#me in the Sweet Pete's fit

[hello-dear-listener]

[sharlsworld]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ my dawg - ʟɴ4 ☆

✿ lando norris x influencer reader

✿ lando norris is down bad for his girlfriend and he has no shame about it

ᵃᵘᵗʰᵒʳˢ ⁿᵒᵗᵉ ୨୧ this is kinda pt 2 to walk em like a dog

🝮

yn

liked by pierregasly and 1,028,967 others

yn took my dawg out today

landonorris didn’t expect you to become a gymnast in the middle of dinner 😔

⤷ lilymhe HAHAHA

landonorris spit on me your so hot

⤷ yn kinky boy

georgerussell63 Perioddd 💅🏽

⤷ yn ok that’s enough

alexandrasaintmleux I miss you

⤷ yn i miss you more come over i’ll kick lando out

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux Walking to the door right now i’ll be there in 10

⤷ landonorris hello?

⤷ charles_leclerc Guess I’ll see you at the paddock then?? 😟

francisca.cgomes let him out the crate for a little bit

⤷ yn yeah he’s been behaving recently

⤷ landonorris 😈😈

oscarpiastri I think you need to take him on more walks he has to much energy

⤷ landonorris i know a way to get rid of energy easily

⤷ yn and back in the crate you go!

🝮

yn

liked by madisonbeer and 2,724,005 others

yn sushi dates with my love 🎀

alexandrasaintmleux My favorite date 🥰

⤷ charles_leclerc Uhm, alright then

landonorris but that’s our thing?? ☹️

⤷ yn you don’t even eat sushi?

⤷ landonorris i still take you out to eat it even though the sight of it makes me gag??

⤷ yn and then you make me brush my teeth before i can kiss you?

⤷ landonorris just say you hate me

⤷ yn i hate you

⤷ landonorris please take me back baby

francisca.cgomes i miss my girls 😣😣

⤷ yn we miss you more!!

alex_albon did lando stay at charles’ 😂

⤷ charles_leclerc Yes and he would not shut up about how he misses y/n

georgerussell63 Me next

⤷ landonorris no go away i’m next

⤷ lilymhe actually i am 🤣

🝮

landonorris

liked by maxverstappen1 and 1,113,562 others

landonorris hopelessy devoted to you ❤️

yn my one love 🤍

⤷ charles_leclerc Hold on…is y/n norris being sweet?? Did someone screenshot this?

⤷ yn did i get married and just don’t remember?

⤷ landonorris yes.

yn can we get a puppy

⤷ landonorris whatever you want baby

⤷ yn 🤍

francisca.cgomes ok, cute

carlossainz55 I remember when you were hopelessly devoted to me.

⤷ landolovesyn LMFAO NOT CARLOS BEING SALTY 😭😭

pierregasly down BAD

lilymhe hm. well, i guess this is cute

alexandrasaintmleux I approve of this post

oscarpiastri WE KNOW

chilipowder55 poor oscar 😭 he’s so done with both of them

flowers444yn all the wags don’t wanna share y/n with her bf 💀

🝮

f1updates

liked by landonorris and 28,001 others

f1updates lando & y/n out in monaco tonight

lordperceval lando’s always in the likes whenever a sighting of them is posted 😭

⤷ georgerussell63 he’s so unserious

⤷ alex_albon GEORGE?!

⤷ charles_leclerc ALEXANDER?!

⤷ maxverstappen1 CHARLES?!

⤷ carlossainz55 MAX?!

⤷ pierregasly CARLOS?!

⤷ oscarpiastri PIERRE?!

⤷ carmenmmundt OSCAR?!

⤷ lilymhe CARMEN?!

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux LILY?!

⤷ francisca.cgomes ALEX?!

⤷ lewishamilton So we all stalk every update about lando and y/n?

⤷ georgerussell63 LEWIS?!?!

sharls_lerklerk why did lewis just expose all of them

🝮

lando.jpg

liked by danielricciardo and 492,705 others

lando.jpg she’s getting it tonight

yn OH OK!! how sweet 😰

⤷ landonorris always for you 😉

yn guys i’m scared

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux i’m omw

alexandrasaintmleux My girl 💘💗💕💓

francisca.cgomes the prettiest girl ever

alexandrasaintmleux so that’s where my dress went

⤷ yn what dress? 😟

maxverstappen1 Hair is on point

charles_leclerc Alright I fw the fit

georgerussell63 Period my queen never lets us down 💅🏽

oscarpiastri Ate down or whatever 💋

danielricciardo Drop the hair care routine girl

lilymhe beautiful beautiful girl

carlossainz55 Slay all day 😻😻

landowonone what is going on 😭

🝮

yn

liked by georgerussell63 and 3,390,781 others

yn alexandra got a puppy, so i made lando get me a puppy too

alexandrasaintmleux Play dates everyday

landonorris 🤍🤍🤍

charles_leclerc Leo and lil Pete are gonna be the best friends

carlossainz55 So you get him Saturday and Sunday and I get him the rest of the week? 😁

⤷ yn um no ❤️

carmenmmundt How cute 🥹

alex_albon I think he would look cuter with me…in my house…in my arms

⤷ yn i don’t think so

maxfewtrell The chokehold you have on him isn’t okay 😔

⤷ yn neither was the one he had on me last night

⤷ maxfewtrell !?!? 😨

[mimimarvelingmarvel]

time bound part eleven

pairing: worst wolverine!logan howlett x f!mutant!reader

Part Eleven - Masterlist

summary: Y/n’s life takes a dramatic turn when the Time Variance Authority intervenes, pulling her from a critical moment in her timeline. The TVA sends her to the void where she eventually meets with Deadpool and a very familiar face. With Deadpool's universe in the balance, alongside his reluctant would-be pal, Wolverine, and the enigmatic time-bending mutant known as the Veil, the trio must complete the mission and save Deadpool’s world from an existential threat.

overall warnings: 18+, Fem!Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of Y/N, Her X-Men name is Veil, She/her pronouns, Swearing, Angst, Heavy Violence, Character Death, Deadpool (he’s his own warning), Hurt, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, TVA

word count: 2.7k

a/n: longest and saddest chapter x

After we unceremoniously crash-land on a guy named Pete’s KIA he was attempting to sell, the impact crumpling the hood like a tin can, the sound of screeching metal echoes through the air, drowning out the distant city noise. Pete looks delighted to see Wade, something I never thought I would see. Wade gives him a quick recap before we are on the run, following him as he takes us towards the TVA.

As we walk down the bustling street, the chaotic sounds of the city engulf us—honking cars, distant chatter, and the occasional siren blaring in the distance. The air is thick with the smell of street food, a mixture of hot dogs, pretzels, and something sweet like roasted nuts. The vibrant life around me feels surreal, almost too good to be true after months trapped in that nightmarish place, where the only sounds were the howling winds and the distant echoes of something monstrous.

I notice a man in a dishevelled suit barreling toward us, his tie askew, and his face a mask of desperation and fear. Sweat beads on his forehead and his wild eyes lock onto us with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. His nose is broken and I hear Wade giggle beside me, no doubt his doing.

His voice cracks as he shouts, "No, stop, piss off, you’re too late." His voice is tinged with both panic and resignation as if he knows he’s already lost but can’t help fighting against the inevitable.

Logan’s muscles tense, and his voice drops to a growl, deep and menacing like a wolf ready to pounce. His hands curl into fists, the veins in his forearms bulging. "You’re fucking done," he snarls, each word laced with venom.

I glance at the stranger, confusion and wariness gnawing at me. "Who the fuck is this?" I demand, my voice harsher than I intended. The man’s presence feels wrong, like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit.

His face pales further, his voice trembling with the weight of whatever horror he’s seen. “You brought another Veil to this world? She was supposed to stay in the Void.” His eyes dart around.

"Zip it. Why was Thor crying?" Wade cuts in, his tone is light, mocking, but there’s an edge to it.

Paradox’s fear transforms into righteous indignation, his voice rising in a feeble attempt to regain control. “How dare you? No one comes back from The Void.” His hands twitch at his sides, as if he’s debating whether to fight or flee.

Wolverine’s growl deepens, the sound rumbling in his chest like a storm about to break. His eyes narrow, the cold fury in them unmistakable. "Tell that to Cassandra Nolva."

A sudden whirl of light and energy erupts behind us, the air crackling with raw power. I whip around just in time to see Pyro step through a swirling portal, his expression grim, his eyes shadowed with the burden of bad news. “Paradox, we have a problem,” he says, his voice low and urgent, as if he’s trying to contain the disaster that’s about to unfold.

Before anyone can react, Paradox’s neck snaps violently to the side with a sickening crunch, the sound echoing in the still air like a death knell. His body drops like a marionette whose strings have been cut, crumpling to the ground in a lifeless heap, his eyes staring blankly at nothing as Cassandra steps out from the portal, a cold smirk on her lips. Her eyes gleam with a malevolent intelligence, as if she’s always two steps ahead of everyone else.

Cassandra’s voice drips with malice, each word carefully enunciated as if savoring the moment. "Paradox? You tried to kill me."

Paradox’s voice shakes, a pathetic whimper escaping his lips, his once confident demeanor shattered. “I literally have no idea…” His words trail off into a pitiful whisper, his fear tangible in the air. Her hand, pale and elegant, wraps around his brain beneath the skin. “You come for the king, you better kill the king,” she says, her voice a deadly whisper that sends chills down my spine.

Deadpool grins wickedly, his teeth flashing in the dim light. "Oh, welcome to the skull-fuck club, Paradox. You know she doesn’t wash that hand." His tone is mocking.

Cassandra tilts her head, examining the man with detached curiosity, as if he’s nothing more than a specimen under a microscope. "Oh, what’s this? A Time-Ripper, you naughty boy," she murmurs, her voice a mixture of amusement and disdain.

"Oh no, we’re on it. We’re gonna head down and dismantle that thing now. We got you, boo; you just keep playing those keys." Wade flashes a playful wink.

Cassandra’s eyes narrow, a dangerous gleam in them as she steps closer, her presence suffocating. "I don’t want to destroy it. I want to use it." Her voice is laced with greed, a hunger for power that sends a jolt of fear through me.

My heart clenches in my chest as Cassandra’s gaze locks onto me, her power reaching out, invisible but suffocating. I gasp as I’m yanked off my feet, the force of her magic slamming me back into Logan’s chest. The impact is brutal, knocking the air from my lungs and sending us both crashing through a bakery window. The glass shatters around us, sharp shards slicing through the air like deadly confetti. The scent of fresh bread and sugar mingles with the coppery tang of blood, creating a nauseating cocktail that makes my head spin.

The impact knocks the wind out of me, and I struggle to breathe, my lungs burning as I gasp for air. Dust and debris swirl around us, and I manage to whisper, "Fuck," as I roll off Logan, wincing at the pain radiating through my body. My skin stings where the glass has cut me, and I can feel warm blood trickling down my arms and face.

Wade shakes off the dust, standing up with a grimace, his usual cocky swagger subdued. "You okay, Pumpkin?" he asks, his tone surprisingly gentle, concern flickering in his eyes.

I grunt, forcing myself to stand on shaky legs, every muscle screaming in protest. "Never better." My voice is hoarse, and I can feel the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me, but I push it aside. My eyes scan the chaotic scene outside, where people are running in every direction, their screams of terror echoing off the buildings. "I’m going to go stop her."

Logan tries to grab me, his fingers grazing my arm, but Wade holds him back, a rare seriousness in his eyes. "We’ve got other problems to deal with, buddy. Pumpkin’s got this, our little time ripper." He glances at me, a knowing look crossing his face, his expression almost… proud? "Oops—spoilers." He says to some unknown thing in the distance.

I shrug him off, giving Logan one last look, a silent plea in my eyes, before jogging toward the subway entrance. The stairs are steep and narrow, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead, casting everything in a sickly yellow hue. The tunnel is dark, the air heavy with the scent of metal and something more sinister, something that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. As I descend deeper, the sounds of the city fade away, replaced by the ominous hum of the machines below.

Paradox sits in a chair in the control room, his hands gripping the armrests so tightly his knuckles are white. His face is a mask of terror, his eyes wide and unblinking as he watches the screens in front of him.

"You dumb shit," I seethe, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him to face me. His eyes are wide, filled with the kind of fear that only comes when you realize you’ve truly fucked up. "What have you done?" My voice

I look up at the machines, their screens flashing erratically as Cassandra wreaks havoc on the timelines. Each beep and whirr of the machinery seems to punctuate the gravity of the situation, the digital displays a chaotic dance of numbers and warnings. “She’s going to destroy the whole existence of timelines until just the Void remains,” He says, his face pale and trembling.

“Fuck,” I mutter, my voice barely above a breath.

“You can stop her.” I look to him, hopeful. “That’s what’s so dangerous about you, but if you do that, you’ll die.” The weight of his words hits me like a physical blow. My heart pounds in my chest, and I stare into his eyes, searching for some hint of hope or another solution.

“You idiots didn’t make a failsafe?” My voice is sharp with frustration and fear.

Paradox nods, his eyes wide with terror. “But she’s the closest one to it. This is the only way.”

I shiver as the realization sinks in. The thought of my own death is a cold, hard reality that shakes me to my core. If I do this, I’m gone. But if I don’t, everyone else dies. My mind races with the enormity of the choice before me.

“Tell me what I have to do.”

Paradox, trembling, presses a small button on a console. A video screen flickers to life, displaying a grainy, distorted image of the control systems. “You have to bridge the gap between the two feeds of matter and anti-matter. It will implode the time ripper, killing Cassandra… and you.”

My breath catches in my throat, a shaky exhale escaping my lips. “If you see Logan, tell him I’m sorry.” I step away, my legs feeling heavy and leaden. “Where is it?”

He points shakily toward the lower levels. I nod, turning toward the stairs, each step feeling like a mile as I make my way to the feeder room. The weight of the impending sacrifice presses down on me, and I try to steady my shaking hands. My heart races as I think of the life I’m leaving behind, the people I’m leaving behind.

As I descend, the cool, musty air of the stairwell wraps around me, each step echoing in the silence. I can feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, memories flashing before me. The joyous moments, the regrets, and the lingering fear of leaving Logan behind. The thought of not having a legacy, of leaving without making a mark, terrifies me.

At the bottom of the stairs, a long hallway stretches out before me, lit by flickering lights that cast eerie shadows on the walls. I pause at the end, my gaze fixed on the door ahead. The lights behind the glass window flicker and pulse, mirroring the turmoil within me. I take a step forward, but my knee buckles, and I hit the ground, a vision of blinding white light assaulting my eyes. The intensity of it nearly overwhelms me, but it fades as quickly as it came.

I try to sit up, my body trembling with fear. I need to do this. I force myself to stand, my hand reaching for the door. Just as I’m about to push it open, a voice echoes down the hallway, stopping me in my tracks.

I hear my name cut through the tension like a blade. “Y/N!”

My heart leaps into my throat, a jolt of adrenaline making me spin around. Logan is rushing toward me, his face a storm of fear and determination. His eyes, usually so controlled, are wide with panic and desperation. Behind him, Wade follows, his usual irreverent demeanor replaced by a rare, somber resolve.

“What are you doing?” Logan's voice is a mix of terror and disbelief, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my resolve waver.

“It has to be me.” I tell him, standing my ground.

Logan’s expression morphs into one of resolute defiance. “No, I won’t let you die. I’ll do it.”

Deadpool’s voice slices through the tension, his usual levity gone, replaced by an uncharacteristic seriousness. “No can do, Peanut. It’s gotta be me.”

Logan’s confusion is immediate, his brow furrowing deeply. “What?”

Deadpool’s gaze drops, his face revealing a rare moment of vulnerability. “You didn’t ask for any of this. You were right. I lied. I lied right to your face. Just to get you to help me. You did.”

Logan’s eyes dart between Deadpool and me, filled with frantic desperation. “You didn’t lie. You made an educated wish. You got a whole world to go back to.”

His gaze settles back on me, filled with a raw, unspoken plea. “I would never let you leave me in a world without you again. I got nothing without you, so give me this.”

I shake my head slowly, tears welling up in my eyes, threatening to spill over. Logan’s movement toward the door is resolute, but the sight of his anguished expression tears at my heart. I cry harder, my sobs echoing down the narrow hallway.

Deadpool steps closer, his face lined with a rare gravity. “I waited a long time for this team-up. And you know something? You’re the best Wolverine.”

The sincerity in his voice is a stark contrast to his usual banter, and it shatters my resolve. I look at Wade, my vision blurring with tears.

Logan freezes, his body paralyzed by my powers, a look of helpless frustration etched deeply into his features. Wade stands still beside me, his eyes filled with unspoken sorrow, a silent acknowledgment of the inevitability of my choice.

“Y/N? What are you doing?”

I force myself to push down my tears, my voice trembling as I answer. “I’m doing the right thing.”

I walk past them, the effort to stop me almost tangible, their emotions reaching out like a desperate plea. I reach the door, the cold metal handle biting into my hand as I pull it open, stepping inside. The door slams shut behind me with a finality that reverberates through the hallway, their desperate shouts muffled by the thick, reinforced walls.

Logan’s roar of frustration is visceral, the impact of his body slamming into the door sending a shudder through the corridor.

“Open the door!” He screams.

“I can’t, Logan. You know it has to be me. I couldn’t save them, but I can save you.” I hold a hand up to the glass.

Logan’s voice cracks, the raw emotion evident. “Why are you fucking doing this?”

“Because I love you.” I finally admit, my heart cracking at the weight of my confession.

Logan’s response is a choked, pained cry, tears streaking down his cheeks as he pounds on the door again. His anguish is palpable, each strike against the door a testament to his heartbreak.

“You fucking idiot.”

Deadpool’s voice is strained, filled with uncharacteristic desperation. “Pumpkin? Don’t do this.”

“I love you.” I tell him again.

Logan’s voice softens, a heartbreaking admission. “I love you too.”

A sad smile tugs at my lips as I hear his final words, knowing they’re the last I’ll hear from him. “That’s all I needed to hear to know I’m doing the right thing.”

I turn away from the door, my resolve solidifying as I move toward the center of the bridge. The matter and anti-matter streams twist and writhe with chaotic energy, their raw power casting erratic shadows across the room. Cassandra stands above, the time ripper in her control, her silhouette a dark, menacing figure against the flickering lights.

I reach out, gripping the matter stream first. The metal is cold and unyielding, but as my hands close around it, blue lightning crackles up my arms. The strain is immense, and I grit my teeth as I pull the stream toward the anti-matter, the effort causing my body to shake violently. The raw power surges through me like a tempest, each pulse of energy a painful reminder of the cost of my choice.

I barely graze the anti-matter before finally getting a firm grip on it. The contact sends a jolt of searing agony through my body, and I cry out, the pain almost unbearable. The lights above flicker wildly, their erratic dance mirroring the tumultuous energy converging within me. The pounding on the door fades into a distant echo, Logan and Wade’s voices reduced to frantic, muffled pleas.

As the matter and anti-matter streams converge within me, a blinding white light envelops me, consuming everything in its intensity. My vision fades to a blur of white, the world dissolving around me, until finally—black.

Next Part

A/N: angst.

taglist: @oscarissac2099 @somiaw @100percentlazybonez @obsessedwthdilfs @sun7lowxr @corvid007

[flightlessangelwings]

Ktober 2023 Day 25- Mirror Sex

Tasm!Peter Parker x gn!reader

Word count- 1.1k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), softness, voyeurism, lot of praise, aftercare, established relationship, no use of y/n

Notes- Oh this was was so fun to write!! And it's another personal favorite of the month as well so I hope y'all like it too!! And I purposefully made it a gn reader too! Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

~

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Peter’s voice echoed in your ear.

You sat in front of him, your legs parted as he knelt behind you, fucking into you slowly. Peter’s strong grip kept you upright, and you leaned back to feel the warmth and safety of his embrace. As your mouth dropped open from how good he felt rocking into you from this angle, your eyes fluttered shut and you lost yourself in the pleasure that was Peter’s touch.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as you reluctantly blinked your eyes open, but you gasped when you focused and noticed what he wanted you to see. You weren’t sure when he set it up, but a full length mirror sat at the end of the bed, and it framed where the two of you were perfectly. Even in the low light of the room, you saw both your figures clearly.

“That’s it,” he cooed as he thrust into you once, “Look at how beautiful you are.”

You moaned loudly and closed your eyes once more.

“Uh-uh,” Peter gently grabbed your chin and forced you to keep your line of sight on the mirror, “I want you to watch.”

“Peter…” you whined as you blinked your eyes open again. It didn’t go unnoticed that he didn’t move again until you did.

“See?” his tone was low as he kissed the side of your face, “Look how beautiful you are.”

You gasped when he thrust into you once, but harder this time. Your body almost jolted forward if it weren’t for Peter’s strong grip keeping you in place. As much as you wanted to close your eyes and enjoy the feeling of his cock inside you, you knew he would stop if you did. So, you kept them open and trained on his face as he watched you in the mirror.

“That’s it sweetheart,” Peter murmured as he rocked into you at a slow and steady pace.

Skin slapped against skin as both of you locked eyes in the mirror. From that though, you saw the fire that burned within his eyes with every thrust of his hips, and you felt the low mumble from deep in his chest against your back. You saw how his hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat and it only made him more beautiful to you. And then your eyes trailed down both your figures.

Between your legs, you could make out the distinct shape of his cock whenever he pulled out from you. And then it disappeared inside you when he thrust forward again, burying it deep inside you. The added visual made you moan louder as you clung to Peter’s arms.

He gritted his teeth as he felt you clench around him, and then Peter’s eyes followed yours. He watched for a few moments as his cock appeared and then disappeared with his thrusts. Then, he made a low, deep sound you had never heard from him ever before. And it sent a pulse of need right to your core.

“Fuck,” Peter breathed, “Look at us,” he thrust once more, “Look how you fit me so perfectly,” he thrust again, filling you to the brim.

“Yes,” you murmured as your eyes glazed over, “Peter.”

“Look how beautiful you look like this,” he caressed your chin where he still held you while his other arm stayed around your body to pin you against him, “Look how well you take my cock.”

“Oh fuck,” you moaned as a chill ran up your spine from Peter’s words.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he cooed.

You dug your nails into his skin, “Peter… Yes…” you moaned, “So good, Pete… I…”

“What is it?” he trailed a line of hot, sweet kisses along your skin, “Tell me,” he said as he met your gaze in the mirror.

“You feel so good,” you whimpered, “And I love watching you fuck me like this.”

“That’s it,” he turned your chin to kiss your lips for a moment, pausing with his cock fully inside you to taste you before he turned you back to the mirror, “I want you to see what I see when I fuck you,” his tone dropped impossibly low, “I want you to fall apart and watch yourself in the mirror.”

“Oh shit,” you cried out as he suddenly picking up his pace, pounding into you with fervor, “Fuck! Peter! Yes!”

“That’s it,” he purred again as he grunted, holding back his own climax.

The look on Peter’s face when his jaw clenched made you let out the most obscene sound and you felt your body heat up and your skin tingle, “Fuck, Peter… You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Cum, sweetheart,” he groaned, “Cum for me.”

“Peter!” you screamed his name as you fought to keep your eyes open as your climax hit. You trembled in his grasp as you came hard, your mouth dropping open to let out all the sounds that Peter loved to hear.

“Beautiful,” he murmured as he watched your every expression in the mirror. He saved off his own orgasm for as long as he could, but from the way you looked so delectable in the mirror, he didn’t last long.

With a low groan of his own and your name on his lips, Peter came just as hard, His movements stuttered as he lost control as came deep inside you, filling you up. He too had to fight to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss a second of the show the two of you put on for yourselves. Peter savored the gasp you let out as he filled you to the brim, and both of you exhaled sharply when you watched it drip down your legs.

A shiver ran up your spine as you felt both your releases slide down your skin, but you couldn’t move. You didn’t want to anyway, content in Peter’s strong grip. For a moment, neither of you could budge, both too entranced in the other’s eyes in the mirror. You still stayed connected together, and at the same time, your eyes both fell to that connection.

“That was so hot,” you breathed in awe.

Peter grinned widely and kissed your neck, “I told you to trust me,” he murmured in your ear, his eyes ever leaving yours.

“I do trust you, Pete,” you whispered as you broke the connection to turn and kiss him deeply, tasting him once more, “And I love you.”

He smiled against you, “I love you too, sweetheart,” he kissed the tip of your nose before he pulled away, “Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart.”

“You always take such good care of me, Peter,” you sighed contently before you let out a gasp as he slowly and carefully pulled out of you,

Peter shot you and apologetic look in the mirror before he gathered you in his arms again, collapsing both of you down onto the bed, “I always will, sweetheart,” he whispered, “I always will.” 

[roanofarcc]

WING-MAN

pairing. pete martino x ghost!reader

summary. (requested) in an attempt to help pete woo alberta, you realize your feelings for him may stretch a bit beyond friendship. 

warnings. dead!reader, gender-neutral reader, slightly awkward reader, miscommunication, idiots in love.

word count. 2k || masterlist

“I think you’re overthinking this.” 

“I overthink everything!” Pete groaned, hiding his face in his hands. A part of you found his fretting endearing, showcasing how much he cared about every single detail of his plan. But the other part of you felt sourness encroach into the pit of your stomach, unfairly so. It had started happening more and more those days, a bitterness twisted uncomfortably where fondness had once sat. If you had been alive, you would have blamed it on a bad meal or a shift in the weather, but your death ruled out both of those options. The root of the issue was unknown, kind of; it was more unacknowledged by you. 

And you’d continue to ignore it because it was the right thing to do, you believed. Instead, you shifted all of your focus onto your friend and his ongoing crisis and crush on Alberta. 

“Come on, Pete,” you said softly, coaxing him out of his fit. “This’ll work. It’s a long game you’ve got to play, but if she feels the same, she’ll realize it sooner or later.” 

“And if she doesn’t?” he asked, a frown pulled on his lips. 

You sighed. You hated seeing him like that, down on himself. He certainly didn’t have the most confidence in himself, but you wished he had more. Pete was sweet, sickeningly so. And you knew that wasn’t exactly Alberta’s cup of tea, but people changed their minds all of the time, especially in death. Maybe all she needed was to see how much Pete cared about her, then perhaps she’d give him a real chance. 

“You’ve gotta have some faith in yourself, okay? Do you want me to talk to her first? I can butter her up and talk you up.” 

“You’d do that for me?” he asked like he didn’t know you’d do just about anything for him. 

You stood up from your seat with a soft smile as you crossed the room. “Of course, Pete,” you said before you slipped out of the room and set your sights on Alberta during her daily ‘Alexa’ time, listening to music in solitude until Sam or Jay needed to use the odd little robot for their questions or to play music that wasn’t old jazz tunes. 

“Knock knock,” you said, peeking your head into the room. Alberta turned around with furrowed brows. She didn’t look as annoyed when she realized it was you, but she still huffed and told Alexa to turn down the music. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” she said. “What do ya’ need?” 

You hesitated, unsure of how to subtly bring up Pete. Maybe the point was to stop being subtle and dancing around the idea of Alberta and Pete. Maybe they just needed to get things out in the open and it was your job to get the ball rolling, for the sake of your friends. 

“Can we talk for a minute?” you asked her, twisting your hands in front of you in a nervous habit. She looked confused but nodded anyway. “It’s about you and Pete.” 

Alberta sighed deeply and rolled her eyes out of habit. “Honey, there is no me and Pete.” 

“But there could be,” you stressed. “I know you used to date people different than him, but you won’t even give him a chance. How do you know he’s not the one for you if you won’t even hear him out?” 

Alberta studied you for a long moment, long enough to make you feel scrutinized under her gaze. Maybe you overstepped, but it was growing tiresome listening to Pete’s longing. You could only handle so much more of it. If he and Alberta just got together, then maybe the sour pit in your stomach would give up trying to poison the rest of you and you’d resort to pouring all of your feelings onto something or someone else inside the mansion. 

“Sit,” she instructed, gesturing to the couch. You obliged, taking a seat before she followed suit. “Have you ever been in love before?” 

Your eyes widened at the question, unsure of why she’d ask such a thing when you were trying to talk about her love life, not yours. “I don’t know,” you admitted. It had been a while since you were alive. The idea of love used to scare you, but you always thought you’d have some understanding of it before you died. Sure, you had crushes in your lifetime and a couple of partners but nothing that ever stuck. Love was a big word with a lot packed into it.

“Well, I have,” she said, a found but sad smile on her lips. “I like Pete. He is sweet but he’s not somethin’ I’m looking for, not when it comes to love. And you can’t force these things. Like or love, it’s not something you can talk yourself or someone into. Pete is a good guy, one of the best, but he’s not the one for me and I’m not the one for him. Sooner or later he’s gotta realize that.” 

You don’t know why you felt relieved at her words. Pete was going to be crushed. You should have been too because all you wanted was to see him happy. But instead, all you felt was a breath of fresh enter your lungs, knocking back the bitter feeling slightly. Did that make you a bad friend? 

She must’ve caught the conflicted set of emotions that shined in your eyes because she reached out, holding your hands with a gentle squeeze. “If I did like Pete, I would tell him. That’s all you can do.” 

“But you don’t,” you said, and she nodded, clarifying once more for you. 

“And you?” 

You blinked, pulling your hands away with an uncomfortable laugh. “And me what?” 

“Come on,” she groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re doing all of this for him because you’re just a good friend? I know when someone’s lovesick. And you’ve got one of the worst cases I’ve ever seen.” 

You scoffed; your gut twisted. “I-I do not!” you protested, shooting up from your seat. “I am his friend. This is what friends do-” 

“Nah-uh. Friends tell friends when they’re pursuin’ the wrong person. If you were just his friend, you would’ve told him a long time ago that I am not the person for him. But you’re so blind and sick with your feelings, that you’d do anything for him. That includes helping him try to win me over when you’re the one crushin’ on him. You’re deflecting, too scared to admit that you like him.” 

You felt exposed, open like a wound in front of Alberta. You crossed your arms over your chest, your skin hot and your stomach in knots. “I-I…” You couldn’t fight back because she looked right through you. All it took was a final, knowing gaze from her to make you crumble. You fell back onto the couch and buried your head in your hands. 

She placed a hand on your back, rubbing soft circles in an attempt to soothe you, but you weren’t sure you could be soothed. That was not supposed to happen. You were supposed to help Pete with the person he actually liked. How were you supposed to face him and tell him not only did Alberta not return his affection but instead you had a stupid, unrequited crush on him that would probably ruin your friendship? You wanted to cry. 

“Hey, look at me,” Alberta instructed and you forced yourself to peer out from behind your hands. She smiled softly at you. “No matter what, you’re going to be just fine. But speak your mind, tell him how you feel. Okay?” 

You felt like you were facing down the inevitable. One way or another, while stuck in eternity at Woodstone, you wouldn’t be able to hide your feelings forever. But you didn’t anticipate having to spill them so soon. 

Walking about the room, maybe you would have garnered enough confidence to broach the subject if you had till the following day; maybe if you had a chance to sleep on it, the idea would have become less daunting. But you didn’t make it but one step out of the room before you came face to face with Pete who was standing stuck in place right on the other side of the door. To say you were mortified was an understatement. 

Your mouth hung open as you two simply stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, you broke through your surprise at his appearance and cleared your throat. “Pete,” you breathed out. “What’re you doing?” 

He too shook himself out of his daze and flickered his eyes between the closed door and you. “You were taking a while and I just…” he trailed off. 

Your face felt hot as embarrassment crept up your spine. “How much of that did you hear?” 

He rolled his lips into his mouth, something he did right before he was going to lie, but he stopped himself and shook his head. “How much did you want me to hear?” 

“None of it.” 

“Oh, right, well…” He answered your question without actually answering it. You wanted to run away, maybe start a new ghost life with the basement ghosts to avoid a rejection you thought was coming. 

“I’m sorry!” you blurted out. “That wasn’t…you weren’t…oh boy.” 

“You like me?” Pete said after a beat, his voice soft and quiet in the middle of the hall. You were sure Alberta was listening from the other side of the room, ready to grab you if you tried to make a break for it. Your silence was his answer. “For how long?” 

Ducking your head, you blew some air from your cheeks. “A while.” Somewhere along the way, your friendship with Pete had turned into a crush that you thought you would get over. But it stayed, lingering in your mind as you tried to push it out because he so obviously liked Alberta. 

A let out a breathy laugh of disbelief. “You’re kiddin’ me?” Regret bubbled up in your stomach. Pete was a nice guy and he’d never say something to outright make you feel bad, but you still feared the worst for a moment. 

“But you like Alberta and I didn’t want-” he cut you off before you could fully explain. 

“I thought you were pushing me to talk to Alberta because you didn’t like me!” 

You sputtered for a response; your mouth failing to find the words within the swirling questions inside your head. “What?” was all you could get out. 

“If I would have known you…” Pete trailed off with a heavy sigh. 

With a shake of your head, you recalled when you found out Pete liked Alberta. You had overheard him talking to Sass about it. Since then, you thought your chance was completely gone because someone else held his affection, which was why you tried so hard to help him. You thought you’d been doing him a favor, hiding your feelings and helping him try to win over Alberta. 

“You told Sass years ago that you had feelings for someone in the house: Alberta. You told me yourself after you caught me eavesdropping.” 

Pete’s eyes widened. “I lied! I was worried you overheard me talking to Sass about my feelings for you. So I panicked and said I had been talking about Alberta.” 

“So this whole time you liked me and I liked you but we-”

“-thought the other didn’t feel the same.” he finished your thought, rounding off the sentence with a laugh full of disbelief and frustration. How did that even happen? How did two people who spent nearly every moment with each other become completely oblivious to the feelings of the other? It must have been some cruel joke the universe played on two ghosts already dealt not the best deck of cards. Or maybe and more likely, you’d both been so blinded by your want to remain friends that you completely pushed off the idea the other reciprocated feelings. 

“Oh.”

“Oh…” 

“Oh, my god.” Alberta’s voice appeared as she stuck her head through the door, peering between you and Pete with raised brows. “And now what are you two gonna do about it, huh?” 

You and Pete shared a look, both a little unsure but it was overshadowed by a creeping smile that couldn’t stay hidden. Pete cleared his throat and wiped his hands off on his shorts. “Would you want to go on a walk, maybe?” 

Your smile shined even brighter as you nodded. “I would love to.” 

[hotheadedhero]

The Velvet Weaver - Part 1

A/N: So, I see the occasional meme or story about Spiderman/Tmnt crossovers and it reminded me of a fic idea I had from years and years ago. After all this time, I have finally decided to write it

Michelangelo x Reader

Warnings: quite dialogue heavy (I haven't figured out how to do it effectively yet so sorry), sickeningly sweet reciprocated feelings, because, yes, I can write something other than angst, I swear

New York City: resident to a colourful array of personalities and no stranger to weird occurrences. Although, weird may be putting it lightly. You’ve bare witness to many peculiar happenings all across your beloved home, some scarier than others, the most terrifying of all being the attempted alien raid last year. It felt like a real-life doomsday; an end to everything and everyone you hold dear to you. People were ready to accept their fates but the strange spacecraft disappeared almost as quickly as it had arrived. No one knows how. Any explanation curated by the news agencies and the police may convince the citizens but you know better, you have your theories. Or, you have one theory: New York has a group of secret heroes. It sounds far-fetched but it isn’t that different from your current circumstances.

Just before the attempted invasion, something bizarre happened to you - something spectacular. Granted, that’s not how you felt about it at first but you like how things have turned out for you and this given name, ‘Velvet Weaver’. You were a bit dubious about the paper's choice of vigilante name at first but it made sense; you took inspiration from the spider that bit you, giving you your powers, and incorporated velvet accents into your hooded jumper. It was actually rather cute for a spider, sporting a ladybug design on its back. At the time of finding it dead in your shirt, you wanted to burn all the clothes you were wearing but you rather feel bad for the little creature now. Who knew that all it would take to overcome a mild fear was to be bit by one and gain powers?

Safe to say, your hometown has seen its fair share of oddities, so you’re willing to bet a gamble on not being the only crime fighter in these streets. You take care of the day and these theorised mystery heroes the night. It’s as though you’re a team. Granted, a team that’s never met each other but you’re doing the same job, fighting the same fight - share the same ideals as far as you can tell. Assuming you’re correct in guessing that there are multiple of them, you would love to meet them all someday. There’s a reason for the mask, the hidden identity, but it’s isolating. If there are people out there who understand, maybe it won’t feel so lonely anymore. Until you cross paths, however, you’ll just have to continue this little solo act of yours.

The alarm on your watch beeps, signalling the end of your vigilante-ing for the day. As good a time as any. With the flick of your wrist, you connect to one of the many buildings that litter this city and propel yourself into the air. Your other hand extends to shoot another stream of webbing, this to and fro exchange allowing you to swing above the crowded streets effortlessly. Gliding through the air, the rush of wind against your body is invigorating, a reminder that you are alive and free. The city sprawls beneath you, a tapestry of lives that fit into the system, one you used to be a part of and now look at you. Whilst everyone is down there, you get to enjoy the spoils of being up here, watching it all turn into a blur, honking cars and chatter fading into the background. You smile behind the mask when kids point out your swinging form and jump around with unbridled joy. This really is a great job. If not for saving lives then at least for the happy stomps of children that look up to you.

As you approach the pizzeria, you catch a glimpse of the neon sign flickering - Pete’s Pizzas. You land gracefully in the alleyway just to the left of it, your heart still racing as you quickly scan your surroundings. The streets are packed with people enjoying their spring break, laughter and conversation filling the air. You take a moment to catch your breath before quickly wiggling out of the shoddily crafted clothes you dub your hero costume in exchange for your uniform, feeling the weight of your dual identity settle comfortably on your shoulders. It’s a juggle, especially with college, but something needs to pay the bills and last you checked, ‘vigilante’ isn’t a recognised career choice.

“Velvet Weaver,” you whisper to yourself, a corny smile creeping onto your face. “Hero by day, pizza delivery girl by night.” Somehow you feel like it should be the other way around.

Shoving your costume into your rucksack, you dart into the pizzeria, the bell above the door jingling cheerfully. The familiar scent of melted cheese and spices envelops you, a comforting reminder of your second- no, third life. 

“Hey, just in time!” your boss, Peter, calls out, his hands dusted with flour. “We’ve got a big order for the downtown crowd. Think you can handle it?”

“Do I think I can handle it?” you echo quietly, moving your hair up and out of your face and winking. “You can count on me.”

He only shakes his head at your typical enthusiasm, setting the last box to this tower of pizza for you to take. You’re going to have to drive carefully if these stand a chance of remaining intact. It isn’t as though your moped skills need a check but times like this make you wish you had a car just for the convenience. One thing at a time, girl. You have enough going on in your life without worrying about passing a driving exam.

Stepping back outside with your hoard of cooked dough, you glance up at the skyline. The sun is beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over the city and you can only hope that the people of New York are making the most of it for those who can’t. You quickly pull out the order slip; the address is familiar, one you’ve delivered to before many times. That’s ideal. You can cut through the better-known shortcuts to avoid the rush. If only you could master the art of swinging whilst carrying pizza. You’d be there in no time. 

With the chosen route, you manage to miss most of the nastier traffic spots, getting to the building with some time to spare. As you step into the bustling lobby, you exchange pleasantries with the doorman - a gentle spirit whose oak-ish appearance still has you stumped for his age - and he greets you with a knowing smile.

“Hey, Cecil, how many have they got up there this time?” you ask as you walk past him, being mindful to raise your voice enough for his hearing aid. 

“Count your boxes again and take a guess,” he remarks satirically and slowly, although smiling enough that the wrinkles on his face almost cover his eyes. It reminds you of one of those dog breeds you can never remember the name of. “I’m surprised the floor hasn’t fallen through from the sheer mass of them.”

You snicker and raise the pizzas in your grasp. “Let’s hope these aren’t the last drop to the dam then, yeah?”

Fond of the joy you bring to his monotonous job, he quietly laughs with you before you have to disappear off into the elevator. When you reach the desired floor, you trudge along to the apartment in question, having it committed to muscle memory. You knock on the door, albeit trickily with the boxes, and it swings open to reveal a group of college students, laughter spilling out into the hallway. As they hand you the cash, you can’t help but feel a part of their joy, if only for a moment. It’s a fleeting connection, but it’s enough to remind you that while you may be a masked vigilante, you’re also just a young adult trying to make a living. This tightness in your chest threatens to throw you off your rhythm but you shake it off. The night is still young and you can already feel the pulls of the shadows calling you back into your other life, but for now, you embrace the slice of normalcy, knowing that soon enough Velvet Weaver will return to the rooftops, ready to face whatever challenges await her.

With a few deliveries under your belt, you make your way back from the next one, the city lights begin to twinkle around you. It’s looking to be a good shift, steadying into a quieter night with bigger gaps between each order. Just as you arrive back at the pizzeria, Pete’s gotten off the phone, slumping into his next batch of dough. Uh oh. You recognise that look all too well and it takes all your might to not cackle at the poor man.

“And who might that have been?” You know the answer but it’s always fun to question in your sing-song sort of way.

“As if you need to ask,” he grumbles, rolling out the base and saucing it. “It’s that little admirer of yours.”

The smile stretching out your cheeks only makes him groan louder and he hides himself in his task. This particular admirer he speaks of has been a faithful customer since before you started working here; one of Kevin’s regular drop-offs that somehow turned into yours. Shift patterns change around from time to time. What are you to do?

Dramatically, you fall into the nearest wall, draping an arm over your eyes with an exaggerated sigh, “Oh, Pete, my oh-most favourite boss in the world, do we not have your blessing?”

He raises a floured brow and points at you with the ladle, flicking drops of sauce on the counter. “You’ll get my blessing when this guy stops askin’ you to meet him in weird locations, not to even mention the fact that you ain’t once seen his face. I don’t like it.”

Well, he’s got you there, no point denying that. Despite the laughter you’ve shared with this one customer, not once have you seen what he looks like and he always orders his pizzas to be brought to run-down buildings. You’re also almost certain that he’s using a pseudonym, too. Who in the 21st century is called ‘Michelangelo’?

You would be worried about having some weirdo stalker on your radar if you didn’t think you could handle yourself. You know you can. No question about it. And even after everything, even if there are still doubts in the back of your mind, your “danger sense” as you call it - the title is a work in progress - has never once gone off around him. It only ever rings in your nerves when someone intends to inflict you harm. With all that said, he’s really just a sweet guy: playful flirt, very complimentative, a good spirit, plus he’s one of very few who gets your humour. One may or may not say that you’re developing a little crush on him but that’s strictly confidential, much like most of everything else in your haphazardly organised life.

“I’ll be careful, Pete. You know me,” you say, attempting to sound more confident for his sake.

Pete knows that you’ll do what you can to keep safe. That isn’t the problem. It’s everyone else in this damn city he doesn’t trust. He grumbles again and reminds you about speed dial for the hundredth time before you can disappear again with the order and scoot off. You know he worries and that this all comes from a place of care. You almost wish you could tell him about your abilities just to calm his nerves but chances are he’d only become more concerned seeing as you put yourself in harm's way every day. All the more reason to live a life of secrecy, not only to protect yourself but those around you, too.

The location looms ahead, its cracked walls and broken pillars giving it an eerie charm, but you brush off any lingering doubts, reminding yourself that you’ve faced far scarier things in your life than a creepy building. Besides, your instincts have never let you down before. You park your scooter just outside of the half-reconstructed car park, finding the irony in not using it, and carry the boxes the rest of the way. This must have been one of the structures that got damaged during the alien fiasco. Weird. This guy has chosen a few of those for these drop-offs, now that you think about it. A harmless coincidence, or does it mean something?

“It’s pizza time.”

Your voice echoes around the piles of work sand and concrete as you step further into the mouth of the ground floor. It’s a strange phrase and you’re not entirely sure how it started but it’s become the calling card to announce your arrival. One of the support beams has a small hunk of money beside it, so you walk over there and place the boxes down on a slab of concrete just to the right.

“My pizza hero!” you hear him bellow with excitement, making you smile. 

“Ah, well, you know me,” you say casually, “just saving the city one slice at a time.”

You hear him laugh as you crouch down to collect the odd assortment of change. It’s part of the routine: he remains hidden and you pick at the chump change he’s left out for you but you don’t mind. A paying customer is a paying customer. You’ll be more shocked the day he chooses or manages to use something larger than a 5 dollar note.

You haven’t even had a chance to count it before you hear him speak again, “Sorry, babycakes, I’m a dollar short this time round.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure I can make an exception for my favourite customer,” you muse, leaning back against the pillar. 

“You’re the best!” He shifts around behind you, and it takes a lot not to peak around and see him. “You sure I can’t make it up to you, though?”

“Can I see you?” you suddenly ask, not having a chance to think before the words blurt out of your mouth. Knowing that he’s just on the other side of this concrete beam is pulling at your curiosity more than usual. It takes a hot second until you realise and you breathe out a casual attempt at laughing it off. “I promise I’m not the superficial type.”

Despite how rude you feel, he’s quick to respond in his usual jovialness, “Aw, what? I was told this would be a blind date.”

“I’m not entirely sure that’s what they meant when they called it that.” You shake your head but you’re not offended by his attempts to hide the true nature of his secrecy. That would make you a massive hypocrite. “But, hey, who am I to get into other peoples’ business? I’m sure you got your reasons.”

“Thanks for understanding. I’ll have that extra dollar next time.” 

“You better,” you joke, pushing yourself off from the tall, grey column. “Have a good night, Mikey.”

He wishes you the same and you leave a little slower than usual. Every time you walk away, you’re reminded of that Greek story about Orpheus and how he couldn’t look back at his wife until he left the underworld. It makes you wonder if, like that story, you would risk losing a faithful customer - someone you consider a friend at this point - by merely chancing a glance at him. You’d hate to tarnish these interactions over being nosy, so you prod along and scoot off, preparing for the rest of the night ahead of you.

Bright, blue eyes watch you whizz off and make a quick grab for the boxes before having to disappear, too. With each interaction you share, Mikey becomes more guilt-ridden. Personally, he sees no problem with revealing himself to you. It isn’t as though he and his brothers haven’t got human allies at all. Okay, so you may have a shock to the system but everyone gets over that eventually. Much like with everything else, however, his brothers’ words are final. “Keep anything about your identity to a minimum,” they’ll say, “and don’t eat all of the pizza!”. Right. If they didn’t want him to eat it, they should collect it themselves rather than leaving the leg work to him. At least, that’s what he would have said - all changed when you blessed him with being his favourite pizza delivery girl. A very pretty one at that. Even where his brothers warn him to be careful, he can’t stop himself from stealing the odd glance when you don’t notice.

You’ve only ever and continue to be friendly with him. He always tries in his best efforts to make you laugh during the short encounters because he reckons you just have the sweetest laugh he’s ever heard. The guy falls more and more in love with you every time you talk. That’s why it kills him a little more each time when he can’t just walk out in front of you and say, “Hey, it’s me,” with a big grin and open arms. Even as he jets back home on his board, twirling through various sewers, he tries to think of ways that this can happen.

Namely, he thinks about how the humans he and his brothers befriended became their friends in the first place. They met April after she was caught up in that subway station - an indirect save but a save nonetheless. Vern, granted, was via her and Raph trying to save his brothers from turning into green mulch. And then Casey after he helped April with those Foot soldiers. All instances that have something to do with danger and being saved. Are they only allowed to meet people under those circumstances? He doesn’t want to wish danger upon you. Not ever. It’s just one of those times where he kinda, sort of, maybe wouldn’t mind if it meant finally being able to reveal himself to you. He could totally rescue you and finally ask you out on a date! No more eye-sore buildings or abandoned warehouses.

The mutant slumps back into the couch when he arrives home and exhales lethargically. Living in the dream world there, Mikey. For now, he’ll just have to make the most of those few minutes he gets during each delivery. This pizza, however, will not be savoured the same way. He flicks the TV on and dives into the beautiful disc of flavour, barely catching the string of cheese off his lip when the news broadcasts its latest interesting scoop.

“... back on our ‘Velvet’ hour, New York’s very own costumed crusader has done it again, this time preventing a public bus from falling off the Brooklyn Bridge after a massive crash.”

Mikey leans forward in his seat as the screen cuts to a scrappily recorded viewing of the very events from earlier today. Sure enough, The Velvet Weaver is swinging around the side of the bridge, performing impressive acrobatic abilities, and shooting a sticky substance from her wrists to create a large blanket of webbing, preventing the bus from toppling over into the water. Heroics is one thing but he loves how this chick does it in style, truly taking claim to friendly badass in his opinion.

“And to think, her efforts are still unrecognised,” the reporter continues when they show her again and the camera pans out to reveal their guest, the head of the New York Police Department. “Chief Vincent, despite what you’ve said in previous press conferences about the dangers of this figure, The Velvet Weaver continues to prove that she is a guardian of the people.”

“With powers that can’t be mitigated whilst she roams around doing as she pleases. Police officers go through years of education and training before they are entrusted with people’s lives, yet this girl thinks she can handle that responsibility because what? She’s strong? She can climb on walls? One of these days, she’s going to mess up. What then? We can’t guarantee that she won’t go into hysterics, or even what will become of our people when that happens. We could have a super-powered breakdown on our hands. Either she can come quietly and reveal herself under peaceful pretence, or we will have to bring her in by force. For the sake of civilian safety and resources, we’d like to avoid the latter.” She then turns to face the camera, addressing it directly. “I believe I am being more than generous with these terms. The choice is yours.”

Chortling mockingly, Mikey blows raspberries at the TV and kicks back into comfort with his next bite. “Kinda hypocritical.”

“There’s nothing hypocritical about it,” Leo says as he comes for his box of pizza. “She doesn’t have just cause to be responsible for innocent lives.”

“Someone sounds jealous.” Their red-clad brother joins in, sharing a glance with his youngest as he takes part at the expense of their leader. He’s not particularly keen on this self-proclaimed protector of the city either but poking fun at Leonardo is much more fun.

“Jealousy has nothing to do with it, Raph. She’s a kid playing dress-up, not thinking about the repercussions of her actions.”

“And here I thought we were the only ones.” Donatello is the last to come for his food, leaning back in his chair with a slice. “That hypocrisy you were talking about, Mikey?”

“Yeah! What makes us so different?”

Leo’s head bloats up with the oncoming headache and he pinches the space between his eyes. Why do his brothers have to be so argumentative when it comes to these things? They know as much as he does why this is a problem. At least, he knows that Raph and Donnie do. He shouldn’t always have to be the one to spell it out.

“We are a team. We’re trained, we make plans. We don’t just rush in without thinking. She’s got no backup, no structure. It’s dangerous.” His fingers jut out with every reason he has to give, and he knows he could give plenty more. “She’s just out there acting on impulse, and that’s reckless.”

“You’re just mad because she doesn’t follow the rules.”

“Rules are there for a reason, Mikey.”

“Well, I think she’s cool,” he continues to defend, even when the other two don’t. He knows any word on his side was just at their leader’s expense, and when his brothers leave the debate completely, he mumbles to himself, “It’s nice to know we’re not the only crime fighters out there, ya know?”

Sure, there’s the police to consider but they’re more hardstrung on the do’s and don’ts than Leo is. What a shock, right? The only exception to the rule is how the chief has allowed them to continue protecting the city as they have done for the last few years. Maybe the same could be true for this new hero on the block if they can just talk it over. He has hope for that possibility. After all, there are a lot of questions he’d like to ask her. She must have a cool origin story or something.

Mikey is halfway into his pizza when his brainiac brother’s computer starts blaring. Guess that’s enough of lazing around. They’ve got some action for the night! Although, talk about bad timing. He hasn’t even had a chance to finish off his food yet. No time like the present, ay?

___

Honestly, I could have kept it as one part like I originally planned but it's become a longer story than I first intended, hence, I gotta break it up a bit

I'm going bed now

[reysdriver]

Bondage | P.P.

Day 2 of Kinktober: Bondage — peter x fem!reader smut

warnings: 18+, Minors DNI - smut, inappropriate use of Spider-Man webs, fingering, oral (female receiving), mentions of hair pulling

words: 0.6k

“Is that too tight?” Peter asked you from across the room, from where he had just webbed your hands to the top of your bed frame. 

“No.” You responded honestly. “It’s perfect.”

He started making his way over to the bed, then paused once he sat next to you. “So you’re sure?”

You sighed. “Of course.”

“And you remember what to do if you want me to stop?”

“Yes, Peter.” You sounded exasperated, because you were. Peter’s always been too nice for his own good, it was why he became Spider-Man. But now, his big heart was getting in the way of your sexual experimentation and it was tiring. 

“Okay, I’m sorry, I just worry a lot. I love you.” 

“I know you do, that’s why I want to do this with you.”

You both smiled at each other, and he dove in to kiss you. He did it slowly and sweetly, which you knew was because he didn’t want to be too rough with you. That would change with enough convincing, but you just kissed him back the same for now. 

As you two kept making out, Peter’s hands moved farther and farther down your sundress. Even though you had been planning this for a few nights, you were just in normal clothes because despite Peter being a genius at most things, you didn’t quite trust him to figure out lingerie with your hands tied up. 

As his fingers reached the hem of your dress, he hooked his fingers around the sides of your underwear. Then, he pulled his lips off of yours and looked up at you. 

“Still ready?” He asked. 

You nodded. “I mean, I don’t know how I’ll fare without being able to pull on your hair, but…”

“Well, you could replace the hair pulling with something else. Maybe you could be as loud as you want now that I don’t live with Aunt May anymore.”

You smirked as he pulled your panties off of you. “I think I will try that.”

He slowly slid his middle finger over your slit. “You’re already wet.” He commented.

“For you? Always.”

He smiled, then leaned down again to press a little kiss to your clit. It started out short and sweet, then he kept going, heated and sloppy. You let out a moan, which encouraged him to keep going. His mouth movements kept getting more intense, and your breaths got heavier. 

With enough reaction from you, Peter made the moment ever spicier by fitting a slender finger inside of you. 

You made another sound, the lewdness of which rivalled only by the sound Peter’s finger made when pumping his finger inside of you. He added another, and it just felt even better. 

“You’re still doing okay, babe?” He asked to confirm. 

“So good, Pete.” You replied breathily. “I’m almost there.” 

He smiled, then brought his mouth back to your heat to guide you to your climax. He kept going in the way he knew was your favourite, and even though you couldn’t tug on his brown hair like you usually did, you motivated him by moaning as loudly as you could without your neighbours hearing. 

And there it was, you felt yourself release around his fingers. You let out a string of whimpers as Peter kept softly kissing your core. 

“Did you like that?” He asked quietly, moving his face out from between your legs. 

“Yeah. Did you?”

“I still like when you pull on my hair when we do that.”

[lulublack90]

Prompt 27 - Soulmate AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 27, word count 353

“You two are so mushy it’s making me sick,” Peter said to Remus and Sirius as they whispered to each other on the sofa. 

“Ah, you’re just jealous, Pete. Wish you had yourself a bloke as sweet and fit as my Remus.” Sirius barked out a laugh, dragged Remus onto his lap and rubbed the tips of their noses together. 

“If you’re going to do that, then I’m going to find James.”  Peter gathered his books and walked out of their flat, slamming the door behind him. 

“Did you have to goad him, Sirius?” Remus sighed, snuggling into his boyfriend’s chest. 

“We weren’t even doing anything,” Sirius scoffed. “It’s not like I was undressing you in full view of him.”

“Sirius, you were professing your undying love for me in front of Peter, who is yet to find his soulmate.” Remus tried to explain. 

“Aww, you think I’m your soulmate.” Sirius batted his long eyelashes at Remus and leaned in to steal a kiss. “And what pray tell makes you think that?” He asked, genuinely wanting to know. 

Remus thought about it for a moment, then answered.

“You bring me food.”

“So that’s the big main criteria for the person who completes you, food?” Sirius had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing. 

“Food I like.” Remus protested. “And, you always make sure my phone is charged when I forget and look after me when I’m ill. You buy me books and chocolate and—”

“Remus, you’re just describing your mum.” Sirius snickered at him this time. “Come on, what else? What makes me your soulmate over being your mother?” 

“You light up my whole world, Sirius. You make me feel safe and happy. That’s how I know we’re soulmates. That and you always give me the last Rolo.” Remus blushed. 

“Ah, there it is, the real reason you keep me around, damn Rolo’s.” Sirius held Remus close and thought about that ring that was burning a hole in the back of his wardrobe as he came up with the perfect way to propose and, yes, it did involve a last Rolo. 

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 11: Fistful of Tacks

Bearblr Promptober Day 11: Corn Maze

Summary: Carmen's girlfriend (who he refers to as Darling) joins the kitchen crew on a trip to a corn maze and pumpkin patch that Nat organized, and Carmen is struggle bussing. (Feat. Sydney, Marcus, mentions of Tina, Richie, Eva, Nat, Pete, Nat's daughter)

Warnings: Anxiety, self-worth issues, mentions of disordered eating, mentions of nausea, mentions of panic attacks, swearing, fem reader who is a trauma surgeon (nothing gross described), she/her pronouns, mentions of The Devil (Chef David)

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list.

11 Oct 2024

Why the fuck do people like corn mazes?

No, thank you, I don’t feel like getting lost in fucking corn with a bunch of random people for hours; I could be doing so much more with my time. It’s corn. It invades everything in the Midwest already, for what purpose would you want to intentionally seek out more of that invasion? Getting some freshly-harvested corn for grilled corn, corn chowder, creamy corn sauce with gnocchi, I’m pretty sure Marcus could make a killer sweet cornbread crumble-type thing—sure, I’ll haul my ass to the nearest fucking cornfield—

“Is that a no on the corn maze then…?”

“It’s a fuck no on the corn maze, Syd.”

—But no, I’m not doing a damned corn maze.

Syd recoiled. “Oh. Alright, okay, Jesus. Sorry for bothering you.”

Darling hugged my arm tighter and pouted. “Aw, but I did them with my grandma all the time when I was little. They were so fun.”

I covered my eyes and dug my thumb and fingers into my temples to stave off the dull ache forming in my frontal lobe. “I don’t feel like getting lost in corn.”

Syd. “You just follow the left wall, though.”

Marcus joined us at our table. “You do what now?”

“That’s how you solve mazes, you follow the left wall.”

“Huh.” His voice drew closer to my ear. “You okay, Chef?”

I nodded. Still had my palm over my face. It wasn’t the loudest it could’ve been—again, we beat a lot of families with kids, who tended to show up after 2 pm, according to the people who ran the pumpkin patch and corn maze, and Chicago decided that particular Sunday would be the respite day of hell-with-some-respite season, so it wasn’t murderously hot or humid out. Richie and Tiff were off co-parenting Eva in the pumpkin patch, so that meant I didn’t have to listen to his bullshit—though, admittedly, he was much less bullshit since his stint at Ever, even if we hit that snag after Friends and Family where I thought about launching knives at him every time he happened to be within striking distance.

Boy, am I glad I’m too much of a coward to actually act like the animal I sound like sometimes.

Nat organized something of a family and friends’ get-together to celebrate half a year of being open as a restaurant—and maybe to force us all to take a bit of a break now that we weren’t looking at a bad week potentially shuttering us. I brought it up to Darling not expecting her to jump at the prospect of meeting the whole group—should’ve known, she’s a social butterfly, and, if I was being honest, it was the primary reason I asked. So, she could help buffer in a social setting. These were people I worked with, would take a bullet for, but outside the restaurant, I had barely any social footing. And I wanted to. Have social footing, that is. Darling liked being around people, and while she never complained about me wanting our time together to be our time together, something nagged at me to at least be able to tolerate socializing.

We met up and poked around the market they had nearby for some small decorations we could put in the restaurant that fit the season. Little things that locals made by hand—a macrame wall-hanging, little ceramic pumpkins with paper florals arranged in them, some planters. The planters were Syd’s idea. Bring a bit of greenery to the four-tops. Tina was fawning over Sug and Pete’s baby while they took pictures of her first fall. Or. Something. I don’t know, I had too much on my mind and my head was killing me before we even made it to the pumpkin patch and corn maze. Darling suggested we stop for a bite to eat, sit at the covered tables to get out of the sun for a bit.

She’s smart like that.

We weren’t doing the best with our margins. I forwent being paid to make sure Syd made enough to keep her apartment, and even she was making sacrifices in her pay to make sure front-of-house didn’t get shafted. About 2 weeks ago, my apartment's stove goes, then two of the radiators do, and the landlord—an aside here: fuck landlords. I hope hell exists so landlords can burn in them with me.—anyway, the landlord is being a shit about it, so I’ve been crashing at Darling’s place. But then her range and oven also go to the shitter, like, 3 days later?

Like I said: fuck landlords.

Which means I’m on week two of having to rely on overnight oats and fucking granola bars, family, and takeout or unviable food from service that’s still at least calories, and because we’re getting this shit dialed, that usually means scraps. If any. And you’d think a motherfucker like me who got his shit kicked in when working in New York would be able to tolerate eating literally anything, but that’s the thing—I already did this shit, and it’s already fucked me up. I can’t even get it down anymore without my arms and legs exploding in goosebumps. Without seeing, hearing, feeling, smelling Empire and The Devil all over again. Half the time, I just go hungry and ignore the pangs in my stomach until I get caught up enough in work that I forget about eating, and then whoops, 14 hours have gone by and I haven’t eaten a thing and bile surges at the base of my throat and my eyes water, I can’t breathe. And I get to Darling’s place with what used to be a local favorite, and four bites in, I’m so sure I’m going to throw up because it just tastes like stomach acid and my guts are twisting into knots from anxiety anyway.

Something slid across the table in front of me, and two breaths later, the scent of grilled meat, pepper, vinegar, onions, and mustard filled my nose. My jaw stung as my mouth watered. Darling untangled an arm from around mine and rubbed across my shoulder blades.

“How about we try to eat something, hm?” she cooed.

I picked the pickles off the Chicago dog before inhaling a third of it in one bite. Goosebumps exploded under my jacket.

“Wow, how’d you do that?” Syd asked.

“How’d I do what?”

“Get him to do, uh, anything?”

“Fuck off, Syd,” I said through a mouthful of food.

She snorted into her apple cider.

“Sweetheart,” Darling warned, punctuating it by raking her fingers through my hair to get it off my forehead.

“She did not just call you ‘sweetheart.’” Syd again. I could hear her smiling.

My face flooded with warmth.

God fucking dammit.

Thankfully, Marcus spoke up. “Come on, let ‘em have it or we’re gonna torment you when you find yourself someone nice.”

“Like hell you are!”

“Oh, I’ll remember! Karma, baby!”

Syd let out a huff of a laugh. I wish I would’ve seen her face to get a better sense of how she felt about the idea of letting someone into her life. It’s strange, really, how similar yet different we were, like two clippings taken from the same tree, planted in different pots, placed in different homes. There’s this deep, unidentifiable thread of connection that I feel with her—and she feels with me, I’m sure of it because how else could she call my bullshit for what it was while still preserving the feeling of safety that eluded me everywhere else but a locked room or, sparingly, though getting more frequent, in Darling’s arms? Sort of like a family member you haven’t seen in an eternity but you know would have your back in an instant if you got into trouble. If I’d found out we were twins separated at birth, I wouldn’t question it for a second. And I doubt I’d want to protect her any differently.

She’s got that fire in her eyes that I used to see in my own when I stared into my reflection back in Copenhagen. Feels like an entire lifetime ago (Darling told me that trauma can make time feel like it’s not real, and I’m only finding more and more reason to never doubt the woman) but, back then, I did want something out of cooking that went beyond flipping Mikey the bird. It wasn’t that I wanted the best chef title or even a bullshit star, I wanted to prove something to myself. I wanted to throw a fistful of tacks back at that persistent, shitty voice in my head that kept telling me that I’d never do much, never make a thing of myself. I never did well in school, I didn’t get into college, I didn’t have any friends, I wasn't funny, I couldn’t help my mom, I couldn’t stop Sugar from going mad, I couldn’t keep up with Mikey, I couldn’t ask Claire out, I never made it past districts in wrestling—I was good for fuck all, and that stupid fucking phonograph reminding me of all the shit I couldn’t or didn’t do wouldn’t shut. The fuck. Up.

Syd’s got that fire in her eyes. Syd’s got that passion that I wanted, that I found for a brief stint before The Devil sunk his claws into me. And yeah, I could do fuck all to protect Mikey from his own demons or Sugar from mom’s, but I will glass this planet before I let it stamp out her flames. And doing it like I did? By cutting out people and burying myself neck-deep in the craft of food? Would I stand by and let her do that to herself, too?

Darling erupting into a giggle fit brought me back to the pumpkin patch.

“It looks like it’s got a big ol’ pot belly—look at it!” Syd pointed at a pumpkin with a large lump in it and did an exaggerated walk with her arms up and her cheeks puffed out. Eva giggled at her antics. Darling and I were a bit away from the others as they discussed... something about the pumpkins, I couldn’t even begin to figure out what. I glanced around, tried to get a sense of where and when I was.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Darling murmured, circling around in front of me and taking my face in her hands. “There you are. Where’d you go?”

Her hands were cool, familiar, grounding. I didn’t feel like I was boiling in my skin, which had to be a good sign, right?

“How-how long, uh...?”

She shrugged as Cousin, Eva, Tiff, Syd, and Marcus laughed again. “15 minutes, maybe.”

“Why-why didn’t you snap me out of it?”

“Well, you did eat your food. I figured it probably was a good idea not to interrupt that. And you weren’t warm. Or shaky. Or upset.” She finger-combed my hair back again. “I figured it wouldn’t be the worst thing to let you process for a bit... We gotta do something about your hair, baby.”

“Yeah, I need to get it cut.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think you need to—unless it’s bothering you. But you should put something in it.” Some strands got caught on her fingers, and I flinched at the sting. “Ope, sorry. It’s starting to get crispy on the ends.”

I eyeballed the sign pointing to the entrance of the corn maze while she picked through more knots in my hair.

She kissed my cheek. “What’cha thinking, handsome?”

“How long do you think the corn maze would take us?”

“Um. Hm.” She wrapped her arms around my waist and tucked her head under my chin. I forgot about the friends and family present and hugged her back. Kissed the top of her head. “Maybe an hour. Why?”

“I’d like to try it.” It came out like a question.

My phone dinged.

She pulled back and beamed at me. “Yeah? You sure?”

Her excitement wrenched a smile from me, too. How could I not? She was adorable.

“Yeah. Just need some quiet time.”

She took off for the maze, and I followed. Glanced at my phone to make sure it wasn’t something important.

2 messages from Sugar.

A photo of the two of us hugging, followed by a message saying, “You two are so cute. I'm proud of you, Bear.”

I stopped, glanced back at her. She was holding her daughter, giant smile on her face, in the middle of pocketing her phone. She tipped her head in the direction of the maze and mouthed “Go.”

I saved the photo to my favorites album and headed to the corn maze.

[elektramustdie]

quick drabble ive been gone forever

no, no— don’t stop, don’t stop, please pete ,” gasping wetly and sobbing into his shoulder as he’s trying to pull out, doesn’t wanna hurt you, “please. it’s gotta fit, need you to fit in me, please don’t stop—“ 

“you’re killing me.” pete’s  voice is strained, sounds just as desperate as you do, grips the base of his dick as he tries yet again to pull out only to have the vice grip of your thighs around his waist pulling him back in, “baby, fuck. don’t wanna hurt you and here you go… almost like you’re wantin’ it to hurt.” 

you mouth hot against his skin, tongue grazing over flushed, burning hot flesh, “you feel me opening for you, right?” you mumble, desperate and almost pathetic, “brand me with it. let me feel you for days. don’t care if it hurts, want you to hurt me.”

pete grunts low, sound akin to a growl as he bullies himself in an extra inch, almost like he can’t physically stop himself, and you’re shaking like a leaf under him. clinging onto him with sharp nails, hips swivelling to adjust to the intrusion, a sob ripping from your chest. 

the hand wrapped around the base of his length brushes over your puffy opening as they meet, and pete shudders visibly as the backs of his fingers come into contact with the sopping wet heat of your pussy. 

“you’re so desperate, god,” pete’s  voice is barely above a murmur, free hand loosely wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you out of your hiding spot in his shoulder. 

the eye contact, fingers buried deep in your hair is almost enough to have you tapping out. he stares at you with an intensity that almost makes you feel sick, body flushed hot with a new level of primal desire. you keen into him, neck arching as he pulls lightly at your hair.

“baby. you look so pretty. begging for me to wreck you like this.” he speaks like he’s in awe, hazel flecked eyes swirling with lust and want. he pushes in a bit further, relishes at the sickly sweet moan that he punches out of you, “louder, baby. want to hear every noise you make when i take you apart.” 

[footnotesaregreat]

ofmd headcannons bc i physically can’t stop thinking about these bitches

izzy sings at lucius and pete’s ceremony probably fly me to the moon or killing me softly (written by laszlo cravensworth & later plagiarized)

at the party that follows they all gather up singing shanties, ed & izzy whispering the lyrics to stede, who is still getting the hang of pirate music

stede & ed are supporting izzy’s back, that is still healing, despite his protests

they are also holding hands (ed-stede, stede-izzy)

jim, archie, olu & zheng are sitting suspiciously close

auntie & jackie instantly become besties

wee john, frenchie, roach & the swede are playing some intricate card game but wee john keeps losing deliberately to go back to his knitting

he’s making sweaters for all of them because Winter Is Coming & none of them have warm clothes

when a seagull lands on deck & refuses to stop pinching ed everyone knows who it is

he stays with them for about a week at a time & always comes back

they made a little nest in the sleeping quarters for him right next to roach & the swede

ed has permanently moved into stede’s room & they’ve made a new bed to fit three people for the nights iz wants some company

they also have room with the rest of the crew for the nights when they prefer to sleep alone.

 ed & fang go fishing almost everyday & after a couple weeks they don’t need to speak & just sit in comfortable silence

stede keeps training with iz, taking turns fighting zheng & jim

when ed returns one day with fang & sees stede beating all three of them he wants to fight him more than ever. their duel goes on for a long time, the bets placed by the crew reaching extreme heights. in the end stede knocks him down & disarms him. everyone, especially pete, lose their fucking minds

at night stede still reads them stories, sometimes new from recent books he’s gotten, but usually the now familiar fairy tales calm them down the most

sometimes stede, ed, iz, jim, archie, olu, zheng, lucius & pete go on date nights where they try different food, listen to music, sharing sweets

frenchie, wee john, fang & roach can often be seen sticking together, not really seeking any romantic or sexual relationship, but simply wanting companionship

when izzy’s unicorn hoof finally gives out he is absolutely heartbroken so of course the entire crew go out to find him the most durable materials to make him another one

they give it to him the next day & it’s decorated by stede, lucius & surprisingly zheng

wee john has also knitted him a leg warmer for whenever he needs a break from the prosthetic

iz obviously loses his shit when he sees it & totally doesn’t call them twats

then they all proceed to fall on top of him to engulf him in an annoyingly wet hug, ed & stede sneaking two kisses on his cheeks

they often have themed parties to make use of stede’s unending secret wardrobe

wee john, iz & jim rule these parties being the best drag queens & king

after a couple years they dock on a small, peaceful town. everyone immediately loves it there & that’s when stede & ed decide to retire

they use ed’s treasure to buy a large building & the whole crew work together to turn it into an inn

 they officially open ‘The Gentle Unicorn Inn’ (ed chose the name)

they also have a little tavern right next to it called ‘Jeff’s’ (they have a lot of fun whenever someone asks ‘who’s jeff?’)

ann & mary regularly pop by & drop off some antiques ann’s looted, for stede to either keep or even sell

every couple of months or so the crew visit for a few days & all of them have designated rooms in the inn

sometimes ed & stede close for a week or so to go on a little trip on the ‘revenge’ with the crew

izzy will go & stay with them more often than the rest of them & even though he doesn’t have his own room he has no problem staying at stede & ed’s

he always sleeps in the middle of their bed

[opertabry]

wrong number smau ➝ loser (half written)

synopsis ➝ peer pressured by your group members, you ask a fellow idol for her number. but when you texted her that night, you realised that she wasn’t the person you were texting. what you didn’t know was that she gave karina’s, aepsa’s hotshot visual and leader, number to you.

chapter 18 ➝ loser

you were flustered.

not because of anything said - but because karina threw on some “random top and jeans” and looked that good? that was not possible. you eyed karina from where you were, (totally NOT checking her out) while getting your makeup retouched, she was truly a sight for sore eyes.

“alright girls, let’s shoot this introduction and we can go home!“

you and karina both rushed to get in frame, watching as the cameraman adjusted the position to fit both of you.

“and.. ACTION!”

“hi everyone, i’m karina from aespa!”

“and i’m y/n from le sserafim!”

you were both standing next to each other, not close enough to bump shoulders but close enough that you could smell her shampoo. or maybe her shampoo just had a really strong scent? but now that you thought about it, it wasn’t a bad smell; it was pleasant, and delicate. she had a sweet - maybe fruity? - scent, it was comforting in a weird way. a raspy voice interrupted your train of thoughts about how good karina smelled (how did you even get there?);

“so y/n, do you want to explain to everyone what 「 Slice of Life 」 will look like?” karina looked at you with her head tilted and an eyebrow raised.

“huh? um, yes! so 「 Slice of Life 」 will be about us showing you guys our daily lives as idols, and challenging ourselves to go out of our comfort zones to do some things we wouldn’t usually do. and of course having fun and playing games too.” you put on your best fake smile, and played with your fingers as you tried to rid yourself of your nerves. you were an idol for pete’s sake, why were you even nervous? your eyes widen as you felt your hand accidentally brush hers. maybe karina didn’t notice, and even if she did she made no move to acknowledge it.

“and can you tell us when every episode will be out?” you knew she was just following a script, but god, how does she still make it sound so annoyingly good?

“every monday starting in two weeks from now, so please look forward to that!”

“MYs, remember when i said i would be your monday fairy? i haven’t really kept my word, so this is me making up for it. and to our MYs and FEARNOTs, if you have any questions, comment them and we will answer!” you really shouldn’t have stared, but when karina smiled and her eyes turn into crescents, you couldn’t help yourself. karina may have been annoying - but this was one thing you couldn’t deny - she was incredibly beautiful. you felt the blush that was there during your photoshoots earlier coming back, dipping your head as you tried to hide it.

“and.. CUT! that’s a wrap, good job everyone and i’ll see you next week.” the directors voice blared through the whole studio, earning sighs of relief from the everyone. you thanked the staff and shot karina a smile (closer to a wince) before letting your manager lead you towards the door.

“wait y/n!”

you turned around, forcing yourself to look into her eyes rather than her lips, because why were they so plump today?

“hm?”

“what’s the song for today?” there wasn’t a teasing tone to it like you expected, almost like she was genuinely asking. but karina wouldn’t do that, right?

“i’ll send it later.”

and the lopsided grin that appeared on her face should not have had that much of an effect on you.

previous ⌊ masterlist ⌊ next

taglist ➝ @aeongiies @rd0265667 @kyaitosz @haerinkisser @mightymyo @limbforalimb @yoontoonwhs @i06kkura @sewiouslyz @jisooftme @justme-idle @noooodlessstuff @yerisdumbass @awkwardtoafault @pandafuriosa60 @jiwoneiric @haechansbbg @koeuh

[pilot-boi]

What are everyone’s favourite cereals in RRAYENNBOW? And you can include Qrow and mercury if you want to

And I SHALL include them

Ruby: Special K. She doesn’t actually have that much of a sweet tooth, and she’s gotta stay fit. Plus it has strawberries and turns the milk pink

Weiss: Doesn’t really eat cereal (coffee or death) but if she has to choose, probably Chex. She just thinks they’re neat

Blake: Gonna go with Honey Bunches of Oats. First of all, bees. Second of all, they remind her of the good times on the road with granola bars and what not

Yang: Kix. I know she’s the punch girl, but come on. Tell me she wouldn’t love Kix. Wish I had more to say about this one, but I just feel it in my bones

Jaune: Used to be Pumpkin Pete’s, but then ya know. Also he never really liked it that much, he just wanted the hoodie really badly. So i don’t know why but i really see him liking Cinnamon Toast Crunch

Pyrrha: Life (jkjk) Health nut that she is, it’s not one of the super sugary ones. But it’s also not like… bran flakes. Unironically think she’d really love Honey Nut Cheerios

Nora: Fucking Sugar Blast Supremes or something, let’s be real. She hoards the cereals from Halloween time, Count Chocula, and Boo Berry, and Frankenberry. Just the most synthetic shit you’ve ever seen

Ren: Raisin Bran. Because he’s a monster. He actually really likes it, but he hates the texture of the raisins in the milk, so he painstakingly removes every raisin, eats all the cereal, and then eats all the raisins

Oscar: He didn’t get a lot of cereal brands out on the farm, lots of morning oatmeal and eggs and whatnot. But once he made it to the big city, he absolutely fell in love with Froot Loops. And yes, he gets teased relentlessly for liking the most kiddy cereal ever

Emerald: Think she’d really like Apple Cinnamon Cheerios. Or just normal Cheerios. In milk, or just plain, she loves those things. They were cheap to buy (or steal) so they were one of the few cereals she actually had

Mercury: Reese’s Puffs. With his dad, it was only healthy food, or nothing at all. But he’d see the commercials on TV. So after killing Marcus, I kid you not, Mercury ate nothing but Reese’s Puffs for like a week. And then he was sick. But it was worth it. And yes, he knows the entire rap

Qrow: Again, like Weiss, coffee or death. But I feel like he’d also like Honey Nut Cheerios. I really don’t know why, they’re so un-Qrow. But maybe that’s exactly why he’d like them

[multishipperofgaydeadwizards]

Thinking about James/Remus and seriously questioning why it's not a thing cause

1) the whole sun/moon lore I was talking about earlier

2) their shipname would be somn like "moonchaser" or "sunreader" or somn

3) it fits right into the running gag that James has a thing for people being mean to him

4) imagine all the possible angst mhmm mhmm Remus pining over James, finding out he likes his best friend, finding out she likes him back, losing him again and again ooooohhhhh just

5) but they're also perfect cause all Remus ever needs is to be loved and all James knows is to love someone else

6) ok but leave the angst, focus on the fluff. The possibilities omg friends to lovers just this time (minus all the usual angst that comes in wolfstar) and they're both just dumb oblivious idiots in love and it's so cute

7) thinking about all of this now I think what you said is right, people don't ship Remus with anyone other than Sirius but I think that's cause Sirius actually doesn't have many ships left then? Cause think about it like this: Sunreader, Bartylus, Marylily, Evan and Emmeline, Panda and Xeno, where does that leave Sirius? Sure Pete is there but...

8) ooooh ok going down this pipeline, for your consideration: Peter and Sirius. Omg it would make the "Sirius put in trial instead of Peter" thing sooooo much more ansgty ohhoo my brain is reeling rn

9) ok focusing back on moonchaser. They would make such a cute couple honestly. James would read all the books Remus reads and leaves lil doodles for him to find later. He would go to all the quidditch practices he can to support his bf. And he would right poetry and stuff about how hot James is.

10) ohhh They would share glasses omggg poor Remus grows up thinking everyone has shit vision then one day he wears James's as a joke and voila the world in HD

I'm so ngl, your influence on my brain has become on the best influences it has ever had cause omg all this potential all this angst and fluff I love this new me mhmm mhmm

hsirbdij omggggg I love this sm!!! thank you for sharing your brain with me.

sunreader sounds so gorgeous. I'm going insane. I love love LOVE the name!

1) yeah are literally the sun and the moon! they are perfect!

3) lmao. so true. I love the idea of remus being super sarcastic towards james and james swoons at every mean comment and tries very hard not to (he fails miserably)

4) urghhhhh not the unrequited feelings while having to be a supportive bestie trope (my beloved). I can imagine how mad it drives remus to watch them like each other, but being to scared to admit it. imagine the heartbreak when remus sees harry alias the combination of his parents

5) yesss. remus needs someone to love him even through all of his flaws, someone who isn't his parents and james who is literally the embodiment of love

6) "everyone can see it, but them" trope fr. it's them idfk

7) you make a fair point, but there are sooooooo many characters living in the marauders characters that no one ever uses. you could ship sirius with so many characters that no one ever talks abt (I'm currently working on a post with all the characters that I could find so that they're all in one place)

8) peter and sirius my loves <3 no one talks about them (me included whoops-). they have such a big angst potential that people just seem to be ignoring (once again bc most people refuse to leave the wolfstar bubble and just refuse to ship peter with anyone in general)

9) they would be the definition of tooth rotting fluff. they would make everyone sick with how sweet they are. couple goals fr

10) remus is me fr. the day I got my glasses was eye-opening lmao

glad to see that I have this kind of effect on people. I said it to you before but I'll say it again: welcome to the way more funnier side of being a multishipper hehehehe

also: I think I'm in love with you. marry pls, I'm begging 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 (/j... unless)

[petefromarma]

okay wrt that other ask asking abt bottom pete

i also find it interesting that despite a lot of people suddenly preferring bottom pete, there's still a lot of recent bottom patrick fics coming out.... but ig not everyone reads or writes fic so idk. actually thinking abt it, im not even sure why it's become so popular?? /gen

another iteration that comes to mind is petekey, like especially on tiktok 😭

and also i want to ask abt the tags bc what is your interpretation of patrick as a bottom then...

ok thats all thank u for letting me ramble and like i read your blog like the morning paper everyday 💜

aw anon you're so sweet thank you 🥺❤️ thank you for the ask and it means a lot that you like MY ramblings lol

so in terms of the preferred dynamics of the pairing changing, i think this shift probably happened sometime in the last five years; imo it was sort of a slow crawl and then the emergence of smfs sped things up because fob gained a lot of new fans and also attracted old fans who were still around but maybe not creating anything during the gap between mania and smfs, whether it was art or fic. primarily i think it has to do with the fandom's general perception of pete and patrick having changed since the 2013-2019 era

the fact that they've grown and changed as people over the last decade (and when speaking about fob in its entirety, the last two decades) has in part something to do with this; fandoms are inherently predisposed to tropes, imo, which can often lead to characters (this term i think is appropriate since we are talking about fiction written about real people and to a lesser degree the people as they actually exist themselves) being shoehorned into fitting the confines of a specific archetype based on surface level aspects of their personality or physical attributes. patrick and pete for a significant amount of the band's history were perceived as sort of a wallflower and bad boy combo; this wasn't entirely incorrect, and imo most fic authors wrote them with a degree of nuance rather than purely relying on archetype, but you could usually find some form of that interpretation of their characters in most fic or fandom discussion relating to their personalities and relationship with each other. because of this and the fact that it was common in the 2000s/2010s to work within a context of assigning arbitrary personality traits to sex positions, such as 'bottoms are shy/tops are outgoing' (and with bottom always referring to sub bottom and top always referring to dom top), this lead to total bottom patrick cultural victory etc (obviously i agree with the outcome here but i don't completely agree with the journey it took to get there lol)

in part patrick and pete both had a hand in this perception of themselves; patrick mostly during the 2010s and pete mostly during the 2000s. like i said i think these are both actual aspects of their personalities rather than what some people claim, especially in regards to patrick (that the sweater paws era was all an act), but the choice to exacerbate this image of themselves was definitely for PR purposes. imo they both still kind of do this but in different ways; the intent is the same but the form is different. i don't mean to be cynical and i do think they are happy and settled and that their expressions of self are mostly genuine but they are still celebrities and i think they're both relieved to be considered by a majority of fans, who are largely unwilling to talk about their (p2's) flaws, as 'soft' and non-threatening

ig the dark haired top/light haired bottom thing could have also played a part in the popularity of bottom patrick but i don't really think that's the case here because of. the inherent way that they are lol. i feel like some people would argue that the popularity of patrick as specifically a sub bottom during 2013-2019 can in part be attributed to his whiteness and the conflation of whiteness with femininity and bottoming as an inherently feminine and therefore submissive act, which i think probably has merit enough to be acknowledged in any discussion of an interracial ship especially irt to m/m and f/f, but i don't think it's particularly relevant to peterick because i do not buy that patrick has an especially domineering presence that is being subverted in order to incorrectly portray him as submissive, which is something that does happen in a number of ships where one character is white and the other character is black or brown. i think there ARE domineering parts of patrick's personality, and that he craves control, especially wrt his art and his creative process, but we also know that he often gives in to pete's suggestions and that pete's instincts are usually correct whereas patrick's are usually wrong. this doesn't scream hypercompetent in control dom top to me and it doesn't scream service top either

anyway. i think patrick's change in fashion and aesthetics played a not insignificant part in this shift in dynamics; pete's self expression has always been relatively androgynous, but that isn't inherently connected to his gender or his personality. i don't think he's ever done or said anything to imply that he's anything other than a cis man who sometimes likes to wear skirts. which, i mean, there's a not insignificant discussion to be had about his relationship with gender as a biracial black man but this answer is already too long and i don't want to get into that now lol. so patrick grows a beard, pete bleaches his hair and grows it out, oh they're masc and femme now, patrick is a bear (despite being straight?), masc = top and femme = bottom, etc. some people will argue that this has always been the case (patrick being masc and pete being femme) but i'm going to be honest, i think pete and patrick both leaned toward androgyny in self expression until around futct and even then i don't consider patrick's street wear as being super butch or whatever

people also like to discuss patrick's weight as a factor in the perception of him as either a top or a bottom but i've seen too many claims that there's an epidemic of fat men being portrayed as sub bottoms simply because they're fat and i have literally no idea where this came from and i really don't want to lend any legitimacy to that argument because i think it's ridiculous so i'm not going to get into it. but just know i think it's silly and cope

so i think partially the change in dynamics has come from the manner in which they present themselves within the public sphere; patrick reads now as more masculine and outgoing and pete reads as more shy and feminine

i do think that the interpretation of them as characters by people who prefer bottom pete and write fic is more nuanced than people who don't write fic and are just kind of going with the flow (same with people who were around in 2013-2019 when bottom patrick was more popular); i still don't agree with the majority of their analysis but considering they're creating actual art there's generally more critical thought involved than just following a fandom trend imo

fob is also not really a fic based fandom, honestly; fanart tends to get more interaction and fandoms that skew younger don't seem to write fic as much. this is kind of a sidebar but i am actually genuinely worried about the use of chatgpt and what it means for the writing and critical reasoning skills of young people in the west (i don't know if this is as big of a problem in nonwestern countries) and imo the manner in which it's wormed its way into all aspects of academic and creative life, whether professional or amateur, is frightening. but anyway i think a lot of the authors who write or prefer bottom patrick have been around a lot longer (just, like, in life, but also in the fandom lol) and since the younger fans aren't really interested in writing fic, it makes sense that there's still an even split on ao3 despite bottom pete seeming to be more popular with the greater fandom

anyway like i said in that other ask i do think there are situations in which pete would bottom; like, he is not topping andy hurley, lol, and probably not travie, but i just don't see him bottoming as realistic, long term, or as a constant, in his relationship with patrick. the time at which pete came into patrick's life means he was both an authority figure and peer to him; he guided patrick professionally and, at times, personally. pete viewed him as his responsibility, and he was protective of patrick in a way that he wasn't with joe (i've spoken about this before, and while i do think that maybe this has to do with pete maturing somewhat from twenty to twenty-two/twenty-three, there is a world of difference between what pete allowed his friends to do to joe and the way pete spoke of patrick with reverence and protected him, to the point that patrick's release the bats skit was him drinking garlic butter). and while i don't know if i would say the same currently lol i think pete was once a highly competent and successful businessman; he deeply understood the culture of the 2000s/early 2010s and for all the stress and heartache it brought him, i think there were aspects of fame and that feeling of being on top of the world that he very much enjoyed. i think he likes control, but in contrast to patrick, he's far more competent and adept at gaining and keeping himself in a position that affords him that control

has their relationship evolved to the point that they're on more equal footing? yeah i think so, but i also think that your dynamic when you meet someone is going to remain, in part, a constant, even as your relationship evolves and changes. so there's that, for me, that push-and-pull power dynamic where pete is almost always the one who comes out on top (lol), and while i understand the appeal in subverting this wrt peterick, in an abstract sense, i just don't see the evidence in their relationship that that would realistically happen or that pete would want it to happen

moving on to patrick, the reason i said his stroke game is mid is because obviously he does top he's straight but i don't think he's particularly good at it; he fumbles through a lot of life (that doesn't involve his art) and i think this translates to his sexual expression. more realistically, i could see him as a dom bottom because of how bossy he is; this i think would be something pete would enjoy because he does desire submission somewhat but it doesn't involve penetration, which i believe he considers a degrading act, at least to some degree. tbh i don't really think pete's dick game is bomb or whatever lol but i think he's better than patrick. and i know this is a matter of contention because of the specific way in which patrick's misogyny manifests and how defensive he was about not being gay, but i think he's too autistic to really give a shit about bottoming; maybe he could even be convinced to take the strap because he would just get to lie there and not do anything like the way elisa cooks all his food for him. i think this could actually also be argued with pete potentially but it would be more difficult to bring him around to it lol

i have more to say but i think i should cut myself off now 😭 i do want to say though re the thing about petekey; i was actually just telling a friend how petekey is similar to bottom pete because they're both so popular and yet the amount of fanworks doesn't seem to match their supposed popularity

[rowniebow]

Fic where Peter and reader are already dating and Peter is distant because of his obvious job which leaves reader hurt and angry and starts becoming distant and detached with Peter which causes Peter to get mad and then they fight and peter blurts out “are you cheating on me?” Which causes reader to get furious and start yelling which catches peter off guard and reader leaves, can take the story where you want past this. sorry if this is long and confusing or doesn’t make sense (Tom or andrews pete but you can do Tom if it really matters) ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

it can be okay | tom!peter parker x gn!reader

pairings: tom!peter parker x gn!reader

cw: littol bit o angst but not much

word count: 3.4k+

an: went with tom's because i've yet to write abt his peter but i feel like he was left with so much turmoil after no way home, his peter fits well with this prompt...... ANYWAY thank you so much for requesting and i apologize for my absence, esp if u were waiting around for this ! i appreciate you, please stay safe! sry 4 long an

masterlist

⭒

you felt an arm wrap around your waist. warmth and pressure spread over your back. you flipped around to wrap your own arms around the man that had climbed into bed with you.

"sorry," his breath found its way to your ear and pulled the hair on your spine up. his quiet whisper held gravel in the smooth concrete of his voice. "did i wake you up?"

"yeah, i'm glad."

"oh, good. i'm glad i woke you, too. get more time to hear your voice."

you hummed, sleep fighting your coherent words.

"how was your day?"

"it was fine. i missed you for our movie night."

petter stuttered out several different sounds, none of them making any real words.

your eyebrows twitched at his struggle.

"i-i'm so sorry, sweetheart, i completely forgot. i-i-i-i got so caught up with homework i didn't even think... it's that stupid biology class! i always have so much reading to do for it.

"yeah, it's okay," you moved closer to him, desperate for as much of his warmth as possible. "school is more important than movies! let me know next time, though."

"of course," he kissed the top of your head. he lingered with an exaggerated 'mwah'. "i'm so sorry, sweetheart."

you hummed and slurred out a reassurance.

"go back to sleep now, sweets."

and it was okay.

⭒⭒

everything was so much louder when he wasn’t around.

the fridge’s song sung by instruments of kinetic energy hummed at the back of your head. the calm air against the glass window was practically visible with how loud it was. the dust that settled on the marble kitchen countertops and sunk it’s way into the fabric of your couch crunched and stretched the fibers of the masses. you couldn’t seem to turn the television up much higher than seven (you hoped the number might bring you luck to bring the man home).

sure, he’s missed nights that were supposed to be set aside for you two and his favorite star wars films. yes, you’ve noticed how he’s missed more than a few fairly important tests for his classes, causing him to fail (he was beginning to fall fairly far behind in his degree, but you weren’t going to comment on that. not yet, anyway).

but, he’d yet to miss out on a date.

he had yet to leave you waiting at your favorite shitty twenty-four hour diner in the middle of new york that was a forty minute walk from your apartment.

you wouldn’t deny to anyone other than peter that it bothered you a bit. your lip was raw and crumbs from a sad, newly empty plate of fries dusted your nicest clothes that you had put on just for him. your eyes wore heavy bags from how late you stayed up in hope that maybe he was just running a bit late.

however, when a bit late had become two in the morning, you gave up hope on that.

you looked outside at the nearly visible air and listened to the chill of the early morning crack at your window after you arrived back at your empty apartment at nearly three in the morning. you listened to the distant wind against the quickly moving vehicles. you listened to the retreating caw from a bird that didn’t sound like any you’d heard before. you listened to the dust float through the air and the television hum despite it being off. you listened to the deafening silence of the room and your mind.

cold three in the morning apartment air hit the back of your throat as you brought as much of the toxic oxygen into your lungs as you possibly could, and released it to be filtered and given to some other poor abandoned soul.

it was okay.

you understood his forgetful habits. you understood why he slept in and took so many naps. he has a lot on his plate. juggling school, and work, and the family issues that he’s mentioned from time to time.

it is okay.

maybe next time.

⭒⭒⭒

waking up alone after a warm night with peter seemed to hurt more than the missing arrangements.

the apartment's chill leaked under the blankets and burned your skin until you awoke. the emptiness of the space next to you in your bed was a sad physical representation of the emptiness in your gut.

the hole in your stomach that you awake with absorbs all the cereal you eat and leaves you feeling hungry for the rest of the day. it absorbs your joy and hope. it absorbs the warmth in your body (and especially in your smile).

your days are filled with sighs when you wake up with the hole of peter. with those deep exhales, you hope to breath out whatever haunts your stomach.

it sticks with you until the end of the day when you fall asleep alone. peter will climb in after you in the depths of the night and the ocean of your sheets. he'll whisper sweet nothings into your ear. he'll apologize if need be. he'll pepper you with kisses and hold you close.

and you'll be okay.

then he'll do it all over again.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

it just so happened to be next time.

he promised to make the last time up to you and promised to see you the next friday night for dinner.

so there you sat, leg bouncing under the table at a restaurant that was all too fancy for your taste but peter had insisted on.

you were on your third glass of an odd color wine (that really didn’t even taste good) and you were nearing the second hour of waiting.

“would you like to order yet, sir?” the waiter asked for the fifth time that night.

perhaps it was the alcohol that brought a sting to your eyes when you checked the time on your phone. but you smiled and shook your head and asked for the check instead.

looking at the number on the check, you nearly sobbed at how much three glasses of wine cost you. but you sighed and gave an eighty percent tip anyway as reparations for the waiter having to pity you all night. you almost sobbed, again, when you could hear a couple that had gotten there after you comment to one another about how long you’d been there.

cheeks warm with embarrassment, you made your way back to your apartment. the chill of the late night spring mildly helped cool you down.

the pity in the waiter's eyes and the couple's comments haunted you all the way home. only when you undressed into your sleep clothes and climbed under the covers could you manage to excuse peter's actions.

peter must have simply gotten caught up in homework. he must have just fallen asleep.

it's okay.

perhaps he got the days mixed up and forgot it was friday. or he got his hours for work wrong and he ended up having to work.

it is okay.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

you truly didn’t mean to lean away from his kiss when peter tried to wish you goodbye that evening.

but you did.

you leaned away as if it were a stranger that was trying to kiss you. you truly didn’t mean to. you also knew that you truly felt as though it was a stranger trying to kiss you, though.

you knew it hurt him. quite honestly it hurt you, too. whether it was the pain in his features that hurt you or the fact that you felt that way.

either way, your actions hurt the both of you, and you knew you should apologize. you nearly did right then and there.

"are you cheating on me?" the quiet whispers of words that he choked out hit you like lightning. the frown in his lips and the way he avoided your eyes made your heart crack before you could process the words he spoke. his broken voice distracted you from the content it delivered.

you felt your eyebrows pull together at first. you felt the apology creep in your throat and nearly spill out.

his hurt was a new language for you to learn. it forced you to think over each word and remember the meaning of it similar to how you did in spanish class in high school.

and as the syllables set in and your brain wrapped itself through the vowels and consonants, you scoffed. maybe even laughed.

did he really just say that? did he truly feel like he had the nerve to say that?

"am i cheating on you?" a glare made itself comfortable in your features.

it's not okay.

"...no?" peter’s stuttered, hesitant disagreement made his regret in his words clear. but how could you just brush over his accusation?

"peter parker, i should be asking you that question."

"wha-what do you mean?"

"you're the one who's hardly fucking here. you’re the one that’s left me waiting until the morning for you to come around. you’re the one who ‘forgets’ anytime we agree to hang out.”

it is not okay.

“i-i didn’t-,”

“‘you didn’t’ what? remember? show up?”

his silence was as loud as it is when he’s gone.

“where are you all day, peter?”

so

“where are you at night?”

fucking

“where are you right now. are you even here?”

loud.

“get out.”

“what? no - no, please, y/n, you gotta trust me on this.”

nothing is okay.

“i trusted you to be here!”

“i know, and i’m so sorry, but - ah - i can’t tell you. you just-just gotta trust me!”

“no, peter!”

“please, i’ll make it up to you, i swear!”

“you’ve had plenty of chances for that.”

“c’mon, y/n,”

“no! even if you’re not cheating on me, you obviously don’t have time for me!”

“i’ll make time for you,”

“you really should have already been doing that.”

“i’ll make more time for you!”

“you don’t get more time in a day, and you’re not getting anymore from me, parker. christ- are you going to leave?"

"no! y/n, please, let me make this right, i-i can't lose you, too."

"fuck. i will leave then, jesus!"

"what?"

you slipped your shoes on, ignoring his words.

peter called your name as you opened the door.

"goodnight, peter."

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

you stayed at your parents house for a couple nights then came back to your empty apartment. the silence wasn't as loud as it normally was, but the intensity of the emptiness, both in the apartment and in the pit of your stomach, made up for the lack of overbearing volume.

you went about your life for two whole weeks with that emptiness haunting you. not a word from peter. about anything.

you went to your classes, studied in your room, went to work, came back and went to sleep: the college dream.

you hardly even noticed two weeks had passed with the way you had just been floating through the days.

with your mind blank without the joy and excitement of peter parker in your life, you filled it with the words from your humanities textbook to prepare for a final.

the jiggling of your apartment doorknob cut through the sound of the words in your head. your eyes immediately went wide. the air became thick as you heard the door squeak open slowly but surely.

your breath was stuck in your throat, but you found it in you to pick up your heavy textbook to toss if you needed.

you listened to the door creek shut and click closed.

perhaps someone just mistook your apartment for their own? maybe a new neighbor who's mixing it up? you're sure it's just a simple mistake and not some horrible, evil, scary, stronger-than-you criminal who wants to steal the little bits of items you have. certainly they won't murder you brutally, or kidnap you and sell you.

certainly not, right?

your mind ran wild with what-if's and dangers of the situation. what else was there to do in the face of danger, though? hide under your blankets and hope they don't come in?

no, you'd at least like to look death in the face before you go.

that didn't stop your racing heart and shaking hands, of course.

so you crept around your door frame and down the small hall that lead to your tiny living room. you could hear the person rattling through your pots and pans.

you stood behind the corner, telling yourself it'd be fine.

you can do it. just go and ask what's going on. you're sure this is probably just some huge mix up.

"hah!" you huffed as you turn the corner and toss the heavy book at the person.

they immediately turn around and catch the flying pages. your heart drops to your stomach. your only weapon failed.

"y/n? i didn't know you were home!"

your heart manages to repair itself in your chest as the voice and face process in your mind. "peter?" you practically shriek. "what are you doing here?" a breath (that you were fully aware you had been holding) left your lungs, your hands finding their way to cover your face from the stress.

"i-i-i didn't know you'd be home, i'm sorry,"

"so you sneak into my apartment when i'm not home?" the glare you sent him reminded him how snappy you get when you're upset.

"no, no, no, no, no-!"

your questioning glare had him pause his denial.

"well, yes,"

you groaned.

"but listen!"

"i don't want to listen to you when you just broke into my house, peter!"

"well, the door was open-,"

another groan.

"okay, yeah, i can...see...that..."

"leave, peter!"

"wait, wait, wait! okay, listen," he took a deep breath. "i can explain myself-,"

"which part: when you forgot about me constantly or when you broke into my house?"

"all of it! i can explain and i just want you to know that i haven't been telling you for your own safety."

"what the fuck are you talking about?"

"just-just come with me."

"where?"

"it's a surprise!" his apologetic smile willed you to trust him.

you stared at him. his waves framed his face - his hair seemed to grow a lot in the last two weeks. his eyes were a whirlpool that sucked you in.

"jesus, peter." you shook your head, but found some shoes and a jacket to slip on anyway. the bright smile on peter's face made you want to forget about everything.

you followed him down the stairs to the quiet, three in the morning college town streets on a tuesday.

"how far away is it?" you asked. your eyes followed a plane as it blinked through the sky.

"kind of far," he moved in front of you to block your path. "but," he sung his vowel. "i know a quicker way to get there!"

"do we need to take the subway-?" you looked around, only for peter to wrap an arm around your waist. "what-?"

"it's going to be a little scary but you gotta trust me."

"what are you doing, pete?"

"you gotta hold on okay?" he guided your arms around his neck. "trust me, okay?" his sweet enchanting smile encouraged you to trust him despite everything. that didn't stop the groove between your brows from forming, though.

"what-?"

and you were in the air. screaming, obviously. you could hear his reassurance and apologies, willing you to keep holding on.

after several minutes of being in the air and coming to the consensus that you wouldn't fall even if you tried with peter's death grip on you, you took a glance around at your setting.

the street was far below you. cars and lights from down below smiled up and laughed at your fear. apartments on the thirtieth floors were eye level but passed so fast that you couldn't see who resided in them.

"isn't it nice?" peter whispered. he was your only lifeline; the only thing keeping you from falling to your death. "it's so peaceful up here." his quiet words didn't calm your racing heart or sooth your stressed features, but it brought you to stay present until your feet hit the solid ground again.

your legs shook you until your knees met the surface you stood on.

"sorry-,"

"what was that, parker?" you sparse breath made your voice come out as merely a squeak but peter knew all too well that you would be screaming at the top of your lungs if you could.

"it- well- i- uhm," the wind helped you push yourself off of your knees and back to sitting like a normal person rather than someone who thought their feet wouldn't ever touch the ground again. "i'm not really sure how to say this i-i-,"

"peter, i swear to god-,"

"i'm spider-man!" you looked up at his avoiding eyes that were as wide as yours. as if he couldn't believe he actually said that.

"excuse me?" you said after several moments of silence passed.

"i-i'm spider-man," his quiet voice was nearly drowned out by the blowing wind.

you laughed.

his eye brows came together in frustration. "why are you laughing?"

"you're not spider-man."

"i just swung us to the top of central park tower and you're going to deny that i'm spider-man?"

your smile slowly faded as you noticed where you were. that he was right. you were among the stars, the moon within inches of your fingers. the street glowed up at you, laughing once more. the usual honking screams from the cars could not be heard from how high you were. all you could hear was the growl of the wind and peter's shy voice.

"oh my god,"

"no-no, don't freak out!"

"i'm not freaking out, i never freak out. you're just spider-man and that's a thing and we're on top of the central park tower and i could totally fall right now but i'm not freaking out."

you were freaking out.

"doesn't spider-man have webs or something?"

peter stuck out his hand, and a white web came tumbling out after your hand that rested on the ground you still sat on. he tugged at the string that stuck itself to your hand and pulled you up with it. you stumbled into him, his hands steadying your shaking.

"that's insane."

"i know, and i'm so sorry. between juggling school and work and this, it's really difficult to keep track of everything. this doesn't have a schedule and gets in the way of you a lot more than i'd like it to."

"i-i guess i get why you didn't tell me."

a breath left through peter's lips. "i-i put together this as an apology, though." he motioned behind you to yet another thing you didn't notice throughout the stress of it all.

a blanket laid out with food from your favorite take out place scattered all over it. small electric candles flickered around the setting providing as the only light that wasn't coming from the city down below along with his laptop that was glowing and set up to browse through netflix for something to watch.

"i'm really sorry. i'm sorry i'm never there. i'm sorry it's taken me so long to see you again. i'm most of all sorry that i can't change it."

your eyes met his once again.

"if how i am is too much for you, i completely understand. you deserve someone who will treat you as good as you deserve and who will show up. but i want you to know that i miss you, and love you, and i will keep trying so hard to show up."

"you love me?"

"i-i-," peter's sure eyes suddenly fell to the floor and his hands found the back of his neck. "i mean, yeah," he stuttered. "but like it's okay, like, i get it, you know? i don't-,"

all the fears of being at the top of the central park tower and dating spider-man and what it means to date spider-man left you mind. all you could think about was how much you really did love peter despite his absent habits. maybe even more so now that you knew this huge secret and what that secret told about him as a person.

so you kissed him.

the heavenly feeling of his lips was something you didn't know you missed as much as you did. as soon as your lips met, tears pricked themselves at your eyes but you refused to let them fall.

you were okay.

peter was okay.

you were both okay.

it was all okay.

⭒ taglist ⭒

@fadedver @1ischai @djmalik52 @garlicforthewin @cryinked @armand0alg0 @softboi14

please dm me if you would like to be taken off of the taglist