!” 

The sight of John’s face was nausea-inducing. Not only had the glass pierced his eye, but it sliced clean through, with half of his eyeball dangling from the nerve ending on his cheek. 

“Holy shit!” Ward gasped at the ghastly sight.

Rollins hissed at other men, their jaws still gaping wide. “Don’t just stand there! Do something, goddamnit!”

“You screwed up now, you slut!” John raged with ragged breath. “You know what you did? You assaulted a Federal Agent!” He wheeled around to spot her cowering on the floor behind the desk. He stomped toward her, murder in each footfall. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Do you have any idea who I am???”

John grabbed her by the forearm, wrenching her up. She faced him with fire in her eyes. In her free hand, her finger curled around the trigger of Peter’s gun.

“Who gives a fuck?” she sneered.

Looking John in the eyes, she pulled the trigger, watching as his forehead imploded. The bullet ripped through his brain, tearing it apart and exploding out the back of his skull. From there, his brain matter splattered like a microwaved tomato, spraying across the room.

“Oh shit!” The guards cried out in horror, swallowing back sickness as fragments of John’s skull rained down on them.

Rollins lunged forward, his weapon still drawn. He took three steps to the edge of the desk. 

“No!” Peter howled.

Another shot rang out. Honey held the gun firmly in her grip, shooting at the first human form that approached her. Rollins grunted, eyes wide with panic, as the bullet tore through his throat. He clutched his neck as hot liquid spilled out of his severed carotid artery. His look of agony was only matched by his look of astonishment.

Peter knocked Ward’s gun away from his temple, grabbing his wrist and directing the barrel at Malick. With Ward still clutching the gun, Peter pulled the trigger and shot Malick in the side. 

Malick doubled over, releasing his hold on Peter’s wounded shoulder. Ward strained to regain control of his weapon. They struggled briefly before Peter reached behind Ward’s suit jacket and yanked a combat knife out of its sheath. He buried the blade into Ward’s ribs, before ripping it out and plunging it in again and again. With a few quick jabs, the traitor’s torso was carved up into wet spaghetti.

Malick stumbled, struggling to recover from the bullet wound. Peter’s brain buzzed as Malick attempted to shoot him. He pivoted out of the way, using Ward’s body to block the shot. 

Honey fired the gun in her hand again, the bullet hitting the ceiling, but it was enough to distract Malick away from his target.

In a few blinks, Peter was on his feet and gripping Malick by the arm. Before the treacherous guard could fire his weapon, Peter skewered him with the hunting knife, driving it into the soft flesh behind the man’s chin.

Malick’s eyes went wide as the blade impaled his mouth, piercing his tongue. Peter snatched the back of the man’s head with a steel grip, even as his hands trembled with rage. He glared into Gideon’s eyes with bloodlust, pushing the knife up further—slowly—watching Malick squirm until the blade was buried to the hilt.

The man went limp in his hold. Once Peter watched the light fade from his eyes, he released him, finally sated. 

The sirens in his head quit blaring as soon as the threat was eliminated. The intense pressure dissipated as if a boulder had been lifted off Peter’s skull. 

He let out a long, ragged breath, his body broken and yet still pulsating with adrenaline. His eyes darted to the desk. He spotted the traumatized woman that held his heart standing behind it. His face softened. Took a step towards her.

She pivoted, still clutching the gun. Aimed it at him.

Peter went still. Fawn-hued eyes went wide. He glanced down the barrel, then back up at her.

She was astral. Her soul was only tethered to her body by a thin wire. She was a kite, tossed about the atmosphere, observing the scene outside the plane of time. 

She stared at him. Barely able to breathe. Her hand shook from the weight of the gun. 

“Whoa...” he whispered, his voice soft. He lifted his hands outward in a placating gesture. 

Her eyes were glazed over. Staring right through him.

He watched, heart pounding, as she turned her gaze downwards to the river of blood that leaked from Rollins’ corpse. Heart going cold, all that was left of his life leaked out of him like a broken faucet. No more damaging than a spilled glass of wine.

Lips sealed tight, her eyes darted over to the body closest to her.

John’s body.

Her monster lay slain at her feet. His jaw hung open in a disturbing grimace, a permanent final expression. The top of his head was now a concave shell. The image of him imprinted on her, burrowing in her memories.

She had never seen so much blood in her life. It was everywhere. Beneath her fingernails. In the tiny valleys of her skin. Dripping from her hair. It stained everything.

“Honey...” She looked only vaguely aware of Peter as he cooed gently at her, growing more apprehensive the longer her silence stretched on. “...Honey...?” he repeated slowly, his tongue going dry. 

This time, she brought her attention back to the front, her eyes finally finding his. Peter looked sick with worry, terrified of the irony that this was the exact same position they were in less than 48 hours before. 

Honey held her arm outstretched, fingers tremoring around the handle of the pistol, as she fixed Peter with an unreadable expression. He felt his heart thumping up into his throat. His growing alarm threatened to strangle him. 

Her legs were rigid even as she trembled like a tightrope walker stranded between skyscrapers. She gazed at him with a look of dread, shock seizing her body.

Peter mumbled her name desperately, chanting it like a prayer. “Honey, Honey, Honey, look at me. Look at me. Okay? Look—”

He took a step forward and she responded with a step backward, positioning him at the end of the barrel. He blinked, going still once again. His eyes misted over as he gazed at her with empathy.

“S’okay,” he softly said, closer to a plea. “Everything’s gonna be okay. You’re safe—”

“Stop telling me that.” She was firm, her eyes cold. 

Peter felt silent, eyes darting back and forth between her and the gun. Her breaths were short, nostrils flaring. His shoulders curved into a slump. Carefully, he lowered his hands. “I meant what I said before,” he delicately replied. “No more cages.” Her eyebrows furrowed sharply. “I made you a promise. You’re free.”

She blinked wide eyes, motionless in every other way. Warily, he glanced down at the gun. “You don’t hafta do anything—”

“Shut up!” she hissed, voice shaking. He shut his mouth immediately. Her gaze wandered, her mind spiraling out of control. She flicked her sights on the four corpses stretched out around them. Her tongue tasted like metal. The gunshot was still ringing in her ears.

“Get on your knees,” she commanded. Unlike the last time she said it, there was no sense of control in her tone. No sense of pleasure to be gained. Instead, she sounded desperate. 

Peter closed his eyes, heart sinking in his chest. “Okay.” Reluctantly, he slowly sank down until both knees were on the ground.

Her eyes flashed wildly as she glared, holding the pistol tighter in her hand. 

“S’okay,” Peter whispered out a lament. “S’okay, Honey. You’re gonna be okay.” With every repeated phrase, he relinquished more of his hope. Her eyes may have been unreadable, but her position was not. 

They were on opposite sides of the room. A continent apart. He was exiled to the unfortunate end of the barrel, along with the other men who used her as a means to an end. This was where he belonged.

A lump formed in his throat as he gazed up at her with wet eyes. “Everything is going to be okay now,” he said with a bittersweet curve of his mouth. “You have all the power, remember? Always did.” His eyes landed on the gun, then back up to hers. “No one’s gonna hurt you again.”

He watched as a tear rolled down her cheek. Fear weighed heavily on her, dragging her down into its depth. Her eyes shined like glass. The glisten in his gaze was a mirror reflection of her sorrow and regret.

“Whatever you gotta do,” Peter assured her. But it was more than reassurance. It was a gentle promise made to a frightened girl that the monsters were all gone now. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

He hesitated to speak the true meaning of his implication. Instead, his eyes shined brightly on her like rays of moonlight, as if he could illuminate her path through the dark. A sincere apology sparkled at the bottom of their bourbon glow, but also, he offered forgiveness. He fixed her with a look of compassion before closing his eyes. 

He let go.

Let go of his rage. Of his vendetta. Of his grief. Of his fantasies.

He let go of the idea of Honey.

From the depths of his bitter heart, he gave her his unconditional love.

“What I want...” 

He stirred at the closeness of her voice, his eyes snapping open to find her standing inches over him. The gun rested at her side until she let it fall from her grasp. She stared into his eyes, her tears cresting over the ridges of her heart-aching smile.

She surged forward in the blink of an eye, crashing her lips into his. Her arms crossed behind his shoulders as she collapsed into his embrace. Her tongue breached his mouth, and with it, he felt like his heart would leap out of his chest. She breathed him in, relishing in the taste of his devotion, responding to it with love letters written on her lips. It was like her whole body was on fire, and only he could control the flame.

His hands wrapped around her lower back as he worshiped each twist of her tongue. Her kiss was better than morphine, numbing his body and heart to every injury he’d ever suffered.

Only when they were both dizzy and out of breath did she break the kiss. She gazed down at him with eyes that could scorch. 

“What I want... is for you to touch me.”

To be continued...

[back to masterlist]

A/N: I want to say thank you for the incredible support you all have shown me in this last break. Part 21 is already finished and will be released this week. Real compassion exists even on the internet and I just can't even deal...

Part 23 will be the end.

[bored-writer101]

{Sherlock Holmes X Reader} Serenade Me

A/N: something random i came up with. apologizes for the bad summary, im terrible at them😂😭 i’m also bad at titles, and yes i know serenade is more for singing but oh well😂 anyway hope you guys enjoy! (gender neutral reader)

Warnings: none

Summary: You’re bored out of your mind, so you decide to play Sherlock’s violin. He comes home to see you playing.

Words: 705

(not my gif)

Bored. That was the only word to describe how you were feeling. Sherlock and John were out on a case while you were stuck in the flat. Sherlock had you on house arrest until your finger healed. You had broken your pinky on your right hand on the last case you had joined him on, and Sherlock wasn't going to have you get hurt again. You tried to plead with him to let you come with them, but he wasn't having it.

So that meant you were stuck in the flat with nothing to do. It had been a few hours and you had already busied yourself with cleaning up a bit. You cleaned the whole flat before falling into Sherlock’s chair. You sat there for a while, not sure what you should do next. You turned and picked up the closest book. You read for a few minutes before becoming bored with that too.

You huffed loudly as you slumped down in the chair. You looked around the flat, trying to find something to do, when your eyes landed on Sherlock's violin. You eyed it for a few moments, tempted to pick it up. You thought back on the days where you used to play violin. You had started playing just before secondary school. You played all throughout secondary school and then about a year into university before abandoning it.

You continued to stare at the violin, unsure if you'd even remember how to play. "Fuck it" you muttered as you stood. You picked up the violin and bow, holding it up to your chin. You began to play, slowly remembering the things your violin tutor had showed you. After a bit of playing, you were beginning to pick back up what you had learned.

You were stood in the spot where Sherlock always played, right next to the window. You played a few songs you somehow managed to remember. You were so caught up in playing though, that you didn't hear the door downstairs opening.

Sherlock was puzzled when he heard violin music from your shared flat upstairs. He thought you were listening to one of the recordings of him playing, but he quickly realized that wasn't the case when he reached the door that was standing open. He was surprised to see you standing by the window, his violin in your hand. He smiled when he realized you hadn't noticed he was there yet. He was enjoying watching you play, but you turned and saw him.

Your eyes widened as you saw Sherlock standing in the doorway. You quickly set down his violin and bow while apologizing profusely. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry I touched your violin I just was so bored and i've been sitting here for hours having nothing to do and I thought it would be fun and I'm sorry" due to your panicked rambling, you failed to see the amused grin on Sherlock's face.

During your rambling, you had walked toward him to meet him in the middle of the flat. You stood in front of him with the apologetic look of a child who just got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You waited for him to scold you for touching his things again.

"You never told me you played" you were pleasantly surprised to see that Sherlock was anything but upset with you. "Well I... I haven't played in a long time. I thought I'd try it again- Wait you're not mad?"

Sherlock chuckled as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. "How could I be mad? You sounded amazing, love. I would have stood and watched you play longer if you hadn't noticed me" you smiled up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I am sorry for touching your violin though. I know you don't like when I touch your things"

"It's quite alright. It just looks like I'll have to get you your own violin. I'd love to play a duet some time" this made you smile even wider as you felt a warmth rising up your neck and ears. "I'd love that too" you said before leaning in and giving him a sweet kiss.

[impales]

what's ilkhabar's relationship with the targs and her family

KING VISERYS I TARGARYEN ilkhabar wasn't particularly close with her father-in-law but she finds him pleasant and humorous to speak to. however with his ailing health, he was often kept on strong herbs and painkillers and he would forget the names of those around him, including ilkhabar. but she was also aware at how aemond privately feels that his father never cared for him.

QUEEN ALICENT HIGHTOWER ilkhabar initially clashed with alicent during their first meetings due to differences in cultural protocols and decorum and she often found her new mother-in-law to be overbearing and slightly insufferable. in turn, alicent mistrusted ilkhabar for several months and thought her deceitful and overly ambitious. but over time, their relationship developed and bettered and strengthened - and ilkhabar ended up respecting alicent and supporting her. and alicent ended up seeing her as a true daughter.

CROWN PRINCESS RHAENYRA TARGARYEN ilkhabar never knew princess rhaenyra very well. but in their brief interactions and meetings, she was very neutral. their relationship was initially polite and dignified - as expected from two noble women from differing houses. as for the matter of the parentage of rhaenyra's children, ilkhabar cared very little. she didn't care whether the children had velaryon blood or not because at the end of the day, they had targaryen blood and that made them contenders to the throne. but their relationship most likely deteriorated after aemond commited a certain murder that was probably a war crime.

PRINCE DAEMON TARGARYEN ilkhabar had always heard rumours and tales of the rogue prince. her initial opinion of him was that he was dangerous (and a correct opinion considering how she saw him lop off the velaryon's head in the middle of court) and he definitely wasn't someone who she would befriend so she probably stayed away from him. [note: i'd wait after episode 10 to properly comment on what happens after due to aforementioned war crime]

AEGON TARGARYEN they're friends and allies but in the way that they won't hesitate to push each other off a balcony if the other person breathes weirdly in their direction. ilkhabar thinks aegon is a half-drunk lout who doesn't deserve the throne (and ofc, she thinks aemond should take the throne) and aegon thinks ilkhabar is a stuck up prick but in the grand scheme of things like civil wars, they trust each other.

[note again: i got too tired making gifs last night 😭 so no more gifs my bad! 💜]

HELAENA TARGARYEN ilkhabar finds her sister-in-law to be sweet but difficult to talk to. she bears no ill feelings or grudges against helaena but they simply don't speak very often. ilkhabar is a very straight forward sort of person who dislikes riddles and so she often leaves conversations with helaena with a headache. that being said, she finds helaena to be a sweet and kind soul.

AEMOND TARGARYEN she's never seen this man in her life. [read tags]

LORD JALEH FAIDLAN she's her father's favourite child. he always doted on her growing up and she would spend hours with him poring over books and learning about the world. he taught her political intricacies and allowed her to accompany him into counsel meetings. she was heartbroken to leave him as she was to be married in westeros.

LADY QAMAR FAIDLAN ilkhabar has mother-issues. her mother always wanted a son so she never really paid attention to her three daughters - least of all, her youngest tempestuous daughter. ilkhabar would often act up or cause issues just to get her mother's attention because even if she was being scolded by her mother, at least she was noticed. ilkhabar carries around a certain grief about her mother - she hates her and loves her and no matter what - she can't out the part of her that came from her mother.

LADY RASHIDA AND DANIYAH FAIDLAN ilkhabar really does care about her older sisters. her eldest sister, rashida, may as well have been a mother to her when lady qamar was not. she often looked up to rashida and her clever wit and kind nature. her relationship with daniyah was a bit trickier as ilkhabar was always a cautious and calculating sort of person and daniyah was impulsive and (in ilkhabar's eyes: frivolous) but she would do anything to protect her sisters and support them.

[neewtmas]

MERRY I LOVE THIS!!!!

first off, amazing title

4k words exactly!! slay!!!

and i love that gif😭🤭

one of the voices suddenly spoke up, a little deeper than you expected but unmistakably that of a boy and not a man

why do you have to roast him like that💀

You knew what it was like, wondering whether someone's absence meant the Problem had claimed another victim

I never thought about that :/

“No, no, he's got a point.”

he definitely does👀

“Let me,” you found yourself leaning over the counter, your fingers brushing the crook of his elbow as you rescued the carton and set it down gently.

ahfhfdbfdjbvdfbk🫣

Without realising, you found yourself directing the latter part to the other boy, and you could have sworn you saw a flush tint his cheeks as he gave a slight smile and a nod of acknowledgement.

yes please come by and buy all the donuts and smile at me

What you didn't see was the glance exchanged by the other two.

🤭🤭🤭

“Y/n seemed nice,” Lucy remarked as casually as possible. “Mm,” Lockwood agreed into his cup of tea. “What did you think, George?”

very subtle

he took the opportunity to throw Lucy a conspiratorial wink. “Plenty of time for that.”

he's having the time of his life😭 I love it

His hair was dishevelled, the collar of his shirt was wide open and his tie was hanging loosely around his neck.

not me thinking Lucy would come out of his room too🫣

Seeing you at the counter made him falter a little. You'd said you worked mornings, but it was almost lunchtime and he thought someone might have taken over by now.

he's nervousssss🤭

For some reason, you found yourself fishing for a way to make him stay and talk more

i know the reason

For a moment, you thought he'd still leave, but he came towards you and placed the detergent bottle back on the counter with a thud

he even walked back uhhfjhhj

“Lockwood's going to buy food so I thought I'd come and hang out with you. Don't mind me,” she shrugged.

why do I feel like Lucy is really bad at acting and it would be super obvious that something is up😭😭

Moments later, the front door sounded again.

he's working with maniacs and idiots

Lockwood's grinned, wider than before. “You didn't tell me you'd been chatting to y/n, mate.” He turned his attention back to you. “You must have quite the impact if you're getting more out of him than I am.”

I would die

The other boy glanced between you both with delight.

time of his life

George seemed to suddenly realise how close he'd come, practically leaning over the counter to study you; he pulled away and dragged his gaze to his shoes. “Educated guess.”

oh my GOD🫠🫠

You tried very hard not to fixate on the way the movement tightened his shirt across his chest and waist

You're gonna KILL ME YOU CAN'T JUST DROP SOMETHING LIKE THAT IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS

“Wow,” you breathed subconsciously. George's cheeks reddened; this time he was definitely blushing

🤭🤭

That you were less scared of the Visitors than you were of never finding your place within a team or worse, finding the right people but then losing them?

oh no😭

“What's got into you?” George frowned. “I haven't seen you this happy since we watched Kipps fall over his own rapier.”

akjdkshk

“Come on, I've known you long enough to see there's something between you and y/n. Why don't you ask them out?”

oh he's BOLD

He'd abandoned all subtlety, and it was driving George up the wall.

I love this😂😂

Before anyone could react, he pulled out the remaining slices, folded them all in half and took a massive bite. When he unfolded them, it left a gaping hole down the middle of all three slices, which he held up and peeked through triumphantly.

I WAS WAITING FOR THIS

As much as he didn't want to admit it, he'd started looking forward to being sent out for things.

ahhhhhh

George immediately stepped forward and offered his hand to help you climb back down. His skin was warm and slightly calloused. You stumbled a little as you hit the ground and his other hand flew to your elbow, eyes scanning yours in concern. “Thanks,” you murmured, painfully aware of how close you were. You'd put your hand out to steady yourself; it was clutching at the soft fabric of his orange plaid shirt. His eyes met yours once more and you both hastily pulled away.

AKHFKDHFKBDKJDB I WOULD BE A PUDDLE ON THE FLOOR

“They took the last box at the end of their shift, maybe ten minutes ago.”

noooooo

A figure on the steps of 35 Portland Row made George stop in his tracks. A new client, perhaps. Nothing unusual there.

OMG YES I WAS HOPING THIS WOULD HAPPEN

“I missed seeing you.”

😭😭🤭🤭

“It's not an extra if you're here. I mean, if you want? You could come in and we can share them with the rest of the team.”

oh my godddd

With a smile, you wound the fingers of your free hand into his and allowed him to lead you into the house.

YOU'RE GONNA KILL ME

Meddling Git

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader

Summary: When George connects with Arif's new shop assistant, Lockwood makes it his mission to make more opportunities for them to meet

Content: fluff, meddling Lockwood, insecurity about agent work, slight mention of blood

A/N: I'm back!! After an unintentional 7 month hiatus, I've finally been inspired to write again! I've also decided to switch from using (name) to y/n if anyone has any opinions on that. Thank you to everyone who shared anniversary/meet content for reminding me how much I love this fandom, and all my love to the multiverse of George chat for giving me so much inspiration and encouragement 💛

Word count: 4k exactly!

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea @mischiefmanaged71 and also tagging @bobbys-not-that-small @bella-rose29 @oblivious-idiot @uku-lelevillain

Lockwood, Lucy and George marched proudly towards Arif's. They'd completed another house call and been tipped generously by the owner, so Lockwood had promised to treat the team to breakfast. Of course, with the first rays of the morning only just beginning to peek through the clouds, there weren't any cafes open yet.

“I'll cook,” George offered, “as long as you buy the ingredients…”

“Of course.”

“...and those strawberry cream doughnuts.”

“Fine,” Lockwood rolled his eyes dramatically. Lucy grinned.

The bell above the door rang out lightly. Only agents would be around at this hour, and Lockwood & Co was the only agency who ever came to Arif's. In fact, their presence was so regular that the boy who worked the morning shift, Max, would greet them before they even came into view. Today, however, the shop remained silent.

“Morning, Max!” Lockwood called over a shelf when the quiet lasted a moment too long. “I don't suppose you have any of the strawb-” He hesitated as the group rounded the corner and finally came into view of the counter.

—

You frowned a little to yourself at the gentle chime of the bell. Surely there wouldn't be anybody about this early? Though you couldn't see the front door from behind the counter (a bit of a security flaw, you reckoned) there was a small window to your left which showed only the slightest hint of sunlight. Then again, Arif had mentioned a group of agents that would come by often. You weren't aware there was a local agency, but you were so new to both the area and the job that you didn't like to question it. The bell had been followed by overlapping footsteps and more than one hushed voice. Maybe this was them.

“Morning, Max!” one of the voices suddenly spoke up, a little deeper than you expected but unmistakably that of a boy and not a man. The footsteps drew closer. “I don't suppose you have any of the strawb-” At last the owner of the voice appeared from behind a shelf. The words stuttered to a stop, as did the movements of the tall boy in the black overcoat. Behind him, a girl in a blue jumper almost ran into him with the sudden pause.

“You're not Max,” she stated bluntly.

“No, I'm not.”

“Is he…?”

“Moved back to Cornwall with his parents,” you reassured her. You knew what it was like, wondering whether someone's absence meant the Problem had claimed another victim. “I'm y/n.”

“Well,” the boy cut back in with a charming smile, “morning, y/n. I'm Lockwood, this is Lucy, and George is around somewhere. As I was saying, do you happen to have any of those strawberry cream doughnuts?”

You returned his smile with one of your own as you fetched a square box from the chilled cabinet. “You're in luck, but I suppose you'll have to fight over who gets the fourth.”

“We won't,” another boy piped up from the far corner of the shop - George, you assumed. “If I'm making breakfast, I'm calling dibs.” Lucy giggled and you felt yourself suppressing one of your own.

“You'll have to forgive George, he's-” Lockwood began.

“No, no, he's got a point.”

“Finally, somebody gets it!” George's voice sounded triumphant, and much closer than before. After a beat, he arrived and you were able to put a face to the voice.

George was taller than Lucy but a little shorter than Lockwood, with dark curly hair and round glasses. Under his jacket was a vibrantly orange T-shirt, and in his arms he cradled a carton of eggs and a few different vegetables. He shuffled closer, attempting to place the produce on the counter without dropping the eggs but having trapped his hand in too awkward a position to keep a good hold of them.

“Let me,” you found yourself leaning over the counter, your fingers brushing the crook of his elbow as you rescued the carton and set it down gently. The boy blinked at you in surprise before quickly recovering and placing down the bulb of garlic he was holding. “What are you making?”

“Gojeh farangi, a sort of omelette.”

“Sounds good.” You handed him the ingredients, now bagged, and slid the box of doughnuts towards him as well. Lockwood stepped forwards with a handful of cash, and George shrunk back.

“It's been a pleasure meeting you, y/n,” Lockwood gave you another of those smiles. You got the sense he was the head of the team, the diplomat, the charisma. “No doubt we'll see you again.”

“Nice to meet you all too. I'll be here most mornings, in case you want to beat the regular crowd to the good doughnuts.” Without realising, you found yourself directing the latter part to the other boy, and you could have sworn you saw a flush tint his cheeks as he gave a slight smile and a nod of acknowledgement. What you didn't see was the glance exchanged by the other two.

—

The trio were back at Portland Row, the kitchen filled with the smell of fresh tomatoes and the glow of a job well done.

“Y/n seemed nice,” Lucy remarked as casually as possible.

“Mm,” Lockwood agreed into his cup of tea. “What did you think, George?”

They turned their attention quite unsubtly to their friend at the oven. He stayed with his back to them, and they couldn't be sure it was just because he was focused on breakfast, as he shrugged. “Suppose so. Didn't get much chance to judge.” He turned at last, not making eye contact as he slid two plates across the table.

“Ah well,” Lockwood continued after thanking George, who had turned away to collect his own plate, and he took the opportunity to throw Lucy a conspiratorial wink. “Plenty of time for that.”

Lucy almost choked on her mouthful.

The next day, George was halfway down the main stairs on the way to the training room when Lockwood poked his head out of his room. His hair was dishevelled, the collar of his shirt was wide open and his tie was hanging loosely around his neck.

“Ah, George! Do me a favour and run down to Arif's? We're out of detergent.”

“Why can't you go?”

“I've got that meeting with Mrs Pemberley to go over the details of the case and I'm running late as it is.”

“And Lucy-”

“Has gone to see Barnes.”

“Right.”

George held the door open for an elderly man just leaving the shop before slipping inside. He made his way to the detergent, stopping for a packet of chocolate digestives. Seeing you at the counter made him falter a little. You'd said you worked mornings, but it was almost lunchtime and he thought someone might have taken over by now.

“Oh, hello,” you greeted him cheerily. “Didn't hear you come in. George, right? Are your friends with you?”

“Just me,” George huffed. You picked up on the huff and wondered whether he was just having a bad day. From the small interaction you'd had yesterday, he seemed to get on well with his fellow agents and his annoyance was playfully exaggerated. Was it too soon to play along? You'd only met him yesterday. Then again, it was ordinary enough for shop workers to make conversation with the customers, and you wanted to at least try and make an effort at this new job.

“One of those days?” you prompted.

“Tell me about it.” The response was dry but not sarcastic, and you got the sense that he would have opened up more if he knew you better.

“Surely these will help,” you held up the biscuits as you passed them back to him, which earned you a slight smile. That was all you got, however, as he paid and walked away with only a muttered thanks. For some reason, you found yourself fishing for a way to make him stay and talk more. There weren't many people your age who came by while you were on shift (not many people at all, to be honest), as most of them worked the night shifts and barely went out and about until later in the afternoon. You just wanted someone, anyone, to talk to, and he was right there and getting further away by the second. Plus, you couldn't deny you were intrigued.

“Can I ask you something?” you blurted.

The boy turned, curiosity colouring his gaze. For a moment, you thought he'd still leave, but he came towards you and placed the detergent bottle back on the counter with a thud. You continued, “Which agency do you all work for? I noticed your rapiers yesterday, and Arif mentioned you being in the area, but I wasn't sure where."

George brightened. “We're Lockwood & Co, on Portland Row.”

—

A few more days passed, and the longer it went on the more George was unable to stop thinking about the new shop assistant. There was something about their question - most people didn't pay much notice to off-duty agents, much less care about which agency they were from. Sure, Arif had mentioned or warned them about Lockwood & Co, so perhaps it was just polite conversation, but they'd seemed genuinely invested in the answer. And with the shop opening in the early hours specifically for agents, it often took someone with Talent of their own to be brave enough to be out so early. Maybe…

His thoughts were interrupted by Lucy wandering into the study. She flopped into the armchair opposite, trying not to pay too much attention when George peered at her over the top of his book.

“Everything okay?” he asked. It wasn't often Lucy joined him for research.

“Lockwood's going to buy food so I thought I'd come and hang out with you. Don't mind me,” she shrugged. George took that rather literally, turning his attention back to the book on his lap. In the distance, they heard the front door open and close again, marking Lockwood's exit.

Lucy spoke again. “Oh, I almost forgot! He said we're out of cornflour but can he just use baking powder instead?”

George's eyes widened, and Lucy heard him mutter something particularly cutting as he dropped his book onto the arm of the chair and darted from the room. Moments later, the front door sounded again.

Lockwood turned in his stride and met George with a sharp grin, almost like he was expecting the other boy to come after him.

“I take it we do need cornflour, then?”

“You're such an idiot.” George fell into step beside him, and the two walked quietly for a while. George wondered whether it was worth going back to the house at all after this or whether to carry on to the Archives; it was early enough in the day that they might not be full yet. At least it would mean not being a part of whatever scheme his friend seemed to be cooking up.

—

You were greeted by Lockwood remarkably quickly after the bell alerted you to his presence, but he barely got a word in before you apologised, explaining that you hadn't meant to be rude when you first met, you just didn't know the agency to put his name to it.

“It was only when George explained-”

Almost as if you'd summoned him, the curly-haired boy stepped into view and gave you a small nod.

Lockwood's grinned, wider than before. “You didn't tell me you'd been chatting to y/n, mate.” He turned his attention back to you. “You must have quite the impact if you're getting more out of him than I am.”

A glowing warmth spread through your cheeks, and instinctively your eyes flew to George, whose expression reflected your own. The other boy glanced between you both with delight. “I suppose so,” you mumbled. “I was just curious because-”

“You have Talent.” It was George who had spoken, and he moved forward with his gaze levelled on yours. The words were spoken not as a question or a statement, more like a realisation. It struck you that behind the unassuming first impression the boy gave off was a quiet but brilliant intelligence for him to have figured you out so quickly. Very few people ever figured you out at all, especially not about your Talent.

“How did you know?”

George seemed to suddenly realise how close he'd come, practically leaning over the counter to study you; he pulled away and dragged his gaze to his shoes. “Educated guess.”

Lockwood, on the other hand, was having none of it, eyeing you up mischievously. “Don't be so modest,” he elbowed his friend in the ribs. You tried very hard not to fixate on the way the movement tightened his shirt across his chest and waist. “He's not our researcher for nothing, he's a genius.”

George sighed, but his head lifted with a burst of confidence. “I figured you must to feel safe working here before dawn, I just wasn't sure why you're not an agent. Oh, and the iron cross above the counter is new.”

There wasn't a single other person this week who'd noticed the cross you installed on your first day. This boy was really something.

“Wow,” you breathed subconsciously. George's cheeks reddened; this time he was definitely blushing. As for why you weren't an agent, what were you supposed to say? That you were less scared of the Visitors than you were of never finding your place within a team or worse, finding the right people but then losing them? How could you possibly explain that to him? So you didn't, and after a few more pleasantries Lockwood headed for the door. George threw you a backwards glance and a small wave, and the butterflies that had appeared in your stomach waved back.

Lockwood was positively beaming as they stepped out into the midday sun. Golden rays danced across his face, the air was mild, a soft breeze ruffled through his coat. It was all far too cheerful.

“What's got into you?” George frowned. “I haven't seen you this happy since we watched Kipps fall over his own rapier.”

“Am I not allowed to be happy?” Lockwood feigned outrage, clutching his chest. “And it's you that I'm happy for!”

George stopped. “What?”

“Come on, I've known you long enough to see there's something between you and y/n. Why don't you ask them out?”

“It's not like that! We've only spoken a couple of times, I don't know them well enough for anything like that.”

“If you say so…”

—

God, Lockwood was insufferable. He'd abandoned all subtlety, and it was driving George up the wall.

The smell of strong black coffee drifted up the stairs as George drifted down them. Lockwood had booked a big case for that night with absolutely no background information, so he'd spent the whole night on initial research. Hopefully caffeine would keep him awake long enough to get through the day.

Lucy was standing by the toaster, wielding a butter knife and humming to herself. George slumped into his usual chair with a groan.

“Coffee? Toast?” she offered.

“Please.”

“Sorry,” Lockwood appeared from the basement. “That's the last of the bread, you'll need to pick up more while you're out today.”

“You're joking,” George looked up. “There's still three slices in the bag there.” This was the third time this week he'd pulled something like this. The first was ‘accidentally’ stepping on an entire packet of biscuits. The second was announcing the milk was off, pouring it down the drain before anyone could check with enough force that it splashed back and went all over his trousers. And now this.

Lucy opened her mouth to respond, but Lockwood was faster. Before anyone could react, he pulled out the remaining slices, folded them all in half and took a massive bite. When he unfolded them, it left a gaping hole down the middle of all three slices, which he held up and peeked through triumphantly.

“You're ridiculous,” George scowled.

“ ‘m miwwian’” Lockwood mumbled around the wad of bread in his mouth.

George wanted to put his foot down. He didn't want to let Lockwood win. He knew he'd be so smug about it. But he also knew that every time he was sent to Arif's he stayed a little longer, talked a little more, watched you smile a little brighter. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he'd started looking forward to being sent out for things.

“Oh hey, Georgie!” Your face lit up when he entered the shop, and he smiled back. You weren't sure when you'd started calling him Georgie, he'd been here so often it was hard to tell which day was which any more. Not that you were complaining - he was easy to talk to, more interested in your Talent than anyone else had been, understanding when you'd finally explained your concerns about becoming an agent, and undeniably cute on top of all that. “What do you need today?”

“A boss who's not a meddling git,” he scowled dramatically, “...and milk.”

“I can only help with the second one,” you teased as you made your way out to the shop floor. Speaking to him from behind a counter felt so impersonal now, so you'd taken to wandering round the shop with him. You really hoped he didn't think you were overstepping or anything. As far as you knew, he thought of you as just the shop assistant, nothing more. You hoped it was more than that, could be more at least.

Another customer came and went, and George was still there, enraptured by your opinions on the Problem. He'd taken up a stance leaning against the shelves, one hand tucked into his pocket and looking the most relaxed you'd seen him since that first time he came into the shop. A light smile played across his face as he watched you hop onto the counter, not breaking your train of thought at all.

“I should get on before my shift finishes,” you sighed eventually. George immediately stepped forward and offered his hand to help you climb back down. His skin was warm and slightly calloused. You stumbled a little as you hit the ground and his other hand flew to your elbow, eyes scanning yours in concern.

“Thanks,” you murmured, painfully aware of how close you were. You'd put your hand out to steady yourself; it was clutching at the soft fabric of his orange plaid shirt. His eyes met yours once more and you both hastily pulled away.

“I'd better get back,” he cleared his throat.

“To the meddling git?”

He chuckled, a low sound which rumbled pleasantly in his chest. “Exactly. We're, um, we're out on another case tonight, but I'll see you soon, okay?”

“I hope so,” you replied, hoping he knew you didn't just mean because he made it back safely. “We'll have those doughnuts you like again tomorrow, if you're back in time.”

“I'll definitely be here for that,” he grinned.

—

It had been a hell of a night. The man who hired them had tried to bolster his ego by downplaying how intense the Visitors were. ‘A couple of Type 1s’ had turned out to be three particularly vicious Type 2s and it had taken until dawn to neutralise all the sources. The team emerged into the dewy morning covered in dust, rubble and, in George's case, blood. He'd taken a piece of debris to the face and, while it wasn't a serious injury, it had left him with a small cut which throbbed when he spoke. They were quite far from home too, and it was almost midday before they made it back to Portland Row.

George flopped onto a sofa in the living room as soon as they were through the door, while Lucy fetched the first aid kit. She sat down next to him, clicking open the case, and her face paled even more than it had with the exhaustion.

“We're out of antiseptic.”

“Lockwood,” George glared at his friend. He really wasn't in the mood.

“This isn't me this time! Look, you stay here and rest, I'll go and get more. Anything else we need?”

George pushed himself up to his feet. At least venting to you might make him feel better, and you had promised him doughnuts. “It's fine, I'll go.” Lockwood glanced at Lucy, taken aback by his insistence. He'd only been teasing George about going to see you, he never expected it to actually work.

“Please tell me you've still got those doughnuts, y/n,” George groaned as he pushed open the door to Arif's.

“Sorry,” came the reply from a voice distinctly unlike yours, as Arif glanced up from the shelf he was reorganising. “They took the last box at the end of their shift, maybe ten minutes ago.”

The last glimmer of hope that George had harboured fizzled out in his chest. Of course there was going to be no silver lining to the day. He was tired, he was hurt, and he didn't even get the doughnuts he'd been holding out for. Worse than that, though, he finally admitted to himself (and practically to his friends too) that he wanted to see you, that he liked you, and for what? Of course you weren't, you'd finished work and why on earth would you stick around just in case he showed up? It was unreasonable, he knew, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed. He'd have to wait until tomorrow, when he'd recovered a bit and could have a proper chat to you about everything. Ranting with Lockwood and Lucy was alright - they'd been there, they knew what he went through - but you were so gentle and understanding with him every time that he was desperate to hear your thoughts.

A figure on the steps of 35 Portland Row made George stop in his tracks. A new client, perhaps. Nothing unusual there.

The figure turned.

“Georgie?”

His face split into a grin the instant he recognised you. You'd changed out of your plain uniform into more casual clothes. The vibrant colours made you look almost radiant.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?”

You shuffled awkwardly on the step, suddenly aware of just how much of a risk you were about to take.

“When you didn't show up this morning… well, I was worried about you on the case. And I know I said I was scared of becoming an agent in case I made friends with my team and then lost them, but I realised I could just as easily lose you like this and I'd never get to really know…” George watched you in awe, silently gravitating closer with every breath. Your own breath was trembling, the sound of it echoing from your chest up to your ears. Finally, he was close enough that you noticed the stark red line on his cheek. “Oh my god, you're hurt.” Just imagining him in pain sent ice through your veins.

“I'm okay,” he assured you gently. “Just a scratch. I've just been to Arif's for antiseptic and…” he looked almost as nervous to speak as you, “I missed seeing you.”

You wanted to reach out to him, to take his hand or hug him close, but instead you held up the box you'd forgotten you were holding. “Me too. I brought those doughnuts just in case, figured you might need the extra one.”

His expression softened. “It's not an extra if you're here. I mean, if you want? You could come in and we can share them with the rest of the team.” Team. He gave you a look that showed he meant the implication behind it. You were one of them now, if you wanted to be. With a smile, you wound the fingers of your free hand into his and allowed him to lead you into the house.

[yonglixx]

HI SUN !!! it's me again :D

i read through your previous answer and pls i love it sm when hyunjin speaks english 🥺👉👈 esp that time he said "your behaviour is so... UGH" that was 😭😭 and it's very interesting to know some of your favorite songs because that gives me a good idea for what type of gifset i want to make for you hehe

and your description of how you're most like felix is so!!! adorable! i can honestly believe that you're most like him, i've once read that your bias is the person you're most like and your bias wrecker is your ideal type! so for me i'd be most like minho and my ideal types would be jisung & chan hehe

how has your week been so far, sun? i know i've been a little mia but i had to finish up my report but i'm back now bc (52 pages later) i finally finished it 🥳🥳

i've got a few more q's stored for you ;)

what's your favorite skz gifset that you made yourself? (i love your gifs and i want to see more of them!!)

what's your favorite skz gifset someone else made? (it's the time to spread love 💖)

what member would you go on a day-long date with and what would you do? (i think i know who it's gonna be...👀)

how did you get into skz? and when? (i'm always so curious abt this when meeting other stays 🤭)

kiss, marry, boop nose: felix, chan, jisung

same as above but with your three favorite bts members? (i see you're into bts as well, which... Taste™)

okay that's all for now hehehe hope you're having a day that is equally wonderful as you are 💖💖

— your skzanta ✨🎁🎄☃️

Please, I really meant it, don't worry about being on time or anything like that like I am also in school so I understand :) I have to say, I really love your questions, they are so thoughtful and fun<3 and did you say 52 pages?? I can't even like I was here complaining about a 20page :(((

I have also been busy, like I have 4 exams and some assignments left so I'm kind of overwhelmed but we're almost there:)

Thank you so much<333 I think my favorite set I've made is the shoot Felix did for Star1 Magazine because he looked so, so good!!!!

There are so many amazing creators here but I always love @hyunskzz's touch of pink whenever she makes a set, its so cute<3 here is one of my favs :)I also love @hyunlixc's gifs bc they are so big and so beautiful <333 the recent Felix one is my favorite:)

You already know!! I'd kill to go on a long date with Felix! Imagine just the happiness omg 😢

Okay so funny story, I was on tiktok when one of Felix's deep voice compilations showed up on my fyp and I was like, let me check this out right? I was never the same after that 😂

kiss Chan, marry Felix, boop Jisung's cute nose<3

You don't understand how happy it makes me that you acknowledge my love for BTS as well:(((( They were the first Kpop group I got into so they hold a very special place In my heart:)

Kiss Hobi, Marry joon, boop Tae's cute nose like I love his nose its so cuteee but I love his everything haha

Thank you so much for these lovely messages like they are the highlight of my day whenever I get them, you are so lovely, and I hope you have an amazing day 💕💕