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hoseoksactualass · 5 years ago

Note

Can you please write a jungkook smut with a tongue piercing!!! 💦💕

yall love long hair jk so much so this is also a tribute to that. we never got the manbun 😔 i wrote hard to make up to all the shitty drabbles ive been making lately

[[MORE]]

“I did something,” the air smells so much more like him, and he speaks as if his lips are a broken seal. He holds a breath two seconds too long. “I was in my scene element. And drunk. I don’t hate it, but I need your judgement ‘cause it’s the best.”

“I missed you,” is what you muster.

“Were you listening?”

“I missed you.”

“I’ll kiss you then you’ll know,” he nods. You’re a bit puzzled over it, but no consequence can amount to the mention of something you’ve craved. His hair’s a tad bit longer now, too.

“Please.”

And just like that, inside, it’s utter devastation. An urge to go full homicidal on everyone but him, bittersweet, painstaking I-missed-you-so-much kiss, and he spans his hand against your back so he can kiss you harder. His lips are heavily balmed. That’s the first thing you discern, the first taste that glides against your tongue, and you don’t feel the second thing coming. He’s feverish, insisting, and your eyes bulge at the feel of a miniscule bead that pokes at your mouth.

Can’t be food. It’s hard, and your lips slow before he pulls away entirely.

He bites his lip, and you can’t shake away the way you know they taste like you. You have seconds too few to process.

“Your tongue. Pierced?”

He sticks his tongue out. There it is. Silver, shiny against the uneven soak of his muscle. Like a hard pearl on a soft bed. Something about it ticking something in you. Maybe it’s a reminder that you know Jungkook’s father would never approve of it, that the body is a temple, and it shouldn’t be vandalised. Then that’s a reminder of when Jungkook confessed his utter obsession for you, spoken in tongues and slurs of pleasure and how his body is your temple. And yours his. You pull his face to yours, and he jumps in fright. Softens when he figures out what you’re doing. Turns molten gold around his edges.

To him, this is your judgement. And without feeling obligated to, he longs to reward you for it, kicking shoes off, almost stumbling over himself. Fluid of love upon love on his tongue, and you’re not sure if you can catch up, but you make up for it with bane tugs on his shirt, exhaling hard on his face like he’ll feel how still the air’s been. He has you against the wall.

“So you like it,” he muffles against your neck, wet smacks, and his fingers already tugging at the band of your shorts.

“Uhuh,” you try to meet eyes, but he keeps your head perched up while he leaves roses on your skin. “Shirt off, baby.”

He’s quick to listen, pulling from the back, fabric static running against the long hairs on the back of his head. It’s your mind, but you like to think you feel all that charge rush through you. Descending where he kisses you. He keeps shoving you against the wall when you can’t be pushed any more so you feel the solid frame of his body, his heat.

You can bleed on your diary. Stroke every word that describes how much he makes you so engrossed. His manner. When he lifts every crease of fabric from your clothes just so you can feel his direct kiss on your skin. It’s warm and tingly and all kinds of afflicting.

“Jungkook,” you whine, keeping your fingertips on him like he can slip away any second. He kisses your womb just as he tugs your garments down, pulls it hurriedly off your feet. “Jungkook.”

“Yes,” his mutter is low, enough so it makes you think you just hear it in your head.

“W-Want you.”

You see his pupils dilate under his windowing bangs, growing a darker shade than his hair so that’s how you notice. There’s an attitude to it. Almost possessive, just as addicted, the way he presses his lips tight together that it draws lines on his cheeks, flexes his jaw when he takes in the scent of your prey. He hikes your thigh on his shoulder, keeps you on your toes. Against the wall meters across a bay window too far for the sunlight to reach you, where all you can see is Jungkook crouched under your heat, the span of his back and pull of his muscle under the milky skin. You comb his hair back, watch the way his eyes buzz every time you pull and then fixate back on your every ministration. He’s taking notes. Then he kisses your pulse, where you’re throbbing. Makes you forget at that second but instantly remember when he licks up to your clit, the piercing a direct, own pierce to your nerves.

“Oh—Oh,” you respond, nearly jumping on your toes. He groans back at you with your soft tugs on his hair. Already sweating.

He softens you with kisses, warm, and his lips feel like flower petals. Making your cheeks feel sluggish and your thigh on his shoulder tense. “Thought about this every day I was away,” he mutters. You mewl, shallow, slow breaths. “Made me so hard all the time, I had to do something about it every fucking day,” he buries his face between your thighs, extending his assault longer than you can bare, tongue running quickly over and over where you’re pulsating.

“Hah—ah, Jungkook—,” your head curls to your side, eyes shut like it can make you handle it. There’s a filthy image in your head, of him keeping the shower running just to muffle the restrained noise of his throat and his hand on his cock. He slows again. The fatigue is heavy.

“Does it feel good?,” his breath is scalding, bait and your fingers are lured, nails scraping his scalp just to bring him closer again. The growl in his throat is more of a low hum.

“It’s so good,” you’re breathless.

He muffles a cocky Yeah? against your pussy when he dives in again, a quick pace against your clit, and you swear you want to combust right at that second.

“Sogood—Jesus, fuck!,” you pull too hard at his hair; your eyes shoot open, just to see the crimson of his blood under his skin. A teased, lust-driven man, reeking of pride and an ever-living will to make his girl fall apart right above him. He’s so, so handsome. It’s not long before you’re squnting again, body writhing at the indecision to where you’re putting your weight. He isn’t stopping. You’re out of breath. ��Ah, fuck—ah, god.”

Jungkook doesn’t see himself halting. He likes the way you’re burning, exasperation hanging over your head, but it feels too good to crash down, so you squirm and keep yourself upright where you can feel his tongue. He hums another self-congratulatory moan against your cunt, makes sure you feel it in your soul.

You can’t open your eyes, and your ears refuse to hear anything but the pair of you.

Then he slows again. Before your mind can even comprehend it, your body’s already pleading, fingers reaching for his face, tugging in desperate need for a finish, and your tongue—already curled in a series of Pleases he chuckles to.

“You’re fucking—,” he kisses hard against your heat, cools down the throbbing and the red of your chest. “Can’t stop tasting you; I don’t wanna stop,” he makes it sound like a sweet, when it’s the threat of an ever-living assault on your pussy. One that’ll make your legs and mind fucked out jelly to the next day.

You’re taken aback, but your mind’s quick to register his fast tongue against you yet again, gliding quickly over your clit and repeatedly making you thrash. You let your body swallow it, your pussy clenching and unclenching around nothing, and your cries are the best fucking music he’s listened to. Cleaning you up, finishing you. “F-Fu—ahshh—shitshitshit,” you hold his head firm for him, make the feel of his piercing feel more like a stab in your guts. You let it wash over you until everything’s nothing but white noise, and Jungkook has practically came a bit in his pants. You don’t know why, but you want to cry.

He has your weight around his waist, your back against the wall, breaths thrown over his shoulder. He kisses in to your neck, listening to you soften, because if he can’t pick the way you scream as his favourite sound, it’s the sound you make, or the lack thereof, when your heart is swelling.

#jungkook #taehyung #hoseok #jimin #yoongi #bts #seokjin #namjoon #bts drabble #bts scenario #bts smut #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook smut

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queen-of-deans-booty · 5 years ago

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Hammer of the Gods: Final Part

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,531

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

“Show's over,” you say when you enter the ballroom. “Sword's a fake, and Gabriel’s still kicking. I hate to break it to you, sister, but you've been tricked.”

Kali doesn’t say anything, but she has a hopeful look in her eyes. She still has feelings for Gabriel, that much you can see.

“What now?” Sam asks.

“Now, all we have to do is—”

The lights flicker in the Grand Ballroom, and you cut yourself off and look at the lights.

“What's happening?” Baldur asks.

“It’s him,” Sam nods.

“How do you know?” Kali wonders.

“Does it matter? Shazzam us outta here, would ya?” Dean says.

“We can’t,” Baldur sighs.

“Of course you can't,” Lucifer says from the double doors. He doesn’t look the same since you last saw him. Whatever his vessel is doing to him, it’s not good. There are red sores all over his face as if his vessel is breaking down. It’s like whoever he’s possessing isn’t fit to handle such a powerful creature. “You didn't say, ‘mother, may I?’. Sam, Dean, Y/N, good to see you again.”

“Baldur, don't,” Kali says when she sees her partner size up Lucifer.

“You think you own the planet? What gives you the right?” he sasses.

He stalks towards Lucifer to confront him, but the archangel just shoves his bare hand through his chest and out the other side.

“No one gives us the right, we take it,” he says and rips his hand out, killing the Norse God instantly.

Lucifer tosses Baldur to the side like he’s nothing, and that pisses Kali off. Both of her arms erupt in flames, and you and the brothers do the smart thing and hide behind an overturned table for cover. This is a fight for the grownups, and it’s best if you stay out of the way. She throws flame after flame at Lucifer, but no matter how much fire gets on the archangel, it doesn’t damage his vessel any more than it already is.

She stalks to him angrily, but before she can get in another shot, he hits her with an uppercut to the chin, sending her flying through the air.

“You okay?” Sam whispers to you and his brother.

“Not really. Better late then never, huh?” Gabriel answers from besides you. Where the hell did he come from? Did he finally come to his senses and join the fight against his brother? He takes out a DVD from his jacket and shoves it into your chest gently. “Guard this with your life.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

You use your magic to conceal the DVD before shoving it in your jacket.

He doesn’t explain what it is, and he gets up to deal with his older brother. He shoves his hand out and sends Lucifer flying through the double doors and into the hallway. Gabriel has his archangel blade in his hand with determination. Well, you think it’s an archangel blade. You’re not really sure anymore.

“Lucy, I'm home,” he chuckles. Lucifer stomps over to him, but Gabriel raises the blade higher, which stops the other angel in his tracks. “Not this time.” He reaches behind him and helps Kali to her feet. Now that you know it’s safe, you and the Winchesters reveal yourself. “Guys! Get her outta here!”

Deciding not to question him, Sam and Dean take Kali and guide her to the doors so she can escape the hotel. You’re not that far behind, and you refuse to back down from Lucifer’s hard gaze.

“Over a girl. Gabriel, really? I mean I knew you were slumming, but I hope you didn't catch anything,” Lucifer says right as you leave.

You’re not staying for the rest of that conversation. There is no more trouble for you as you leave the hotel, and you three rush to the car with Kali trailing behind.

“I'm not getting in that thing.”

“Just get in the car, princess,” Dean rolls his eyes.

You open the door for her, and once she’s inside, you squeeze in next to her. The brothers get in, and Dean wastes no time leaving the hotel grounds. Kali has the vials containing your blood, so as long as you’re with her, you can leave. Once she destroys them, you’re free from her spell.

ALL PERFORMERS IN THIS FILM ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18, HAVE CONSENTED TO BEING PHOTOGRAPHED, AND HAVE PROVIDED PROOF OF AGE. 18 U.S.C. SECTION 2257

Whatever film Gabriel gave you, you thought watching it was a good idea. He hasn’t come back from his little play date with his brother, so you figured something bad might have happened to him. It’s the next day, and you’re watching the DVD with the brothers on Sam’s laptop in the middle of nowhere.

“Dear Diary, being a high-powered business president is super-fun. But so exhausting. Sometimes, I just need to relax. I need Casa Erotica,” a female says sexily.

Is this really a porn video? There is a knock on the door, and the woman dressed in very little clothing gets off the bed excitedly.

“Room Service!” a man says from behind the door.

Wait, you know that voice…

“Come in!” the woman says with a smile.

“Gabriel wanted you to guard this with your life?” Sam asks you.

“Hey, don’t look at me. I figured it was worth something. Now, I’m not so sure,” you shudder and continue to watch the DVD.

The door to the hotel room opens, and Gabriel walks in wearing a mustache and a service waiter’s outfit.

“I've got the kielbasa you ordered,” he says to the woman.

“Ooh, Polish?”

“Hunagrian,” he smirks and throws the dish on the mantle.

The screen goes black, and all you hear is the sound of Gabriel kissing the woman.

“Okay, if this continues, I’m burning your laptop,” you groan.

“I might let you,” Sam clears his throat.

The screen goes from being black to showing Gabriel and the woman making out on the bed. He’s feeling her up and down sensually, and the woman is moaning.

“What the fuck is going on?” you demand to know.

Gabriel stops kissing the woman, turns to face the camera, takes off his mustache, and breaks the fourth wall of the film.

“Sam, Dean, Y/N. You're probably wondering what the hell is going on. Well, if you're watching this, I'm dead. Oh please! Stop sobbing, it's embarrassing for all of us. Without me, you've got zero shot at killing Lucifer. Sorry, but you can trap him.

“The cage you sprung Lucifer from? It's still down there. Maybe, just maybe, you can shove his ass back in. Not that it'll be easy. You gotta get the cage open and trick my bro back into it. And uh, oh yeah, avoid Michael and the God Squad. But hey, details, right?

“Wait for it, here's the big secret that Lucifer himself doesn't even know—the key to the cage? It's out there. Actually it's keys, plural. Four keys, well, four rings from the Horsemen. You get 'em all, you got the cage. Can't say I'm betting on you boys and Y/N. But, uh, hey! I've been wrong before. And Y/N, you were right. I was afraid to stand up to my brother, but not anymore. So this is me, standing up.”

Gabriel stands off the bed only to lay back down, but on top of the woman.

“And this is me lying down.”

He grabs the woman and starts the process of getting down and dirty. This is proving to be too much for you to see, so you slam Sam’s laptop down with force and shudder.

“That is something I don’t need to see,” you shrug.

“Horsemen, huh? Well we got War's, and we nicked Famine's, which means that's two down. Collect all four seems like a piece of cake.”

“Wait, when did you get War’s?” you ask.

You know you’ve asked him this before, but a lot has happened since then, and you’re fuzzy on the incident since you weren't with them.

“Oh, right, you weren't there. Where were you while we were trying to fight for something that actually mattered?”

“Oh, so saving a whole town from killing each other doesn’t matter? Ellen and Jo don’t fucking matter?” you yell.

“Well, I know they do,” he glares.

“Enough! Seriously, you guys, you need to stop this,” Sam interrupts.

He grabs his laptop off the top of the car and tucks it underneath his arm.

“I’m not the one who needs to stop. It’s him that needs to grow the fuck up and start acting like a mature fucking adult,” you sneer.

“Oh bite me,” he hisses.

“Stop! Both of you, get in the car! All we need are the rings from Death and Pestilence. Let’s focus on getting them instead of each other, okay?”

“Fine by me!” you yell and get into the car.

You slam the door a little harder than necessary, and the brothers get inside a few seconds after you. Sam is getting sick and tired of this fighting. He wants it to end, but he doesn’t see it ending well.

Neither do you and Dean.

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svtmin · 4 years ago

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disclaimer: i am not related, in any way, to the boys or JYP. this is mainly for entertainment purposes and to humanize the boys a little further by diving into their struggles. please know i mean no harm to anyone and events might be briefly mentioned but other than that, is all invented

DIARIES OF GOT7: ENTRY ONE — YUGYEOM

Bowling.

It was possibly one of the things we least liked to do, as individuals and friends, but i think it was mostly because of what it meant rather the activity it was. Because bowling by itself was pleasant, while laughing and drinking some, spending time with each other. However, we all knew deep inside ourselves that JB only really planned a night of bowling when it was to deliver bad news. Bringing bad news was already tough but doing it over the phone or even in a meeting room? That’s not the GOT7 way. That’s not the JB way. We can all be relaxed, enjoying ourselves, and the bad news won’t sound so bad. But since this is an habit earned over years and how it usually plays out, there is already a hole in the pit of my stomach, an uneasy feeling I can’t release myself from. And I know I’m not the only one; Bambam beside me is restless, pale digits tapping to a fast tempo, uncoordinated and unpleasant, but who am I to tell him to stop? It’s not at the sound at the low beat of the song, nor of my heart, but he’s restless, concerned, every emotion i mirrored, and I’m not going to be the one to snap. Instead, we remain in silence, despite my burning wish to ask, to reach, to stop his hand. I feel everything and I hate how oblivious my mind refuses to be and acknowledge the gravity of the situation.

We finally pull up at the alley we are used to call as home, Bambam leaving the car without a word. We’re not being ourselves because of the unpleasant feeling the night brings us, but the fresh air calms my nerves, my eyes closing as I leave the car. Breathe, I tell to myself; I know it’s probably silly to feel this nervous, this uneasy over a night with your friends - half of me thinks I should’ve stayed home, despite my social nature pulling me on the opposite direction.

“ —Hey, are you coming? “ my eyes open to see Bambam a few feet away, bleached brows risen as the black hoodie wraps around loosely around his small frame. I nod, voice unfound to this new reality and he nods back “ —’kay, then stop daydreaming, we’re already late. “

I know him — Bambam is usually the first one to crack a smile or a joke in tense situations to make them a little lighter, but we both knew this wasn’t a good time for that. I followed energies better than I created them so I remained quiet: i wasn’t interested in becoming the outcast of the night and Bam clearly set my tone for the night. My steps matched his (finally, the tempo fell right) and we finally got into the bowling alley, pushing the glass door open.

Whenever GOT7 bowled, the alley remained empty and quiet. I suspected that each time, JB rented the whole place for us, to make sure we could hang without being bothered by fans, but I couldn’t be too sure. The place remained dark, tense, with the fairy lights and low smokey illumination above the surfaces making it rather groovy. There was some song playing, calm and yet pacey, but I didn’t recognize it — I was too nervous at this point to see it. My fingers slid through the soft surface of the counter, my shoes already on top of it beside Bam’s, and I grabbed them, head turning inside. And then I saw them.

I hated how tense they seemed already. Mark was sitting back on the sofas, trying to look casual but his clenched jaw already translated to the knowledge of what that night was about. Jackson was next to him, sat on the back of the sofa with feet next to Mark’ seat, leaning forward with brows in a furrow — it was strange, too strange really. Youngjae was standing with JB, both of them absorbed in conversation in small whispers and with how low JB’s head was, it was definitely not a good conversation. Jinyoung seemed not to have arrived yet, which was definitely strange. I stood, near the counter, while Bambam stepped closer and for the first time in about three hours, his smile was gleaming.

“ —Boys! The party has arrived, what’s up? Who’s ready to lose? Who’s with who? Wha— wait, where is Jinyoung? “ he shakes his head, looking back at me with a smirk “ —Guess he’s always late, huh? “

Their faces briefly showed some emotion, a hint of a smile, before returning to the same gloomy environment it was before we arrived. I had set my tone — I was going to be quiet, and after trading complementaries with the two, I sat next to Mark, leaning forward while looking at my hands. We absolutely hated that feeling, but until we were all present, JB wouldn’t say much. Fortunately didn’t took long either until Jinhyung rolled in too, his hair completely messed and pale features showing soft concern, panting slightly. Small apologies rolled from his lips and then and there I knew it was off, we all did. Jinyoung didn’t apologise unless the situation was critic. My stomach turns, my urge to vomit increasing and I saw movement, when Youngjae sat beside Bam. This was it.

The soft silence was only filled with the song unrecognizable song that played on the alley, and it took a few moments until JB finally spoke. Now JB — he sported his neutral expression, almost like unfazed to the situation. Maybe that was why he was a good leader, never transparing his concerns and fears onto us, but made these types of situations ten times worse. We didn’t knew what was coming — if we had been kicked out of JYP or if he had tripped outside; he remains calm, stable, strong for us. I’ll never have words to thank him for that.

“ —Sorry for the last minute invite. I think we all need this. “ he started, soothing voice, and I couldn’t look up towards him, like I was sure the others were. It pains me, but I would clearly see how disturbed he would be “ —Before we start … I just wanted you guys to know I had a meeting with the boss today. JYPE. Anyway. “ there is a brief pause and I feel Mark move uncomfortably in his seat — oh, he knows “ —Once again, he rejected all the songs. I’m not sure how are we going to pull our next comeback, honestly, but we’ll think of something. Hum— I guess Mark? You choose who you wanna play with and we’ll figure out. “

The sudden change of topics made me lift my head. That’s it? Well, wasn’t good either way, but I was expecting the absolute worse. The worst of the worst, technically speaking. In a way, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting or maybe JB wasn’t expressing himself well. Or maybe I just didn’t saw the real gravity of the situation — it happened sometimes. I look at Mark as he gets up, looking around himself before speaking,

“ —What about rappers against vocalists? We haven’t done that in a while. “

“ —Where does Gyeom fits in that? “ Jinhyung smirks looking at Mark and I feel my mouth drop, wanting to just laugh; if it was out of nerves or if it was actually funny, I wasn’t sure. Either way, made everyone laugh, thank god. Youngjae’s loud laughter fills the empty alley better, making my heart lift but I focus once more as Mark grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet.

“ —Yugi is actually a good bowler so we’ll take him, thanks. “ he sticks his tongue out and we see Jinyoung’s face fall, for the big pleasure of the rappers “ —Koo really taught you to play, Yug. You think you can give us all strikes? “

One of Jinyoung’s infamous stares later, and we’re having fun finally. There is still some sort of cloud behind it, like we’re all thinking the same but no one wants to go back to the gloomy feeling of before. Sometimes I catch Mark staring at the wall instead of celebrating Bam’s points or JB biting his nails like he usually does when he’s nervous. Something tells me that wasn’t all he had to tell us but I don’t want to be the one ruining a perfectly decent night. Maybe it does sound selfish of me but if it was truly serious, JB would tell us … right?

I ended up sharing the car with Bam and Jackson, like one would. I was sleepy and leaning against my window and Bam was talking about something I don’t remember. Unlike before, he was comfortable, energetic and fun like his natural self and Jackson was feeding onto it, like he was so used to him. Sometimes I wondered what I was really doing there, but I was happy someone was feeding Bam’s fire; the previous ride had concerned me heavily. I kept thinking how tight Mark hugged me when we said our goodbyes because a) it was rare to share hugs in such common hangouts and b) it had been tight. It worried me, but if he wasn’t engaging the problem, neither would I.

“ —Yo, Yugyeom, are you even listening to me? “

“ —Huh? “ my eyes turned to Bam, who was looking at me with his brows risen again, Jackson smiling wide on the other side “ —Hum, no, sorry, what was that? “ I blinked, trying to ride that sleepiness again, but I only saw Jackson’s head shake.

“ —Nah bruh, this night is over. He’s legit sleeping over there. “ our senior falls back on the seat before smiling at Bam “ —Besides, we have early schedules so … we better go to sleep. “

Whatever it was, they didn’t tell me. I was so sleepy that I barely remember Dalkyum’s pleas of affection and how he snuggled so close to me when I fell on the mattress. I was tired but I don’t remember why — the bad news hadn’t been that bad, we could definitely write new songs … right? This was the huge problem with JYPE in general, we never knew what we could count with. And with ahgases so patiently waiting for us, we didn’t know what to do. My hand scratches Dalkyum’s torso and I leave my head to rest, closing my eyes for a moment. It finally falls on me, how serious this is. How we depend on this comeback, how we want to make our fans proud … and nothing is working in our favour. Not now. Not again. But that’s a problem for tomorrow. It has to be. There is nothing to now.

Part of me knows this, but I know Mark and JB are somewhere right now, fully awake, trying to come up with answers.

I wish I could be of more help.

#thegot7network #got7creators #got7 #got7 imagine #writing challenge #« ♡ 𝐛𝐢𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩 — got7 .#ENTRY ONE — YUGYEOM

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a-walk-in-silence · 6 years ago

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We Can Be Beautiful (Pt. 5)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.3k

Summary: Heathers AU. You were used to the quiet life in Sherwood, Ohio. Albeit, you were bullied, but it was nothing compared to the shit storm that was about to happen when one boy showed up with an air of mystery around him.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of date rape (n o t h i n g happens, I promise), underage drinking, implications of sexual activities (again, n o t h i n g happened), name calling, bullying, homophobia, manipulation, character death, gun-related violence, self flagellation

Prompt: “You’re the one I choose”

A/N: And here is Part 5 of WCBB! Woohoo! Halfway point! Yes! This is for @gab-spidey‘s 2k writing challenge! Honestly, I just wanna thank everyone for coming along for this ride and, again, thank you all so much! Here’s to the next few parts getting finished eventually! Once again, I’m reblogging suicide hotlines after this goes up. If you guys ever need to talk about something, my inbox and messages are open to the public and I will gladly talk to anyone who needs a shoulder to lean on. Thanks for reading! Also, just as a PS, the warnings are getting longer and longer and, hopefully, they’ll chill out for a bit in the next part (one can hope).

Key:

Y/N - Your Name

L/N - Last Name

Y/N/N - Your Nickname

Italics - Writing in Your Diary

Bold Italics - Speech of Deceased

Song Inspiration(s):

Blue - Heathers Cast Recording

Blue (Reprise) - Heathers Cast Show Clip (turn up the volume on this one, it’s a clip recording and not the best audio wise but the song is important)

Our Love Is God - Heathers Cast Recording

You fingers silently drummed across your knee as you sat between people sobbing uncontrollably into their handkerchiefs. Try as you might, you couldn’t bring yourself to look up at the open casket sitting at the front of the room, which, inside, contained the dead body of Natasha Romanoff. You couldn’t quite kick away the nagging voice in the back of your head, telling you that this was all your fault. And yeah, okay, it was.

You did kill her, after all.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the service came to an end. You quickly jumped to your feet and left the building, being one of the first to leave. However, unbeknownst to you, Peter had followed right behind you and grabbed your arm before you could get far.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, pulling your body towards him. You glanced up at him, trying to not lose your shit while standing in the middle of the small grass area in front of the church. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen in since school let out on Friday.” He brushed a piece of your hair that had fallen out of place behind your ear. “Everything good?”

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, offering him the best smile you could muster at the moment. “It’s just been weird, ya know? My parents have been hovering over me for the past week over the whole suicide thing.” You got onto your tiptoes and pressed a firm kiss into his lips. “I promise I haven’t been avoiding you. Just dealing with issues with Nat’s death, ya know?”

He opened his mouth to talk when a voice interrupted you. “Y/N!” your mother called, coming to your side. “Darling, how are you doing?”

“Hey, ‘Mora, come on. The girl just lost her best friend. I’m sure she’s doing great,” said your father, a sarcastic tone taking over, before smiling. “Say, who’s the fella?”

You shifted awkwardly on your feet before offering them a smile. “Mom, Dad, this is Peter Parker. He’s-”

“We’re kind of dating at the moment,” Peter said over you, quickly cutting you off before you could register what he even said. “It’s a little early on but it’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. L/N.” He held out a hand to the two of them, maintaining the worlds most purest smile.

Your mother raised an eyebrow at the both of you before cautiously taking his hand in a handshake. “Well, I’m Y/N’s mother.”

Your dad, meanwhile, gave the worlds most toothiest grin before grabbing Peter’s hand. “You’re a Peter? I’m a Peter! That’s really interesting that my daughter would go after a Peter, don’t ya think so, ‘Mora?”

“Peter Jason,” your mother said, clearly exasperated. “We’ll just head out, leave you two to... talk. I hope you can join us for dinner one night, Mr. Parker.”

With that, your parents left, allowing you a moment to catch your breath. With that, Peter turned towards you and offered his arm. “Come on, let’s ditch this place and go to my house. We can watch some TV, maybe unwind a little. Afterwards, I can take you home. I’m sure you need a moment to think.”

You gave him a thoughtful smile before grabbing his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders firmly. “Sounds good to me, anything to get me away from my parents for a little while.”

He chuckled softly. “Ya, they sound a little overbearing. And you dad is... very eccentric.”

“Mmm... That’s Peter Jason L/N for you,” you replied. “He’s always been a big joker and doing things just to confuse everyone around him. Recently, he picked up reading spy novels even though he hates him. He finds it funny. As for my mom, she had a rough childhood, so I suppose it’s understandable why she’s overbearing. Terrible stepdad and all that.”

Peter gave you a confused look, his eyebrow raised in question. “What happened with your mom’s side of the family?”

You sighed, leaning into his side as the two of you walked over to where Peter’s motorcycle was parked. “Her dad passed away while she was really young. Murder, never solved. Then her stepdad showed up, married her mom. And then she died a month later. My mom was left in his care with a crap ton of step-siblings, like my Aunt Neb. They all fought for his attention. She never really explained much outside of the sibling rivalry.” You shrugged nonchalantly. “Nobody’s life is ever perfect, and my mom’s is definitely not an exception.”

Peter plopped down onto his couch and you joined him, curled up into his side. He smiled down at you sweetly, wrapping an arm around you securely. “What should we do, darling?”

“Mmmm.... There’s always television. Maybe we can count how many news channels Sharon Carter went to, crying about Nat.” The two of you laughed for a moment, peaceful in your domesticated bliss.

Finally, Peter grabbed the TV remote and turned on the small box that sat in front of the couch. The two of you flipped idly through several channels, tallying how many were talking about Nat compared to how many had a sobbing Sharon.

Apparently, Sharon Carter had made it to no less than 10 news stations, one of which was a Spanish broadcasting station, where the only discernible words being Nat’s name and Corn Nuts.

“Alright, alright. Turn it off,” you laughed, pulling the remote from his hands. He pouted at you, acting wounded that you would ruin his fun, but didn’t fight you when you turned off the TV. “God, she has no shame,” you said, shaking your head in utter disbelief.

“Hey dad, just got back from Nat’s funeral and I brought home my girl,” said the voice of Tony Stark, walking over to the two of you as you lounged on the couch. You quickly sat up, trying to hide the fact that you were clearly flustered to see him once again.

“Didn’t hear you come in, son,” Peter stated, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you back into his side despite your obvious discomfort.

His dad only chuckled to himself. “Yeah, sorry about that, pa. How was work today?” He took only a beat of pause before going into a rant about his work. “I was working on a new invention today when some of those damn protesters showed up, complaining about how my weapons and such are not ‘environmentally friendly’. Those damn hippies act so damn entitled sometimes, it’s infuriating. This isn’t the damn 60′s anymore!”

“You mean those old broads that camped outside of the house last week?” Peter questioned, clearly not happy with the “old broads”.

“The same.” Tony snorted before sitting down on the arm of the couch, throwing a look in your direction. “Say dad, can my girl stay over for dinner tonight? I’m sure she’d have fun.” Both of them turned their attention towards you, waiting for your answer.

“O-Oh,” you said, trying to fill the silence. “My mom’s already got dinner plans. She’s, uh... making my favorite meal. Ya know, spaghetti. Lots of oregano. Tastes great.”

You wanted to slap yourself. Why did you make up such a stupid lie? Sure, okay, Peter and his dad had a weird bond with one another. And boy would it make life awkward. But you definitely didn’t have to lie like this.

Peter gave you a semi-forced smile, pulling you into his arms. “Really? That’s your favorite dinner? Remind me to make it for you one night. Sounds like something mom would have enjoyed, but last time I saw her, she was waving out a window in the lab from Texas. Isn’t that right, Dad?”

Tony gave Peter the worst look possible, mixed between a glare and a smile, and the look nearly made your heart stop. Several seconds of tense silence passed before Tony responded. “Right.”

“I-I should go.” Your interruption turned both of their gazes towards you. “My parents are probably worried sick and all so... ya know. I should head home.”

“No, of course. I’ll drive you home.” Peter hopped up off the couch and held a hand out to you. “I’ll be home whenever, dad.”

Tony only grunted in response. As Peter dragged you away, you couldn’t help the thought from creeping into your head. If you ever married this boy, you would most certainly not let his father talk at your wedding.

“Y/N! Phone for you!” your mother called from downstairs. You groaned, sitting up, not realizing that you had passed out shortly after Peter brought you home. You grumbled incoherently as you made your way downstairs to answer the phone.

“Hello?” you asked, rubbing sleep out of your eyes.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Jane asked, clearly upset.

Hearing how upset your friend, well, ex-friend, was, caused you to wake up. “Jane? What’s wrong? What happened?” You didn’t even realize you were rambling until she started talking again.

“Y/N, please shut up and just come down to the cemetery, please. It’s an emergency, and you’re the only one who can help us. Please...”

You pursed your lips together, throwing a glance at the clock that sat on the wall. 9:45 pm. Surely your parents would understand since it was an emergency. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be there soon, just sit tight, alright?”

A reassured sigh came from Jane’s side of the phone. “Thank you, Y/N. You’re a lifesaver. We’re by Heathers grave and we’re in Thor’s car. Please hurry.” With that, her end of the line went dead.

You placed the phone back on the receiver before turning to your mother, who was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest, a displeased look settled on her face. “You’re heading out? Again?”

“Mom, it’s an emergency. Something might have happened. I’ll be back before you know I’m gone, I promise.” Her lips pursed, clearly not impressed with your attempts to reassure her. “Mom, she could be in trouble. I swear, I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t an emergency.”

Finally, she sighed, motioning for you to wake past her. “Fine, go.” You gave her a smile and started to leave, but she stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, Y/N/N,” she said, her voice softening. “You know I worry about you, right?”

“I know, mom, and I’m grateful. Truly, I am.” You pecked her on the cheek to prove it. “I’ll be back home before you and dad even know I’m gone. I promise.”

She smiled, a soft, barely noticeable smile, but it was still there nonetheless. “You’re a great kid. Go on, hurry back home, do I make myself clear?”

You nodded and gave her a final kiss on the cheek before leaving the house, running towards the cemetery that was, thankful, just two blocks down the street.

“Y/N!” Jane said, waving to you, her hand sticking out of the driver-side window of Thor’s cherry red sports car sitting in the grass of the cemetery. You approached the scene in front of you, slowly drinking it all in.

On the ground was Thor, face-down in the ground, looking as dead as a rock. There were a few rustles in a bush just about 30 yards away, but you quickly blocked it out, choosing to ask the obvious question. “Is... is Thor-”

“Yeah! He’s fine!” Jane quickly said, rolling down the window a bit so that she could look at you. “He’s passed out. So like, I came here with Thor and Bruce and Shar to pour a bottle of Thunderbird over Nat’s grave, kinda like a goodbye from her friends, ya know?” Her eyes glanced to Thor, passed out just a few feet in front of the bumper of the car. “Well, Thor and Bruce drank it all and... they’ve been really grabby. Shar went to try and get Bruce to calm down but-”

“Wait, wait, wait. Why did you call me then? After everything that happened at Bruce’s party, I figured-”

Awkwardly, Jane leaned back from the window, her fingers fiddling together. “W-Well... Thor promised to leave me alone if, ya know... I called you here. So I panicked and I called! I’m sorry!”

Your mouth dropped open in pure shock from her answer. “Wha- Jane! You... avoided date rape... by offering me up for date rape?”

She grimaced to herself, her fingers still fiddling together. “Well, when you put it that way it just sounds ugly,” she mumbled, clearly trying to make it to where she didn’t feel guilty about the situation.

“I’m leaving,” you muttered to yourself, turning to leave. However, Thor, who had previously been on the ground, was now on the hood of the car, smiling sweetly at you. “Heyyyyyyy Y/N,” he said, his words slurring together. “I waited for youuu cutie. 10 whole beers.” To further his point, he held up both of his hands, wiggling all 10 of his fingers towards you.

“Enough! I said I was fucking done, Bruce!” came a shout from the same bushes that you had heard rustling from earlier. Turning, you watched as Sharon emerged, brushing off her skirt as she stormed away, followed by a stumbling Bruce.

“But baby-” Bruce whined before spotting you. Quickly, a huge smile spread over his features. “Hey, lookie, it’s Y/N! Maybe she can help me find release.”

You physically grimaced, taking a step away from the two drunk jocks. “You both have left hands, can’t you use those instead?” you said, trying to bargain with the two of them.

“But I want youuuu,” Bruce slurred, leaning heavily on the hood of the car while Thor, meanwhile, gathered his wits and started to swagger over to you. “Come on, don’t hurt their feelings.”

“Their?” you questioned, taking another step away from the two as they tried to close in again.

“My balls!” Thor piped up, motioning to his pants where, unfortunately, a small tent was starting to appear. “They need relief from a pretty girl! Even a nerdy girl like you!”

“Yeah!” Bruce added, coming to stand a few feet from Thor, trying to corner you between the two of them. “They’re so blue for you, Y/N. My hands are rubbing like a cheese grater, it’s sooo uncomfortable. Please?”

Once again, you found a sour look sprawled over your face. “Shar, Jane, please let me into the car,” you shouted, even if you were being cornered in the opposite direction of the car. Maybe you could make a run for it. They were pretty drunk...

“Sorry!” Sharon shouted from the car. “The car’s staying locked while they can still get in!”

You looked around desperately for an escape before your eyes caught onto a glass bottle, half full of liquid and sitting haphazardly in the dirt, but the contents were very clearly booze. You managed to get past the two of them and retrieve the bottle, holding it up like an offering. “Look here, Thor and Bruce! Booze!”

The two of their faces broke out into huge, sloppy, shit-eating grins as they eyed up the bottle. “Thank you so much, Y/N!” Bruce shouted, practically running you over to grab the bottle.

“You’re so welcome!” you shouted, stepping away from the two as they fought over the liquid remaining in the amber bottle. Finding the situation perfect, you finally slipped away, up the hill that lead back to the main road.

As if a saving grace, a familiar figure was leaning against a black motorcycle. You sighed happily before letting his arms envelope you. “You look like hell,” Peter murmured, brushing a hand through your hair.

“How’d you know I was here?” you asked, snuggling your head into his black-clad chest. “I didn’t tell you-”

“Your mom told me. I called, asking for you, and she told me you went to the cemetery to save Jane from an emergency,” Peter replied, twirling a piece of his hair around his finger. “Figured it sounded fishy so I came to investigate to see you escaping from the cemetery.”

You shake your head, leaning into him. “I just want to go home, Pete. Can you drive me?”

His lips pressed against the top of your head. “Of course, beautiful. Just make sure you tell me what happened tomorrow at school, got it?”

A laugh escaped your throat as you looked up at him. “Yeah, okay. I promise.”

Dear Diary,

You could call last night a close call. Yeah, close call. Definitely would have ended differently if my mom hadn’t told Peter where I was or if I hadn’t of found that bottle just sitting there. I can’t help but think that Nat was the only person keeping Thor and Bruce in check, and now she’s dead. So now the school is defenseless to their libido.

“Having second thoughts, bitch?” asked a voice that caused you to tense. Following the voice was a fit of coughing. “You know, I blame you and your beau for the fact that I’ll be coughing up Drano for all of eternity. Do you feel guilty yet, Y/N/N?”

You grimaced to yourself before finally allowing yourself to look up from your journal. You could practically see Nat standing there, wearing her silk red robe that she died in. Her body was littered with cuts from the glass that she landed in, and her eyes were completely white.

Choosing to ignore the phantom now standing over you, watching you, you turned your attention back towards you diary.

I know I didn’t technically kill her, but I can’t help but feel like I did. I feel bad for it... but not as bad as I should. And that’s what scares me. Maybe that’s why I feel like she’s standing over me, dictating everything I do.

You glanced up from your journal again to find Sharon and Jane digging through Nat’s locker, clearing everything out into a box. Your hands balled up into fists as you slammed your diary shut and stalked over to them. “Hey, I hope you guys are planning on apologizing for acting like Grade A Bitches last night.”

“Hey,” Sharon said, turning around to point a finger into your chest. “We’re cleaning out Nat’s shit right now. Show a little respect, why don’t you?”

“Y/N, tell her to get her little slutty hands off of my crap,” said dead Nat, now standing right behind Sharon as she dug through her locker. “Y/N? Y/N/N, make her stop it now!”

“Shut up!” you shouted, clearly distressed from the voices filling your head.

A pair of hands shoved you roughly, dragging you back to Earth. You glared at Sharon who was practically seething in your direction. “No! I won’t shut up! Never again!” Her hands fumbled in her blonde hair, dragging out her bow and replacing it with Nat’s red scrunchie.

Jane grabbed Sharon’s arm, trying to stop her. “Shar, that’s Nat’s-”

An animal-like snarl came from Sharon, causing Jane to flinch away. “Shut up, Jane! Nat’s gone, and someone needs to replace her! And it’s going to be me so shut the fuck up!”

Your mouth dropped open in shock, staring at Sharon like she was crazy. Replace Nat? How could anyone want to ever replace her? “Shar, please don’t do this,” you mumbled.

A scoff came from the blonde as she turned her back towards you and pulled more crap from Nat’s locker. “Whatever. You should worry less about me and more about your reputation, bitch. Didn’t you hear? Thor and Bruce were talking about your little three-way last night.”

“Three-way?” asked the voice of Peter from right behind you, causing you to jump. You turned to look at him, and you couldn’t help but nearly cry from the look of pure pain that had etched it’s way across his face.

“No, Peter, please... There was no three-way! Nothing happened last night, I promise!”

“Really?” Sharon asked, slamming Nat’s locker shut, causing you to flinch once more. “I remember it differently.”

As if on cue, Thor and Bruce came walking down the hall with a boy, who you could briefly remember being named Clint, following them. “A sword fight? In her mouth?” Clint asked, his jaw completely slack at the idea.

“Oh yeah,” Thor said, smiling. “A big sword fight in her mouth! It was crazy crowded!”

“Yeah, but then, after the sword fight, we bent her over backwards like origami!” Bruce added.

Peter’s hands clutched into fists as he grabbed onto the back of Bruce’s jacket at his comment. You reached out to grab him, despite the tears threatening to spill over, but he was well out of your grasp. “Don’t talk about Y/N like that!”

Thor pushed Peter’s hands away, standing next to Bruce in a protective way. “Don’t complain when you’re girls a fucking slut-”

Peter’s fist connected with Thor’s face, causing him to fall back to the ground. However, before he could react, Clint was suddenly holding Peter’s arms behind his back, which left him open to be attacked by both Bruce and Thor.

“No! Stop!” you shouted, trying to push through the crowd that was starting to gather, but Sharon grabbed you forcefully, throwing a wicked smile towards you. You fought against her, but she had a death grip on both of your shoulders now.

“Stop this nonsense right now!” shouted the voice of Principal Fury as he pushed through the crowd. “Odinson, Banner, Barton, my office, now!”

The crowd dispersed just as quickly as it had formed. Meanwhile, Fury had to fight to remove Bruce from Peter while two other male teachers had to help in hauling off both Clint and Thor.

You went to walk over to Peter who laid prone on the ground, tears burning your eyes, when a hand suddenly grabbed you. You turned quickly to see Bruce smiling, a horrible glint in his eyes. “Whore,” he whispered before being dragged away.

Being called a whore was the final blow, and it made you finally break down in tears as you dropped to your knees in front of Peter, helping him sit up. “P-Pete?” you mumbled, brushing his brown curls from his face to take it all in. His lip was split in more than one place, and a bruise was already starting to form on his cheekbone. You were sure there were more bruises if one looked at his arms and chest, but you weren’t about to look right now. “A-Are you okay?”

His arms wrapped around you tightly, and you could feel him shaking. “Y/N...” he mumbled, breathing into your hair. “How are you?” he asked, clearly ignoring your question.

“I-I’m okay,” you mumbled. “I... I’ve been called worse a-and... y-ya know, everything’s awesome.” You broke down in full sobs in the middle of the deserted hallway. For some reason, all of the teachers were long gone, and you and Peter were long forgotten. “I-I’m sorry for crying...” you mumbled, trying to bring yourself back together and failing miserably.

His hands brushed through your now messy hair, trying to soothe you. “You don’t deserve to cry,” he muttered, holding you tightly. “I swear, I will end this all. All of it, tonight. You...” He pushed you away until you were at arms length, looking into his brown eyes as he gave you the best smile he could muster. “You’re the only thing that’s right about this broken world.” His hand brushed a piece of hair behind your ear before cupping you face. “So cry, it’s okay. But come tomorrow morning... all of this will be long behind us, okay? Do you wanna know why?”

You slowly nodded, rubbing away the tears that were making trails down your face. “Y-Yes,” you mumbled, giving him a verbal confirmation to continue on.

“Because, Y/N, love like we have doesn’t come around often. Our love is special. Our love is God, and our love will fix all of this, okay?”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “O-Okay,” you mumbled, allowing yourself to revel in the thought. Maybe he was right. Maybe your love was strong enough to stop it all, make all of the pain and misery just... go away.

Suddenly, a thought dawned on you. He never answered your question earlier. “P-Pete?” you asked, crawling back over to him and curling up in his arms. “You never answered me... are... are you okay?”

You glanced up to see him smiling down at you. “I always thought I would be alone, like... Like I was a frozen lake. No one would ever be dumb enough to try and go crack the ice, but... now I’m realizing that I’m not. I can feel myself getting better, and it’s because of you. Now... now I know that I’m not alone, never again. I won’t be alone because I’ll have you.”

“Yeah... we’ll never be alone,” you smiled softly, running your hands through his hair.

“Y/N...” he mumbled sweetly before pressing a kiss into your forehead. “I want to see you tonight. I’ll sneak over to your place, okay? Say around 8-ish?” A nod was all you could do to answer him, and he continued on. “Until then, we should probably get to class, yeah?”

And so, that’s what the two of you did after a quick stop by the nurse so that way you two had a valid reason for showing up late to class.

“So what’s the plan to get back at Bruce and Thor?” you asked, leaning closer to Peter as he sat on your bed.

He smiled before pulling out several items from a brown paper bag. “We’re going to fake their suicides,” he replied simply. “I’ve got our Stud Puppie magazine, a Joan Crawford postcard, mascara... Ah, and the piece de resistance, mineral water.”

You giggled, staring at him as he put the items back in the bag. “Yeah, so, what? Do you need a forged suicide note then?”

“And for you to make a call to the boys to go behind the school so that we can set up the joke,” he responded, grabbing your bedside phone and setting on your bed.

“But why are we going to such great lengths? I mean, how are we going to make it look like they’re dead?” You grabbed the receiver, ready to make the call once he explained it all to you.

He watched you for a moment before grabbing two guns from... somewhere. You physically flinched at the sight of the weapons. “Peter, I thought our Bonnie and Clyde adventures were done. I don’t-”

He placed a finger to your lips to silence you. “Relax, we’ll fill them with Ich Luge bullets.” At your confused look, he smiled. “They’re tranquilizer bullets. My granddad scored a shit ton back in World War II. The Nazis used them to fake their own suicides when the Russians invaded Berlin. The darts should knock Thor and Bruce out long enough to make it look like a suicide. Once they come to, they’ll be the laughing stock of the whole school.”

Still confused by the whole concept of Ich Luge bullets, you forced yourself to nod along with what he was saying. “Yeah, okay, makes sense,” you said, more to assure yourself than anyone else. “So, we need a suicide note.”

Peter nodded, grabbing your notepad so that you could write. “Just make it sound really sappy. Remember, it needs to sound believable. And you can pick whichever of the two you want to write for.”

Nodding, you turned your focus on your diary as you scribbled out a suicide note in Thor’s handwriting.

Bruce and I realized the moment that we could not share our forbidden love that we would have to die instead. Though we will miss the joy of being in each others arms, we cannot continue to live in a world where we have to act like beer-guzzling jackasses. Thus, we have chosen to die rather than live in a disapproving world.

“Look good?” You asked, showing the note to Peter.

He instantly broke out into a huge smile, carefully tearing the paper out of your journal. “Perfect,” he replied, folding it in half and adding it to the bag of goodies that sat on the edge of your bed. “Now we just need you to call Thor. Tell him to meet behind the school at dawn.”

Nodding, you quickly dialed the number to Thor’s house, crossing your fingers that he would be the one to pick up.

After a few rings, there was finally an answer. “Yeah-lo?” came the voice of Thor, and you had to fight the urge to sigh in relief at the fact that he was the one to answer.

“Hey, Thor?” you asked, twirling a piece of your hair around your index finger. “It’s Y/N. So... I was wondering... How did you and Bruce know it was always a fantasy of mine to take two guys at once?”

“Dude, dude!” said the muffled voice of Thor, clearly trying to get Bruce’s attention. “It’s Y/N!” You tapped your fingers against your knee, waiting for them to decide to talk. “So, uhhh, I guess it was a lucky guess?” Thor said, finally sounding clearer.

“Well...” you drawled out, throwing a look at Peter to see him laughing. You threw a pillow at him before continuing the conversation. “If you want it to come true... Meet me behind the school with Bruce. At dawn.”

There was a choking sound from the other end of the line before Thor started talking. “Yeah, uh-huh, sounds good.” Before you could hang up, you heard him practically shouting to Bruce. “Bro! Free pussy! And we don’t even have to buy it a pizza! Punch it in!”

You cringed to yourself before hanging up the phone. “They’ll be there,” you said, placing your phone back on your nightstand. “That was hell.”

Peter laughed, drawing you into him as he pressed a firm kiss to your lips before pulling away to smile down at you. “Y/N... our love is a powerful thing. We can start and finish wars.”

Resting your head on his shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, our love is what killed the dinosaurs. The world needed room for us.”

“You bet your ass it did,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss into the top of your head. “Hey, gorgeous.” You glanced up at him to see him staring at you seriously, yet his eyes were also filled with so much adoration. “I worship you, and everything that you are. I’d trade my life for yours if it was necessary to see you alive and happy...”

You pulled him into a kiss, silencing his words. He hummed in response, which was one of the few sounds made between the two of you for the rest of the night as you both eagerly awaited morning to put your plan into motion.

“So why did we steal your dad’s car again?” you asked as you both pulled into the school parking lot, just before dawn broke.

“The motorcycle’s great and all, but the car’s better for if we need to hide after our plan has been enacted.” You raised an eyebrow at him, not necessarily aware of why you’d need to hide if the bullets were just going to knock them out. Still, you didn’t question him and, instead, followed him out of the car and to the meeting spot.

You handed the bag of goodies off to Peter before grabbing the gun from him. “Just remember,” he said softly, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, “I’m just behind that tree right there. When we shoot, you try and shoot Thor and I’ll get Bruce, got it?” Accepting your tiny nod as an answer, he kissed the top of your head. “Alright, they should be here any minute now so I’m going to go hide.”

With that, you were left alone in the small little clearing just a few feet from the main road. You decided to make a circle that surrounded you in the dirt, pretending it was your safe zone that Bruce and Thor couldn’t cross if they wanted to.

The sound of approaching footsteps made you lift your head up from your feet to see the two jocks coming down the small slope, practically tripping over one another to make it to where you were.

“Hey, Y/N,” Bruce said, a bright smile filling his features. “How’re you doin’?”

“Bro, cut the small talk,” Thor said, slapping Bruce with the back of his hand. “Do we just whip out our dicks or what?”

You fought every impulse to shudder or cringe at Thor’s blunt words. You forced a playful smile onto your features, meeting his muddy brown eyes. “Take it slow, Thor. I want the two of you to strip for me.”

They both laughed, clearly excited by the prospect of stripping for you. Thor started to tear of his own clothes before remembering that you said to take it slowly. He looked physically pained by the notion of strip-teasing for you, but he still slowed his movements down.

Bruce, however, looked a little more confused. “What ‘bout you, Y/N?” he asked, slowly removing his jacket.

“Well...” you said, voice barely audible to the two of them, “I was hoping you could rip my clothes off me... sport.”

Sport? Sport? Was that really the best word you could come up with in the moment?

Despite the fact that you felt like a complete idiot by calling them sport, they still nodded along and stripped faster until they both stood in front of you in their underwear.

“On the count of three, you both can come at me and take off my clothes. Ready?” They nodded eagerly and you forced a smile. “One... Two...”

“Three,” said the voice of Peter, coming from behind the tree, gun raised. You grabbed your own gun and aimed at Thor, firing one of the Ich Luge bullets into his shoulder. Meanwhile, Peter hit Bruce right in between the eyes.

Thor screamed at being shot and tried to run away, but Peter fired another shot into his back, causing him to fall face-first into the ground.

You found yourself staring at Bruce, as blood pooled around him in the forest ground and you suddenly felt sick. You fell to your knees, cupping Bruce’s face. “Bruce? Bruce? Oh my god. Peter-”

Hands hauled you off the ground, pulling you away from the scene. “We have to go, come on,” he muttered in your eye, practically dragging you all the way back to the school. Practically frozen, you let him do so.

You just killed two more of your classmates.

Once back in the car, you finally released all of your feelings all at once. “God! I’m so stupid!” you shouted as Peter started the car so that music was playing in the background. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him grab a cigarette from his dads glove compartment.

Absentmindedly, you grabbed the lighter from the car, staring at the orange metal. Before you were even aware of what you were doing, the lighter was pressed into the palm of your hand, and you were screaming from the pain.

Peter quickly yanked the lighter away from your burning flesh before placing the end of his cigarette against your palm. You whimpered as he leaned back, his cigarette burning through the car.

“Fucking Ich Luge bullets? Why am I so stupid? Why would I ever believe such a stupid lie?” you mumbled, more to yourself than anybody else. You held your hand close to your body, trying to ignore the mind numbing pain that originated from your burnt hand.

“Maybe because you wanted them dead,” Peter said, earning him a glare from you. “Oh come on! Ich Luge bulelts? If something sounds too good to be true, usually it is! Don’t play so naive, Y/N! Your mind wanted to believe the bullets were tranquilizer bullets because your thoughts are too icky and impure. You wanted them dead just as much as I did.” With the end of his statement, he tossed his half-gone cigarette out the car window before turning his attention back to you.

“No I didn’t!” you shouted, clearly exasperated by his remarks. “No one deserves to die, Peter!”

“Yes you did! Don’t lie to me! They made you cry! Besides, they’re just a bunch of-”

You covered your ears with your hands, despite the pain it caused you, and started making random noises to block out his talking. He groaned in response and tried to talk louder, but you only matched him in volume until you both were practically screaming at one another.

“Enough!” Peter shouted, removing your hands from your ears and silencing you with a kiss. You pushed against him slightly, trying to fight the kiss before finally relenting to his lips and the sweet feeling of being enveloped in his strong arms. In fact, you even found yourself kissing him back despite the anger you felt boiling beneath the surface.

Once deeming you calm enough, his lips left yours, brushing the hair out of your face. “Come on,” he mumbled, lips a few inches from your own. “It’s already done, okay? So let’s just go somewhere. I’m sure they’re going to cancel class today anyway.”

You nodded slowly before you relaxed into the passenger seat of his dad’s car. Your mind whirled with thoughts, primarily ones centered around Bruce and Thor. Once again, someone was dead, and you helped cause it. You killed two people today, and now you had to pay the price.

“Peter?” you asked quietly as the two of you drove through the practically empty roads of the town. “Can we go and grab ice for my hand?”

“Of course,” he responded, looking visibly more relaxed and less on edge. “I’m sorry about your hand, by the way.”

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