#i'm too used to pete i think

[justatree75]

i really like the art of murder but i cannot for the life of me take joey richter voicing a sexy visual novel character seriously (/pos)

[fromperdition4]

I love Pol, he's such a funny-- wait, why does he have a 'new guy?'

And why is Porsche asking him where Kinn is?

Did... did they make Pol Kinn's head bodyguard? Is that how they solved the bodyguard problem, by not just shuffling the roster around, but making Pol the head?

Oh. Oh no.

That's why we see Pol standing with Kinn in the last episode, isn't it? And why he's there (trying) to protect him in the shootout...

Though, I guess Pete got shifted too by that point? (Or, as @fangirlwithoutafandom pointed out - he may never have been officially reassigned to be Tankuhn's bodyguard again, after switching with Porsche in ep 2...)

But then, once Pete's back, surely he would be the head of Kinn's detail - because, while I love Pol, he may not be the best choice for that role...

[spirngakawening]

Ruth, Pete, & Richie read Sesuji wo Pin! together

[nerdy-novelist017]

A Date (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader Pt 3)

Thank you so much for all your kind words, likes and reblogs on my last two posts! You guys are keeping me so entertained with the comments!

Ugh I rewrote this like 3 times :( I just couldn't get it right and I'm still not sure how I feel about it OH WELL

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 2.2K

Summary- You were sure you'd never see Benny Cross again. . . you were wrong.

******

“Benny’s been asking for ya.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you nearly dropped the receiver into the bowl of cake batter. Kathy’s statement came out of left field, the two of you having been discussing the latest news on the block – what kind of lipstick Sheryl Dickie uses that somehow always lasts an entire night of bar hopping. “What?”

“Yeah, says he’s real desperate to ask you somethin’,” Kathy’s tone was flippant, but you’ve known her long enough to hear the excitement she’s hiding in her voice.

“What could he possibly have to talk to me about?” You asked as you set the whisk down and moved around the kitchen counter to peak down the hallway towards the living room where you knew your father sat in his large recliner, watching a rerun of Bonanza. 

“I dunno, maybe you should come to another meetin’ so you can find out.”

“No, I’m not going to anymore of those.” you declared firmly, yanking the cord so that the phone was up to your other ear. “I don’t know how you can stand being around those guys.”

Kathy laughed, the static spiking. “C’mon, they’re fun, and you know it. Did you tell your parents how you got to ride on the back of a Vandal’s bike, and not just any Vandal!”

“No!” you squeaked. “And they’re never going to know. It was a one-time thing.”

“It doesn’t have to be. They’re having another meetin’ tonight. I’m sure Benny could pick you up–”

“Well, I can’t tonight,” you cut her off. “I have plans.”

“What plans?”

“My date.”

“Date?” Kathy asked, voice lowering dubiously. “With who?”

“Pete,” you said quietly. 

“Who?” she asked again.

You sighed. “Pete? The guy from Mama’s church?” 

Pete was introduced to you last week by your mother who was introduced to him by his mother. It was a train of people who wanted to matchmake, to see young love blossom before their eyes, even if it was forced. Pete was nice enough and he had kind eyes that sat behind wide-rimmed glasses. You’d been on one other date with him. He was an engineering student in his first year and he talked a lot about his school. He liked school. And he liked to golf nearly every weekend (his family belonged to the country club on the upper side of town). And mostly – he talked a lot about himself. He seemed to really like himself too.

“Oh, okay.” Kathy sounded unimpressed.

“My family really likes him. My dad likes him.”

“Yeah?” 

At her unenthusiastic response, you added quickly, “And I’m excited!”

“Is that why you’re stress-baking?” Kathy inquired as if she could sense it.

You glance down at the bowl of cake batter. No, it wasn’t, actually. You weren’t nervous to go on your second date with Pete; he didn’t make her nervous, didn’t fill your belly with those pesky butterflies. Pete was . . . just Pete. No, you were stress-baking because of a certain blonde Bikerider whose ocean blue eyes wouldn’t leave your thoughts all night. You were up, tossing and turning, replaying every moment with him like a broken record. It was one ride, the logical side of your mind had to say, and you’ll never see him again. You allowed yourself the rest of the night to think about him, and then you wouldn’t set aside any more time. 

In theory, it was a nice strategy. But when you woke up today, your thoughts were absolutely clouded with him and his incredibly direct eye-contact and his deeply rich voice and his hand touching your thigh and his lips encasing the cigarette—

You were doing it again! It had been one ride! One ride and a few hours. One ride where your arms wrapped so tightly to his solid form. One ride where he showed you places you’d never seen before, from a point of view you’d never been before. One ride where you felt as though you were seeing the world in a whole new light. One ride that you couldn’t get out of your head.

“Yes, because of Pete,” you replied evenly. “And I’m going to have a good time with him tonight.”

There’s a smile in her voice when she says, “Okay, sure. Say, what restaurant did ya say he was takin’ you?”

********

Thanking the driver, you stepped out of the cab, your heels connecting softly with the concrete of the sidewalk. Taking a moment to smooth any wrinkles on your pink dress, your gaze fluttered across the street to the restaurant Pete told you to meet him at. 

Ricardo’s was one of the most expensive restaurants in town, somewhere you never found yourself frequenting, but Pete absolutely gushed about their food. Coming from old money, Pete had no hesitation picking here for your second date. Pete’s family was well off, that’s what your mother liked to point out. He was a good boy with good money. He would provide for you, buy you a nice house with a picket fence in the front yard. A safe bet for the same routine life that nearly all the women of your family had spanning back several generations.

You made your way across the street, eyes taking in the lineup of expensive cars parked out front: Mercedes, Rolls Royce, Cadillac . . . Harley-Davidson motorcycle. You did a double-take at the shiny metal glinting underneath the streetlamp, eyes traveling upwards to the figure leaning casually against it. He was looking at the restaurant, head turned to give a generous view of his profile, and he hadn’t noticed you yet. For a split second, you considered taking advantage of that and booking it into the front door before he had a chance to stop you. But some deeply intrinsic part of you yearned to memorize every detail of him and you simply couldn’t look away. As a moth drawn to flame, you were drawn to him, to the golden streaks of his hair, down to the strong slope of his nose, the curve where his top lip sat so perfectly against the bottom – even with the cigarette tucked between. He wore long sleeves under his club jacket and the same distressed jeans from your last encounter. Half shrouded in the darkness of night, with the orange glow of the streetlight nearest to him, he looked like a beacon of mystery. Abandoning your previous course, you turned and approached him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked once you were close enough for him to hear you. 

Benny turned and a smile broke out over his features, eyes sweeping down your figure. “Do you dress like that all the time or only when you’re gonna see me?” He asked, nodding to your dress and heels. 

You stopped about 6 feet away from him (a reasonable distance), hopping up onto the sidewalk. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“What a chance encounter,” he proclaimed with a secretive wink that sent your stomach on a roller coaster ride. 

“Chance encounter, or Kathy’s loose lips?” you quipped and he rubbed a hand over his mouth to keep from smiling, fingers grazing through the blonde, recently-trimmed facial hair.  

“Why are you here?” You asked again, this time a touch quieter.  

“Well, I have a coupon,” he replied simply.

You couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at your lips, your brows raising incredulously. “A coupon? To Ricardo’s?”

“Mm-hm,” he nodded, straight-faced.

You rolled your eyes at his antics. He had a coupon, your ass. A well-dressed elderly couple walked past you both on the sidewalk, each shooting a look of disapproval toward the dirty young man leaning against his death machine. Benny seemed not to notice them, his gaze still on you. 

“Why are you here?” he questioned.

“I��I have a date,” you replied and desperately tried to ignore the heat rising to your face at the admission. “But something tells me you already know that.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, looking down to the ground for all of five seconds before his gaze flashed back up to you. “Wanna go for a ride, Little Bunny?”

“What? No.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Why not?”

“Well, I just told you I'm here for a date,” you replied with a tilt of your head. 

Benny shrugged. “So?”

You shook your head but he continued, “Why are you wastin’ your time with dates when we’re gonna be married anyway?”

Your mouth fell open in surprise. The nerve on this guy! Part of you was surprised that he still had it in his head of marrying you. You thought maybe he had a few too many beers last night or was just smooth-talking you so that you’d let him sleep with you. But here he was, showing up on the sidewalk, giving you those puppy eyes. You’d already denied him once. Could he not take a hint?

“I don’t recall you ever asking.” you pointed out, feeling emboldened by his casual attitude. 

He perked up at that, tossing the remainder of his cigarette to the ground. “You want me to ask?”

You fought to remain neutral-faced at his playfulness. “No, thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . . I have a date.” One that you were excited about before you caught sight of Benny and your train of thoughts completely derailed.

Benny held his hands up in a conciliatory way and you turned on your heel, leaving him out on the streets as you made your way inside.

******

The clock on the far wall seemed to be mocking you, minutes ticking by mercilessly. You resisted looking at it, instead planting your chin in the palm of your hand as you watched the door, waiting for Pete’s familiar face to appear. It had been over an hour. He was over an hour late for your date. 

Each time the waitress returned to fill your glass of water, you told yourself a new lie. He was just stuck at work, he’ll be here soon. He was running behind getting ready, he’ll be here soon. There must have been an emergency, he’ll be here soon. He wouldn’t stand you up, he’ll be here soon. 

But as the seconds passed, you sunk further and further into your seat, humiliation forming a ball in your stomach. Surely, he had gotten his days mixed up? He really seemed to enjoy your first date, so why was he nowhere to be seen. Every time someone walked through the front door, the little bell chiming above, you glanced up, certain it would be him. But it never was. At first, you were angry. How could he have the audacity to leave you hanging without so much as calling you before he left if he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it. Then a bitter thought came to mind: what if he stood you up because he didn’t want to go out with you again. What if you weren't good enough for him. You had spent your whole life on the never ending hamster wheel of trying to be good enough for everyone else. Was your hard work even noticed?

Recognizing the sting of unshed tears, you looked down at the napkin folded neatly in your lap, blinking rapidly in an attempt to get control of yourself. The bell chimed over the front door, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look over at it, not wanting to feel the crushing disappointment of another wealthy customer walking inside and not your date. 

Then a flash of dark clothing popped across from you and you looked up just as Benny Cross slid into the empty seat. You opened your mouth, but no words came out. He leaned forward, elbows of his leather jacket propped over the tablecloth.

“Pete not show?” he asked, expression solemn. 

Your ears burned and you shook your head. Too preoccupied by your embarrassment, it didn’t even occur to you that you had never told him Pete’s name. 

He frowned and he genuinely appeared upset. Unable to maintain his direct gaze, you glanced away and caught the eyes of everyone else in the restaurant staring wide-eyed at the two of you. You realized that it was Benny who they were gawking at. And you didn’t seem to notice until now that he looked totally out of place with his worn clothes and dirty hands. As if sensing their not-so-subtle staring, Benny turned and looked about the room.

“What’s with all the stiff shirts in here?” he asked, sending you a conspiratorial glance. “I think they might be intimidated by you.”

“Me?” You furrowed your brow. It definitely wasn’t you they were looking at. In fact, the only person who was staring at you was Benny. 

“Yeah, I bet they’ve never seen anyone as pretty as you. Most people haven’t and they don't know how to act when they do.” He grinned and you had to look down at your lap as heat rose to your face.  

“I guess Pete wouldn’t agree,” you muttered quietly, feeling the anger in your heart fizzle out to meer disappointment. 

“Fuck Pete,” Benny said passionately, causing an elderly woman behind you to gasp and you giggled, shocked at his language. Benny was bad, he was trouble . . . but he was also fun, and you couldn’t hide your eagerness as he leaned his arms across the table, moving closer to address you privately. 

“You wanna get out of here, Bunny?” His question sent a gust of anticipation through your veins. 

“Yeah,” you admitted, smiling shyly. 

He stood quickly and you followed in suit. Then he did something that caused a wave of butterflies to roll through your stomach; he reached out and clasped his hand with you, interlocking fingers tightly. You grinned, excitement making you feel light and airy as he pulled you through the restaurant, past all the staring faces and harsh whispers and out the door into the night which felt alive with a whole new feeling of possibilities. 

*Tag List*

@imusicaddict @elizabeth916 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @ironmooncat @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @charmingballoon @eugene-emt-roe  @sunnbib @semperamans @groovyangelkisses @killerqueenfan

[luveline]

hiiii jade!!!! could i please request something with peter with reader who’s maybe put on some weight recently and is insecure about it?? (totally not self indulgent at all) i totally get it if you’re not comfortable writing that stuff though so no pressure

hi lovely! ty for requesting. fem, 1k

cw for negative weight talk/ weight gain

Everybody gains weight during the holidays, you think, tracing your figure in the mirror. Though it's not strictly holiday season yet, it's edging toward the end of the year. Maybe my new year's resolution should be losing a few pounds. 

There's a thunk of the bedroom window being yanked open and footsteps across the floor. You tense until your hear Peter panting for breath, likely having swung to you at high speed, or fresh from a fight with an usurped criminal. 

You rush back into your t-shirt, knowing exactly what path he'll walk. He barrels into the bathroom, sees you at the mirror and smiles so wide his cheeks look fit to burst. "Hey," he says, peeling the suit off and exposing his boxers to you without shame, "hey hey hey. Can I persuade you in with me?" He nods toward the shower. 

"Not this time, Pete." 

"Too bad," he laments. 

You look away as he strips out of his underwear. The shower turns on and he takes you by the hips to move you out of his way with a murmured apology, near lost to the drum of the spray. Peter has moments where he doesn't know his own strength, but the majority of the time he treats you like you're something precious. 

"Stay in here!" he demands as he pulls the curtain shut. 

"I'm not going anywhere." You close the toilet and sit on the lid. "Tough day protecting the people?" 

"Apart from tripping into a deceptively large pothole, it was fine. Why won't you come in here with me? I wanna rub your shoulders." 

"You want me to wash your hair." 

"Exactly. So get naked and get in here. Don't make me beg." 

You really don't want to, and you're not going to, but it's not a big problem. Peter doesn't truly mind, he just loves you. "What do you mean, deceptively big? Like, knee height? Higher?" 

"Mid thigh, I'd say. The people of New York are never gonna let me live it down. One guy was recording me and said he was gonna put it on YouTube for the ad money." 

"Anything else?" 

He gives you the rundown, describing what perps he faced and an older man he helped use an ATM machine. You hum distractedly, pinching at the fat where it spreads on your thigh, sitting down as you are. 

He sticks his face through the curtain gap, hair slicked to his cheeks. "What're you doing?" 

"You told me to stay, so I'm staying." 

He's nervous for a split second, glancing back into the shower as though there's an answer there waiting for him before angling himself toward you fully, his naked chest dripping and shining in the bathroom light. "Okay, fine, we need to talk about something. But I want you to know that you forced my hand here. Okay?" 

"Okay." You nibble the inside of your lip, used to his theatrics. "What have I done?" 

"It's not something you've done. It's something you are. I can't even say it. I," —he pulls the curtain in front of his face, moves it aside again– "just need to tell you. Lately it's like you don't even realise how beautiful you are and I'm tired of it. You're radiant. Like, glowing." 

Your recent internal debate must show on your face, that doubt, because he gives you a steadying smile. "Really, really beautiful," he says more seriously.

It's easy to smile at him. "Thank you, Pete." You scoop his suit off of the floor. "I'll go scrub the tetanus out of this in the kitchen sink." 

"Wait–" 

He can't just get out with suds in his hair, giving you the perfect escape plan. You have ten minutes to yourself filling the sink with soapy water and steeping the fabric before he's out of the bedroom in pyjamas, trousers tucked into his socks and hair damp from ferocious towel scrubbing. "You're such a– such a– thing," he decides. "I'm telling you you're beautiful and you walk off so you don't have to hear it? What's wrong with you?" His voice slips into a kinder register. "You do know you're pretty, right? I'm not just saying it to say it." 

"I'm just feeling icky," you confide. 

"About what?" 

You want to tell him, you find. "You know how I've gained weight?" 

He doesn't need any more explanation. Peter knows you've gained weight, you've mentioned it to him, and it's visual, and he can likely tell whenever he decides to flex his strength. "What, and you think that makes you less pretty?" He puts a damp hand behind your neck to bring you forward. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, a little." 

He kisses you. His nose bumps your nose, his lips crushed to your as he holds you in place. Despite this, it isn't an overly rough connection. It's definitely not shy. "You're beautiful," he says in the space between your lips. 

"It doesn't suit me–" 

"It does. It really fucking suits you. Have you seen yourself? You couldn't look better." 

"Even when I was thinner?" 

"You look just as perfect then as you did now." His intensity fades and he encourages you back enough to see your face, his thumb rubbing a short line into your neck. His brows are furrowed, dark eyes darker for it. "Weight isn't a factor." 

"No, but you have to say that." 

"I don't. Not really. I'm sure there are a thousand shitty guys who'd tell you something different, but I'm not– I love you, the whole you. I like you like this." He grins. "Which should be obvious." 

You tsk at him, to his delight, his laughter boyish as he buries his face in your neck with a hug, kissing a messy circle up and into the soft line of your jaw. You trap him there without thinking, chin hooked down, squirming as he blows hot air into your skin. 

"I've been putting it on too," he says. "It's happy weight." 

"It's not happy weight for you, Pete, it's just more muscle." 

"It makes you happy, doesn't it?" he jokes, smiling and kissing and hugging you all at once. "Just like it does on you for me."

[badnewswhatsleft]

rock sound #312 (nov 2024)

transcript below cut:

ROCK SOUND 25 ICON

FALL OUT BOY

A BAND THAT CAPTURED THE HEARTS, MINDS AND HEADPHONES OF A GENERATION OF KIDS WORLDWIDE, FALL OUT BOY UNDOUBTEDLY CHANGED THE LANDSCAPE OF THE ALTERNATIVE SCENE FOREVER, NEVER AFRAID TO EXPERIMENT, TAKE CHANCES AND MAKE BOLD CHOICES AS THEY PUSHED FORWARD. FOLLOWING A SUMMER SPENT EXPLORING THE 'DAYS OF FALL OUT PAST', PATRICK STUMP AND PETE  WENTZ REFLECT ON THEIR PATH FROM POP PUNK, HARDCORE MISFITS TO ALL-CONQUERING, STADIUM-FILLING SONGWRITERS AS THEY ACCEPT THEIR ROCK SOUND 25 ICON AWARD.

WORDS JAMES WILSON-TAYLOR

PHOTOS ELLIOTT INGHAM

Let's begin with your most recent performance which was at When We Were Young festival in Las Vegas. It was such a special weekend, how are you reflecting on that moment?

PATRICK: It's wild, because the band, I think, is going on 23 years now, which really came as a surprise to me. I know it's this thing that old people always say, 'Man, it really goes by so fast', but then it happens to you and you're just taken aback. There were so many times throughout the weekend, every 10 minutes, where I'd turn around and see somebody and be like, 'Holy shit, I haven't seen you in 18 years', or something crazy like that. It was hard not to have a good time. When I was going up to perform with Motion City Soundtrack, which was an exciting thing in itself, I turn around and Bayside is there. And I haven't seen Bayside since we toured with them. God, I don't remember when that was, you know? So there was so much of that. You couldn't help but have a good time.

PETE: I mean, that's an insane festival, right? When they announce it, it looks fake every time. The lineup looks like some kid drew it on their folder at school. For our band, the thing that's a little weird, I think, is that by deciding to change between every album, and then we had the three year break which caused another big time jump, I think that it would be hard for us to focus on one album for that show. We're a band where our fans will debate the best record. So it was amazing that we were able to look backwards and try to build this show that would go through all the eras - nod to Taylor obviously on that one. But it's also an insane idea to take a show that should really be put on for one weekend in a theatre and then try to take it around the world at festivals. The whole time on stage for this particular show production, I'm just like 'Is this thing going to go on time?' Because if the whole thing is working totally flawlessly, it just barely works, you know what I mean? So I give a lot of credit to our crew for doing that, because it's not really a rock show. I know we play rock music and it's a rock festival, but the show itself is not really a rock production, and our crew does a very good job of bending that to fit within the medium.

That show allows you to nod to the past but without falling fully into nostalgia. You are still pushing the band into newer places within it.

PATRICK: That's always been a central thing. We're a weird band, because a lot of bands I know went through a period of rejecting their past, and frankly, I encounter this thing a lot, where people have expected that we stopped interacting with older material. But we always maintained a connection with a lot of the older music. We still close with 'Saturday'. So for us, it was never about letting go of the past. It was about bringing that along with you wherever you go. I'm still the same weird little guy that likes too much music to really pin down. It's just that I've carried that with me through all the different things that I've done and that the band has done. So for us, in terms of going forward and playing new stuff, that's always the thing that's important to me; that there should be new stuff to propel it. I never wanted to be an artist that just gave up on new music and went out and played the hits and collected the check and moved on. It's all got to be creative. That's why I do it. I want to make new music. That's always why I do it. So something like When We Were Young is kind of odd really. It's an odd fit for that, because it's nostalgic, which is not really my vibe all that much. But I found a lot of nostalgia in it. I found a lot of value in looking back and going 'Wow, this was really cool. It was amazing that we did this, that we all did this'. That scene of bands, we're all old now, but it has taken off into such a moment culturally that people can point to.

Let's jump all the way back to the first ever Fall Out Boy show. There is very little evidence of it available online but what are your memories of that performance?

PATRICK: So the very first Fall Out Boy show was at DePaul University in a fancy looking dining hall. I actually applied to DePaul, but I never went there because the band went on tour. I think there were only two or three other bands. One was a band called Stillwell, who were kind of a math rock emo band, and then this heavier, more metallic band. And then we were there, and we had a guitar player, John Flamandan, who I have not seen since that show. He was only in the band for a week or two, and we were still figuring ourselves out. We had three songs and I had never sung before in front of people. I did a talent show at school one time when I was a kid and theatre kind of stuff where you would sing, but it was more in that context. And I was also a kid too. This was the first time ever that I'm the singer for a band and I was fucking terrified. We had a drummer named Ben Rose, really great guy. I haven't seen Ben in a million years, either, but we were still figuring ourselves out. The other thing is that all of us, with me being the exception, were in other bands, and all of our other bands were better than Fall Out Boy was. We were very sloppy and didn't know what we were doing, and so I don't think any of us really took it seriously. But there was a thing that was really funny about it, where even though we kind of thought we sucked, and even though we weren't really focusing on it, we had a lot of fun with each other. We enjoyed trying this other thing, because we were hardcore kids, and we were not the pop punk kids and the pop punk bands in town, that was like 'the thing', and we were not really welcome in that. There was a fun in trying to figure out how to make melodic and pop music when we really didn't have any history with that. It was very obvious that we didn't know what we were doing at the beginning.

So when did it begin to feel like things were finally clicking? When did you find your roles and what you wanted the band to be? 

PETE: In regards to the music, I liked Fall Out boy, way before I probably should have. I remember playing the early demos and it giving me a feeling that I hadn't felt with any of the other bands that I had been in. Now, looking back on it, I might have been a tad early on that. Then as far as the roles, I think that they've been carving themselves out over time. We've always allowed ourselves to gravitate to our strengths. Between me and Patrick, we'd probably make one great, atypical rock artist if we were one person. Because our strengths are things that the other doesn't love as much. But I think that what has happened more is it's less of a fight now and there's more trust. We have a trust with each other. There's things that Patrick will play for me or explain to me, and I don't even really need him to explain it, because I trust him. I may not totally understand it, but I trust him as an artist. On the other side of that, it's also very nice to have someone who can veto your idea, you know what I mean? It's nice to have those kind of checks and balances.

PATRICK: I had been in this band called Patterson, and all three of the other guys sang in kind of a gravelly, Hot Water Music vibe. I was not intending to be a singer, but I would try and sing backups and, it wasn't a criticism, but there was this vibe that, while I could do the gravelly thing, my voice was coming through and it didn't fit. It was too pretty and that became a thing I was kind of embarrassed of. So when Fall Out Boy started, I was actively trying to disguise that and mute it and hide behind affectation. Pete would really push me to stretch my vowels because that was in vogue in pop punk at the time. There were all these different ways that we were trying to suppress me, musically, because we were just trying to figure out how to do the things that the bands we liked did. But that wasn't really us, you know? It's really funny, because 'Take This To Your Grave' was recorded in three sections, about six months apart. Over the course of that time, I can hear us figuring it out. I think a really defining moment for me was 'Saturday', because I am not brave, I am not a bold person, and I do not put myself out there. When I was showing the band 'Saturday', we were jamming on the bit after the second chorus, and I was mumbling around, just mucking my way through it, and I did the falsetto thing. I didn't think anyone could hear me over us bashing around in Joe's parents house in this tiny little room. But Pete stopped, and he goes, 'Do that again'. I was so terrified of doing that in front of these guys, because you gotta remember, I was incredibly shy, but also a drummer. I'd never sung in front of anyone before, and now I'm singing in a band and I'm certainly not going to take chances. So I thought the falsetto thing was really not going to happen, but when I did it, there was this really funny thing. Somehow that song clicked, and it opened up this door for us where we do something different than everybody else. We were aiming to be a pop punk or hardcore band, but we found this thing that felt more natural to me.

As you embarked on Warped Tour, simultaneously you were finding this huge level of pop and mainstream success. How was it navigating and finding your way through those two very different spaces?

PATRICK: I used to work at a used record store and what shows up is all the records after their success. So I got really acquainted and really comfortable with and prepared for the idea of musical failure. I just wanted to do it because I enjoyed doing it. But in terms of planning one's life, I was certain that I would, at most, get to put out a record and then have to go to school when it didn't work out. My parents were very cautious. I said to them after 'Take This To Your Grave' came out that I'm gonna see where this goes, because I didn't expect to be on a label and get to tour. I'm gonna give it a semester, and then it will almost certainly fail, and then after it fails, I'll go to school. And then it didn't fail. Warped Tour was very crazy too, I was talking about this at When We Were Young with My Chem. Both of us were these little shit bands that no one cared about when we booked the tour. Then we got to the tour, and all these people were showing up for us, way more than we expected, way more than Warped Tour expected. So Warped Tour was putting both of us on these little side stages, and the stages would collapse because people were so excited. It was this moment that came out of nowhere all of a sudden. Then we go to Island Records, and I had another conversation with my parents, because every band that I had known up to that point, even the biggest bands in town, they would have their big indie record and then they would go to the major label and drop off the face of the planet forever. So I was certain that was going to happen. I told them again, I'm going to put out this record, and then I'll go to school when this fails. 

PETE: I think that if you really wanted someone to feel like an alien, you would put them on TRL while they were on Warped Tour. You know what I mean? Because it is just bananas. On our bus, the air conditioning didn't work, so we were basically blowing out heat in the summer, but we were just so happy to be on a bus and so happy to be playing shows. You go from that to, two days later, stepping off the bus to brush your teeth and there's a line of people wanting to watch you brush your teeth. In some ways, it was super cool that it was happening with My Chemical Romance too because it didn't feel as random, right? It feels more meant to be. It feels like something is happening. To be on Warped Tour at that time - and if you weren't there, it would be probably hard to imagine, because it's like if Cirque Du Soleil had none of the acrobatics and ran on Monster energy drink. It was a traveling circus, but for it to reach critical mass while we were there, in some ways, was great, because you're not just sitting at home. In between touring, I would come home and I'd be sitting in my bedroom at my parents house. I would think about mortality and the edge of the whole thing and all these existential thoughts you feel when you're by yourself. But on Warped Tour, you go to the signing, you play laser tag, you go to the radio station. So in some ways, it's like you're in this little boot camp, and you don't really even think about anything too much. I guess it was a little bit of a blur.

Pete, when you introduced 'Bang The Doldrums' at When We Were Young, you encouraged the crowd to 'keep making weird shit'. That could almost be a mantra for the band as a whole. Your weirder moments are the ones that made you. Even a song like 'Dance Dance' has a rhythm section you never would have expected to hear on a rock track at that time.

PETE: You know, I just watched 'Joker 2' and I loved it. I do understand why people wouldn't because it subverts the whole thing. It subverts everything about the first one. That's something I've always really loved, when I watch artists who could keep making the same thing, and instead they make something that's challenging to them or challenging to their audience. Sometimes you miss, sometimes you do a big thing and you miss, and we've definitely done that. But I gotta say, all the things that I've really loved about art and music, and that has enriched my life, is when people take chances. You don't get the invention of anything new without that. To not make weird stuff would feel odd, and I personally would much rather lose and miss doing our own thing. To play it safe and cut yourself off around the edges and sand it down and then miss also, those are the worst misses, because you didn't even go big as yourself. This is where we connect with each other, we connect by our flaws and the little weird neuroses that we have. I rarely look at something and go 'Wow, that safe little idea really moved me'. I guess it happens, but I think about this with something like 'Joker 2' where this director was given the keys and you can just do anything. I think a lot of times somebody would just make an expected follow up but some people turn right when they're supposed to turn left. That's always been interesting on an artistic level, but at the same time, I think you're more likely to miss big when you do that.

PATRICK: Going into 'From Under The Cork Tree', I had this sense that this is my only shot. It has already outperformed what I expected. I don't want to be locked into doing the same thing forever, because I know me. I know I'm not Mr. Pop Punk, that's just one of many things I like. So I would be so bummed if for the rest of my life, I had to impersonate myself from when I was 17 and have to live in that forever. So I consciously wanted to put a lot of weird stuff on that record because I thought it was probably my only moment. 'Sugar, We're Goin Down' was a fairly straight ahead pop punk song but even that was weird for us, because it was slow. I remember being really scared about how slow it was, because it's almost mosh tempo for the whole song, which was not anything we had done up to that point. But in every direction, in every song, I was actively trying to push the boundaries as much as I could. 'Dance, Dance' was one of those ones where I was seeing what I can get away with, because I might never get this chance again. We were on tour with a friend's band, and I remember playing the record for them. I remember specifically playing 'Our Lawyer…' that opens the record, which has that 6/8 time feel, and they kind of look at me, like 'What?'. Then I played 'Dance, Dance', and they're like, 'Hey man, you know, whatever works for you. It's been nice knowing you'. But I just knew that, on the off chance that I ended up still being a musician in my 40s, I wanted to still love the music that we made. I didn't want to ever resent it. It's ironic because people say that bands sell out when they don't make the same thing over and over again. But wait a second. Say that again. Think about that.

That attitude seemed to carry directly into 'Infinity On High'. If you may never end up doing this again then let's make sure we bring in the orchestra while we still can... 

PATRICK: That was literally something that I did say to myself this might be the last time, the likelihood is we're going to fail because that's what happens, so this might be the last time that I ever get a chance to have somebody pay for an orchestra and a choir. I always think of The Who when they did 'A Quick One, While He's Away' and there's a part where they go 'cello, cello', because they couldn't afford real cellos, they couldn't afford players. That's what I thought would happen for me in life. So I went in and thought, let's do it all. Let's throw everything at the wall, because there's no chance that it's going to happen again. So many things came together on that record, but I didn't expect it. 'Arms Race' was a very weird song, and I was shocked when management went along with it and had kind of decided that would be the single. I was in disbelief. It did not feel like a single but it worked for us. It was a pretty big song and then 'Thnks Fr Th Mmrs' was easily the big hit off that record. So then we have two hit songs off of an album that I didn't even know would come out at that point. But again, it was very much just about taking the risks and seeing what the hell happened.

As you went on hiatus for a few years, you worked on a number of other creative projects. How did those end up influencing your approach to the band when you returned?

PETE: On the areas of the band where I led, I wanted to be a better leader. When you're younger and you're fighting for your ideas, I don't think that I was the greatest listener. I just wanted to be a better cog in the machine. When you're in a band originally, no one gives you the little band handbook and says 'these are the things you should do', you know? I just wanted to be a better version of who I was in the band. 

PATRICK: There's a combination of things. 'Soul Punk' is a weird record. I love that record but I kind of resent that record for so many things. It's my solo record, but it's also not very me in a lot of ways. I had started with a very odd little art rock record, and then I had some personal tragedies happen. My EP that I put out far out sold expectations so then all of a sudden, Island Records goes, 'Oh, we think this could actually be something we want singles for'. I think we had all expected that I would be putting out a smaller indie record but then all of a sudden they were like 'oh, you could be a pop star'. So then I have to retrofit this art rock record into pop star hit music, and also channel personal tragedy through it. I hadn't ever really been a front man - I'd been a singer, but I hadn't really been a front man, and I hadn't really written lyrics, certainly not introspective, personal lyrics. So that whole record is so strange and muted to me. So I went from that album, which also failed so fucking hard - I should have gone to school after that one. But Pete had reached out to me just as a friend, and said 'I know you're in your own thing right now, and I know that you're not the kind of person that is going to be in my fantasy football league, so I'm not going to see you unless we make music. But you're my buddy, and that kind of bums me out that I don't see you at all, so I guess we have to make music'. I thought that was a fairly convincing pitch. It's true, that was what we do when we hang out - we make music. So we reconvene, and going into it, I had all these lessons that really made me understand Pete better, because Pete is the natural front end person. So many of our arguments and frustrations and the things that we didn't see eye to eye on, I grew to understand having now been in the position of the point man that had to make all the decisions for my solo thing. It really flipped my understanding of why he said the things he would say, or why he did things he would do. I remember early on thinking he was so pushy, but then, in retrospect, you realise he was doing it for a reason. There's so many little things that really changed for me doing 'Soul Punk' that were not musical but were more about how you run a band and how you run a business, that made me understand and respect him a lot more.

What are memories of that initial return and, specifically, that tiny first show back at the Metro venue in Chicago?

PETE: Those first shows were definitely magical because I really wasn't sure that we would be on a stage again together. I don't have as many memories of some of our other first things. We were just talking about Warped Tour, I don't have many memories of those because it is almost wasted on you when it's a blur and there's so many things happening. But with this, I really wanted to not take it for granted and wanted to take in all the moments and have snapshots in our own heads of that show. I did a lot of other art during the time when we were off, everybody did, but there's a magic between the four of us and it was nice to know that it was real. When we got on that stage again at the Metro for the first time, there was something that's just a little different. I can't really put my finger on it, but it makes that art that we were making separately different than all the other stuff.

Musically, as you moved forward, everything sounded much bigger, almost ready for arenas and stadiums. Was that a conscious decision on your part?

PETE: Patrick felt like he was bursting with these ideas. It felt like these had been lying in wait, and they were big, and they were out there, and whether he'd saved them for those records, I don't really know. That's what it felt like to me. With 'Save Rock And Roll', we knew we had basically one shot. There were really three options; you'll have this other period in your career, no one will care or this will be the torch that burns the whole thing down. So we wanted to have it be at least on our terms. Then I think with 'American Beauty...' it was slightly different, because we made that record as fast as we could. We were in a pop sphere. Is there a way for a band to be competitive with DJs and rappers in terms of response time? Are we able to be on the scene and have it happen as quickly? I think it kind of made us insane a little bit. With 'American Beauty…', we really realised that we were not going to walk that same path in pop culture and that we would need to 'Trojan horse' our way into the conversation in some way. So we thought these songs could be played in stadiums, that these songs could be end titles. What are other avenues? Because radio didn't want this right now, so what are other avenues to make it to that conversation? Maybe this is just in my head but I thought 'Uma Thurman' could be a sister song to 'Dance, Dance' or maybe even 'Arms Race' where it is weird but it has pop elements to it.

PATRICK: I had a feeling on 'Save Rock And Roll' that it was kind of disjointed. It was a lot of good songs, but they were all over the place. So when we went into 'American Beauty…', I really wanted to make something cohesive. I do think that record is very coherent and very succinct - you either like it or you don't, and that's pretty much it all the way through. By the time we got to 'MANIA', I had done all this production and I'd started to get into scoring. The band had done so many things and taken so many weird chances that I just felt free to do whatever. At that point, no one's going to disown me if I try something really strange so let's see what happens. 'Young And Menace' was a big part of that experiment. People hate that song, and that's okay. It was meant to be challenging, it's obviously not supposed to be a pop song. It's an abrasive song, it should not have been a single. However, I do think that record should have been more like that. Towards the end of the production, there was this scramble of like, 'Oh, fuck, we have no pop music on this and we need to have singles' and things like that. That took over that record and became the last minute push. I think the last half of that record was recorded in the span of two weeks towards the end of the recording to try and pad it with more pop related songs. I look at that record and think it should have all been 'Young And Menace'. That should have been our 'Kid A' or something. It should have really challenged people.

But we have spoken before about how 'Folie à Deux' found its audience much later. It does feel like something similar is already beginning to happen with 'MANIA'...

PETE: I agree with you, and I think that's a great question, because I always thought like that. There's things that you're not there for, but you wish you were there. I always thought about it when we put out 'MANIA', because I don't know if it's for everyone, but this is your moment where you could change the course of history, you know, this could be your next 'Folie à Deux', which is bizarre because they're completely different records. But it also seems, and I think I have this with films and bands and stuff as well, that while one thing ascends, you see people grab onto the thing that other people wouldn't know, right? It's like me talking about 'Joker 2' - why not talk about the first one? That's the one that everybody likes. Maybe it's contrarian, I don't really know. I just purely like it. I'm sure that's what people say about 'Folie à Deux' and 'MANIA' as well. But there's something in the ascent where people begin to diverge, you are able to separate them and go 'Well, maybe this one's just for me and people like me. I like these other ones that other people talk about, but this one speaks to me'. I think over time, as they separate, the more people are able to say that. And then I can say this, because Patrick does music, I think that sometimes he's early on ideas, and time catches up with it a little bit as well. The ideas, and the guest on the record, they all make a little bit more sense as time goes on.

'MANIA' is almost the first of your albums designed for the streaming era. Everything is so different so people could almost pick and choose their own playlist.

PETE: Of course, you can curate it yourself. That's a great point. I think that the other point that you just made me think of is this was the first time where we realised, well, there's not really gatekeepers. The song will raise its hand, just like exactly what you're saying. So we should have probably just had 'The Last Of The Real Ones' be an early single, because that song was the one that people reacted to. But I think that there was still the old way of thinking in terms of picking the song that we think has the best chance, or whatever. But since then, we've just allowed the songs to dictate what path they take. I think that that's brilliant. If I'd had a chance to do that, curate my own record and pick the Metallica songs or whatever,that would be fantastic. So it was truly a learning experience in the way you release art to me.

PATRICK: After 'MANIA', I realised Fall Out Boy can't be the place for me to try everything. It's just not. We've been around for too long. We've been doing things for too long. It can't be my place to throw everything at the wall. There's too much that I've learned from scoring and from production now to put it all into it. So the scoring thing really became even more necessary. I needed it, emotionally. I needed a place to do everything, to have tubas and learn how to write jazz and how to write for the first trumpet. So then going into 'So Much (For) Stardust', it had the effect of making me more excited about rock music again, because I didn't feel the weight of all of this musical experimentation so I could just enjoy writing a rock song. It's funny, because I think it really grew into that towards the end of writing the record. I'd bet you, if we waited another month, it would probably be all more rock, because I had a rediscovered interest in it.

It's interesting you talk about the enjoyment of rock music again because that joy comes through on 'So Much (For) Stardust' in a major way, particularly on something like the title track. When the four of you all hit those closing harmonies together, especially live, that's a moment where everything feels fully cohesive and together and you can really enjoy yourselves. There's still experimental moments on the album but you guys are in a very confident and comfortable space right now and it definitely shows in the music. 

PATRICK: Yeah, I think that's a great point. When you talk about experimentation too and comfort, that's really the thing isn't it? This is always a thing that bugged me, because I never liked to jam when I was a kid. I really wanted to learn the part, memorise it and play it. Miles Davis was a side man for 20 years before he started doing his thing. You need to learn the shit out of your music theory and your instrument - you need to learn all the rules before you break them. I always had that mindset. But at this point, we as a band have worked with each other so much that now we can fuck around musically in ways that we didn't used to be able to and it's really exciting. There's just so much I notice now. There are ways that we all play that are really hard to describe. I think if you were to pull any one of the four of us out of it, I would really miss it. I would really miss that. It is this kind of alchemy of the way everyone works together. It's confidence, it's also comfort. It's like there's a home to it that I feel works so well. It's how I'm able to sing the way I sing, or it's how Andy's able to play the way he plays. There's something to it. We unlock stuff for each other.

Before we close, we must mention the other big live moment you had this year. You had played at Download Festival before but taking the headline slot, especially given the history of Donington, must have felt extra special. 

PETE: It felt insane. We always have a little bit of nerves about Download, wondering are we heavy enough? To the credit of the fans and the other bands playing, we have always felt so welcomed when we're there. There's very few times where you can look back on a time when... so, if I was a professional baseball player, and I'm throwing a ball against the wall in my parents garage as a kid, I could draw a direct link from the feeling of wanting to do that. I remember watching Metallica videos at Donington and thinking 'I want to be in Metallica at Donington'. That's not exactly how it turned out, but in some ways there is that direct link. On just a personal level, my family came over and got to see the festival. They were wearing the boots and we were in the mud. All this stuff that I would describe to them sounds insane when you tell your family in America - 'It's raining, but people love it'. For them to get to experience that was super special for me as well. We played the biggest production we've ever had and to get to do that there, the whole thing really made my summer.

PATRICK: There's not really words for it. It feels so improbable and so unlikely. Something hit me this last year, this last tour, where I would get out on stage and I'd be like, 'Wait, fucking seriously? People still want to see us and want to hear us?' It feels so strange and surreal. I go home and I'm just some schlubby Dad and I have to take out the compost and I have to remember to run the dishwasher. I live this not very exciting life, and then I get out there at Download and it's all these people. Because I'm naturally kind of shy, for years, I would look down when I played because I was so stressed about what was happening. Confidence and all these have given me a different posture so when I go out there, I can really see it, and it really hits you. Download, like you said, we've done before, but there's something very different about where I am now as a person. So I can really be there. And when you walk out on that stage, it is astounding. It forces you to play better and work harder, because these people waited for us. The show is the audience and your interaction with it. In the same way that the band has this alchemy to it, we can't play a show like that without that audience.

[bugisastranger]

hey babe 🩷 if you have the time or inspiration to write please consider fake dating to lovers with Clark Kent, like a to all the boys I’ve loved before typa situation

a/n: thank u for the request anon!!! sorry it took me a bit to get around to it - i can be a busy busy gal.

"you want me to what?"

clark's voice is unlike anything you'd ever heard from him, his shock nothing less than apparent. you shush him, looking around the hallway to see if anyone's noticed. it's lucky for you that nobody did.

"come on, clark. it's one night! not even! it's like, a few hours at most."

"can't you ask someone else? pete?"

"i don't want to ask pete. he won't be able to sell it."

"and you think i can?" he's exasperated, leaning closer to you as if he's suddenly aware how many people could overhear this conversation. "i'm a horrible liar."

"please? you know how my family can be," you whisper, looking up at clark. he sighs, hanging his head. he does know how your family can be—overbearing—which is exactly why he's hesitant. but you're you, so how can he actually say no?

"okay. okay, fine."

"really?" you ask, nearly jumping out of your skin. your arms slide around clark's neck as you excitedly let out a few small 'thank you's. clark's still frozen in place from his decision, but forces one of his arms to slide awkwardly around your hip. he's in for it, isn't he?

the ringing of the school bell pulls the two of you apart, and you quickly shut your locker, making your way towards your first class. clark keeps his place beside you. "so, what does this mean, exactly? what do you want from me?"

"jeez, clark, that sounds like i'm holding you hostage. it's just a favor."

"yeah, yeah. whatever. what do you need me to do?" he asks, taking his seat next to you at the lab table.

"i don't know. whatever feels natural," you say, bending to the side to pull your textbook out of your bag, a gesture which clark never would've took a second glance at. but today, with your hair falling in front of your face (and then you pushing it away), something's different. he doesn't even notice he forgot to say something in response to you until you glance back at him, confused at his silence.

"uh—" he clears his throat. "how am i supposed to know what's natural? we've never dated before." oops. overly sarcastic.

"have you never even considered it?"

"what?" clark's baffled by your question, but you ask it so casually, like it's not taking the ground out from beneath his feet. it's not that he hasn't considered it. it's that he has. he knows all too well how he wants to walk with his arm around your shoulders, how he wants to have you cuddle into his side as you watch a movie, how he wants to absolutely spoil you—as if he has the money for that anyway. "i—"

"you know what? forget i said that. i don't wanna know," you mutter. "just, like, pretend like you're obsessed with me, i don't know."

"hey, lovebirds! you done?" the teacher calls from the front of the classroom.

as clark starts, "oh, we're n—"

you say, "sorry! we're sorry." and then the both of you, red in your faces, stay silent. you barely even move, feeling reprimanded, even though your teacher was barely offended.

when the teacher lets the class work in pairs, clark decides to use the time to talk to you instead. he could do the work later. "can you just give me an idea of what the night's going to look like, at least?"

you take a quick glance at the teacher, making sure her eyes aren't on you and clark. "you'll come over and i'll introduce you as my boyfriend. my parents won't be suspicious, because i'll start bringing it up today. and they won't be too intimidating. my uncle might, but they'll love you. there's something about you that screams 'good guy' and they'll pick up on it." you twirl the pen in your hands. "it'll be fine. you have nothing to worry about, really." clark feels his heart skip a beat when you place your hand on his bicep—which is supposed to be a comforting gesture. what's happening to him? you've touched him before. plenty of times, actually. this shouldn't mean a thing.

a few days later, and clark is taking deep breaths as he walks down the path to your front door. before he can even meet the porch, you're outside, greeting him. he nearly stops in his tracks when he sees you, your hair half up, half down. the dress you're wearing is baby pink, and something about this sight—seeing you so... girly does something to him, even if he won't admit it.

"hi," you say, breaking the awkward silence. "ignore the dress, i'm trying something a little different."

"no, it's good. you look great," he forces. and then, he remembers he's supposed to be your boyfriend, he's allowed to flirt with you. "you look really pretty." he swears he sees your expression change, like you're nervous. it makes his hand tense, and he nearly crushes the stems of the flowers he forgot he's holding. "oh, these are for you."

"thank you. this is..."

"good enough, i hope?"

"better. i knew you wouldn't let me down."

"can't leave my girlfriend hanging, can i?" oh. oh. that gets you. and clark knows it, too.

"uh—" you start, looking at him with what can only be described as a mix of shock and infatuation. "we should go inside."

and as you're walking towards your front door—"i should call you something, shouldn't i?"

"what?" you turn back around, facing him.

"honey," he tries. "no, too mature. babe?" clark watches your reactions carefully, and even though you seem affected, 'babe' doesn't have the punch he was hoping for. "sweetheart?" bingo.

"sweetheart is fine," you mutter, trying to ignore the way your face heats up.

"okay, sweetheart. you ready for this?" you nod, walking towards the door with clark at your side. "what about princess?"

"too much. you can't call me that in front of my family."

"but i can call you that when we're alone?"

"clark!"

"it's just a question, sweetheart," clark teases, fighting back a chuckle. he could do this the rest of his life.

part two coming soon?!

[astermagnolia]

Danny and Peter run into Jason: one-shot based on my most recent post

\/\/\/\/

Danny sighed as he shivered, still trying to get used to the spider-sense. From what he and Peter could tell it's barely only been a month since their situation and by far Spider sense has been the most annoying ability to try and learn.

"Peter tingle sucks, man," Danny mutters under his breath lest he get confused stares.

"Please for the love of everything, stop calling it peter tingle." Peter begged. If he was in control of his body at the moment he's sure his head would be on his head.

Danny's... housemate? Body...mate? Ew, no not that one. Headmate. Yeah, headmate, tried his best to explain how his sixth sense worked and how to deal with it but Danny still gets freaked out by it. Even when he's not driving the body

"Well, maybe if i didn't get tingles and shivers every time i would call it accordingly."

"It's just warning you of danger."

"Dude, we're currently staying in an area called crime alley near a place called the narrows in a city where crime is rampant. Gotham is ranked number one for 'one of the most crime-ridden cities'," Danny ranted, trying to keep his voice low and head down.

That little nugget of information was great to learn when they were doing their research. On top of learning that aliens exist and the police were corrupt. Though that last one wasn't too surprising.

"I mean, if we moved..."

"We barely have enough to feed ourselves plus your crazy metabolism. We can't move and then struggle to find a good place to bunk." Danny sighed again.

Trying to find a job is the most difficult thing at the moment considering they didn't have any ID—or any proof of existence in this world—and the fact they looked so young.

Danny took stealing from people, much to chagrin if Peter. He swore up and down he was stealing from wealthy people.

Peter on the other hand, when he was in control of his body, would try and fix anything from anyone within the area. People have started calling him 'tinkerer' and. Funnily enough, the guy who buys the stuff Danny steals calls him 'furittus'.

"Hey, look." Peter grabbed Danny's attention to what's ahead of them.

In front of them is a nice red motorcycle, the glossy coat reflecting the soft glow of the nighttime city. It was just sitting idle and unattended with no one near it or in sight.

Danny whistled appreciatively and walked closer to it. "D'ya recognize it, Pete?"

"Hmm, I think it's a Honda CB750 but...it looks heavily modified. That would cost a lot." Peter noted with a hint of admiration in his voice.

Danny hummed in thought, a playful smile growing in his face.

"Think i could steal it?" He joked.

"No!"

Danny blinked as the word practically echoed in his head, "Ow."

Pete huffed. If he had his body he would cross them and he would have a frown on his face. "Sorry for yelling, but also, that's a horrible idea. It would have cost the person so much time and money to modify the bike."

Danny rolled his eyes, "If it meant so much they wouldn't have left it here in the middle of crime alley. Just the wheels at least."

Peter sighed, "You don't even have any tools. How are you going to take the wheels?"

Danny smirked as he lifted their hand and turned it intangible. At least, that was the attempt. Their whole arm turned intangible instead.

Peter huffed, "I'll try to keep a lookout as you take the wheels then. Just like to say again, this is a horrible idea."

Danny grinned as he quietly worked to get the wheels off the rest of the bike and carefully left the bolts near the bike. It's the least he could. He has one wheel off when he pauses his work to get a better look at the engine.

"This sure is a nice looking bike." Danny says absentmindedly. "I'm really curious who it belongs to."

"I would say thank you but it looks like I'm being robbed." The gravel behind them makes noise.

Danny gasps—blue mist leaves his mouth—spinning to face the man behind them and some of the bolts fall out of his hand.

"i found it like that." Danny blurts out.

"Oh for the love–I can't even be mad, i would say the same thing. But i told you it would be a bad idea! Do you see him?? Look how huge he is!" peter ranted and hoped that Danny could feel him disappointment.

The man in front of them is huge, built like a tank and wearing a leather jacket. He has black hair with some of the front part being white. He definitely knows how to fight.

The man crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Why does this feel like deja vu?" He mutters. "Alright, wanna explain yourself, kid?"

Danny tries not to pout as he's called a kid, "...I just needed some money for some food." He says instead, hoping the man will take some pity.

The man stares at him, scrutinizing him and trying to come to some conclusion.

"What if he kills us?" Peter whispers.

"Welp, sorry pete but you would have erased yourself for nothing." Danny dryly replies as quiet as he can.

"Dude! Uncalled for."

"Alright, come on, follow me." The man suddenly says.

Danny jumps, his mouth dropping open "huh?"

"Food. I know a good place. The names' Jason, by the way." The man, Jason, simply says. He puts his hands in his jacket and starts heading in a direction.

"We're not actually following him, right? That's like, stranger danger one-oh-one and–nope we're just following him. That's great. That's cool. Lets just follow the guy we were stealing from."

Danny shrugged. "Free food."

Peter sighs and can only watch as Danny follows the guy. He would take control if he could, but if he forced a switch, that would only cause extreme dizziness, and it would be hard to explain their physical change, too. Peter and Danny still haven't figured out how to safely switch who is in control of the body. They just wake up and whoever is in control of the body is in control for the rest of the day, unless they're knocked out. Once, Danny was in control for three whole days.

Jason led to a fast food place called Bat Burger.

Once at the register, Jason tilted his head, "Order whatever you like and however much you like."

Danny and Peter are stunned hearing what Jason just said.

"However much I like?" Danny slowly repeated still trying to make sure he heard right.

"no way he's serious, right?"

"Yup, however much you like." Jason confirmed as he finished his order. "I'm using my old man's credit card anyway."

"...Alright, what do we want," Danny mutters and decides not to question Jason's odd decision. If they can order however much they want then they'll be able to take whatever they don't finish back to their little base, though he doubts they'll leave much.

Peter rattles off what his order, which Danny repeats and then he orders what he wants.

One thing Peter is grateful for, despite their circumstances, is that when he is stuck in his head, he can still taste whatever Danny is eating and vice versa.

The cashier stares in horror but then deeply sighs. They ring up their order, gives them their cups, and tell them to sit anywhere.

They grab their drinks and the two sit in the corner booth.

Jason places his hands on the table, "So, kid, what can i call ya?'

Danny jumps at the sudden question and stutters out, "Uh, our name is–I mean, my, my name is Danny."

The rest of the night goes by strangely but nicely. Jason asks one too many questions—about their non-existent home life which is nice—and that leads Danny to tell Jason to shove them, much to Peter's horror.

Danny does pretty much eat everything and as much as he wants to ask Jason about his strange ecto signature, he lets it go in favor of being left alone.

"That guy was weird. My spider sense didn't, you know, sense him." Peter admits, suspicion and weariness oozing from his voice.

Danny shrugs, "It's a big city. I doubt we'll run into him again."

\/\/\/\/

Peter luck strikes again.

If peter ever got the chance, he'll hang Danny up by his feet. He will find some way to neutralize his abilities and web him up.

"Hey, you're welcome to try, pete!" Danny says through his laughing.

In front of Peter is Jason, the man that fed them just a few weeks ago.

And is currently staring down at Peter with an intense stare.

Next to Jason is another man with tanned skin, black hair, and blue eyes. He's smiling widely, coming off as friendly.

"Do you two know each other?" The man tilted his head, trying to start a conversation.

"Uh, no, sorry, it's my first time seeing him...and you," Peter replies and looks down at the watches he's holding. He'd been told to fix them and the people they belonged too were loyal customers. He didn't think one of them would be Jason.

"Nah, i don't know 'em. He just looks familiar." Jason replies. He squints, scowling in thought. "You don't happen to have a twin do you? One with Black hair and blue eyes."

Peter wants to shrivel up and die.

Danny definitely isn't helping as he wheezes, laughing at Peter's misfortune.

Danny, what do I say?!

"Tell them yes and that we've been separated and you have been living with your uncle!"

By some miracle, Peter was able to sell his grief and ask Jason if he'd seen him. He's not sure how he did it since his lying pretty subpar most days. He was still baffled about lying to Aunt May for as long as he did.

"Oh, that's so sad," The man, Dick Grayson, stated with empathy in his eyes. "Why don't you file a missing person report? They could help..." He weakly says.

Jason sighs, placing a hand on his forehead. "Dick i swear to god..."

Peter stares baffled. Did this man not know Gotham police? How does he explain why going to the police is not a good idea, for one, the corruption, and two because Danny—by extension Peter as well—do not exist. So he cant file a missing person report.

"ACAB, bitch!"

"ACAB, bitch!" Peter blurts out the only thing in his mind and slaps a hand over his mouth. Danny's loud voice was the only thing on his mind. He couldn't think of anything else.

Danny was laughing hysterically about the situation Peter found himself in.

Dicks mouth dropped open, shocked by the sudden exclaim.

Jason begins to snicker which turns into a full blown belly aching laughter. He leaned on the counter and slapped Dick's shoulder.

"He–HAHAHH! Ohhh man. Kid I just met, you're incredible. heehe–" Jason erupted into another fit of laughter.

Peter stands in embarrassment and tired of this whole thing. He just wants the world to open up and swallow him. Saves him from the embarrassment.

"You're stuck with me Peter, whether you like it or not!" Danny exclaims through laughter.

At the very least, Peter isn't alone.

\/\/\/\/\/

This is all i had running through my head. I cannot promise any part 2 or anything

Some notes:

Jason's personal bike and red hood bike are different. And obviously hard to find an exact model since they change with different iterations and, ya know, trademark law and all. The bike i mentioned is one iteration that seemed the most obvious since someone was able to name it.

I think the earliest spiderman gave peter Parker a bike. I haven't seen anyone put an exact name on it but, funnily enough, its also a Honda

I hope I did the characters justice <3

[cowboybeepboop]

Sugar

"I'm not finished proving my point, sugar."

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 6k

Summary: You’ve spent months avoiding the advances from Jake, finally deciding to give in to his desire and your own.

a/n: I just remembered how much I loved Glen in TGM and now I’m obsessed with writing for him 😍😭. I always take requests so send any you have my way. Hope you enjoy <3

Maverick took a liking to you the second he met you, as one of the aircraft maintenance technicians assigned to work with the fighter jets, he shows you and your coworkers immense respect. He always makes a point of telling his team that the technicians are the reason they are able to complete their missions.

Pete brings his group of rowdy aviators into your work space. You're spinning in your chair, your jumpsuit tied around your waist as you got too warm with the summer air. He chuckles lightly when he sees you, he was pretty amused by the sight. Seeing you with your jumpsuit tied around your waist as you spun around in your chair, you looked pretty cute, in a little sister sort of way.

“Hey Kid." his eyes lock onto yours as he steps closer.

“Oh,” you stand up awkwardly, adjusting your tank top. “Hi sir, what brings you here?”

"We were just briefing with the other aviators. Thought I'd bring them by to see the people who keep us flyin'." he smiles softly at you, causing you to relax slightly.

“Well, it’s a great pleasure to meet you all.” your face brightens as you address the rest of the pilots. “My name is Y/N,” your lips curve into a dazzling smile. The other pilots nod and greet you politely, but they're all distracted, unable to keep their eyes off of you. They all look you up and down, admiring your beauty. They didn't expect to see a woman working with aircraft maintenance, but here you were, clearly skilled at your job, if Mav is wanting to introduce them to you specifically.

One of them in particular was checking you out a lot more than the rest, staring at you through his aviators as he looked you up and down. The dirty blond haired man was definitely taking a liking to you more than the others as he leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest.

Maverick notices the way the Hangman is looking at you, and he doesn't like it. He can sense the man's desire from a mile away, and it makes him wary.

“Well, if anyone has any questions I’d be glad to answer them.” you slip your arms back into the sleeves of your uniform, taking a seat at your desk once again, eyes flicking over the paperwork in front of you.

As you looked up, Hangman's eyes met yours, a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He couldn't help but be impressed by your dedication to your work.

Hangman pushed himself off the wall and sauntered closer to your desk, stopping right in front of you. "Hey there, sugar."

You give him a gentle smile as you're used to the flirting of the aviators. “Hey, do you have a question for me?”

"Oh, I think I've got a few questions." Hangman grins, his eyes looking you up and down slowly, taking in every inch of you. He leans forward, bracing one arm on your desk to get a better view.

He cocks an eyebrow, “But I might just get distracted by you before I ask them.”

“Is that so?” you gaze up at him with amusement.

"Yeah, you're just a little too distracting." he grins, a cocky look on his face.

His gaze drifts down to your exposed arms and lingers a moment, taking in your skin, before his eyes snap back up to your face. He smirks, "You know, a girl like you working in a place like this? Gotta say, it's a nice change of pace."

You stand up, leaning toward him as you smile. “You're a sweet talker blondie, but trust me. I’m not interested.” your voice is full of venom as your grin widens.

“I’m not a fan of aviators who are quite obviously making up for what they lack,” your eyes flick to his lap, “by keeping a cocky attitude towards any woman their eyes land upon.” you pat his shoulder softly as you turn on your heel, walking toward Mav.

Hangman stands there, stunned. He's not used to being told no, especially in such a blunt manner. His face hardens at the jab at his.. anatomy, and his smirk twists into a scowl.

Maverick stands nearby, watching how you handle the situation with interest. He's trying to keep his expression neutral, but there's a hint of a smile on his lips.

He knows Hangman's reputation, and he's glad that you were able to put him in his place. "Well done, Kid." he pats your back affectionately.

__________

A couple months have gone by since you met Hangman, you purposely try to avoid him, knowing that he's your exact type (an unnaturally attractive man who *knows* it). But it seems like the more you avoided him the more he sought you out. He always seemed to be lurking at the end of the work day, trying to get your attention, doing anything he could to be by your side.

Your coworkers press you, practically begging you to come with them to the bar. You agree to go with them to The Hard Deck, slightly annoyed at your choice in clothes as you're wearing a cropped t-shirt and a pair of jean shorts, it’s going to catch some unsavory attention.

Your eyes land on Maverick as you enter the bar, your eyes brightening as you walk up to him, slipping into the seat next to him. “Good evening Sir.” you smile over at him.

Mav looks up from the book he was reading when you sit down beside him. He smiles warmly when he sees you. "Hey Kid. It's good to see you." He sets down his book, his eyes scanning over your outfit. He notices that your choice of clothing is a bit too revealing for his liking, and he can't help but feel a pang of worry.

"Have you been working hard today?" He asks, trying to keep the conversation nonchalant.

“You know it, I’m always working hard.” you order a beer before turning your attention back to the older man. Maverick raises an eyebrow as you order a beer, he takes a sip from his own drink, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You work too hard, you know that?" He says with a slight chastising tone. "You should take some time for yourself, relax a little." you laugh in response.

“It’s funny to hear you say that,” you take a drink of your beer, fumbling with the bottle. He watches you as you take a drink, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He was used to seeing you in your coveralls, dirty from working on the planes all day, but now, with your shorts and cropped top, you looked like a completely different person.

"What can I say, kid," he says, his eyes lingering on you for a moment. "I'm just concerned about you, that's all. You're young, you should be enjoying yourself, not working all the time."

“Yeah, you're right.” your lips purse, “but it takes hard work to prove your value as an employee.”

Mav leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he gazes at you with a mix of admiration and concern. He can see the determination in your eyes, the desire to prove yourself in a field dominated by men.

"I understand that," he says quietly. "But you also have to take care of yourself. You're no good to anyone if you burn yourself out." you grin over at him, taking notice of your coworkers calling you over to the pool table.

Mav watches as your coworkers call you over to the pool table. He can see the excitement in your eyes, the way your lips curve into a smile.

"Go on," he says, gesturing towards your friends. "Have some fun. Just don't get too drunk, alright?" He adds, a hint of concern in his voice.

“Yes Sir,” you leave your seat grabbing your beer as you walk over to them. You immediately notice the eyes of Hangman on your body.

Hangman's eyes hungrily roved over your exposed skin, his gaze lingering on your thighs and the small bit of midriff that was visible. You could almost feel the heat of his gaze as you approached the pool table.

He leaned against the wall, a lazy smirk on his face as you joined your friends. As you took your place near the table, he pushed off the wall and sauntered over to you.

"Looking good, sugar." he drawled, his eyes flickering over your exposed body.

“Ah, Hangman? Is that right?” you glance over to him, your arms crossing over your waist.

"That's right, sweetheart." Hangman smirks, his eyes flickering down to your crossed arms, clearly noticing the way you're trying to hide yourself from him.

He steps closer to you, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils as he leans in. "Now, don't cover yourself up on my account. I like what I see." he purrs, his eyes traveling down your body again, his gaze lingering on your thighs.

“You're not gonna drop the act are you?” you sigh out, eyes narrowing as his cocky grin.

"This isn't an act, doll." Hangman's tone dropped lower, a hint of a challenge in his voice. He stepped even closer, his chest almost touching yours. "I mean every word I'm saying."

He reaches out, gently gripping your hip, his thumb brushing against the exposed skin at the edge of your shorts. "You're a sight for sore eyes, sugar." his touch sends shivers down your spine, desire pooling in your stomach,

You press your hand against his chest, pushing him into a seat roughly. “Your sweet talking won’t work on me, pretty boy.” Hangman grunts as he falls into the chair, slightly surprised by the forcefulness of your shove. He leans back, his eyes flickering over your form, taking in the way your body moves in your tight shorts.

"Oh, so you do have some fire in you." He grins, clearly unfazed by your aggression. "But I don’t think I’m going to give up that easily, sweetheart." his attraction for you seemingly grows at your assertiveness.

“Well, the same can be said for me.” your tone is cold as you move away from him, taking your place with your fellow technicians once again. Hangman's eyes never leave your form as you walk away, his gaze fixated on the way your hips sway in your tight shorts.

He can't help but admire your attitude, the way you refuse to give in to him so easily. It's a challenge, one that he's surprisingly enjoying. Hangman stays seated for a moment, watching as you join your friends over at the pool table. He takes a deep breath, his mind still focused on you and the way your body moved. There was something about you that made him want to push your buttons even more.

The night drags on and you find yourself calling it quits pretty early, you've never been attracted to the long nights spent in a rowdy bar. “Hey guys, I’m gonna head out.” you walk out the door after saying goodbye to your crew.

Hangman, who had been watching you all night from the bar, quickly sets down his drink and moves to follow you. He follows at a distance, wanting to catch you alone without the watchful eyes of your friends.

Just as you're a few steps away from the bar, he calls out to you. "Hey, Y/N, wait up." you ignore him and pick up your pace, heading toward the beach.

Hangman increases his pace in response, determined to catch up to you. Despite your attempts to get away, he manages to catch up fairly easily, his long legs carrying him closer to you.

He reaches out and grabs your arm to stop you, his grip firm but not forceful. "Hey, hold up a sec."

You turn to face him with an irritated expression, “What is it now?”

Hangman grins at the irritation in your voice, clearly enjoying the effect he's having on you. He keeps a grip on your arm, holding you in place.

"Now, that's no way to talk to me, sugar." His eyes rake over your body, taking his time to appreciate your form in the darkness. "I was hoping we could have a little chat."

“About what?” you wriggle out of his grasp, moving further into the sand. Hangman follows you into the sand, his confident stride matching your quick steps. He keeps his eyes trained on you, a sly smile on his lips.

"Oh, there's a lot I'd like to talk about." He steps closer to you, his presence feeling oddly dominant as the beach becomes quieter. "But right now, I wanna know why you're so opposed to my attention."

“What’s wrong?” your arms cross under your chest as you drop into the sand, breathing in the refreshing breeze. “Not used to someone being so.. Put off by you?”

Hangman chuckles, your question clearly amuses him. He plops down in the sand beside you, sitting close enough that his thigh brushes against yours, your eyes focus on his clothed leg against your bare one.

"You could say that." He turns to face you, his eyes roaming over your body for a moment before meeting your gaze. "Most girls are putty in my hands. But you, you're different." your eyes roll at his response.

“That, there is exactly why I’m so opposed to you,” you lean back on your palms, “Your cocky attitude can't always get you what you want.” Hangman's smirk widens at your eye roll, clearly enjoying the banter between you two. He leans back in the sand as well, mirroring your position.

"Oh, you'd be surprised, sugar. My cocky attitude has gotten me a lot of things." He glances over at you, his eyes roaming over your figure once again. "But you..." He pauses, his voice dropping lower. "You're the first one who's actually resisted me."

You lean back into the sand, body relaxing into the ground. “You're such an ass,”

Hangman grins at your response, clearly enjoying your sharp tongue. He turns onto his side, resting his head in his hand as he gazes down at you.

"I won't deny that." He lifts his free hand, reaching out to playfully tug on a strand of your hair.

“So, if I gave into you,” you brush his hand away, “would you leave me alone?” eyes focusing on the night sky above you.

Hangman raises an eyebrow at your question, his cocky smile never faltering. He props himself up on an elbow, shifting closer to you in the sand.

"Now, why would I want to leave you alone if you gave in to me?" His eyes roam over your figure, a hunger in his gaze. "I'd want you all to myself."

You laugh sweetly, “You really don't strike me as the type to stick around, Hangman.”

Hangman grins at your comment, clearly finding your dismissal more amusing than irritating. He scoots closer again, his breath warm against your neck as he leans in.

"The name's Jake." His lips brush against the shell of your ear as he whispers his name, his tone suddenly lower, more intimate.

“Well, Jake.” you sit up, moving away from his body. “I think you should find a new girl to chase.”

Jake's smile falters slightly as you move away from him, disappointment flickering in his eyes. But he quickly recovers, his cocky demeanor returning.

He sits up as well, he gazes at you, his eyes roaming over your defensive form. "And why would I do that?” he asks, his voice almost a grumble.

“Because,” you study his expression, “I told you before, I’m not interested.” Jake's eyes narrow as you reiterate your lack of interest. Your stubbornness is both frustrating and strangely intriguing.

He leans closer, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "Are you sure about that, sugar?" His voice has a hint of challenge in it. "You don't feel even a little bit interested?"

You move to your knees swiftly, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. As you pull away, you smile sweetly, “Now I’m 100% sure.”

Jake's eyes widen at the unexpected kiss, his cocky veneer slipping momentarily. He's completely taken aback by your boldness and the sweetness of your smile.

He just stares at you for a moment, clearly caught off guard. His confidence slowly returns, and a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Oh yeah?" he purrs, shifting closer to you again. "One little kiss, and you're already 100%, huh?"

“One kiss is all I needed,” you push his shoulder gently, adding distance back between your bodies. “I didn't even feel a thing.” you gulp as the lie spills from your lips, there was no way you would give him the pleasure of knowing he had sent shivers down your body.

Jake's smirk falters again, his ego clearly bruised by your words. He can't understand how you're unaffected by the kiss, especially when it had the complete opposite effect on him. He stays silent for a moment, his mind working to come up with a response.

"One kiss wasn't enough," he finally says, his tone a mix of irritation and determination. "No, I think you need another one just to be sure." his hands grasp your hips as he pulls you closer.

“Aw, come on Jake.” you don't resist his touch, “You don't want to come to terms with the fact that you might just be off your game?”

Jake's eyes darken at your words, clearly not appreciating your teasing. He pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours, his grip on your hips tight.

"My game is never off, especially with pretty girls like you." He leans in, his mouth just millimeters from yours. "In fact, I think I'll prove it by making you feel something."

“And how do you plan to do that, pretty boy?” you tease him further.

Jake's grip on your hips tightens as you call him "pretty boy," and you can see a flicker of irritation flash across his face. He's clearly not used to being undermined like this, especially by someone he finds *this* attractive.

With a swift movement, he flips you onto your back, pinning you down into the sand. He hovers over you, his body pressing against yours.

"Like this," he says, his voice low and gruff. "I'll make you feel something alright." his lips capture yours in a hungry kiss full of desire.

You let out a muffled noise, obviously caught off guard by his action. Jake takes full advantage of your surprise, his tongue slipping past your lips, and explores your mouth with ravenous desire. His body presses against you, his weight pressing you into the sand, and his hands begin to roam over your body, mapping out your curves.

You press your hands against his chest, pushing him away with a flustered expression. Jake pulls back, his breath heavy and ragged, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and triumph.

He gazes down at you, his eyes roaming over your flushed face and slightly messy hair. "See, sugar?" he grins. "I told you I'd make you feel something."

“You.. didn't.” you protest, “all you did was catch me off guard.” Jake chuckles at your reply, his eyes flickering over your form again, taking in the way your body looks beneath him.

"So, you're telling me that right now, you're not feeling anything right now?" His hand slides down your side, resting on your hip. "Not a single thing?"

“Not a single thing.” you parrot, breathlessly. Jake grins at your response, clearly not believing you.

His hand that was on your hip slowly moves up to your stomach, his thumb tracing slow, teasing circles on your bare skin. “Is that right, sugar?” he drawled. “Nothing at all?”

You suck in a deep breath as his calloused thumb, giving you goosebumps. “Mhm, nothin’.” you murmur. Jake's smirk deepens as he watches your reaction to his touch. He notices your goosebumps and the way you sucked in a breath, he clearly knows he's getting to you.

His hand moves from your stomach up to your waist, sliding under the hem of your shirt. His fingertips graze against your bare skin. You gasp at his touch, your breathing becoming ragged as his hand explores you.

Jake lets out a soft, guttural sound as he feels the effect he's having on you. His hand continues to move, his fingers lightly trailing over your skin, tracing the lines of your body. His eyes never leave your face, taking in every reaction.

"Still not feeling anything, sugar?" he teases, his voice a low, rumbling growl. Your eyes squeeze shut as your expression contorts with pleasure, you lean forward pressing your flushed face into his neck.

Jake lets out a soft laugh as you bury your face into his neck, clearly enjoying the effect he's having on you. His hand continues to explore your upper body, his touch sending small waves of pleasure through you.

He turns his head, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers. "You're losing, sugar."

“You've made your point,” your voice is a shaky whisper as you pull his hand away from your body, still focused on resisting him.

Jake lets out a low rumble, clearly not happy that you've pulled his hand away. He gazes down at you, his eyes darkened with a mix of desire and determination.

He moves his body even closer, his weight pressing you into the sand. His hand grasps your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His voice is low and gruff as he speaks. "I'm not finished proving my point, sugar."

A soft sigh leaves your lips as you raise your head to look up at him, “Please don't screw me over,” you want him just as much as he wants you, but you're not looking for a simple one night stand.

Jake’s gaze meets yours, his eyes searching yours for a moment before a soft smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "I won't," he says, his voice firm, his grip on your waist tight. "I’m done messing around, sugar. I want you for real."

You wrap your arms around his neck, lips hovering over his. Jake's arms wrap tighter around your waist, pressing you closer to his body. His gaze drops to your lips, his eyes darkening with desire.

"I won't hurt you, sugar." you connect your lips with his in a passionate kiss. Jake kisses you back with equal passion, his arms tightening around you, pulling you flush against him. His lips move hungrily against yours, his tongue slipping past your lips to taste you.

He pulls you closer, his hands roaming over your body, his touch claiming you as his. You moan against his lips as his hands squeeze your ass, pulling you closer to him. Jake smirks into the

kiss at your moan. He tightens his grip on your ass, pulling you closer, so close that you can feel his heartbeat against your chest.

He deepens the kiss, his mouth devouring yours, and his hands continue to roam over your curves, claiming every inch of you. You reluctantly pull away from his kisses, Jake grunts in protest as you pull away from him, his lips still seeking your skin. He nips playfully at your neck before leaning back to look at you.

“Jake, we should go somewhere a little more private.” you murmur softly as you stand, he follows you up.

"Yeah, somewhere more private," he agrees, his voice a low, gruff rumble. He slides his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers. "I know a place."

“Lead the way,” your teeth capture your bottom lip as you look up at him. Jake grins at your words and the way your teeth graze your bottom lip. He squeezes your hand, his eyes darkened with hunger as he gazes down at you.

"Come with me," he murmurs, his voice edged with a hint of excitement. He begins walking, pulling you behind him, leading the way to a more private area.

“Where are we going?” you question while following close behind him. Jake looks back at you over his shoulder, a sly grin on his face.

"You'll see, sugar," he replies, his voice full of mystery. He continues to lead you through the base, eventually stopping in front of a door that leads to a small storage room. Jake looks around to make sure no one is watching before pulling you into the room with him.

Jake laughs softly at the surprised gasp that escapes your lips as your body collides with his. He locks the door behind him, sealing you both in the small storage room. His arms slide around your waist, pulling you closer to him, his eyes darkened with desire.

"Looks like we're all alone now," he purrs, his voice a low rumble. "Just how I like it." your hands slide up his shirt, fingers brushing over his strong abs.

“We’ll have to be quiet,” you whisper softly. Jake shudders slightly as your fingers roam over his abs, his muscles flexing beneath your touch.

Your words only further excite him, and he gazes down at you with darkened eyes. "Can you do that, Y/N? Keep quiet for me?" he teases, his grip on your waist tightening. You pull his shirt off, pressing soft kisses to his muscles.

“Can you stay quiet?” you mutter against his skin, sucking a soft mark into his collarbone.

Jake lets out a low, ragged moan as you pull off his shirt and press your lips to his skin, his eyes momentarily closing as he succumbs to your touch.

Your words send a shiver down his spine, and a cocky grin spreads across his face. "Is that a challenge, sugar?" he murmurs, his fingers grasping your hips tightly.

“Of course,” you suck another mark into his skin, your hands traveling down his stomach before landing on his erection. Jake's body tightens as your mouth moves against his skin, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. He shivers beneath your touch, his hands flexing against your hips.

When your hands move lower, he gasps softly, his eyes closing as his length stiffens against your touch. "Careful," he grits out, his voice strained. He moves, pressing your back against the wall, trapping you in his arms.

Jake's need for you is palpable as he desperately pulls away your clothes, his eyes never leaving yours. The cropped shirt is first to go, revealing your lacy bra. His fingers make quick work of the clasp, freeing your breasts to his eager gaze.

The look on his face is pure desire as he takes in your bare skin, his breath coming in short, ragged pants. His rough, calloused hands skim over your curves, sending waves of heat through your body as he pushes down your shorts and panties. The sand from the beach clings to your skin, but it's your own heat that you feel more intensely.

His eyes are dark with passion as he takes in the sight of you, fully exposed and vulnerable before him. The anticipation is almost unbearable as he trails kisses along your collarbone, down your chest, and over the sensitive peaks of your breasts. Each touch feels like a brand, claiming you as his own.

With trembling hands, you reach down to Jake's belt, pulling it open with a quiet jingle of the buckle. His eyes never leave yours as you unbutton his pants, sliding them down his hips, along with his boxers. His erection springs free, and he groans as your fingertips graze over it. You wrap your hand around him, feeling the heat and hardness of his desire.

The room seems to shrink around you as your breaths mingle, the tension between you thick with passion. Jake's hands glide over your bare skin, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touch. He steps closer, aligning his body with yours, his length pressing against your stomach as he nips at your earlobe. "Are you sure about this, sugar?" he whispers, his voice strained with need.

“Yes, please.” You moan out your own desire clouding any remaining doubt. He lifts you, your legs wrapping around his waist, and you guide him to your entrance, the anticipation making your body tremble. With one swift, powerful thrust, he fills you, eliciting a soft cry from your lips.

The sensation is overwhelming, his thickness stretching and filling you in a way that no one else ever has.

You dig your nails into his shoulders, holding onto him as he begins to move, his hips driving into yours with a passion that matches the rhythm of his racing heart beat. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and you bite down on your lip to stifle the moans that threaten to spill out.

Your eyes lock onto his, and in that moment, you realize that this isn't just about the chase anymore. There's something deeper, something raw and real connecting the two of you. And as you cling to him, lost in the intensity of the moment, you know that no matter what happens after tonight, you've found something worth fighting for.

With the door to the storage room firmly locked behind you, Jake's passionate onslaught leaves you gasping for air. You muffle your moans by biting onto his shoulder as he thrusts into you with a newfound speed, his movements becoming more urgent and powerful with each passing second. His teeth graze the soft skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine as he marks you as his.

The sound of your bodies slapping together echoes softly in the confined space, mixing with the muffled sounds of the base outside. His muscles tense and release beneath your grip, his grunts of pleasure becoming more pronounced. The sand clinging to your skin is a stark reminder of where you are, but all you can focus on is the fire burning between your legs.

The scent of sex fills the air, and you can feel the heat of his desire for you, his need to claim you completely. His hands move to your hips, guiding your movements, urging you to meet his every thrust. The friction builds, a delicious pressure coiling in your stomach, and you know you won't be able to keep quiet much longer.

His eyes bore into yours, a silent question that you answer with a nod, giving him the go-ahead to unleash his full passion on you. And as the first wave of your climax hits, you let out a soft, needy cry that's quickly swallowed by his mouth, his own release not far behind.

Your bodies shudder together, clinging tightly as the intensity of the moment overwhelms you. For a brief second, you forget where you are, lost in the pleasure of his touch, the feel of him deep inside you.

Jake's body trembles as he comes down from his high, his heart still racing. He holds you close, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His hands continue to roam over your skin, his touch gentler now, a possessive yet loving caress.

His eyes are still darkened with desire, but there's a new tenderness in his gaze. He looks down at you, his lips finding yours in a slow and gentle kiss. Your fingers trace his muscles as you pull away for a breath, chest rapidly rising and falling. You reach for your discarded clothes, beginning to dress again.

Jake watches you as you begin to dress again, a faint frown of disappointment on his face. He leans against the wall, his eyes never leaving your body as you pull on your clothes.

“Can’t you just stay like that?” he teases, his voice gruff. You kiss his lips sweetly while buttoning your shorts.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” You smirk softly as he gazes down at you with pure desire.

Jake grins at your response, his arms encircling your waist once again. He can't help himself, the sight of you dressing is somehow unbearably seductive.

"You know damn well I would," he rumbles, his thumbs caressing the exposed skin of your waist.

His fingers move to pull at your shirt as he tries to undress you again. You playfully smack his hands away, “Won’t your coworkers be looking for you soon?” Your voice is a soft warning.

Jake frowns in disappointment as you swat his hands away from your shirt, a small huff of frustration leaving his lips. He knows you're right, and he knows that he needs to get back to work. But his body still aches for you, the taste of you still on his tongue.

"You're ruining my fun, Y/N," he pouts, his hands moving down to grab your hips instead. Jake's lips find your neck again, his mouth and tongue caressing the sensitive skin as he kisses and nips at your flesh. His body presses closer to yours, his hands pulling you flush against him.

He groans softly, his frustration at being interrupted clear in the sound. "Seriously, sugar. Can't I just stay here with you?" he murmurs, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

“Mm, pretty boy,” you groan out the nickname you gave him, “I wish we could stay here, but if anyone needs in.. and finds the door locked,”

Jake growls softly in protest, his teeth gently biting your neck at your use of the nickname "pretty boy." He knows you're right, but he still doesn't want to leave.

"I hate when you're logical," he complains, his hands running down to grip your hips, pulling you closer to him. His lips find your ear, his voice a low, possessive murmur.

But his body aches for you, and he doesn't want to let you go. His mouth is still against your neck as his hands wander your body.

“We really should leave Jake..” you murmur softly while leaning into his intoxicating touch.

Jake lets out a deep, shaky sigh as you lean into his touch. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply, committing your scent to memory. He knows you're right, but he doesn't want to admit it.

"I know, sugar," he mutters, his voice raspy and filled with reluctance. "But I'm not ready to let you go yet." His arms move around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

Before you can protest again, the familiar voices of his fellow pilots ring out from outside the door. “Hey, do you know where Hangman went?” Coyote questions the man he’s with.

“Nah no idea, last I saw he was following Y/N out of the bar.” Fanboy replies, their voices getting fainter as they pass by the door.

Jake freezes as he hears the voices of his fellow pilots outside the door. His body tenses against yours as he recognizes Coyote and Fanboy's voices. He lets out a low curse, his eyes darting to the door in alarm.

For a moment, he contemplates ignoring them and staying in the storage room with you but he knows that's not an option. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with reluctance as he mutters a curse. "They're looking for me..."

“Don’t make them search for too long,” you reply with a soft smile, your arms dropping from his warm body.

Jake's body immediately misses the feel of your touch as your arms drop from his body. He watches you with thinly veiled longing, his fingers itching to pull you back against him.

He sighs deeply, his shoulders slumping in resignation. He knows he has to go, but he doesn't want to leave you. He reaches out and gently cups your face in his hand, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

"Give me your number," he mutters, his voice thick with authority. You hand him your phone for him to put his contact information in, he presses a gentle kiss to your head before begrudgingly leaving you alone in the storage room.

[herrmannhalsteadproduction]

May I request different first meeting + meet funny? 😘💕💕💕💕

Cos we all deserved some fluff and floof in life heheheehe

Yes, you can! I hope you enjoy this and it makes up for the sad one!

Here be fluff, a different first meeting, and some laughs:

Donut Day was sacred.

This fact had been drilled into Tommy from his very first shift at Harbor. If it was your turn in the rotation, you came to work, donuts in hand. Or else.

Tommy was no fool. He'd never let himself find out what 'or else' was.

When it was his turn for Donut Day, he left two hours early so he could hit Pete's Donuts—arguably the best donut shop in all of L.A.—grab a selection of everyone's favorites, which he had memorized, thank you very much, and still make it to work on time.

Tommy was the king of Donut Day.

Except today—

Today, some guy—some punk kid—was going to cost him his crown.

To be fair, it wasn't entirely the kid's fault. Working an afternoon shift meant stopping by Pete's after the morning rush, but before the lunchtime restock was complete. Tommy thought he'd arrived early enough, but the shelves were looking pretty sad.

Which would have been fine if this guy hadn't made it through the door before him, securing a place in line ahead of Tommy, and seemed intent on buying out the place.

Nevermind, it was all this guy's fault.

Him and his...legs...that seemed to go on for days.

"I'll take that last Oreo one, please," the guy said and Tommy huffed under his breath.

Sorry about your luck, Jenkins. You're going to have to live with your second favorite—

"And that last strawberry shortcake one, too."

"Seriously?" Tommy whispered to himself, cursing his bad luck.

"Ooh, and that last triple chocolate one—"

"Oh, come on!" Tommy exclaimed, the words bursting out before he could stop them. Because really? Even the triple chocolate?

His favorite?

"Dude, what is your problem?" The guy whirled around to glare at him and Tommy felt it like a punch to the chest.

Because the donut thief was gorgeous.

Forget the legs for days and the muscled back and the equally muscled chest and arms—good god, the arms—how could Tommy focus on any of that when he was faced with the most beautiful blue eyes he'd ever seen.

And pouty lips on a mouth that had dropped open ever so slightly as the Donut Day interloper stared back at him.

"My problem?" Tommy asked, tearing his eyes away from the pouty lips back to the beautiful blue eyes that had gone wider when he took a little step closer. "My problem is you're going to get me fired if you keep buying up all the donuts. Or at least have a whole crew of hungry firefighters calling for my head."

He sent the donut thief a rueful smile. "Think you can help a guy out?"

"Y-you're a firefighter?" The guy said and if Tommy thought he was gorgeous before, he'd clearly misunderstood the meaning of the word. The grin that stretched across his face lit it up so brightly, Tommy suddenly understood why moths made such poor life choices.

He took another step closer. Drawn in by the light.

"I'm a firefighter too," the guy exclaimed. His face fell suddenly as he looked between Tommy and the display case of donuts. "It's my turn to bring the donuts too and if I don't bring the right ones, I'll never hear the end of it. Chim really likes those Oreo ones and Hen loves the strawberry shortcake—"

"Wait." Tommy laughed, shaking his head. "Are you at the 118?"

Of all the coincidences...

"Y-yeah, how did you know?" Blue Eyes grinned and this time he took a step closer.

"I used to work there, with Howie and Hen and everyone," Tommy said. He stuck a hand out. "Tommy Kinard."

"B—uh, Evan," Blue Eyes—Evan said. "Evan Buckley."

"Well, Evan Buckley, let's see if we can figure out a donut arrangement that works for everyone, yeah?"

The next ten minutes were spent playfully haggling over their choices—even going so far as to ask the very patient counter employee to cut a few in half. Tommy was pretty sure she'd been Instagramming most of their exchange so he didn't feel too bad about it.

Finally, donut boxes in hand, he and Evan left the shop, both lingering for a moment out on the sidewalk.

Tommy didn't miss the way Evan's eyes lingered over him at the same time. Zeroing in on his chin for some reason.

"That was some pretty good trouble-shooting in there," Tommy began, shaking Evan out of his chin-centric thoughts.

"Oh, uh, yeah," Evan said, shaking his head with a little laugh. "I'm going to get roasted over those donut halves though."

"You won't be the only one," Tommy said. He could already hear Jenkins' voice ranting at him over it.

But more importantly, he could feel the seconds ticking away before he and Evan would be going their separate ways and Tommy—for some reason—really didn't want to let that happen.

"You should give me your number," he heard himself saying. "So we can commiserate later."

"O-okay," Evan said, already digging his phone out of his pocket. "A-and you should give me yours. Tell me how you like the lime and jalapeno donut."

The one he'd talked Tommy into trying even though Tommy had zero tolerance for spice.

He was somehow already a complete pushover for this man.

They entered their numbers into each other's phones and handed them back with little grins.

"I should get going," Tommy said reluctantly, not able to put off the inevitable any longer. "It was really nice to meet you, Evan."

"You too," Evan said. "Tommy."

With one last smile, one last look, Tommy headed down the sidewalk to his truck, Evan leaving in the opposite direction.

Tommy turned back for one last last look and almost blushed at getting caught by Evan as he did it—before he realized Evan caught him because he was doing the exact same thing.

And Evan was definitely blushing.

Well.

How about that?

Despite his little donut thief adventure, Tommy still made it to work in plenty of time. He dropped the donuts off in the kitchen and stepped back as the hungry masses fell upon the boxes.

"Kinard!" Jenkins yelled out a few seconds later. He emerged from the huddle holding up half of an Oreo donut. "What the hell, man?"

"It was for a good cause," Tommy said. "Trust me."

Jenkins kept cranking at him, but Tommy was already tuning him out, attention caught by a new text on his phone.

A message from Evan.

Tommy opened it, chuckling over the picture of a very disgruntled looking Howie and Hen.

They're questioning our choices, the text read.

We'll just have to do better next time, Tommy wrote back.

He chewed on his lip, watching as three bubbles blinked in and out on his screen until finally—

Same time next week?

Can't wait, Tommy replied quickly.

He was going to be doing some heavy editing of the donut rotation for the foreseeable future and everyone was just going to have to deal with it...

Because Tommy had a donut thief to woo.

(This was from this ask game!)

[evermoreness]

Sirius x Fem? reader! but reader has a larger animagi form (wolf for instance) then him.

I'm just imagining his reaction T-T

— This idea was too cute, i loved writing it. Hope you like it @msfandomsblog!

animagus | sirius black

pairing: sirius black x reader

summary: sirius is dying to know what animagus you turn into when you transform. he just wasn't expecting your animagus to be bigger than his.

obs: feel free to send any requests!

masterlist

Sirius Black was obsessed with figuring you out.

Ever since you had let it slip that you were an Animagus, he hadn’t let it go. Every day, without fail, he tried to guess what you could possibly transform into. It had become his new favorite pastime—along with annoying the hell out of you.

“A fox,” he declared one evening in the Gryffindor common room, lounging dramatically across the couch while you sat cross-legged on the floor.

You didn’t even look up from your book. “No.”

Sirius rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “Alright, fine. A cat, then. A little scrappy thing, probably black with white paws.”

You turned the page, unimpressed. “Wrong.”

“A ferret?”

“No.”

“A squirrel.”

“Nope.”

“A rabbit?”

At that, you finally looked up, eyebrows raised. “Do I look like a rabbit to you?”

Sirius grinned. “I dunno, love. I think you’d make a cute little bunny, all twitchy and soft—”

You threw a pillow at his face.

“Oi!” he laughed, pulling it off and tossing it onto the floor.

Across the room, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew were watching the exchange with amused grins, both equally curious.

"You know," he said, lounging on the Gryffindor common room couch, "if you were something impressive, you'd have shown us by now."

You looked up from your book, unimpressed. "Oh? Is that how it works?"

“Alright, I’m with Padfoot on this one,” James said, leaning forward. “You can’t just say you’re an Animagus and not tell us what you are. It’s cruel.”

Peter nodded eagerly. “Yeah, even I told you guys when I figured mine out.”

You smirked. “That’s because it was obvious, Pete.”

Peter turned red. “I-I thought I might be something cooler.”

James patted his back sympathetically. “We all did, mate.”

Meanwhile, Sirius was still staring at you, arms crossed. “Come on, just tell me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

You smiled sweetly. “Because I like watching you suffer.”

Sirius let out a dramatic groan, flopping back against the couch. “You’re torturing me. This is actual cruelty.”

You shrugged. “I think it builds character.”

James squinted at you, then turned to the only person in the room who wasn’t playing along. “Moony, you know, don’t you?”

Remus Lupin, who had been reading by the fire and staying out of the conversation, sighed and finally looked up.

“I do.”

Three heads snapped toward him at once.

“WHAT?” Sirius sat up so fast he nearly fell off the couch.

“You bloody knew?” James gaped at him.

Peter just blinked, looking betrayed.

Remus looked utterly unbothered. He turned a page in his book. “Yes.”

Sirius, however, was in full outrage mode. “AND YOU DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING?”

Remus arched a brow. “It’s not my secret to tell.”

You shot him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Moony.”

Sirius groaned and threw himself back onto the couch again. “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Bit dramatic,” James muttered.

“The worst.” Sirius repeated. Then, he turned his gaze back to you, eyes narrowing. “I’ll figure it out, you know. One way or another.”

You met his stare evenly, lips twitching. “You can try.”

Sirius tilted his head, studying you with that sharp, knowing glint in his eye—the one he always got when he was about to do something reckless.

Then, in a flash, he lunged for you.

You squeaked in surprise as he tackled you onto the floor, pinning you easily. “Tell me.”

“No!”

He grinned down at you, the cocky bastard. “Tell me or I start tickling.”

You gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

James whistled from the couch. “I dunno. I’ve seen him do it before. He’s ruthless.”

Sirius smirked, fingers ghosting over your ribs. “Last chance.”

You struggled under him, laughing even though he hadn’t even started yet. “I hate you!”

“No, you don’t,” he said, voice low and teasing. His face was far too close, his breath warm against your cheek.

Your stomach flipped. Your little… thing with Sirius—whatever it was—had been going on for a while now. You weren’t officially together, but there was something between you, something playful and electric and infuriating.

He hadn’t kissed you yet. Not properly, anyway. But the way he was looking at you now? Damn it. He knew what he was doing.

You swallowed hard. “Sirius—”

He raised a brow. “Yes?”

You licked your lips, glaring. “Get off me.”

“Say please.”

“Sirius Black, I swear—”

Suddenly, Remus’ voice cut through the moment.

“Prongs, how much do you bet he’s going to get hexed?”

James smirked. “Five galleons says it’s in the next ten seconds.”

Peter nodded. “Seven if it’s a particularly nasty one.”

Sirius turned to scowl at them. “Oi! No faith in me at all?”

You took the distraction as your chance. With a quick movement, you flipped him off you, pinning him instead.

Sirius blinked up at you, surprised.

You grinned. “Gotcha.”

James and Peter burst out laughing.

Remus smirked. “Told you.”

Sirius just stared at you for a second before letting out a breathless chuckle. “Okay. Maybe I do like you a little.”

You raised a brow. “Because I took you down?”

“Because you’re brilliant,” he admitted. Then, he smirked. “And because you’re bloody infuriating.”

You laughed, finally letting him go. He sat up, brushing dust off his shirt, still grinning like an idiot.

“Alright, fine. If you won’t tell me, you’ll just have to show me.”

You tilted your head. “And what makes you think I’ll do that?”

Sirius grinned. “Because you like watching me suffer, but not too much.”

You pursed your lips. Damn it. He wasn’t wrong.

“Fine,” you sighed. “Meet me in the Forbidden Forest after dinner.”

Sirius lit up like Christmas had come early.

James clapped his hands together. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Peter nodded. “If it’s another rat, I’m gonna be really disappointed.”

You just smirked and leaned in toward Sirius, voice low and teasing.

“Try to keep up, Puppy.”

Sirius stiffened. “What?”

But you were already standing, winking before walking away.

Sirius turned to Remus, eyes narrowed. “Moony. What does that mean?”

Remus just smiled.

“You’ll see.”

It was well past curfew when the five of you crept through the castle, moving like shadows through the dimly lit corridors. James led the way, his Invisibility Cloak draped over himself and Peter, while you, Sirius, and Remus followed closely behind.

“Merlin, I forgot how much of a pain it is to sneak out with all of you,” Remus muttered under his breath as you all slipped through the entrance doors and onto the Hogwarts grounds.

“Oh, Moony,” Sirius said, slinging an arm around his friend’s shoulder. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Back in my warm, safe bed,” Remus replied dryly.

You snickered. “Come on, Remus. This is exciting. It’s like a grand unveiling.”

James let out a dramatic sigh. “Feels more like a funeral. For Sirius’ dignity.”

Sirius scoffed. “My dignity is perfectly intact, thank you very much.”

“You’re literally about to be proven the biggest idiot in the world,” Peter pointed out.

Sirius waved a dismissive hand. “Technicality.”

It wasn’t long before you reached the Forbidden Forest, the towering trees casting long shadows over the path. The air was crisp, carrying the distant hoots of owls and the rustling of unseen creatures.

Up ahead, you turned back to face them, walking backward effortlessly. "Are you lot always this loud when you sneak out?"

"Only when it's worth it," Sirius shot back. His usual smirk was in place, but you could tell he was itching with curiosity.

You had been dragging out the mystery of your Animagus form for so long, and now that the reveal was minutes away, he was practically buzzing with anticipation.

James jogged up to walk beside you, rubbing his hands together. "Alright, we're here. Time to end the suspense. Unless, of course, you’re just a particularly large rabbit and don’t want us to laugh at you."

You gave him a flat look. "Do I seem like a rabbit, Potter?"

He shrugged. "Peter didn’t think he was a rat, but here we are."

"Oi!" Peter protested.

You chuckled and stopped walking, rolling your shoulders like you were shaking off the last bits of hesitation.

"Alright," you said, stepping away from them. "Try not to faint."

Sirius scoffed. "Oh, please. How dramatic do you think I am?"

"You really want me to answer that?"

Remus chuckled, hands stuffed in his pockets. "I’d step back if I were you, Pads."

Sirius frowned but took a step back anyway, watching you closely. James and Peter were practically bouncing with excitement, their eyes flicking between you and each other, anticipation crackling in the air.

You took a deep breath, feeling the familiar shift in your bones, the heat in your chest as your body reshaped itself. It was a feeling you'd grown used to—a second nature, really. Within seconds, your vision sharpened, the world around you becoming clearer, scents stronger.

When you finally stood in your Animagus form, the reaction was immediate.

Peter let out a strangled noise. "Bloody hell."

James’ mouth fell open. "You—you’re huge!"

Sirius just stared.

Slowly, he took a step forward, eyes wide. "No way."

The silence stretched between you as he took you in—your thick, dark fur, the way your golden eyes gleamed in the moonlight, the size of you.

You huffed out a breath, amusement dancing in your gaze.

James was still gawking. "You look like Moony when he transforms. You do realize that, right? Just not as big"

Remus smirked slightly. "That’s why I knew, by the way. I could sense another wolf."

Peter was still blinking, as if trying to process it. "She’s so big."

Sirius, however, had yet to say a word. He was still looking at you, his usual cocky confidence completely gone.

You tilted your head at him, amused by his speechlessness.

James nudged him. "Oi, Pads, cat got your tongue?"

Sirius ignored him, stepping even closer, slowly circling you like he was trying to convince himself you were real.

"Merlin’s beard," he breathed, reaching out to run a hand through your fur. "How did I not know this?"

You stood before them in your full Animagus form—a wolf, but not just any wolf. Your fur was sleek, catching the moonlight in streaks of silver, and your golden eyes shone with something intelligent, something knowing.

You let out a low, amused growl and took a step forward, tilting your massive head.

Then, just to mess with him, you dragged your tongue across his face in one swift motion.

James lost it.

"OH, THAT’S BRILLIANT!" he howled, doubling over with laughter.

Peter let out a wheezy laugh. "She just licked him!"

Even Remus, usually the composed one, was chuckling. "I think she’s asserting dominance."

Sirius wiped his face with a disgusted expression. "What the hell?"

You let out a soft, wolfish chuff, eyes gleaming mischievously.

James clapped a hand on Sirius' shoulder, barely able to breathe through his laughter. "Face it, mate. You’re not the biggest dog anymore."

Sirius groaned, rubbing his face again. "This is humiliating."

Peter giggled. "You got licked."

Sirius shot him a glare. "Shut it, Wormtail."

You huffed, nudging your head against Sirius’ hip. He stumbled slightly but caught himself, staring at you with something between exasperation and fascination.

"You’re ridiculous," he muttered, but his lips twitched into something that looked suspiciously like admiration.

James, still recovering from his laughing fit, smirked. "Go on, Padfoot. Let’s see how you compare."

Sirius hesitated for only a moment before rolling his eyes. "Fine."

With a fluid motion, he shifted, fur replacing skin, limbs elongating until his familiar black dog form stood before you.

For the first time, the Marauders could actually compare the sizes.

You were bigger than him.

And Sirius Black had never been the smaller one before.

Sirius was still big. But you were bigger.

Peter was clutching his stomach. "You’re not the alpha anymore!"

Remus smirked. "How the mighty have fallen."

Sirius shifted back into his human form, running a hand through his hair with a long-suffering sigh. "I hate all of you."

You shifted back as well, grinning as you leaned into his space. "Oh, don’t be a sore loser, Puppy."

Sirius groaned. "I swear to Merlin, if you call me that one more time—"

"—you’ll what?" You smirked, poking his chest. "Bark at me?"

James wheezed. "I love her."

Sirius was still looking at you, eyes flickering with something unreadable—something like wonder. But then, his lips curved into a familiar, mischievous smirk.

"Alright then, big bad wolf," he said, tilting his head. "Let’s see if you're as fast as you are massive."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You want to race me now?"

James perked up. "Oh, I need to see this."

Peter grinned. "My money’s on her. She’s bigger, so she’s got longer legs."

Sirius scoffed. "Please. I was born to run."

Remus chuckled. "This should be interesting."

You exchanged a glance with Sirius, the challenge clear in both of your eyes. Without another word, you shifted, bones reshaping, muscles tensing as fur replaced skin. The familiar rush of magic coursed through you, and when you landed back on all fours, you stood tall, staring down at Sirius, who had already shifted into his sleek, black dog form.

His tail flicked as he trotted up to you, cocky as ever despite the size difference. He bumped his head against your shoulder, nipping at your ear playfully before bounding a few steps away, kicking up dirt as he turned to face you.

James grinned. "Alright, you two. First one to the fallen tree by the river wins."

Peter climbed onto a nearby rock to get a better view. "On my count—three… two…"

You and Sirius crouched low, muscles coiling in anticipation.

"One!"

The moment the word left Peter’s mouth, you exploded forward.

The world blurred around you, trees whipping past as the wind rushed through your fur. You were fast, incredibly fast—your powerful limbs propelling you forward with each bound. For a brief moment, you were sure you had the lead.

Then a flash of black fur shot past you.

Sirius.

He was quick, weaving through the trees with ease, his smaller frame making it easier for him to dart through tight spaces. His paws barely seemed to touch the ground as he surged ahead, his tail flicking behind him like a silent taunt.

A low growl rumbled in your chest. Oh, hell no.

You pushed harder, closing the distance between you. The river was coming up fast, the fallen tree just beyond it. Sirius glanced back, and you swore he was grinning—if dogs could grin.

The moment of distraction was all you needed.

You lunged forward, shoving your weight against his side. It wasn’t enough to knock him over, but it was enough to send him slightly off course, making him stumble for just a second.

That second was all it took.

You surged ahead, paws pounding against the earth as you reached the fallen tree first, leaping effortlessly over it before skidding to a stop.

Sirius landed beside you a moment later, shaking out his fur. He huffed, eyes gleaming.

You wagged your tail, smug.

But Sirius wasn’t one to take a loss lightly.

Before you could react, he launched himself at you, tackling you sideways into the grass. You let out a surprised yelp as you tumbled, rolling with him in a flurry of fur and limbs.

When you finally stopped, he was on top, paws pinning your shoulders down. He loomed over you, his nose practically touching yours, dark eyes glinting mischievously.

You struggled, trying to shove him off, but he was strong. Stronger than you had expected. Even though you were bigger, his muscles were dense, his body built for speed and power. You thrashed beneath him, twisting your body, but he only pressed harder, amusement flickering in his expression as if to say, Go on, keep trying.

You huffed, frustrated.

Sirius let out a deep, satisfied noise in response.

James and the others finally caught up, breathless from running.

"Merlin’s beard," James wheezed. "You two are insane."

Peter stared at the sight of Sirius pinning you down. "I thought she’d be stronger than him."

Remus smirked. "Size isn’t everything."

Sirius, still in his dog form, gave a triumphant wag of his tail before finally stepping off you. You immediately rolled to your feet, shaking out your fur before nipping at his side in retaliation.

He barked—a deep, amused sound—before lunging at you again.

You both tumbled through the grass, playfully wrestling, testing each other’s limits. You would try to shove him down with your weight, but he was too quick, always maneuvering around you, twisting just enough to keep the upper hand. Every time you managed to pin him, he’d slip away with a sudden burst of movement, tackling you back down.

James and Peter were dying laughing.

"You two are like a pair of bloody puppies," James snorted.

Peter grinned. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen Sirius this happy."

Remus, leaning against a tree, just shook his head fondly. "He’s finally met his match."

Eventually, you and Sirius both slowed, panting heavily, your fur damp with sweat and dirt.

Sirius padded up to you, nudging his head against your shoulder, his tail wagging slightly. It was a silent acknowledgment—that was fun.

You huffed, leaning into him in response.

Then, just because you could, you licked his face again.

Sirius froze.

James lost it. "OH, SHE GOT YOU AGAIN!"

Peter was practically rolling on the ground laughing. "You should’ve seen your face!"

Sirius turned his head slowly, staring at you. You tilted your head innocently.

Then, without warning, he lunged—this time, not to wrestle, but to shove you flat on your side, pressing his entire weight against you in retaliation. You yelped in surprise, struggling, but he didn’t let up, practically smothering you against the grass.

James was in tears. "HE’S SQUISHING HER!"

Remus sighed. "Alright, that’s enough, you two."

Sirius finally relented, stepping back with a satisfied shake of his fur. You scrambled up, shooting him a glare, but there was no real malice in it—just playfulness.

He smirked at you, eyes gleaming.

You narrowed your own eyes in return.

This wasn’t over.

And Sirius knew it.

As the playful energy between you and Sirius finally settled, you huffed one last time, shaking out your fur before stepping back. He did the same, tail flicking in amusement.

Then, as if by silent agreement, you both shifted back into your human forms.

The transformation was seamless—fur receding, bones realigning, the familiar pull of magic drawing you upright until you stood, breathless and flushed from the chase. Your hair was windswept, twigs tangled in the strands, and your clothes were a little rumpled from rolling around in the dirt.

Sirius, on the other hand, looked just as disheveled—his dark curls were sticking up at odd angles, and there was a streak of dirt smudged across his cheek. But, as expected, he still looked insufferably smug.

James was the first to break the silence, doubling over with laughter. "I cannot believe that just happened."

Peter clutched his stomach. "The way she licked his face again—oh, Merlin—I thought he was going to combust."

Sirius shot Peter a glare, wiping his face with exaggerated disgust. "Yeah, well, it was unnecessary and completely uncalled for—"

"Oh, please," you interrupted, grinning. "You loved it."

Sirius scoffed, crossing his arms. "Loved it? I hated it."

"Then why did you let me do it twice?" You smirked, tilting your head.

James howled with laughter. "Oh, she got you there, mate."

Remus, who had been silently watching with a knowing smile, shook his head. "I have to say, I expected you to be bigger, Sirius, but—" he glanced at you, amused, "—turns out she wins that contest."

Sirius pointed at you dramatically. "This is ridiculous. I have always been the best animagus in the group! And now you show up with your freakishly large wolf form—"

"Freakishly majestic, you mean," you corrected.

"Freakishly overgrown," Sirius countered.

You gasped, pressing a hand to your chest in mock offense. "Oh, overgrown, am I?"

"You take up too much space!" Sirius gestured wildly. "I was running, minding my own business, and suddenly there’s this massive beast barreling beside me! You shoved me like I was a bloody twig!"

You grinned. "What’s wrong, Pads? Didn’t like getting knocked around a little?"

James was practically crying from laughter. "This is the best thing I’ve ever seen."

Peter nodded. "Honestly, she fits right in."

Sirius narrowed his eyes at you, stepping closer until he was just inches away, his expression unreadable. "You really enjoy challenging me, don’t you?"

You tilted your chin up slightly, refusing to back down. "What’s the matter? Afraid you can’t handle it?"

James whistled. "Ooooh, Pads, she’s got you cornered."

Peter nudged Remus. "What do you think? Are we finally seeing someone outmatch Sirius Black?"

Remus smirked. "I think we might be."

Sirius huffed dramatically, dragging a hand through his already messy hair. "Unbelievable. I finally meet my match and it’s her." He looked at you, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "You know, I should be mad. I should be completely outraged—"

You raised an eyebrow. "But?"

A slow, wolfish grin spread across his lips. "But I love a challenge."

You felt warmth creep up your neck, but you refused to let him have the upper hand. "Good," you said smoothly, stepping even closer. "Because I’m not going to make it easy for you, Black."

Sirius let out a low chuckle, tilting his head. "Oh, I’d be disappointed if you did."

James groaned loudly. "Okay, okay, I cannot deal with this tension right now."

Peter made a face. "Yeah, can you two flirt after we get back to the castle?"

Remus chuckled. "They won’t stop, Wormtail. This is just how they are."

Sirius turned to them, throwing an arm over your shoulder. "You lot wish you had this kind of chemistry."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t move away. "Oh, shut up and start walking, Black. We’re already out past curfew, and I don’t feel like getting detention because you couldn’t handle losing."

And as the five of you made your way back through the darkened forest, whispering, teasing, and laughing under the moonlight, Sirius stole a glance at you.

He had no idea what this thing between you was—this endless back-and-forth, this thrill of trying to one-up each other, this feeling of never quite knowing who would win.

But he knew one thing for sure.

He never wanted it to end.

As the five of you walked back through the Forbidden Forest, James, Remus, and Peter were ahead, still snickering about everything that had happened. Their voices echoed in the cool night air, but you weren’t really listening.

You had slowed your pace slightly, letting the others get ahead just enough. Sirius, as if sensing the shift, naturally fell into step beside you, the usual cocky grin still playing on his lips.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The night was alive with quiet sounds—the rustling of leaves, the distant hoot of an owl, the soft crunch of your footsteps against the dirt path.

Then Sirius exhaled dramatically.

"Alright, fine. I’ll admit it," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

You raised an eyebrow. "Admit what?"

"That you were kind of impressive back there."

You smirked. "Oh? Kind of impressive? I seem to remember winning that race."

He groaned. "You cheated—"

"—used my skills," you corrected, nudging his arm playfully.

He shot you a look but couldn’t quite hide the way his lips twitched. "You shoved me mid-run!"

"You got distracted," you teased. "That’s not my fault."

Sirius scoffed. "I wasn’t distracted."

You turned to him fully, walking backward now as you grinned. "Oh, no?"

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "No."

Your grin widened. "Not even when I licked your face?"

His jaw tensed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "That was disgusting."

You gasped dramatically. "You loved it!"

"I hated it."

"You loved it," you repeated, stepping closer.

Sirius narrowed his eyes, stopping in his tracks. You stopped too, facing him, the forest stretching out in quiet shadows around you.

Then, suddenly, he took a step closer.

His voice dropped, lower, softer. "You really think I loved it?"

The way he was looking at you—it wasn’t teasing anymore.

Your breath caught slightly, but you refused to back down. "I know you did."

His lips curled into something slow, something dangerous. "You’re so sure of yourself, aren’t you?"

You shrugged. "It’s part of my charm."

Sirius hummed, studying you. His hands were still stuffed in his pockets, his posture relaxed, but there was something different in his expression now—something quieter, more intense.

Then, so casually it made your stomach flip, he said, "You looked beautiful back there, you know."

Your breath hitched.

Not impressive, not strong—beautiful.

His words made your stomach flip, and for the first time all night, you didn’t have a quick comeback. Instead, you just looked at him, the dim moonlight casting soft shadows across his face, making him seem almost unreal.

Sirius noticed your sudden quietness, and his lips twitched into a smirk. “Merlin, are you flustered? That’s a first.”

You scoffed, snapping out of it. “Oh, please. You wish you had that effect on me.”

“Oh, but I do,” he murmured, stepping just a little closer.

You swallowed, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you falter. “Keep telling yourself that, Black.”

He tilted his head, amusement flickering in his grey eyes. “Alright, tell me this, then—if I did kiss you right now, you wouldn't be flustered?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Are you planning on kissing me?”

Sirius smirked. “That depends. Are you planning on stopping me?”

You stared at him, pulse racing.

For a second, you thought he might kiss you.

For a second, you thought you wanted him to.

And then—

"Oi, you two! Stop snogging in the trees and hurry up!"

James’ voice echoed through the night, breaking the moment.

You both turned to see the three boys standing at the castle’s entrance, waiting. James had his hands on his hips, Peter was grinning knowingly, and Remus… well, Remus just looked mildly amused as if he had already expected this.

Sirius sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Ruined. The moment is ruined.”

You smirked. “Oh, please. What moment?”

Sirius groaned. “You’re impossible.”

You gave him a playful shove before walking ahead to catch up with the others, but before you could get too far, Sirius grabbed your hand, stopping you in your tracks.

You looked up at him, surprised.

He leaned in, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him in the cool night air.

Then, with a smirk, he murmured, “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Your breath hitched.

But before you could say anything, he let go of your hand and strode forward, whistling as if nothing had happened.

You stared after him, heart racing.

Oh, he was so infuriating.

And you were so in trouble.

The Gryffindor common room was quiet when the five of you finally slipped inside. The fire had burned low, casting long shadows across the room, and the only sound was the soft crackling of the embers. It was late—probably well past two in the morning—but none of you seemed particularly rushed to get to bed.

James stretched, letting out a yawn. “Well, that was definitely the best thing to happen all week.”

Peter nodded, flopping onto one of the couches. “I still can’t believe you’re a wolf,” he said, looking at you. “And a big one at that.”

You grinned. “I do love a dramatic reveal.”

Remus smirked knowingly, arms crossed. “I knew all along, and it was still satisfying to watch Sirius nearly fall over from shock.”

James cackled. “He was mesmerized, wasn’t he?”

Sirius groaned, rolling his eyes. “Merlin, can we not bring that up again?”

“Oh, but we must,” James said. “It was so touching. He just stood there, staring at her like she was the moon itself.”

Peter snorted. “And then she licked him.”

Sirius pointed a warning finger at him. “Not another word.”

“Well, that was eventful,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I think I deserve a solid ten hours of sleep after all that.”

Peter groaned. “Agreed. I feel like I ran a bloody marathon.”

Remus chuckled. “That’s because you did, Wormtail.”

James clapped Sirius on the back. “I’d stay up and keep you company, Pads, but I don’t fancy another detention for falling asleep in Transfiguration tomorrow.” He glanced between you and Sirius with a knowing smirk. “Besides, looks like you’ve got company.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Oh, piss off, Potter.”

James just grinned before disappearing up the stairs with Peter and Remus.

Once they were gone, the room fell into a comfortable silence. The fire crackled, the glow of it reflecting in Sirius’ grey eyes as he flopped onto the couch, stretching his legs across it lazily. You hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside him, though you left a small space between you.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You just sat there, basking in the warmth of the fire, the night’s excitement finally settling into something calmer.

Then Sirius let out a soft chuckle. “I still can’t believe it.”

You glanced at him. “What?”

He turned his head to look at you, eyes full of something unreadable. “You. That.” He shook his head. “All this time, I thought you were hiding something small. A little fox, a cat, maybe even a bloody squirrel.”

You snorted. “A squirrel?”

“Well, obviously I was wrong,” he muttered, shaking his head. “But, Merlin, a wolf?” He exhaled, a slow, disbelieving sound. “I didn’t see that coming.”

You smirked. “Told you to wait.”

He huffed. “Yeah, yeah.” Then he turned fully toward you, draping an arm over the back of the couch. “Alright, then. You’ve officially changed the game. Now I have to race you again.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Didn’t seem like you could handle it the first time.”

Sirius groaned dramatically. “One time. You shove me one time and suddenly you think you’re the queen of speed.”

“I mean, I did win.”

Sirius scoffed. “No, you cheated.”

You smirked. “Sounds like something a loser would say.”

He turned, grabbing a pillow off the couch and smacking you lightly with it. “Oh, shut up.”

You laughed, pushing it away. “Fine, fine. But alright—another race. When?”

Sirius hummed, tapping his fingers against the back of the couch as he thought. “Tomorrow night.”

You blinked. “Tomorrow? Again?”

He smirked. “Scared?”

“Please,” you scoffed. “I’m just concerned you’ll embarrass yourself twice in one week.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head with a grin. Then his voice dropped slightly, more thoughtful. “Seriously, though… it was brilliant.”

You tilted your head. “The race?”

He shook his head. “No. You.” His gaze flickered over your face, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “Watching you transform… seeing you run like that. It was—” He exhaled, as if searching for the right words. “It was like you were meant for it.”

Your teasing smile softened. “It felt like that,” you admitted.

Sirius nodded. “I get it. Being in Animagus form… it’s different, yeah? Everything’s clearer. It’s like you can feel the world better.”

You smiled. “Exactly.”

Sirius studied you for a moment, the playful glint in his eyes replaced with something softer, something more thoughtful. The firelight danced across his features, highlighting the sharp lines of his face, the softness in his expression.

For the first time that night, the teasing between you faded into something else—something quieter, something almost unspoken.

And for the first time, you didn’t try to break it with a joke.

Instead, you just looked at him, feeling the warmth between you, feeling the weight of whatever was hanging in the air.

Sirius’ fingers tapped lightly against the back of the couch, his grey eyes searching yours.

Then, his voice barely above a murmur, he said, “I think I like you better like this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

His lips twitched slightly. “Calm. Not constantly trying to outwit me.”

You smirked. “So you do think I outwit you?”

He groaned, throwing his head back. “And there it is.”

You laughed, leaning back into the couch. The tension that had settled between you didn’t disappear—it just shifted, became something familiar again. But it was still there, lingering beneath the surface.

Sirius turned his head slightly, watching you from the corner of his eye. “Tomorrow night, then?”

You smiled. “Tomorrow night.”

You could still feel the lingering buzz of the night’s adventure, the rush of running through the Forbidden Forest, the feeling of Sirius right beside you, matching your pace. But now, sitting here with him, the energy between you was different. Slower. More deliberate.

Sirius tapped his fingers lightly against the back of the couch. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter than before, “I think this might be the longest we’ve ever gone without trying to one-up each other.”

You smirked. “You say that like I don’t always win.”

He huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Merlin, you’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” you said, tilting your head. “Sitting with me. In the middle of the night. Planning another race.”

Sirius shrugged, a slow grin spreading across his lips. “What can I say? You’re hard to stay away from.”

Something in your stomach fluttered. The way he said it—it wasn’t just a casual remark. It was something more. Something real.

You swallowed, suddenly aware of just how close he was.

His arm was still draped over the back of the couch, his fingertips just barely brushing your shoulder. His legs were stretched out, one of his knees bumping against yours. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it, and somehow, that made your pulse race even more.

Sirius tilted his head, watching you. “You’re quiet again.”

You blinked. “No, I’m not.”

He smirked. “Yes, you are.”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe I just ran out of things to say.”

His grin widened. “You? I don’t believe that for a second.”

You sighed dramatically, leaning back against the couch. “Fine. Maybe I’m just tired of doing all the talking. Maybe it’s your turn to entertain me for once.”

Sirius chuckled, shifting slightly so he was leaning just a little closer. “Oh? And what exactly do you want me to do?”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning thoughtfulness. “Hmm. I don’t know. Maybe something impressive.”

His smirk deepened. “Define impressive.”

You pretended to think about it for a moment before looking him dead in the eye. “Surprise me.”

Sirius’ expression flickered for just a second—something unreadable flashing through his gaze—but then, before you could react, he was moving.

Slowly. Deliberately.

His fingers brushed your cheek, barely a ghost of a touch, and yet it sent a shiver down your spine. His gaze flickered to your lips for just a second before settling back on your eyes, as if silently asking permission.

You didn’t stop him.

Didn’t pull away.

Didn’t even breathe.

And then—

His lips met yours.

Soft. Warm. Gentle in a way you hadn’t expected from Sirius Black.

For a moment, everything else—the fire, the common room, the entire bloody castle—faded into nothing.

It was just him.

Just this.

Your heart pounded against your ribs as his fingers curled around the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer. You felt the way his breath hitched, the way he hesitated for just a second before melting into it completely.

And, Merlin, you didn’t realize how much you wanted this until now.

You kissed him back, your fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt, your body instinctively leaning into his warmth.

Sirius made a soft noise in the back of his throat—like he was surprised, like he hadn’t expected you to kiss him back with just as much desperation as he kissed you.

When you finally pulled away, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathless.

Sirius was the first to break the silence, his voice slightly hoarse. “Alright… I’ll admit… that might’ve been impressive.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Might’ve been?”

He smirked, thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “Okay, definitely was.”

You smiled, your fingers still curled lightly into the fabric of his sweater. “See? I do always win.”

Sirius groaned, closing his eyes for a second. “Merlin, I just kissed you, and you still have to be insufferable?”

You grinned. “You love it.”

His grey eyes flickered open again, and the way he looked at you—like you were something he never wanted to look away from—made your breath catch in your throat.

“Yeah,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I think I do.”

[reginaphalangelobster125]

Coffee

Tony on his 5th cup of coffee by 6am: FRIDAY run the diagnostics again Pepper walks in with two cups of tea Pepper: Tony, you should really lay off the coffee, how many cups have you had in the in the past hour? Tony: 4 F.R.I.D.A.Y: 5 Mr Stark Pepper: See Tony, you have a problem Tony: I don't have a problem Pep, I just like coffee. It's better than you and your tea Pepper: There is nothing wrong with tea. It has health benefits Tony: It still had caffeine and you're addicted too Pepper: I am not! Tony scoffing: Yeah right, you keep telling yourself that Peter, walking through the door: Good morning Mr Stark, Ms Potts Tony: Morning Pete Pepper: Good morning Peter Tony: Hey kid, settle something for us will ya, Pep thinks tea is better and I think its coffee, which is it? Pepper: You can't keep using him to get your way Tony, he always sides with you Peter: I haven't had either Tony & Pepper: Ever? Peter: Nope, May never let me Tony: Well today's the day kid, prepare for your whole world to change Pepper: Don't you think you're being a little dramatic, Tony? Tony: Not at all, I'll never forget the first time I had coffee. I bet you still remember your first cup of tea Pepper: Well, yes but- Tony: But nothing, here kid try this Tony hands a mug of coffee to Peter and he takes a big gulp Peter: Bleugh! I'm sorry Mister Stark but that's awful. How do you drink it everyday? Tony: You get used to it, eventually it burns off a lot of your taste buds Peter: I don't think that's right Pepper: Yeah Tony, that doesn't sound healthy Tony: Pfft! It's fine, both of you worry too much Peter starts to feel the effects of the caffeine and his eyes go wide Pepper: Tony, I think something is wrong with Peter Tony: Nothings wro- Oh, thats-thats not good Peter: No Mr Stark, I feel amazing! I bet I could beat Captain Rogers in a race, I'm gonna go find out. Bye! Peter ran out of the lab and down the stairs Pepper glares at Tony for a moment Tony: Alright I'll go Tony enters the elevator but by the time the doors open on the common room floor Peter is already there practically jumping off the walls Peter: Mr Captain Rogers America Sir, how fast can you run? Steve, looking slightly concerned: Pretty fast kid, uh you okay? Peter: Yeah yes totally fine super fine! Wanna race? Steve: I don't think that's a good idea, where's Tony? Peter: He's in the lab, no the elevator, no I think he's around the corner Thor walks through the door and smiles brightly as he sees Peter Thor: Young Spiderling! How have you been? Peter: I'm good Mr Thor. How are you? How was space? How is Asgard? Did you fight any big aliens? Or scary monsters? Thor: Oh I have much to tell you. As soon as Heimdall sent me to Asgard on the Bi-frost I was met with a ginormous and fearsome beast- Peter: That's so cool Mr Thor! I was wondering, can you run fast? Thor: Yes, very Peter: Great! Do you wanna race around the tower and see who wins? Thor: That sounds like fun, let us go! Thor and Peter ran off, out through the door and around the tower right as Tony walked into the room Tony: Where are they going? Steve: They're racing around the tower. Is everything okay with him? He seems a little off Tony: He had his first sip of coffee Steve: You gave that kid coffee? What's wrong with you? Tony: I admit that I may have made a mistake Steve: May?! Tony: Okay, I did make a mistake Suddenly Peter comes flying back into the room Peter: Oh hey Mr Stark! Did you know I can run faster than Thor? Thor runs though the door and stop with his hand on his knees, panting Thor, breathlessly: Y-you are a v-very fast run-runner Tony: That's it, you are NEVER having coffee again Peter: But I love coffee! It's amazing! Thor: What is coffee? Tony: No, nope, nu uh, not again!

This was inspired by a post from @anyaharveyii thank you for the inspiration, I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you like it.

@everyonesfriend I think you might like this!

Tags:

@impetusofadream @goldfishthegr8 @avengers-official-recruit-agent @goreygirl03 @xenasolos @sparklyturtlefox @rios-sythe @nekoannie-chan @ilovemarvel12 @hayneyney @n3ponen @8812-342

[sugarcubeindulgent]

HEYAAA

js wanted to A. request and B. say that YOURE AN ABSOLUTE MACHINEEE (lovingly) thank you for feeding us sm 🫡 anyway pls pls head-canons on each of the club member's ideal type n some sprinkles on things that secretly make them fold pretty pleaaseee

the club members types & what makes them fold.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ contents. suggestive content. fluff?

a/n: thank you so much! and thank you for the request, anon! i hope you enjoy! these are all MY headcanons, please don't find offense or anything of the sort.

bill dickey's ideal type would be softer women. he'd prefer a softer face and big doe-ish eyes with soft lips and softer hands. i think bill would be into fat women but only because he believes they're all insecure and that they'd be easiest to manipulate. anyways ; style-wise i think his ideal type would be a girl who dresses hyper-feminine. whether it be the trashy y2k bling look or the soft coquette, if it exudes femininity that's ideal for him. he'd want his partner to not wear perfumes or anything scented. he really loves the natural scent of people. personality wise i think bill would like mean people. not mean to him, no he's too sensitive for that. but just the most hater, miserable people like him. his ideal type in personality would be a "what should i tell him next?" "tell him to go kill himself!" "oh yes!" dynamic.

as for what would make bill fold...sex. yeah. pull up your shirt, your skirt, make a dirty hand gesture and anything and everything on his mind will fly out of the window. though that wouldn't be much of a secret. a more secret thing that makes bill fold constantly would be you simply smiling at him in search of approval.

josh levy's ideal type would be older but shorter women. physically i'd like to think he loves nice smiles and big, textured/curly hair. round asses, yeah. as for style, i think josh would really love it when a woman dresses boyish and or masculine-oriented. cargo shorts, baggy clothes, boxers - just think of a masc or butch, that'd be his ideal type fashion and style wise. as for personality he'd want someone kind and soft-spoken. so loud and volatile i think a part of him is as scared of kindness from women as he much as he craves it. he'd want a kind and sweet type because it's the opposite of him. think of an older, unapproachable girl who's really a total sweetheart and very kind. that's his ideal type.

he'd fold at anything. no, i'm not kidding. but bonus points if you touch his face or hands when trying to get him to fold, it'll make him a puddle.

pete dinunzio's ideal type would be anyone with a nice rack. i genuinely do not think he'd give a fuck about anything except how nice someone's tits are. has a thing for crooked teeth though, gaps, snaggle teeth, overbites, etcetc don't ask me why, no clue. fashion-wise i think he'd like any trashy or maximalist look. the more he has to take off of you the better. scene kids, trad goths, gyaru's, tanned bimbos, emos, etcetc. personality wise his ideal type with be someone who hates all men. it's an insecurity thing, he wants to be special by being the only man you can tolerate. definitely would want some really smart and intelligent, as in smarter than anyone's he's met. surprisingly, i don't think he's a big fan of piercings or tattoos. reasoning for that is mine to headcanon and mine alone.

he'd also fold under any attempt of sex. the tried and true thing is nasty, freaky, dangerous sex to make him do whatever you want and or to win any argument.

jerry stokes's ideal type would be funny and uniquely attractive women. he'd like aquiline noses, broad noses, freckled faces, scarred skin, if something is rare or "atypical" he'd love it. i think he has a big thing for dyed or funky hair in any capacity, favors blue hair out of every other color. i don't think he even necessarily has an ideal type, just things he'd prefer to see when looking at his partner. now, style-wise - alternative, we know this. but he wouldn't want outlandish or messy fashion to view. grunge, romantic goth, unlabelled - his ideal type wouldn't be someone it'd be difficult to hug or spontaneously undress if that makes it easier to envision. personality wise, jerry's ideal type would just be someone intelligent and funny. he wants to laugh, he'd want to laugh and also be able to engage with you in what he wants.

jerry would fold with anything. end of story!

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Okay, so, there's one thing that I'm kind of tired of beating around the bush with white fans about, and it's this: if you pretend to "ignore" race in OFMD, you will miss a lot of what the story is trying to tell you.

Now, I do not truly believe that race is something you can ignore in a story. I just don't think it's possible, and when you try, what you wind up with is something like the conservative worldview of "not seeing color." Trying to ignore race will make you sound racist and ignore important racialized themes.

You can't understand Stede's need for character growth at the beginning of the show if you just focus on how he's "cringe" instead. When Stede makes his crew members of color serve them at dinner when the English board, this is gross, and their faces tell us exactly how they feel about it. Stede unlearning his biases here isn't subtle (guy who called him and Pete "fucking racists" I love you forever), and learning to take all of his crew members seriously as fully actualized people, moving away from the sort of Kindergarten-teacher behavior at the start to truly valuing them as people and taking their input and suggestions, it's an important aspect. Stede asking Abshir for intel at the party isn't just funny, it's also proof he's learned to see value in people in positions like Abshir's.

You can't understand the motivations behind Ed's actions, especially the violent ones, if you ignore the racist overtones. Ed is not a randomly violent person - he gets angry at a captain for calling him a "rich donkey," and if you think it's unreasonable for a brown man to want to get revenge on a white man for calling him that? Then fuck I'm glad you can't see the conversations I have with my other black friends, man. Ed's anger and frustration at the party aren't just because he fucked up with some spoons, lol, you can't get it unless you realize he's the only brown guest in that room. Yeah, he's ignoring Stede's advice, but he's immediately under a pressure Stede never has been. Ed's wanted posters in s2, too, rely on heavily caricaturizing Jewish features to make him look grotesque and monstruous. We're supposed to be horrified by that aspect.

And, yeah, when we ignore the racist tones to Izzy's behavior, I think that's undermining an important aspect of who he is as an antagonistic character. Him buying Ed from the English should feel like a gross violation, because it is. When he sits in front of the crew eating and making Fang and Ivan serve him, I think it's a pretty obvious parallel to how the crew members of color were similarly insulted in the pilot. It's impossible to ignore race in the way he dehumanizes Ed and tries to force him back into a caricature of behavior he hates and is horrified by - when he calls Ed a "wild dog" in s2, if that doesn't cause a visceral reaction of disgust in you, I dunno what to tell you. This doesn't mean that Izzy is irredeemable - just as Stede wasn't - but it does mean that racist biases are things Izzy had to unlearn.

OFMD so often takes so much care with how its characters of color are depicted. We get thoughtful, relatable moments (those French boat people getting humiliated and setting their boat on fire after they'd tried to touch Ed's beard is so satisfying, guys) and excellent, supportive friendships between men of color. The characters of color on OFMD are clean, smart, respected, and it's wonderful. And just because these things aren't always relatable to you specifically doesn't mean they're not important parts of the story.

[luveline]

I am begging for tasm!peter with his clumsy girlfriend please

“What's that?” 

You jump in surprise, the water in your cup lapping like an angry wave over the rim. Peter laughs, sounding vaguely sorry as he wraps his arms around your shoulders, locking you and your wet hands in tight. Water drips on your socks. 

“It's not even the worst thing that's happened to me today,” you say, sighing. 

“I believe you.” 

Peter turns your face to his for a kiss. His fingertips on your jaw, he feels along the line of a new scratch, and asks into your lips, “How'd you get this?” 

“Folded a jacket too eagerly. The zipper…” You know he's going to kiss you, though how you can tell is explained by a deeper level of intimacy. Maybe the way he breathes, or the slight movement of his fingertips. Whatever it is to clue you in, you close your eyes and kiss him softly. 

“Sorry,” he says when he's left you suitably starstruck, “I'm kissing you and you're standing there in a puddle. Not cool.” 

“I'm not very cool,” you say. You put your glass down and Peter lets you go, leaning down to wipe the puddle up as you take off your wet socks. You almost trip as you pull off the second and Peter puts his hand out to steady you without looking. “Thanks, Pete.” 

“You're welcome.” 

He bins the paper towel while you trek to the bedroom for new socks. You keep a bursting storage box of his and yours mixed under the bed, but when you pull it out the lid isn't on and all the socks at the top roll onto the bedroom floor. You can hear Peter giggling in the kitchen at your misfortune, because he can hear the plopping sound of the socks as they fall. Even if he's rooms away, he can pretty much always hear your accidents. 

“Mean,” you whisper, knowing he can hear that too. 

You shove all the socks back inside, realise you forgot to leave a pair out, and pull three pairs in an attempt to get just the ones. Peter does his boyfriend duty that time and pretends he doesn't hear it, though maybe he's not listening. 

You're sitting on the end of the bed with your new socks finally equipped when he finds you. “Oh, there you are,” he says, like it wasn't obvious, “good. I got some antiseptic for you.” 

The scratch is too small to need antiseptic, in your opinion, but you let him because it'll be nice to be cared for. Peter sits next to you and turns your face to his, smiling when your eyes catch, and frowning as the antiseptic lid pops off to reveal a foil seal.

“I hate these,” he says, needling at the side. 

You take it from him and use your thumb nail to slice it open. The pressure in the tube must've been high, because a moment later pale ointment is bursting out of the spout and painting a curled line on your sweatpants. 

You sigh in defeat. Peter starts laughing, big, shaking, awful pangs of laughter that rock the bed, his face dipping down to your shoulder as the strength leaves him. He finds your hands and squeezes your wrists, giggling and rubbing his thumb into your pulse. “Sorry,” he says weakly, “sweetheart, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I don't know why you have such bad luck, it must be hell.” 

He sounds happy, and it's no big deal. None of this stuff is. You press your lips together to smother a smile as he raises his head. “It's not that bad,” you say, thinking of his nice laugh, the echoes of joy etched into his eyes and their smile lines. “I'll live.” 

His laugh turns slow with affection. “You'll be fine,” he agrees, kissing the corner of your mouth sweetly. 

[supercap2319]

An accidental spell caused Peter and Y/M to switch bodies. Now, Y/N was in Peter's body, and Peter in Y/N's. Peter stumbled into Avengers Tower, his mind reeling. He spotted Y/N casually lounging on the couch, his phone in hand. Except... that wasn't Y/N. It was Peter, in Y/N's body. He blinked, shaking his head. "Oh my god... We switched bodies. Fuck, this is so weird."

"You're telling me. I never realized how big your ass was, Peter." Peter's cheeks flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and shock crossing his features. He quickly glanced down at his unfamiliar body. "Geez, could you maybe not comment on my physical attributes right now? We've got a bigger issue here."

"I know." Y/N stood up, now only being Peter's height of five feet and seven inches tall now. "Peter, you have my chaos magic now. You can cast spells. Use Telekinesis. Fly. And I...can crawl walls? What is it that you do?"

Peter blinked, processing Y/N's list of abilities. "I shoot webs, obviously. And climb walls. Apparently, that's not a big deal anymore in this ridiculous scenario." He sighed, running a hand through his hair—well, Y/N's hair now, "Okay, focus."

"You have magic. Use it to reverse this."

Y/N—Peter nodded, focusing his thoughts. He tried to think of a spell that would reverse the switch, using his newfound Chaos magic. "Revertus corpus!" He shouted, his hands outstretched. Nothing happened. "Fuck, it's not that simple, is it?"

"It's not." Y/N sighed. "Chaos magic takes a while to master. You can't just make up a spell and think it will work. We need another plan." Peter slumped onto the couch, frustration etched on his face. "Great, so not only am I stuck in your body, but I also can't magic my way back. Fan-fucking-tastic." He groaned, burying his face in his hands—Y/N's hands.

"Maybe I—you can convince Doctor Strange to give us a book on body switching spells without raising suspicion that something is up. Last thing we need to be is busted for this."

Peter peeked through his fingers, considering Y/N's suggestion. He scratched his chin thoughtfully, a habit he realized he'd unconsciously picked up from Y/N himself. "Alright, that's not the worst idea. Doctor Strange is used to dealing with bizarre metaphysical problems."

"But you have to act like you're me. If he catches that you're not me, then he'll tell Tony, and we'll both be in deep shit." Y/N said. Peter's eyes widened, realizing the gravity of the situation. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the challenge ahead. "Act like you, huh? No pressure." He attempted a chuckle, but it came out strained. "Okay, let's go over some...Y/N basics."

Y/N nods. "Say something that I would say."

Peter cleared his throat, trying to mimic Y/N's smooth, confident tone. "Look, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I'm not interested. I've got more important things to deal with than your drama." He frowned, realizing it sounded a bit too harsh ."Again. With a Sokovian accent." Y/N urged, sitting on the couch.

The Spiderman closed his eyes, focusing on the subtle accent he'd picked up from spending time with Y/N. He opened them again, his voice taking on the faint hint of a Russian lilt. "Nyet, my friend, I do not have the time for such trivialities."

Y/N smiles. "Not bad, Pete. My turn. He closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts before opening them, looking excited and full of adrenaline. "It was the most amazing thing that’s ever happened! So Mr. Stark was like, “Hey, Underoos!” and I just sort of flipped in and I stole Cap’s shield. I was like, “Hey, what’s up, everybody?” And then... Mr. Stark gave me a new suit!" Y/N mimiced Peter's excited and nerdy nature.

Peter stared at Y/N, dumbfounded. He couldn't believe how perfectly Y/N had nailed his excitable, nerdy persona. A slow grin spread across his face. "Wow, Y/N... You really do know me better than I thought."