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moonyslove78 · 2 years ago

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

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

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

heavy chapter warnings for S&V John Walker

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

😭😭😭

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Talk about chills.

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

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

💔💔💔

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

😅😅😅

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or should I say Maricella now? 😍😍😍

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That kiss was magic, Liz! 😍

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

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

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

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

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

This work of art deserves a damn book deal!

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

summary: no more running. no more cages.

words: 10.7 k

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

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

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

Don't date a mob boss.™️

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

Back to Part 19.

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

Part 20

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

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

So that left Honey in charge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a joke. Until it wasn’t.

John changed that.

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

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

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

Eddie’s blood.

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

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

Is this what it means to be desensitized to gore?

Indeed, she felt nothing at all.

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

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

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

It was as good of a description as any.

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

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

At this rate, she may never be clean again.

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

John’s phone.

This was the weapon that killed Eddie Brock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He quickly reached for the towel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Who’s going with you?”

“Stop asking questions, Honey.”

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

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

“Not involved? Are you fucking serious?!”

“Too many people have already gotten hurt.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stopped, leaving the thought unfinished.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Despite his apology, her stomach twisted with shame.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why wait?”

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

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

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

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

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

His Heart.

His Honey.

She was terrified.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter’s jaw tensed at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that what you did to Gwen?”

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

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

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

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

Peter swallowed hard, unflinching.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A camera.

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

Both items were out of place.

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

Honey’s eyes darted back up to the front.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No! No! No!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shrieking, she dropped to the floor and cowered down.

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

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

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

Right into John’s palm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t fight you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Somebody’s excited,” John chuckled sadistically.

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

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

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

“I don’t like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who gives a fuck?” she sneered.

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

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

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

“No!” Peter howled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her eyes were glazed over. Staring right through him.

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

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

John’s body.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He let go.

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

He let go of the idea of Honey.

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

“What I want...”

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued...

[back to masterlist]

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

Part 23 will be the end.

#holy shit #I really do apologize for how long this was #it took me like 5 hours to write it 😅#totally worth it #💬 sugar and vice #andrew garfield #peter parker #spider man #lizzy writes.#review angels 💜#mob!tasm peter parker #now I need a drink and some patience while I wait for the next chapter #my love for these two characters runs deep

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chososrightnipple · 6 months ago

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❝𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲.❞

: ̗̀➛ overview: telling various anime characters you want a baby.

: ̗̀➛ tw; afab!reader w/no gendered language. mentions of pregnancy and getting pregnant, first scenario is nsfw (w/ lowk breeding kink) but the rest are sfw. intentional lowercase!

── დ ──

he pauses, glancing over to you. there's a certain change in his expression that you can't decipher. something in the way his feet shuffle and his shoulders tense, in the way his eyes just barely squint and his tongue darts out to lick at his lips.

"you want a.. baby?" he repeats. the last word comes out strained, as if he was choking on the idea. the idea of you staring down at a positive pregnancy test, the idea of you waddling around the house, the idea of you carrying his child.

you nod, eyeing his form in the kitchen. when your eyes meet his, he looks away and back down to the dishes in front of him. "i want your baby," you correct, almost shyly.

he audibly gulps, setting down the dish he was washing with a dull thump of glass against sink. his hands grip at the granite counter and he tilts his head backward. a long exhale escapes him. there's a pause in the air, only for a few seconds. you, sat on the couch, face flushed and wondering if your confession was a mistake, and him standing silent in the kitchen.

"my baby." he repeats. tasting the way the words sit on his tongue. toying with the implications, the ideas floating around in his head. for a brief moment, a vision of you fucked out and actually dripping with his cum flashes before his eyes.

the man shudders visibly and forces himself to take a deep breath. in, then out, and in again.

he turns around and leans against the granite counter, crossing his tense arms over his chest. this time, when you go to meet his eyes, you find his gaze is already boring into yours. there's an air of certainty around him, something that leaves you feeling strangely breathless. hooded eyes never leaving yours, jaw ticking and lips turning upwards, almost smugly.

he brings a shaky hand up to run through his hair. pushing back stray strands and ruffling. you can't tell if the action is out of nerves or if he's just struggling that hard with holding himself back.

"hm. guess i'll have to make you one then."

↳ (jjk) toji fushiguro, geto suguru, gojo satoru, (mha) keigo takami, dabi, aizawa shouta, shigaraki tomura, (kny) sanemi shinazugawa, tengen uzui

── დ ──

you can feel his entire body tense behind you after you blurt the words out. the arms around your waist tightening their hold, the legs entangled with yours going rigid. even the small breaths that fan your neck momentarily pause, and you suddenly feel cold.

"sweetheart?" you whisper out, wondering if you had made some kind of mistake admitting your desire for a baby. that maybe you guys aren't ready for that conversation, yet.

from behind you, he exhales sharply, a small noise escaping his throat. then, the hands on your waist are suddenly gripping into your skin, and he's haphazardly maneuvering you until your face to face with him. no longer spooning, but rather brushing noses and sharing breaths.

"what did you just say?" the words are muttered, whispered like a secret only you two share.

he's staring at you with such a look that every nerve under your skin begins to burn. it's more than affection, more than desire, more than love. like he never wants to look away, like he can stand witness to the expansion of the universe just from looking into your eyes.

you swallow harshly, a hand coming up to play with the back of his hair. something to ground you back to reality. he preens at the touch, and you can feel a shiver rack through him.

"i said i want to have a baby." you hum, soft and sweet.

his eyes fall shut and he leans his forehead against yours. the grip he has on your waist tightens, his other hand beginning to run up and down your back. as if he's struggling to keep his head out of the clouds just as much as you are.

"really? you wanna start a family with me?" he chokes the words out, as if the utter idea of it seems impossible. as if you'd never want him, want the life he's also been daydreaming about.

you cusp at his cheek, thumbing at the soft skin. something warm fills you, every inch of your body, tingling at your fingertips. you think about it all over again- him, a father, running around a fenced in yard, chasing a giggling toddler, the smell of lunch cooking in the background. and you, watching it all from a swing on the porch. how could you not want that?

you smile, "honey, i want to start a life with you."

↳ (jjk) yuta okkotsu, megumi fushiguro, nanami kento, choso kamo, (mha) natsuo todoroki, toshinori yagi, (kny) obanai iguro, tomioka giyuu, rengoku kyujuro

── დ ──

the car tires squeal as he briefly loses control of the wheel, jerking it to the left and just barely missing the concrete lane divider. your grip onto your seatbelt, and the only reason you don't go flying forward is the arm of your lover jutting out in front of you. with a small curse, he straightens out the car and hits the brakes.

the car behind you beeps angrily, though he only waves them off through the window before focusing back on the road. it's silent for a few seconds, the two of you catching you breaths and trying to quiet the loud heartbeat of adrenaline. you begin to think that blurting out your want for a baby while on the road wasn't the brightest idea.

the man sitting beside you finally speaks up a few moments later. his words come out breathless and high pitched. "a baby?! like... a real one?"

you snap your head towards him and, in irritation, begin to slap at his shoulder and arm. "are you kidding!? you almost kill us and that's the first thing you say to me?! i'm being serious! i want a baby!"

he whines, weakly fending off your attacks with his other hand. "oka- okay! stop hitting me, jesus!" he groans, attention diverted between the green light in front of him and your pouting face.

you finally relent after one final slap and huff in annoyance. crossing you arms and slouching against the passenger seat like a toddler who hasn't been given their way.

he eyes you from the drivers seat with a wobbly lip. trying desperately to hold back the laugh brewing inside of him, knowing it'll only serve to annoy you further. he seems to have a special talent at that.

"stop pouting, c'mon now. look at me, love." he coos, taking one of his hands off the wheel and instead using it to caress your cheek. tapping at your nose, twirling at your hair, then gripping your chin and tilting it toward him.

he spares a brief glance toward you, not wanting to take his eyes off of the road for too long. "you really want a baby? i'll give you one, yeah? i'll trash the condoms myself as soon as we get home. how's that sound?"

you roll your eyes, but he can see the amusement cracking through your expression bit by bit. then, finally, you smile. small at first, before it splits wide across your lips. he awes audibly, pinching at your cheeks before you slap his hand away.

yeah, he doesn't think he'd mind a baby with you. not if they got your pretty little smile (and, hopefully, something of his, too).

↳ (jjk) yuji itadori, gojo satoru, ino takuma, (mha) keigo takami, hizashi yamada, mirio togata, (kny) tengen uzui

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limyted · 29 days ago

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“You Called My Liege?”

Yandere King x Jester! GN Reader

Tw: Dubcon/non-con,, obsessive,, possessive,, controlling,, NSFW.,, ALL CHARACTERS 18+ PLEASE.

Words: 1.6k words

Yandere Prince! Who had first seen you when you had walked in with you dad, your family had been a family of Jesters for the Royal Family for centuries for now.

Yandere Prince! Who met you when his father has introduced you two to each other, explaining that you will be his Jester when he is the future King, with that a bond had started to grow between you too.

Yandere Prince! Who has always been blunt, stoic and short tempered, but when being around your cheeky and playful personality and eventually his stiff personality melts away and welcomes you, soon enough you two would play around places around the Palace whenever your dad was called upon by his father.

Yandere Prince! Who killed his father when he had suggested that he was just maybe too close with his Jester, that it was inappropriate to be friends with his Jester. Who did his father think he was telling him what to do with HIS Jester?

He dropped the blooded sword, as he kicked the former king's head away from him.

“Clean this up.” he lazily gazed into the dreary eyes of his father, his voice devoid of any guilt or remorse.

“Burn the body and fetch me my jester.” A small smile spreading across his features at the thought of you as he pushed past the stunned maids who hurriedly obeyed, they wouldn't want face the wrath of the kings short temper.

Yandere Prince! Who has you by his side the whole coronation, and he gets a thrill when you called him “My Liege” for the first time.

Your skin warm from laying on grass, sun blazing on your skin, hands intertwined with the teenage future king, he was squeezing your hand as if trying to keep you from running away from him, but you decided not to pay it any mind.

You felt a slight tug, and you hummed softly.

“I don't wanna marry someone I don't know or even love,” He said, frustration and exasperation laced in his voice “but my father insisted it was a necessity for the economy of our kingdom.”

“If it's an economic boost you need, why not hold a royal jousting tournament?” You said softly chuckling at your own joke “Loser buys dinner... or a bride”

He looked at you deadpanned, you softly rolled your eyes.

“Who would you even marry?” You teased him softly “I don't know of anyone you fancy.”

“Are you sure?” He questioned, as he put his hand on your chin tilting it to face him. “But to answer your question, My fool, you would be my bride.”

You weren't really sure if the king was joking or not, so you had changed the subject instead.

As you walked down the halls of the Jesters towers, the king had requested for you the usual spot, the throne room, a room you've grown very accustomed to.

The door to the room had no guards protecting it, so you had entered. There sat the king on his righteous throne, his hand resting in his chin and legs crossed, clearly in deep thought.

“You called My Liege?” You said as you bowed, dipping low and a playful smile on your face. The king who's eyes now locked with yours, had merely patted the arm rail of his throne, you obliged.

“Tell me..” he says as he snakes his arm loosely around your waist, shifting in his seat to be closer with you.

You hummed lightly, it wasn't weird that the king was being so … affectionate, he'd always wanted to be close with you.

“Do you recall when I told you that I would make you my bride?” He asked, with a tone unrecognisable to you.

“Oh your little quip?” You answered, focusing on his thumb rubbing your waist slowly, his hand slowly making its way down.

He let out a lifeless, breathy snicker, “I do not jest, that is your job.”

!!Nsfw!!

He lifts you up, placing you on his lap, rocking you back and forth, you can feel his hardened cock against your entrance.

“But if you're going to be my bride, I need everyone to know you’re mine.” He said as he digs his hands into your waist.

“I think it's better to marry someone who..” You pause, as you try to squirm off his lap, but he holds you down, “Is more equipped to be a monarch.”

“You'd make a perfect spouse for me” He says as kisses and bites your neck, as he rips your clothes off your body, the cold air hitting your skin, makes you shiver.

You let out a soft gasp at the feeling of him biting your neck. “I'm gonna have to stretch you out,” He says as pushes two fingers into and you gasp loudly, pushing yourself against his chest.

With every sweet sound you let out he can feel his cock and precum coating his undergarments, he pumps his fingers roughly.

“Wow, you must really want to be filled, your greedy hole is taking my fingers so well,” He says as he picks up the pace of his fingers “has someone ever pleasured you so well?”

You already feel your climax close, but he pulls his fingers out “You don't release unless I tell you too, My Fool.”

You whine at the emptiness that fills you now. “Stand.” Nothing but hunger in voice, afraid you obey, you had seen what he was capable of with his sword.

He took off his clothing as you, his long and hard cock, throbbing and the tip glistening with precum.

He had grabbed you and bent you over the very same arm rail you sat on, he slowly pushed himself into your hole, grabbing a handful of your ass and giving it a hard slap, his hands travelling from your ass to your hip, letting out a loud groan.

“Oh fuck, you feel just right, your hole wraps around me so perfectly” he said with a dreamy like voice.

“What about the maids and butlers, I don't wanna be seen in this case” you said trying to bite back the moans that are bubbling in your throat.

“If they even dare to look, I'll kill them, your body is only for my eyes,” He says, thrusting deeply into you at every word he says, unable to keep your moans anymore, you let out loud moans that fill the room and his groans as well.

With each deep thrust you feel your climax closing in, and you can tell he is too with his fastened pace and his balls slapping your skin.

“Please cum with me, please, please, please” he whines and pants as he trails his hands up your back and pulls you as you both release, you relax as his semen feels warm.

The King picks you up, his hard cock still twitching inside you, and puts you on the throne.

“I'm not finished, My Darling.”

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ariestrxsh · 2 months ago

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જ⁀➴ ♡🍨 content warning: smut, innocence corruption, masturbation, public fingering, praise, sneaking around, mentions of sex and virginity loss, small age gap (both characters are adults), pervy!brothersbsf!matt, innocent!reader

જ⁀➴ ♡🍨 author's note: sooo i wasn't planning on making a part two for this fic, but you guys asked, and now there will be multiple parts. you can read part one here.

જ⁀➴ ♡🍨 summary: your brother's childhood best friend, matt sturniolo, takes your virginity, and the two of you begin sneaking around in plain sight.

young god part two

Matt woke up in a cold sweat, his chest covered in a thick layer of perspiration, laying on the floor next to your brother's bed in his dark room. He had heard your brother's voice so clearly in his dream that he was sure it was real while it was happening.

He had taken your virginity earlier in the night, and his conscience was already nagging at him in the form of vivid nightmares that the interaction had ended in your brother walking in on the two of you.

In reality, he was thankfully a heavy sleeper, and it was a running joke in the family that he could sleep through a car accident, and he actually had once. It was a minor fender bender, but still. So even as Matt woke up in a panic, gasping for air, your brother was snoring loudly, the same way he was when Matt had snuck back into the room after he'd cleaned you up.

It's not that Matt regretted having sex with you. In fact, he was already plotting how he could get you alone again. But he knew he was playing a dangerous game. Your brother was bigger than he was, stronger than he was, and he'd seen him beat the shit out of people for less. Matt really believed him when he told him he'd kill him if he had sex with you.

But how could he have walked away from you after finding you like that, pleasuring yourself and moaning his name? He really thought it would have been more cruel to have left you all alone to your own devices when he knew that what you really wanted was between his legs, and he knew he could make you feel better than any toy could.

He started pawing at himself through the soft fabric of his underwear while he replayed the encounter in his head. He recalled the way he had stumbled upon you with your vibrator, softly moaning his name from one room over. He remembered how vulnerable and fuckable you'd looked.

His curious hand wandered into his waistband, and he wrapped his fingers around his thick shaft, fervently tugging at his cock while he recounted the shocked expression on your pretty face while he'd breached your entrance. He couldn't stop thinking about all the lovely sounds you'd made while he'd deflowered you, stretching you out for the very first time.

He started pumping faster, his mind flooded with images of you, getting closer and closer to the finale. He remembered how you'd clenched around him while he played with you and the way your breasts had jiggled while he had pounded into your sweet little cunt.

You were no longer pure and virginal, and it was all thanks to him. He had tainted your innocence with his dark desires.

He threw his head back and shut his eyes as a few strangled moans filled the room. His stomach dropped, and his muscles tightened as he finished himself off, milking his throbbing cock for all of its worth. He came all over his hand while he pictured your hole dripping with his seed after he'd filled you up.

He remembered the way you had softly begged him, "Please, don't tell my brother," while peering up at him with your big eyes, your lip caught between your teeth as his cum was still dribbling out of you. "I wouldn't dream of it," he had panted in response before leaning down and pulling you into a deep kiss.

A satisfied smile formed on Matt's face as he slowly brought his strokes to a halt, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips. He couldn't wait until the next time he got to have his way with you.

Finally, Matt was able to drift off again and sneak in a few more hours of uninterrupted sleep before the sun began to rise.

જ⁀➴ ♡🍨જ⁀➴ ♡🍨જ⁀➴ ♡🍨જ⁀➴

The next morning, you woke up smiling and satisfied from what Matt had done to you the previous night. You galavanted into the long hallway, tiptoeing past your brother's door. You floated down the staircase, running your hand along the smooth banister like you did every morning on your way to the kitchen.

"Morning Boots!" You greeted the family dog, ruffling his fur, and he wagged his tail in response. You let him out the back door to do his morning business.

You were humming to yourself, rifling through the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs when Matt appeared out of the corner of your eye at the bottom of the steps. "Shit," you muttered as you lost your grip on the carton of eggs, sending the last six in the container crashing to the floor about your feet.

"Sorry, sweet thing. I didn't mean to startle you," Matt chuckled, watching you forget how your motor skills worked just because he was in your presence. "Hi, Matt," you timidly greeted him.

For a moment, you glanced up at him and then back down at the shattered eggs beneath you as you remembered the vulnerable position he'd seen you in the night before. You knelt down on the ground and started scooping up the broken shells.

"I make you nervous, don't I?" Matt smirked, slowly walking towards you. You innocently looked up at him with a flushed expression and your big, doe eyes. You didn't have to respond for him to know he was right. "Has anyone ever told you how pretty you look on your knees?" Matt cooed quietly, bending down and softly brushing his thumb against your smooth, pink cheek.

You felt your stomach drop as Matt looked into your eyes, caressing your face and saying all the right things to you. "You were such a good girl for me last night," Matt whispered, smiling deviously and running the pad of his thumb along your plump bottom lip.

Suddenly, you heard heavy foot steps descending the stairs, and Matt quickly pulled his hand away as your brother materialized at the bottom of the staircase. Matt started to help you pick up the broken egg shells, but you couldn't will away the pink shade your face took on after Matt had spoken so sweetly to you.

"That's okay. I'll just have cereal for breakfast," your brother rolled his eyes, approaching the pantry after witnessing the mess. "It's my fault," Matt said, winking at you as he stood up, disposing of the eggs shells and rinsing off his hand. You avoided eye contact with them both, cleaning the rest of the egg off the tile.

You appreciated that Matt took the attention off you by taking the blame. You were paranoid that if your brother looked at you for too long that he could see it written on your face that you weren't a virgin anymore.

"You know, why don't we all go out for breakfast?" Matt suggested, smirking over at you once he picked up the nearly empty carton of milk out of the fridge.

જ⁀➴ ♡🍨જ⁀➴ ♡🍨જ⁀➴ ♡🍨જ⁀➴

You, Matt, and your brother found yourselves at a nearby local diner with a bit of a 50's vibe to it - classic checkerboard floor, a vintage jukebox, and vinyl pink booths. I Only Have Eyes For You by The Flamingo's played quietly through the speakers as a woman in bright red lipstick and a poodle skirt greeted the three of you and led you towards your table in the back of the empty restaurant.

Both you and your brother sat down across from each other, and Matt made the bold move of taking a seat next to you, earning a curious look from your brother that Matt quickly brushed off.

The waitress poured fresh, hot coffee into each of your ceramic mugs and set off in another direction to give you all a few minutes with your menus.

You decided on French toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon. Matt got the biscuits and gravy combo, and your brother got steak and eggs. Shortly after ordering, the server came back around to top off everyone's coffee.

"So what do you guys like the most about being away at college?" You asked Matt and your brother as you stirred a couple sugars and cream into your mug. "Definitely the fact that our overprotective mother isn't always asking where I'm going," your brother chuckled, taking a sip of coffee.

"How about you, Matt? What do you like the most about college?" You asked, batting your lashes at him. "Probably how loud I can fuck now that I don't live at home with my parents," Matt said, smirking over at you.

"Wow. How inspirational. Maybe tone done the sex talk in front of my little sister, huh?" Your brother snorted, dipping his fingers into his water and flicking it at Matt. Matt did the same in return. You blushed and giggled at their rapport.

"What have you guys missed the most about being home?" You wondered, glancing between the two boys. "I missed Boots the most. We can't keep pets in our dorm rooms," your brother stated, excited to be around the family dog again.

You turned your attention towards the boy to your left to hear his response. "I missed you the most," Matt said in a seductive voice, staring into your eyes, nudging you in the knee with his, and secretly placing his hand on your thigh. You smiled and blushed at him.

"Did you miss me as much as I missed you?" He cooed, gently drawing circles with his fingers just inches from your heat. You bit your lip and nodded. "Hey, Matt. Could you stop hitting on my little sister in front of me?" Your brother asked nonchalantly. "No. Look at how much she likes it," Matt sneered at him, and your brother kicked him under the table.

It was a small price to pay in order to watch how embarrassed and flustered you'd get around him.

It was around this time that the waitress returned with your steaming hot breakfast. The smell of maple syrup and bacon wafted through the air, and you each thanked her as she placed your plates in front of you all. There were a few moments of silence while everyone dug into their meals.

You felt Matt's hand that was resting on the inside of your thigh as he started hiking up your sparkly pink dress and inching towards your pussy. Your eyes widened, and you slowly looked over towards Matt as he casually pulled your panties to the side.

He shot a subtle smirk in your direction as he slipped a finger between your folds, gently stroking up and down and just barely grazing your clit. You bit down on your lip to suppress a whimper. With one hand between your legs and the other gripping his fork, he nodded at your brother while he recounted his least favorite teacher his first semester of his freshman year of college.

"Hopefully, you don't get him next year, sis. Basically had to teach myself trigonometry because he refused to dumb down the information. Pretentious bastard," your brother mumbled under his breath. "Yeah, and he was a real hard-ass for no reason," Matt added, gesturing with his fork while he rubbed your sensitive button underneath the table.

"Just because you never showed up to class doesn't mean every single one of your teachers is a hard-ass, Matt," your brother snarked at him. Matt chuckled at your brother's comment while he inserted a finger into your drooling hole as you were taking a sip of your coffee.

You inhaled sharply, sputtering on your hot drink and nearly spitting it out onto the table. "You good?" Your brother asked you, and you nodded while you placed your mug back down with a trembling hand. "Lay off the coffee. You're shaking," he pointed out before cutting into his steak.

Matt slowly thrust his finger into you while you tried to remain as composed as possible. You loved the feeling of him moving in and out of you while your brother was across from you, unaware of what the two of you were up to on the other side of the booth.

Thankfully, after a few more minutes, your brother excused himself to use the bathroom, and he walked away without paying any mind to what Matt's fingers were doing under the table.

The second he disappeared around the corner, Matt grabbed ahold of your leg and rested it on his knee to open you up further. He spread your lips and stared down at your wet, juicy cunt. "Such a pretty pink pussy you have," Matt admired, hungrily wetting his lips.

He lined two of his fingers up with your entrance and started fucking you hard and fast with them under the table. "If the waitress or your brother start coming this way, be a good girl and let me know. I don't think this will take very long, though," he whispered, seductively smiling at you.

A few strangled moans escaped your lips as you gripped the edge of the table. "Good girl. You're so wet," Matt softly commented as his digits slipped in and out of you with ease. You could feel your stomach dropping, your core tightening, and your whole body quivering as Matt brought you to the quickest climax you'd had in your life.

There was something about the risky factor and the publicity of it all that sent you plummeting over the edge while Matt passionately finger-fucked you.

"That's it. Cum all over my fingers. Come on, sweet thing. I know you can do it," he urged you. His praise sent a current of pleasure through you while you started rhythmically clenching around his digits, your hips bucking as he finished you off.

"Good girl," he lustfully commended you as your jaw fell open and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He pumped in and out, slowing down his pace as your orgasm concluded. A wave of tranquility washed over you, and Matt gave you a mischevious smile as he pulled his fingers from your slick hole that were covered in shiny layer of your juices.

"Mmm," he hummed as he stuck them in his mouth and licked them clean, cherishing your flavor. "I can't get enough of you," he whispered as you pulled your legs shut again, smoothing out your dress, and going back to eating your food as your brother came into view from around the corner on his way back from the bathroom.

You almost couldn't believe you'd let Matt do that to you in such a high-risk situation, but you fucking loved the rush you got from it, and Matt could tell due to how quickly you came.

When your brother returned to the table, you could feel how flushed your face must have looked as your brother's eyes traveled between you and his best friend. Matt couldn't hide the guilty smirk from his face, but he tried to cover it with his hand as he propped his elbow up on the table.

He got a sort of sick satisfaction out of sneaking around with his best friend's little sister right in front of his face. The only problem was that he was too smug and arrogant for his own good, and his God complex would quickly have him falling from good graces if he wasn't careful.

"You guys are acting weird today," he commented, narrowing his gaze. "If one of you did something to my food while I was gone, you're both dead," he laughed, skeptically looking at you and the boy beside you.

"Nah, nothing like that. Don't worry about it," Matt replied in a conceited tone. "If you're playing some kind of prank on me, I'm gonna figure it out, Sturniolo," your brother responded, laughing and pointing at him with his fork.

You sat uncomfortably in your soaking wet panties, silently finishing your coffee, unable to look at either one of them. Your heart was still beating quickly, and you were still trying to subtly call your breath back to you. Luckily, the subject changed, and the boys started talking about something unrelated.

You couldn't bring yourself to add to the conversation, so you listened quietly while you picked at your french toast and eggs, trying to draw as little attention to yourself as possible.

You couldn't keep your eyes off Matt the whole ride home, studying his profile and swooning every time he turned around to wink at you or lick his lips while he peered between your legs. Every silent exchange between the two of you felt like a little secret that only the two of you were privy to.

You liked concealing the sexual nature of your relationship with Matt. As far as everyone else around you knew, he was just your brother's best friend. However, behind closed doors (and under the table in empty diners), he was the manifestation of your fantasies, the embodiment of your wildest wet dream, and the boy who had popped your cherry.

All you could think about was the next time you'd get to be alone with him. Behind his hauntingly beautiful blue eyes, he was wondering the same about you, daydreaming about the next time he could fill you with his cock.

જ⁀➴ ♡🍨 part three here 💖

taglist: @thepubeburgler @realqueenofpepsi @mattsredgaphoodie @purpledreamertyphoon @moosegirl96 @bsturnzmtts @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @jassturn @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @jaysturniolo @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @babysturniolo @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1 @chrislova

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matthew bernard sturniolo

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rattinahatt · 1 year ago

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favorite character from any media BUT it has to be a woman. in the tags now go (pls talk to me about your favorite fictional women pls pls pls pls)

#frye onaga #splatoon #i ADORE her #shes an eel charmer and uses her eels to fight alongside her in her boss fight #shes also very very agile and dances the ENTIRE TIME you fight her #shes both very approachable and very intimidating and out of her shiver and big man shes easily the most competent #plus all of her outfits are just so prettyyyyy #shes got my favourite design out of any splatoon character ever and all her outfits are genuinely stunning #she didnt win the leader splatfest but she seems to tend to lead deep cut whenever theyre out banditing #because shes the one who first stops you and leads the entire conversation #she has absolute audacity and i love that about her #she also loves her siblings so much she has two younger twin sisters and a brother #and during a big run that took place in a mall she said how sad she was that she couldnt take her sisters out on a shopping spree #i fucking love frye so much shes one of my favourite characters of all time out of any media ever

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moonyslove78 · 2 years ago

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@liz-allyn

okay! So, I think I’ve FINALLY compiled some of my favorites to listen to and daydream of Peter & Honey.

Like I said when I mentioned sending it to you, I know some of them are from straight up head cannons I’ve had so a few may not make sense. And some may be my wishful thinking of the “end game”, but I wanted to include ALL of them because I love them all and I figured maybe you’d be able to find something you may like one here as well!

I’ve also included a few that I could totally picture P&H getting “down and dirty” to, cause I’m a damn sucker for sexy time music. 🫣🤣

I hope you enjoy! 🥰

#💬 sugar and vice #mob!tasm Peter Parker #peter parker #my sugar & vice spotify playlist #my love for these two characters runs deep #i’m addicted to them #Spotify

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i-smoke-chapstick · 3 months ago

Note

saw that you're in your got era so perhaps jealousy headcanons for the got or hotd characters? 👀 literally anyone from these characters - robb, jaime, margaery, oberyn, theon, cersei or ramsay, I'd love to see your interpretation on any of them ! ( or aemond, alicent, aegon, gwayne, OTTO !!, larys, daemon or mysaria for hotd, again whichever era you feel like it !!) and just for future reference, do you write for asoiaf characters or mainly the shows?

'LOVE CAN KILL, [jealousy! hcs]

-GOT / HOTD CHARACTERS X READER-

⋆ Characters ↬ Robb, Jaime, Margaery, Oberyn, Cersei, Joffrey, Ramsay, Tyrion, The Hound, Aemond, Aegon, Alicent, Gwayne, Daemon

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; jealousy, and how some characters deal with it ;)

⋆ tags/warnings. GOT and HOTD!characters x female reader. SFW! But naturally, some of these characters get a bit suggestive! Possessive behavior, canon typical violence, etc. Please send in more GOT/HOTD requests! Apologies this took so long, this is more characters in a post than I've ever done lol. Unfortunately I'm not super familiar with Otto, Larys, Theon, or Mysaria, so I decided to pick some characters I'm more familiar with! (Joffrey is my #1 favorite of all time, my sincerest apologies.) Whew, 14 characters ! For right now I'm only writing for the TV shows! (i've only read book 1, lol)

𝑅𝛰𝐵𝐵 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐾

♫ “I wasn't thinking when I told you to stay.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

With Robb, it's all about the body language. And boy, he's horrible at hiding it.

He can have a hard time placing the feeling as jealousy. He was raised to be honorable. But feelings of...neglect run deep with him. Oldest child syndrome, if you will.

Which is why his jealousy most likely manifests in subdued, quiet behavior. Part of him will recognize he's being ridiculous, while another part of him is silently fuming. Fists clenched, he'll send you an intense stare as he watches you converse with another lord.

His emotions leak through his expressions. When he catches you staring back, his gaze will flit down, and he'll wait patiently for you're time. Or...in most cases...he'll march right up, placing himself between you and the man. Maybe a small, "I'll take it from here." If the lord is offering to help you with something.

A subtle touch on the small of your back. It's a small claim, a subtle "back-off."

A lot of his jealousy also transforms into protectiveness more than anything. He'll offer to accompany reader to places he wouldn't normally be concerned about. He's close by, and he's reminding her wordlessly, he's watching over her and any threat.

Finally, when you two are alone, will he drop down that guard of his. Covering up that burning pit inside him with casual humor, you can sense the underlaying seriousness of his voice in his light teases.

"You’re quite popular these days. Should I be worried that I’m not your only admirer?"

He certainly beds you, having something to prove. And only afterwards when you are in his arms, sweaty and warm from the candlelight, wrapped in furs...will he calm down.

"It’s not that I don’t trust you… It’s them I don’t trust. Some men don’t know how to keep their place." He'll whisper, holding onto you firmly.

𝐽𝐴𝐼𝑀𝐸 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

♫ “You don't know that you're in over your head.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Jaime's jealousy is burning. It's simply the way he was raised. And gods, you are his.

Numerous sarcastic remarks flow between the two of you and the man who he believes has essentially stolen your affections. His taunts are offhand, dry remarks, often directed towards his "opponent" or even you, if he's feeling bitter enough.

"I didn’t realize he was such a comedian. Maybe I should ask him for pointers." He'll say, with that sarcastic drawl. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to make me jealous. Not that it would work, of course." He chuckles, but his gaze is sharp.

Depending on the offense, Jaime's reactions differ. If you simply have an admirer, a few...well chosen words are directed towards them. His confidence allows him to not be too bothered. Maybe standing closer, clearly showing off to whatever poor soul thought they had a shot with you.

It's a different story if you are friends with the person involved, or entertain their advances even mildly or jokingly.

That's when the uncharacteristic tension comes out, full of small twitches in his jaw and curt, smug responses. His visible annoyance is uncontrolled.

We saw how he was with Loras when it came to Cersei. If he feels truly threatened, whether it's by another pretty boy, or just someone he feels could...hypothetically...have the upper hand...He'll corner them when you're off somewhere else. And give a small warning, from the Kingslayer himself.

"You seem to have forgotten who you're dealing with, so let me remind you." He leans in just close enough for his words to sink in. "Whatever you think you might be to her… you’re not. Let’s keep it that way, hm? I'd hate to see you make any...lasting mistakes."

𝑀𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝐸𝑅𝑌 𝑇𝑌𝑅𝐸𝐿𝐿

♫ “It was just too hard to push you away.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Margaery is smart with her feelings. She knows how to play the game, and play it well. Instead of showing her jealousy openly, she's a touch more composed than most characters on this list.

She recognizes just how precious you are, and admires that. She doesn't necessarily blame others when they become...attached to you.

When jealousy arises, she views it more as a small problem in need of being handled. And she knows how to handle things.

She embraces the graceful competition, subtly outshining anyone who seems to get in the way of her goals. Her goal being you're affection, of course. You're already hers, and she sees no problem in working to keep it that way.

This appears in gestures of strategic sweetness to keep you close, perhaps wearing your favorite gowns on her, and offering that charming smirk. She doesn't shy away from manipulating you, just a teeny bit.

"They’re certainly captivated by you. I suppose I’ll have to work harder to keep your attention." She teases, "Besides, who could ever compare to us?"

Her words carry a playful undertone, but she makes her point clear. Laughing charmingly, threading her arm through yours.

Very rarely does she think she's in any serious danger. She prides herself on being yours and knowing how to keep you on a tight leash. Though...if she feels genuinely worried, she expresses her feelings quite clearly but still gently. She reminds her lover of their shared goals, and all that they've built together.

"My, you do attract admirers easily, don’t you? I’ll have to start guarding you more closely." She gives you a playful look, though her touch on your arm will linger just a bit longer than usual.

𝛰𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑌𝑁 𝑀𝐴𝑅𝑇𝐸𝐿𝐿

♫ “Let me go, but you won't let me go.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Oberyn doesn't feel insecure. How could he? He knows, deep down, that you're his. Jealousy isn't something he confines himself too, he views it as an ugly emotion, capable of getting rid of the true wonders love has to offer.

That being said...he is only a man. And he is fiercely protective. If anyone were to flirt with you and you were clearly uninterested, it would be a swift death, or at the very least, he'd make his point clear with a blow or two and a cutting edge remark. Especially if they are a Lannister. He enjoys you being admired, but only to a certain extent.

"Your efforts are wasted, they’re far too captivating for someone like you. I’d suggest you find someone more... suited to your charms." He begins, hand itching for his spear, "Consider this your first and last warning."

Yeah, he means business.

Most of the time, he spins the situation to show-off. Showcase his own passion and devotion to you. If it's simply a friend of yours, he may even offer them to join in. If not, he'll spend the entire night practically worshipping you, promising that he's the only one who could ever make you feel like this.

Similarly to Margaery, he teases you lightly.

"You have a lovely laugh. But I must admit, it’s much better when it’s for me alone."

Oberyn doesn't shy away from PDA either. It's that assertive reclaiming he seems to favor, pulling you close, whispering something that affirms your affections for each other. He'll revel when he watches the other mans face fall in dismay.

He might get cocky, and push it a bit far. By the time he's done, the 'competition' will be utterly humiliated and embarrassed. He'll be smirking at his own quips.

"I assure you, my friend, my lover favors...more substantial things." He motions to the poor mans crotch.

You're gonna have to give him a slap on the arm.

𝐶𝐸𝑅𝑆𝐸𝐼 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

♫ “Consequence of loving me can be cruel.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Cersei's jealousy is intense and multifaceted, to say the least. It manifests in a mix of cold fury and harsh threats, channeling that anger into much more controlling behavior.

Deep down, she is terribly insecure. Once another man or woman as your attention, and she catches on, she's coolly lashing out. And she catches on quickly.

At first she may appear indifferent, but if you look close enough, you can see the subtly giveaways. The way her lip curls, her nostrils flare, and her knuckles go white gripping her wine chalice.

If you're the first one to confront her, and attempt to reassure her, you'll save yourself some trouble down the line. Guaranteed, she'll deny it, but still make a passive-aggressive remark here and there. But eventually she'll calm down, edges softening.

That rare moment of vulnerability that you're not sure is manipulation or not. She'll look towards the ground, running her thumb over you're hand on her cheek. She'll sit on the edge of her bed, jaw clenched.

Now, it's a whole different story if you don't catch on to the early signs. If you don't manage to reassure or call her out in time, that jealousy implodes.

She may confront you first, anger bleeding through her. She runs on it. She may even threaten you, oblivious to the potential consequences her words might have.

“You think you can charm your way into my affections by paying attention to that little fool?" She's standing up, loathing distorting her features. Her voice raises. "Perhaps I should throw a feast in her honor. Let’s see how charming she is when surrounded by my people."

It's threats and threats and more and more threats...which can be especially worrying if the person she's jealous of is a friend of yours.

Almost every scenario ends with you having to comfort her, treading carefully with the words you say.

Now, when it comes to confronting the competition, she makes it very clear. Though, these threats are often much more impulsive. A swig of wine, and she gracefully moves towards them when you're out of sight.

A faux compliment or two, before she whispers, close.

“You’ll find that my guards are quite loyal to me. A simple command, and they’ll ensure you never breathe the same air as her again.”

It only makes her feel a bit better. But, regardless, she's smiling smugly, feeling proud of herself when the offenders face turns white.

𝐽𝛰𝐹𝐹𝑅𝐸𝑌 𝐵𝐴𝑅𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸𝛰𝑁

♫ “Too much love can kill.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Oh, Joffrey. I'm obsessed with him.

Yeah. He has the worst jealousy issues out of everyone on this list. It's baaaaad. It's a cocktail of insecurity, possessiveness, and entitlement. As someone who has been raised to believe he is above others, and has been coddled his entire life...it infuriates him.

It's the same feeling you get as a child, when someone steals one of your toys. You belong to him. He never grew out of that mentality, or that feeling.

Be prepared for plentiful outbursts of anger. He's a tantrum personified, especially if he feels disrespected. Insecurity grips him tight and refuses to let up until he's either been heavily reassured...or the other person is... taken care of.

And even then, after reassuring him for hours, it may not be enough. You know how he hired a knight to take out Tyrion in the Battle of Blackwater? Yeah. That person will be paid a little 'visit.'

When reassuring him, similar to Cersei, you really have to be careful what you say, or it might make the situation even worse. At that point, he's seeing red.

"I’m the king! You should be grateful for my attention, not chasing after scraps!" He's huffing, pointing to himself as his breathing increases. He'll look at you with an ice cold glare, nose wrinkled in distaste.

He might even force his hand around your face, harshly grabbing you. He looks dead into your eyes, voice clear and low. "You're mine. You belong to me." He's seething.

If he notices you simply looking at anyone else too long, he'll feel beyond threatened in both his masculinity and position as king. Especially if you laugh at another mans jokes, or simply attempt to be friendly with a commoner or lord.

"What’s so amusing? You’d think you’d find better entertainment than that fool." He mutters under his breath harshly, bad habit of picking at his fingers. He'll shuffle uncomfortably. He'll look to you expecting agreeance. It's 100% that mentality of 'Friends? You don't need friends. You have me.'

Yeah, he keeps the very blunt insults coming. Petulant name calling is not above him. Includes, but is not limited too, "Degenerates, Idiots, Commoners, Peasants, or Cretins" which he may describe as being "Stupid, Disgusting, Repellent, Sickening, or Revolting." He's got a LOT of those angry remarks in the bank.

While he may not directly confront the offender, (he doesn't have time for idle threats.) He has his own ways of dealing with them. And that is a public humiliation ritual, making a mockery of any rival. And if they disobey ANY whim of his, they're gone. That one scene with Tyrion at his wedding? That "Kneel!"? He's commanding the same of any man unlucky enough to have threatened his claim on you. Oh, and they're going to be his cupbearer.

Even if they do as he asks, by now his anger will have transformed into that renewed sense of cruelty. "You're fingers or your tongue?...Or I could just cut your throat."

𝑅𝐴𝑀𝑆𝐴𝑌 𝐵𝛰𝐿𝑇𝛰𝑁

♫ “You're gonna suffer now, whatever you do.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

His jealousy may not be as overtly intense as Joffrey's, but it certainly is the scariest.

In his own words, he prefers being an only child. That same kind of mentality certainly carries over to his relationship with you. He prefers to be the only one you see that way.

He loves a good game, and that's what this is. If anything, it's quite exhilarating for him. Though, he is a huge hypocrite. For a man who thinks jealousy is boring coming from you, he feels it quite freely.

Sees it as a means of asserting dominance, whether that be through intimidation or overt manipulation. He doesn't deny it like most characters on this list. When he's feeling jealous, he says it. It's a small warning for you not to go any farther, lest worse things occur for you or the perceived threat.

He'll go up to whoever you are talking too, saccharine and honorable smile on his face. He'll casually interrupt, introducing himself as Lord Bolton's successor. Despite his calm demeanor, there is a tightness in his face, and a wicked look in his eyes, that only you can recognize. It will make you shiver.

If the rival persists, he'll find it all too amusing.

"You're bold, I'll give you that." He says with a boisterous laugh, and you already know the mans fate is sealed.

Looks like his hounds will be having another meal tonight. He'll have his men go out looking for the man, and he'll question him more...privately, when you aren't there to witness his tortuous taunts.

But for now, his focus is on you, and your loyalty to him. When he excuses the both of you, his hand is gripping yours painfully tight.

By the time you're in his chamber, he's on you, ripping your clothes off with a harsh intensity and pushing you to the wall. His nose is twitching in barely kept anger, forcing you to look at him.

We all saw that scene between him and Myranda when she threatens to marry someone else, and it was not pretty. His eyes are borderline bloodshot, and he can't keep his hands off you or your throat.

"You're mine." He leans forward, through gritted teeth. It's better you don't put up a fight, because he'll be having you and your attention one way or another.

Que the numerous kisses and bite marks soon to follow. And he is not gentle when he's inside you.

You'll never hear from the flirtatious lord again...and if you do, it's only in the prayers of his grieving family.

𝑇𝑌𝑅𝐼𝛰𝑁 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐼𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅

♫ “My love, you are not safe with me.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Now, Tyrion's jealousy is more subdued and introspective versus some characters on this list. He has a good sense of self-awareness, and he's intelligent to figure out what he's feeling quite quickly.

At first he'll dismiss it as nothing more than an annoying feeling of insecurity he attempts to cover up. But...it doesn't last long. Especially when someone else makes you laugh. Or when Bronn makes a taunt with a half smirk, that some other fancy lord has taken a keen interest in his lady. (Bronn, you instigator!)

As such, Tyrion resorts to his usual humor to deflect any unpleasant feelings he may have when he's jealous. Similar to his brother, these witty remarks are are subtle intimidation technique, meant to dryly convey his displeasure.

"Ah, the sound of laughter. How quaint. I suppose I’ll have to work harder to earn your amusement." He forces a smile, masking his discomfort. "I didn’t realize I was competing for the title of Court Jester."

These feelings of inadequacy manifest in more self-deprecating ways for Tyrion, given his anger is more controlled. He might opt to drown his sorrows, so don't be surprised if you catch him drunkenly waving his chalice around, doing poor impressions of the so-called-lord that had your attention.

This doesn't mean he won't confront the rival, though. Quite the opposite. While he won't seek the man out, (For his sake, he isn't privy to seeing the tall handsome lord in person. He's not a masochist.) If he happens to come across him flirting with you first hand, or sees him during a feast, he'll make sure to throw one or two gibes out there.

"Desperation looks unflattering on you, my friend. Perhaps you should tone it down a notch." He speaks carefully, nodding to Bronn as a subtle warning. "Or at least the best you can manage..?"

If the rival flirts with you blatantly and in front of him, I can 100% imagine him putting them down. After a flirtatious remark directed towards you, he'll make a dry comment, "Flattery is wasted on me, but do go on; I’m always entertained by those who think they can win my affection." As if it was directed towards him. Probably shuts the man up for a moment.

When the two of you are alone, he'd be very grateful if you could just hold him. Give him that reassurance he craves when his carefree facade breaks. That moment of vulnerability means the world to him.

𝑆𝐴𝑁𝐷𝛰𝑅 "𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐻𝛰𝑈𝑁𝐷" 𝐶𝐿𝐸𝐺𝐴𝑁𝐸

♫ “I need you to go, don't fight me.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Listen up, Sandor doesn't take shit.

Jealousy isn't an emotion Sandor is particularly used too. In fact, he didn't think he'd find anyone to love in his lifetime, so the feeling is foreign and unpleasant. And, like a mean dog, Sandor's first reaction is to growl.

He doesn't like it. Says it's constricting, and it pisses him off. Not just the pretty boy lord flirting with you, but the whole situation in general. Makes him feel vulnerable, and weak.

Naturally, his first reaction is to distance himself. He may avoid you, grumbling, spitting out vile and vulgar comments to get you to run with your tail between your legs. It's better for the both of you that way.

"You think they’re worth your time? Just a pretty smile to distract you?" He scoffs, shaking his head. "You could do better. But then again, you always choose to suffer." He motions at himself, and it's a glimpse of that self-depreciation he buries.

But you love him for a reason, and you know that won't end well. Best way to handle him when he's jealous is to be gentle, and to listen.

He doesn't want empty reassurances. He's complicated that way, even if they are genuine. He isn't one for flowery words or overt displays of emotion, so the best way to comfort him would be to give him some space, but continue to take care of him.

It will still frustrate him, but eventually he'll cave. He'll rejoin you, silently, eventually. Won't offer any apologies, but maybe a gruff nod, and you two will commence whatever it is you two have.

In future instances, he becomes much more brutally honest with how he feels. Doesn't sugarcoat it. If he doesn't like someone, even if they are a friend, he expects them gone- or he'll take care of them regardless. That kind of possessive behavior is just something you'll have to work through.

I can imagine him silently brooding if he witnesses someone flirting with you first hand. Typically his size and reputation is enough to scare whoever away. He's looming over them, eyes dark, and ready to defend what's his.

When you take your leave, he'll confront the person with a very explicit threat or two.

"If you don’t back off, I’ll find a nice dark corner to stuff you in- preferably with a pile of shit." Or, "Get any closer, and I’ll rip your tongue out and shove it down your throat."

𝐴𝐸𝑀𝛰𝑁𝐷 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

♫ “Get swallowed by the weight.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Aemond has the most...complex jealousy out of everyone on this list. It's layered, and the outcome may be unpredictable. It's an emotional and volatile nature that's been building up for years since he was a child.

He often had feelings of jealousy for his brother, his nephews, etc. That trauma is deeply rooted in him, and it's hard to let go of old habits, given it's been present all his life.

You'll watch his head bow in distaste when you make small conversation with other lords. How his eye will gaze at you, almost warningly. His jaw will be clenched tight, and he'll avoid eye contact, looking off to the side in anger. He doesn't want to watch.

If it's a friend of yours, he can be a bit mean, questioning your loyalty a bit harshly.

"Friendship? Is that what you call it?" He speaks, angrily. A thinly veiled threat is directed to you, "It seems more like a prelude to betrayal."

He'll brood in the corner, silently waiting. That is, unless, he deems the man goes too far.

In the scene where he gets his eye put out by Lucerys, the conversation that starts before it happens pretty much sums his jealousy up. He's firm with his claim to Vaghar, and the same goes for you.

When Rhaena states that Vaghar was hers to claim, Aemond responds in kind, "Then you should've claimed her." And puts up a hell of a fight to prove his point. That same possessiveness carries over to his relationship with you. He doesn't back down. You're his.

He has no problems getting in between you and the man he feels threatened of. He offers a blunt threat.

"I could have you torn apart, limb by limb, and I’d sleep soundly at night. Be certain of that."

Guaranteed, mixed feelings of insecurity will rise to the surface. When you two are alone, he'll continue to brood silently, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and body language tight.

Please do reassure him. He needs it. His eye will soften, and he'll place his hand over yours, leaning into your touch. With a soft huff of an air, a final warning slips past his lips.

"Don’t make me remind you why I’m the only one worthy of you."

𝐴𝐸𝐺𝛰𝑁 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

♫ “I wanna hold on tightly.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Aegon handles jealousy poorly, much like he seems to handle everything else.

It's like throwing gasoline on a fire. Once that feeling in his chest flares up, it's shown through erratic behavior, sarcasm, and attempts to assert his claim in juvenile, insecure ways. Unlike his brother, he lacks the restraint to simply brood.

No, be prepared for plenty of mocking comments directed towards the man he's threatened of, and showy displays to prove he's the better choice.

Everyone knows he is unpredictable and reckless, and possessiveness drives him to act out. He certainly overindulges to cope with his insecurity, (getting shitfaced) and will gladly push your boundaries to get your attention back on him.

Not to mention the belittling comments he'll make.

"Oh, is that who you’ve chosen to entertain now? I didn’t realize your taste had grown so dull."

Prone to acting overtly clingy, almost like a restless cat. He will attempt to slide over into the conversation, resting an arm around you, or even pulling you away. He doesn't care if it's 'improper.' He probably brings up his status, his bloodline, acting over-the-top.

He's also no stranger to outbursts. His temper may make him lash out impulsively, whether that be towards you or the man whose got your attention. If he's in a particular mood, be ready to deal with a screaming Aegon, threatening to slaughter and burn said rival. His fist will come down hard on the council table.

He also doesn't care if he's making a show of it in front of the council members. Que Alicent or Otto attempting to placate him. He needs to have a cooler head if he's going to be ruling the Seven Kingdoms, and this type of behavior isn't very becoming.

He definitely thinks he's owed some make-up sex, if only to quell the insecure storm raging inside him.

"You think they could satisfy you? Truly?" He says, firmly, as he steps closer. Anger is burning in his words, volume raising. "They wouldn’t even know where to begin."

And he plans to show you that he's right.

𝐴𝐿𝐼𝐶𝐸𝑁𝑇 𝐻𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝛰𝑊𝐸𝑅

♫ “I'm afraid I'll pull you over the edge.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Alicent experiences jealousy complexly, just like Aemond. It gnaws on her until she's at her breaking point. Rather than overt displays or confrontations, she attempts to employ more strategic distance...but it always ends up resorting in icy politeness.

She's making her displeasure known through restrained, pointed remarks. Out of duty and pride, she'll attempt to avoid direct confrontation, but she wears her jealousy on her sleeve.

I imagine her withdrawing from the situation at first, if not for anything but her own sake. Her gut reaction, out of insecurity, is to escape the situation. It honestly makes her feel sick.

Unless she's forced to stay...then she'll begrudgingly offer a tight smile. Her responses are carefully measured, and she slips into that role of "queen" rather than a lover.

A part of it stems from passive aggressiveness, and another part of it is purely subconscious.

Speaking of passive aggressiveness, she'll make some pretty cutting remarks, either questioning your loyalty or purposely feigning ignorance to the situation.

"Perhaps I’m mistaken. But I know loyalty when I see it. Or when I don’t."

It's an all bark, no bite threat towards you. But it serves as an aggressive reminder of your connection with her, and that you are now apart of her duties.

If she does interfere beforehand, she'll make indirect remarks about the person causing her jealousy, but will most likely frame it as merely her own curiosity.

Maybe just a touch of self-depreciation, unintentional manipulation. Years of Otto's techniques have rubbed off on her.

"It’s of little consequence, truly. I simply thought I was the one you preferred to spend your time with. I may have misjudged."

𝐺𝑊𝐴𝑌𝑁𝐸 𝐻𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝛰𝑊𝐸𝑅

♫ “Hurts to say it over, over again.” Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

In contrast to Alicent, Gwayne has no problem when he feels threatened to step in. He's a member of a powerful house, and a knight no less. Those two things have taught him to be prideful and honorable.

He will defend your honor whenever he deems in necessary, and there are no exceptions. He certainly has a flash of a temper, but he believes he's much more restrained than others, given his training.

If he thinks someone is crossing a line, he'll interfere. He'll position himself quite closely to you, making his presence known.

He offers the man a silent warning, offering a cool, assessing look. It would be enough to communicate his disapproval.

And if the man persists...well...they'll end up with the end of a sword pointed at them.

Similar to Robb, Gwayne's jealousy appears more in his heightened protectiveness. He insists on staying close for your safety.

"Do they need to be reminded that you’re already spoken for?"

Obviously, his noble pride carries on. If he gets pushed, his jealousy will show more openly, taking the man aside, and telling them that he is more worthy of her time and attention. Might throw in a comment about his noble standing.

He'll take you aside when everything is said and done, reminding her his intentions are honorable. Everyone else is just...unworthy.

"You may not see it, but I know men like him. If he truly respected you, he wouldn’t need to linger around someone else’s beloved."

𝐷𝐴𝐸𝑀𝛰𝑁 𝑇𝐴𝑅𝐺𝐴𝑅𝑌𝐸𝑁

♫ "No matter how you feel." Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

Oh boy, you'll have to keep this man on a tight leash when his jealousy flares up. It's as intense as he is, and he shows it openly.

He'll deny it, or embrace it, depending on the severity of the perceived offense. It's closely tied to that desire for power within him he can't seem to shake. Any affront to your loyalty is an affront to his own standing.

He switches from possessive protectiveness to outright hostility. There's really no in between. It's a raw and unfiltered fury that makes his hand shake and his eye twitch.

He doesn't tolerate rivals, and he's very upfront that he's the only one fit to be by your side. This comes through when he has you all to himself on his bed...

He'll confront the person whether you want him to or not.

"If they value their limbs, they’d remember you’re mine." He mutters casually, pacing around the room.

He carries that hard glint in his eyes. He may even mildly appreciate the sheer balls of the man stupid enough to attempt to flirt with you, but he'll shut it down quicker than anyone on this list.

"You’ve got a bold tongue. I wonder if I should cut it out..?" He'll look to you for permission. It's up to you if you wanna let the dragon loose!

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hxney-lemcn · 9 months ago

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First Kiss — Housewardens x gn! reader

summary: your first kiss with your lover.

tw: none.

a/n: teehee. Its hard for me to pick what character I wanna daydream about. Also, can you tell who my fav is? *cough* Vil *cough*

wc: 2.1k (~250 each character)

Master List | Vicehousewardens | The Others

❥ Riddle Rosehearts

The warm sun gently warmed you both. A refreshing breeze softly caressed you, Riddle’s red hair swaying gently as he took a sip of his tea. You felt more than content as Riddle’s gray-blue eyes watched you intently as you rambled about whatever carried your fancy. It was a side of Riddle that few others saw, and you were grateful that he allowed you to, that he was willing to listen to whatever nonsense you spouted. The warmth in your heart burst as he nodded, giving his two cents about the book you spoke of. By the sevens did you want to just give him a little peck. You two were dating, so there was no harm in asking…right? Although the two of you had been dating for a bit, the question had caused him to fluster greatly. Cheeks a bright red, mouth gaping, chest heaving. You should’ve expected such a reaction, it took quite a bit for him to hold your hand without shutting down. To your surprise, he gave you his consent. Leaning over, you couldn’t help but find him absolutely adorable. Eyes closed expectantly, lips pursed, cheeks red. You closed the gap, leaving a chaste kiss against his lips before pulling away. When you pulled away he seemed to look both in awe and slight disappointment.

“As my partner, you are allowed to show me your affection in such ways, I only ask you to keep it between us. Other’s do not need to witness such acts.”

❥ Leona Kingscholar

You were bored. Your phone could no longer hold your attention and you just wanted to do something different. Too bad you had a whole ass lion using you as his personal body pillow. You stared at the familiar ceiling of his room, contemplating on a possible way to sneak out. You loved Leona, really, you did…but your limbs were sore and you felt antsy. So, what better than poking the bear, err…lion. You found yourself brushing his hair with your hands, scratching his scalp every so often. When that no longer kept you entertained, you lightly scratched at the base of his ears. His ear twitched, but you continued with your ministrations, a smirk pulling at your lips as a deep rumble was pulled out of him. You only paused when one of his eyes glared at you. When you mentioned you were merely bored and your legs felt like needles were constantly pricking them he only rolled his eyes. Quicker than you could comprehend, he pinned you down below him with a slight huff. His green eyes stared at you for a few moments, as if he was seeking permission, and when you didn’t push him away or fight him, he leaned down, connecting your lips in a harsh kiss. He didn’t stop until you were breathless, a smug smirk filling his features.

“Is this what you wanted, herbivore? If you want to ruin my sleep then you’ll have to compensate me.”

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

You felt like you were going crazy. Azul would take you out on fancy dates, offering you discounts (is it really a discount if you were basically eating for free?) at the Mostro Lounge, and shower you in light forms of affection (kissing the back of your hand, guiding you with a hand on your back, gentlemanly shit), yet you haven’t kissed him? Preposterous! It was proving to be a difficult task, as even though you both had been dating for a while, Azul would shy away at any form of affection you showered him with. The good news was that he had become more receptive to it, the key was you both had to be completely alone and it could only be small gestures. A small squeeze of his hand, brushing back a stray hair, hell even giving him a compliment no longer caused him to run away. Sadly, you started to feel greedy, his pink lips always seemed to taunt you, an open invitation to lean over and place your own over his. But you didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, you understood how kissing could be a big deal. There was one night, the dim lights highlighting Azul’s beautiful face as he watched you expectantly. He had you taste a new dish that he wanted to add to his menu and it just so happened to be your favorite food. As thanks, you asked him to come closer, a mischievous glint in your eyes. He did so hesitatingly, and felt himself burn up when you placed a kiss on his cheek. Then he felt like he was going to pass out as you pouted stating that you ‘missed’. Against his better judgment, he gave into your pleading, enchanting eyes, leaning in closer as you silently asked for permission. When your lips met his, he thought he was ascending to heaven.

“A-ahem, I-I’m glad to see that the d-dish was to your l-liking. I-if there’s anything else I could provide, p-please do not be afraid to ask.”

❥ Kalim Al-Asim

It's a wonder you two haven’t kissed yet. You felt so spoiled with how much care and affection Kalim showered you with. He never failed to warm you heart whether it be from his hugs, his solutions if anything ever concerned you, or even just his smile. He was a beaming ray of sunshine, and it kind of intimidated you. Contrary to popular belief, you felt shy under Kalim’s love. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to the way your heart skipped a beat as he kissed your cheek or refused to let you go. Oh and not to mention the spoiling. You knew you'd never stop the prince from lavishing you with golden jewelry and gems you didn’t even want to guess how much they were worth. Honestly, it wasn’t good for your poor heart…or consciousness. So when Kalim noticed your slightly downtrodden expression at the new ring he slipped on your finger he worried. Was it not to your liking? Was the color wrong? Don’t worry! He’ll find you ten more rings that you’ll love! …why did you look even more scared at that suggestion? You deserved all this and more! Poor Kalim, he doesn’t know a world without it being at his fingertips, he can’t understand your concern. Your heart hurt at his frown, his sad eyes reminded you of a poor puppy that was kicked. With a sigh you relented, it did compliment you nicely. And so, hoping to right the wrong of making Kalim feel sad, you leaned over and gently pecked his lips. It was like nothing had occurred at all as he stared with sparkles in his eyes.

“Could we do that again? How about another? Just one more, pleeeeease~ Haha! I’m sorry, I just love you so much!”

❥ Vil Schoenheit

It wasn’t fair how pretty and charming your boyfriend was. You wouldn’t tell him this, but he could run you over and blame you for being in the way and you’d apologize. Yeah, you were a major simp, but you really tried to be normal about it. Honestly, you weren’t sure how you managed to bag him, something about how your stupidity was frustratingly charming…in which you showed him your B in potions but he simply rolled his eyes. Aparatenly that proved his point somehow. Anyways! It was one of those rare moments of peace, the two of you watching a movie that Vil had deemed a classic. As much as you tried to pay attention (you know how annoying it is when someone scrolls on their phone during a movie you love), you kept glancing at Vil to see his reactions. You weren’t being sneaky by any means, and he wasn’t sure if he should be happy you couldn’t take your eyes off of him or annoyed that you clearly missed the symbolism that was important to understanding the plot. Yet when you pointed out something even he missed…he was secretly proud. Perhaps you were a better multitasker than you seemed because he had watched that movie plenty of times and missed such a simple thing you pointed out on first view. His heart warmed as you pointed out more details that you liked, and others you didn’t completely understand, such a simple moment, yet one he would cherish. And now he was becoming the bad one, eyes straying to your lips while trying to listen to your rambling. He truly wanted your first kiss to be romantic, in a garden with fairy lights or over a fancy dinner, but perhaps this was just as, if not more so romantic. Gently lifting your head up, your words died on your tongue as Vil’s purple eyes stared at you so lovingly. As he inched his face closer to yours, he softly asked if he could kiss you, nearly sending your heart into cardiac arrest. As his soft lips met yours, you felt true bliss for the first time, and as he pulled away with a self assured smirk, cheeks a light pink, you questioned how you managed to achieve a dream like scenario.

“It seems like you’re becoming a bad influence, dear. You want another? Perhaps I can oblige if you can actually focus on the next movie.”

❥ Idia Shroud

Where do I begin? You had been with Idia for nearly a year. You both were on the shy side, getting used to such intimate touches slowly. You can successfully say that you can now hug Idia without him freaking out. In fact, he seemed to seek out your affection, albeit in a backwards way. He’d act like he hated any form of affection and then proceed to stare daggers at you like he was trying to telepathically ask you to play with his hair. True cat behavior. You showed him the joy of affection and now you had to pay the crime (you did so happily). Idia was laying on your chest playing on his handheld console, you were mindlessly playing with his hair and your eyes kept drifting from your phone to your boyfriend. He was so pretty, you never understood how he thought otherwise. From his fiery blue hair, his yellow determined eyes, to his blue tinted lips. He may be a loser otaku, but that just happened to be your type. Your hand trailed from his bright hair to his pale face, gently caressing his cheeks. He looked over at you, his cheeks turning a light pink, no matter how much love you showered him with he would never get used to the way you made his heart want to rip itself out of his chest. And…oh sevens, were you staring at his lips? Just what was going on in that mind of yours? Did…did you just ask to kiss him?! Hair burning pink and hiding his face in your neck, he felt like his brain was melting. He’s dreamt of kissing you, how soft your lips may be, the flavor of your chapstick…but actually doing it?! Was your intimacy meter high enough? His charm stats are rock bottom, would he even kiss you right? Wait! H-he didn’t say no! Please kiss him… Oh, that’s a lot better than when he practiced kissing his body pillow. Great, you’ve got him hooked all over again.

“C-could we do that…again…I-I n-need to grind to get my charm s-stats up.”

❥ Malleus Draconia

For Vil you were the simp, well now the turns have tabled. Malleus is straight up courting you, letting you progress the relationship as you’d like. You’re only comfortable with holding hands? That’s alright, he is more than happy to oblige your requests. You enjoy being hugged? Be prepared for dragon hugs, you can’t escape. He would never push you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with. Honestly, he was expecting your first kiss to be at the altar of your wedding…yeah he’s a bit of a traditionalist. So don’t expect him to make the first move, he’s content with any and all affection you're willing to give. And poor you, you constantly found yourself with cute aggression when you’re with your boyfriend. He was just so cute! You wanted to squish his cheeks and squeeze him as tightly as possible (he wouldn’t mind, it's not like you could hurt him). You found yourself once again with a wave of cute aggression as Malleus pouted at the phone he currently held. You were teaching him how to use it and it was a bit harder than you realized. I mean even your mom got the concepts quicker than him…but you suppose your mom wasn’t a century year old fae. The feeling became so strong you couldn’t stop yourself from smushing his cheeks, causing his bright green eyes to stare at you in surprise that quickly turned into fondness. Letting your instincts fully take over, you brought his face closer, pressing your lips together. You had tried to pull away, but Malleus followed you, taking over and kissing you possessively. He wasn’t letting you go anytime soon.

“I apologize, child of man. I can’t seem to hold myself back when it comes to you.”

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moonyslove78 · 2 years ago

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I've now re-read this chapter 3 times because I felt like if I didn't I'd miss something crucial.

This chapter was such a roller coaster of emotions! So after reading it the first time when you posted it last night, I knew I had to read it again to really jump into this review. Because I was in tears nearly the entire chapter! Once again, my compliments to your incredible writing, @liz-allyn!

So heeere we go!

The first part of this chapter was so intense and emotional. I really had no idea what to think!

Honey's reaction to seeing those two together... I really would love to know what led up to her breaking point. Since her PTSD made her disassociate what happened between seeing them standing there together to being in Peter's office with a gun pointed at Peter and the whole Spider fam standing backup.

Peter's desperation to bring her back to reality was heart wrenching. He was obviously strategizing on how to get the gun away from her as well, but what hurt the most about that was that I don't think he was worried for himself or even the rest of them (though he obviously didn't want anything to happen to any of them) But after hearing him admit as to what drove Gwen to her breaking point, I feel like it was more or less Peter trying to save Honey from that same fate.

Even if he thought himself to be deserving of getting shot, he knew that she'd never be able to live with herself if she had killed him or any of them.

Which made his tale about Gwen's su*cide even more heartbreaking. He was having to live with the pain of that happening and now watching the woman he loves and would die for, having a mental breakdown while contemplating how to bring her out of it before she did something he knew she'd regret with every fiber of her being.

You could tell that by him trying to deter any of them from making the wrong move or saying the wrong thing to her in the moment. Like when Felicia commented on how Honey called her a lying bitch. And he gave her that warning tone when he called out to her. I feel like he knew if he didn't stop her from continuing, she'd have said something more to set Honey off and that she'd possibly regret any wrong move in the end.

Her admittance of everything John had put her through when they were together was the most damaging. She felt betrayed by everyone and I couldn't imagine what was all actually going on in her head at the time. She felt like she couldn't trust any of them and she felt like the one man who actually made her feel love and loved in return had been working with her worst enemy.

And then telling him she knew about Silver Sable. I couldn't even imagine what was going through his mind at that moment. He was literally grasping at straws to try to explain himself and I wanted to just hug them both and beg them to just stop and listen to each other. No more yelling or accusations. Just communicate and bring my girl back to the right mind-set. 😢🥺

The amount of pain that went on during that scene was outstanding. You wrote it absolutely beautifully.

I honestly held my breath the second she made the comment "Maybe she had the right idea." And didn't breath again until I read that she had the sensation of falling. That's when I knew Peter must've saved her. Not that I had any doubt he would... but then I also wasn't expecting to read the next part... that it was as Venom.

And I honestly didn't realize that Eddie was the ONLY one in the group that knew about Venom. Or the incident in Vegas. Like in Honey's realization, even the members of the team had secrets amongst each other.

I was scared shitless at that moment thinking 'fuck! now venom's gonna kill her!' But Spider family came in clutch on that one.

The events following have me in tears just thinking about them...

When Honey finally came back to her senses and began to listen to what everyone was saying. I couldn't begin to imagine the pain she was feeling when she realized that Felecia was telling the truth and they really had no idea John's real identity.

I am curious though, if because of how Felecia worded it when she said "we were never against you." "I promise you, we didn't know how you were connected... or why you were working for him." Does that mean they did know she was working for him? Or was this just what they had assumed because of the timing of their initial appearances?

I can't wait for the answers to some of these questions!

Though they may think it's not the best idea in the world, but more so the only one... the very first thing I thought when they wanted to get to Peter was "Well, use Honey as the 'bait' to pull him out of this!" And then Felicia literally speaks it.

And lemme just say, the part where she tells Honey that she pointed a gun at her friend and then Honey, being the sweetheart that she really is deep down, said she didn't think she'd have actually shot him. But then Felicia telling her "I don't mean him..." I was bawling!! Felicia may be a bad-ass bitch but she has a heart of gold. ❤️

I was so glad that Eddie explained to Honey (and everyone really) about Venom. I'm really hoping that Venom being a part of the whole thing and Eddie telling her why Peter did what he did (not only in vegas but in his reasoning for taking in Venom to begin with) will help her move past all of the shit that happened. I just want a happy ending for these two and the Spider family. And a very bloody and painful death for John Walker.

I was so proud that Honey knew what Peter was doing when he disappeared after thinking about what Eddie explained about his attempt to kill it.

But I am trying to go through my mind and think back to see if I can guess where he is. I've only come up with two locations and right now, I'm not so sure either one is correct. I can't wait to see what happens in the next chapter!!

And @liz-allyn your author's note at the end about the next two chapter has me squealing!! I've got my fingers crossed for good things to come! 😁

As always, I have to add that your writing is outstanding and I am literally on the edge of my seat every chapter. I wait with bated breath every time you post that the next chapter is coming. I literally check my phone every few minutes waiting for the notification!

I'm anxious and excited to see what the end of this series looks like and cannot wait to read what happens (probably multiple times like every chapter) next! But I will also be soooooo sad to see it end. 😭 It's going to be like the series finale of my favorite show on tv or the final chapter of a saga that I couldn't put down! You literally should have this beauty published!

I can tell you I'd buy multiple copies!

Thank you Liz! For being such an amazing author and bringing about one of the most amazing AU series I've ever had the privilege of reading! As well as bringing these characters into our lives. 💕😍

sugar and vice, pt. 18 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: everything you need to know about the woman with no name.

words: 6.4k

chapter warning: heavy chapter warnings for s-lf h-rm/ s--cide. Read at your own risk.

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

Don't date a mob boss.™️

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you never laid awake at night in a cold sweat, afraid the FBI was going to break down your door because you downloaded a Metallica song on Kaazaa, then well, wait was it just me? oh. okay then. minors dni.

Back to Part 17.

Part 18

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, fifth edition (DSM-5),1 defines dissociation as a disruption, interruption, and/or discontinuity of the normal, subjective integration of behavior, memory, identity, consciousness, emotion, perception, body representation, and motor control.

This was another dream.

She was dreaming again.

The DSM-5 dissociative disorders (DD) are:

Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID);

Dissociative Amnesia (DA);*

Depersonalization/Derealization Disorder (DPDRD);

Other Specified Dissociative Disorders (OSDD);

Unspecified Dissociative Disorder (UDD).

She was having an out-of-body experience. Like astral projection. Everything she saw through her own eyes were the actions of someone she was ghosting over.

Her life wasn’t happening to her.

She was dreaming.

Having a really bad dream.

*In DSM-5 Dissociative Fugue (DF) is now a subtype of Dissociative Amnesia (DA), and not a separate disorder.

That’s what she kept telling herself.

This is a nightmare. It’s only a nightmare.

This is a nightmare.

This can’t be happening. Can’t be real.

The DSM-5 diagnostic criteria for Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) now include a Dissociative Subtype (PTSD-DS). Dissociative amnesia as a symptom is a diagnostic criterion for both DID and for PTSD. Criteria for PTSD-DS are that reminders of the PTSD Criterion: A traumatic stressor lead to depersonalization/derealization symptoms. In DSM-5, the DD section is specifically placed after the Trauma-and-Stressor Related Disorders to show their relationship to traumatic experiences. 1

She was calm.

Heart steady.

She wasn’t sweating this time. Wasn’t pissing herself.

Why would she? This was all a dream.

A strange dream—with John and Peter looking at her like she was a sight for sore eyes. They both wore a smirk. Both of them sharing a secret.

And Felicia was there. And Eddie was there. Johnny Storm, too. Miguel was there—magically reanimated.

What a strange dream. Who else was going to make an appearance? Jesus? Her third-grade teacher? Tod?

None of that really mattered, though. Nothing really mattered. So much so, she wouldn’t even remember what happened next.

How surprising was it, then, to wake up standing in the middle of Peter’s office. Felicia and Eddie lingered near the doorway. Peter stood across from her, eyes wide and alert.

He was speaking to her. Muddled words. It really looked like she should be listening.

But how did she get here?

Oh well. It didn’t matter.

This is a dream. Nothing can hurt you in a dream. Even if you die, you don’t really die. There was nothing to worry about. Everything was fine.

Her fingers were cold, though, wrapped around cold metal. Black as night. She was holding a gun. How strange.

Peter was standing at the barrel end of it. The pistol that had been hidden in his desk. Her finger was on the trigger. Hand shaking.

“Honey,” Peter's voice echoed against her eardrum. He sounded far away. He sounded like he was inside her head. “Please, just talk to me.”

Suddenly, she was awake.

Her heart sped up, eyes focusing sharply as the color drained from them, swallowed up by the black holes of her pupils. She took deep breaths through flared nostrils. Cold perspiration trickled down the nape of her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

She stood with her back to the office windows. Blinding daylight drenching the horrified expressions of the people surrounding her. Boxing her in. Closing a gap around her. Locking her into a trap.

That wasn’t going to work. She had the key in her hands. She had the key to it all.

“Honey,” Peter repeated, his voice featherlike yet full of terror. He fixed her with wide eyes, hands up at his shoulders to placate her. He inched closer.

“Stay back!” she barked, eyes feral. She suddenly noticed the tears on her face. Goddamn it, she’s crying again. When did that happen?

“It’s me, baby,” Peter cooed at her. “Jus’ me—”

“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice cracking with the force of thunder. It was a wretched, vicious sound. “Who the fuck are you, really?”

He blinked in confusion, reeling in a step backward. Too far to reach for her. Her eyes darted frantically, searching the faces of Felicia and Eddie. Searching for danger. Searching for safety. Searching for any way out.

John wasn’t in the room. He could be hiding around the corner for all she knew. Hiding in her closet or under her bed.

Her lower lip wobbled. There wasn’t a way out.

Her heart wrenched in her chest. “Why did you pick me?” she desperately whimpered, returning to Peter. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Her voice was small and fragile, like a sugar glass figurine. Blinking rapidly, he furrowed his eyebrows, staring at her in confusion.

“Okay, Honeybun,” Felicia chimed in, singsong. “Let’s all just calm down, shall we?”

Honey jerked her arm, pointing the gun at Felicia. She shrieked, jabbing her with each word, “I wasn’t talking to you, you lying bitch!”

Felicia raised one of her brows and muttered barely above her breath, “Not with that tone, you’re not…”

“Cat,” she heard Peter gently admonish, a warning in his tone.

Slowly, he took another step towards the gun, mapping the distance between him and the bullet's path. Honey responded to the subtle movement like the cracking of a whip. In an instant, she was back on him, her watery glare and shaky aim directed at his chest.

“Is Miles in on this too?” she wept breathlessly, rage filling her lungs and suffocating any sense of trust. “Is Bella already dead? Did you fucking hurt her? Tell me the goddamn truth, Peter!”

Peter shook his head, exasperated. “What—I-I don’t—what are you—?”

She cut his sentence short. “I saw what you did to that woman!”

Peter froze. Eyes wide, lips parting.

Fury surged through her, bulging her veins and twitching her muscles.

“You asshole—you fucking tell me that you love me, that there’s no one else, and you had that fucking stripper-whore all over you!”

His jaw locked, eyes filling with remorse. Voice dropped to a whisper. “I can explain—”

“And then you murdered her!” she spat, words burning like acid. “You mutilated her! You fucking monster!”

Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, blurring her vision. Sharp crimson splatters and deep umber stains replaced it like frames of a snuff film on celluloid.

“Dumped her body like a used condom, you motherfucker!”

He lifted his chin, shame shadowing his face. His expression was as good as a confession in her eyes.

“Is that what you were gonna do to me?” she hotly demanded.

Peter grimaced at the question like she’d already fired the bullet. Finally, desperation overtook him as he opened his mouth to speak.

Eddie blurted out, “That ain't how it happened—”

Peter shot a warning glare over at him, face turning pale. Eddie bit his tongue, but the damage was done. Angry eyes were now fixed on him, their black holes threatening to tear them all apart.

“You knew about this?” she hissed, horror spreading across her face. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me?” She was vibrating with self-righteous rage, her features melting into a vicious sob.

Eddie buttoned up his lips, helpless against her betrayed expression.

Jaw agape, Felicia shot a frustrated glare at both men. “Jesus Christ.”

“I know what it looks like,” Peter cut in, desperate to regain her attention and refocus her wrath on him alone. “But he’s tellin’ the truth, okay? You’re right, you're right, but that’s not how it went down. I swear it, I-I don’t remember—I-I didn’t even know what happened—”

“You know everything, Peter, you always know everything!” the heartbroken woman sneered lividly, mocking him. “You know everything about me, doncha? What’d he tell you? Huh? Did you already know I was married?”

The room fell silent. Peter gazed at her, a crease painted between his brows. He glanced at Felicia, who mirrored his expression, before turning back. “I… didn’t.”

“You didn’t, huh?” she seethed, her anger simmering with anguish and shame. “You couldn’t find the marriage certificate? You wanna know why?”

He stared at her, blinking. Jaw opening and closing.

“Because I forged my sister’s signature and stole the savings in her bank account! I used it to pay off an old creep at the county clerk’s office!” She hissed with a twisted mouth, as if the words tasted rancid on her tongue, “Five grand and a blow job were all it took to erase the shittiest mistake of my life.”

Peter stared with eyes like saucers. Despite his desperate attempt to keep his face neutral, he reflected silent shock.

“I was high when I met John,” Honey added, her voice trembling. This time, she leveled her contempt toward Eddie. “Did he tell you that, too?” She pictured every sentence as a knife wound. Each punctuation was a twist of the blade.

“Stole two of my mom’s Xanaxs,” she hiccuped, swallowing her sobs in an effort to force out the words. “Let him fuck me in the back seat of his car with a camera in my face. He came in my mouth, and I cried on camera, and I told him I wanted to kill myself and asked him to murder my mother.”

The words spilled out of her in a frantic blather, vile puss spewing from old wounds. “I used to sneak into the kitchen at night, turn on the gas, and think about blowing up my family. Me. My little sisters. I didn’t care! Did he tell you about that?!”

Peter’s eyes shimmered with tears. Opening his mouth felt like prying apart steel. Despite that, he kept his words gentle. “Honey. Whatever happened, we can talk it out—”

She blurted out a livid laugh, hot tears running down her cheeks. “Oh, you wanna talk to me?” She pointed her finger, jabbing it at the doorway. “Talk to him!” Felicia and Eddie glanced at the door, both of them perplexed. “Let him tell you how he used to get drunk and pass me around to all his friends like a fucking Fleshlight!”

Peter flinched at the noise her voice made, cracking like glass. Her lip wobbled as she fixed him with giant, horrified eyes. She looked as if a sudden realization struck her.

“Is that what you were gonna do to me?” she cried in a tiny voice. “Were you two gonna share me after you fucked with me? Was that the plan all along?”

His face was clouded with bewildered horror.

Conversely, her vision was crystal-clear. Everything suddenly made sense to her. She didn’t know how he did it, but she knew.

John and Peter were working together. They were always working together. She had never escaped either of them.

John knew where her apartment was. Peter did too.

John was waiting outside of her mother’s home. Peter was waiting inside.

Peter kidnapped her whole family. He held Bella hostage. John knew where to find them.

John had pictures of Bella. He had pictures of Gabriella.

Peter had pictures of her, too.

John was Peter. Peter was John.

She was stupid. Stupid, stupid girl.

“Nothing is free!” she was muttering aimlessly, babbling without realizing it. Giant sobs racked through her. “Nothing is safe! Can’t trust anyone—they’ll do anything they need to to survive. That’s what I did! I survived!”

“Please,” Peter’s voice cut through, recapturing her attention. “Please, please, baby.” His eyes shimmered with desperation. “You got this all wrong. I don’t know—I-I-I never meant to hurt you like this. I swear.”

She shook her head, fat tears spilling down her cheeks. “Were you lying to me about Gwen, too, you fucking bastard? She didn’t fall, did she?”

“Honey—”

“Did she?!”

“She jumped!” Peter yelped, his heart shattering as the words escaped his throat.

The gasp that followed seemed to reverberate off the walls. It was as if every sound in New York went quiet. A blaring, piercing silence that made eardrums ache. Peter looked devastated, on the verge of collapse. She settled her stern gaze on him, watching his face crumple. He brought his hands up through his hair, tugging his scalp hard enough to tear. He bit down hard on his lip to keep from screaming.

Gobsmacked stares from the other side of the room confirmed that this was a piece of information that no one had.

Looking stoic and shattered, he sucked a big breath in and out, keeping his jaw firm. Wiped at his nose. Dug his fingers into his hips.

“I didn’t want this life for her,” he finally muttered, silent tears flowing. “She was a smart woman. Smarter than me. She was supposed to do something—something amazing with her life. She wanted to help people.” He swallowed hard, apparitions playing in his gaze. “The fear. The violence. It took a toll. She tucked it away inside. Never let it show.”

He gulped, running a hand down his face to clear his watery eyes. “They, uh, came after us, and-and she killed someone. She had to. I tried to tell her that but... she never was the same. Somethin’… somethin’ ate her alive. From the inside out.”

His brows furrowed, heartache seizing his expression. “I didn’t see it.” He sounded like a wounded animal. In many ways, he was. “I didn’t see what it was doing to her. Not until it was too late.”

He went quiet. The tears that rimmed his eyes flowed free. He marinated in agony and self-resentment. His voice was calm with resolve.

“I destroyed her,” he said. “And I’ll never forgive myself for that.” He lifted his heavy eyes. “I don’t know how else to say it to you. But I’d rather die before I let that happen again. So if you’re gonna shoot one of us, shoot me.” They locked gazes with each other, his eyes swelling with tears. “I’ve had it comin’ for a long time.”

Her arm was beginning to shake from the weight of the weapon.

His doe eyes fixed on her. She couldn’t read them anymore. Too afraid of the next chapter. Too weary for the following sentence.

But none of that mattered anymore. Because this was all just a dream.

“Maybe she had the right idea,” Honey whispered, her lip wobbling. She closed her eyes. Put the gun to her own head.

The sound of the gunshot deafened her, swallowed up by an unholy roar.

She didn’t expect the falling sensation. She was expecting pain—maybe. She was expecting a tunnel or a big white light. Or maybe for it all to go pitch black. Maybe she was expecting nothing at all.

But she was falling backward unexpectedly. The gun tumbled from her reach. Tentacles wrapped around her arms, oily, cold, and slick. Like a primordial monster out of the ocean depths.

They encircled her entire body. Constricting around her waist. Wrapped around her throat. Locking her ankles in place.

When she looked up, Hell wasn’t what she expected. She didn’t expect the Devil to have oozing, inky, onyx flesh. Or dead white eyes that wrapped around its skull. She expected horns. But not a mouth the size of a Great White’s with twice as many teeth.

Certainly, not that tongue. Twisting. Dripping. Like a black serpent slithering from his mouth.

“Pete, no!”

Eddie was here too. How did Eddie get here?

Then, she felt the pain.

The still-healing crack in her bone buckled as her ribcage was compressed. She thought her pelvis would be next as the tentacle's heavy, crushing, constricting force closed around her hips and waist. Another thick mass squeezed her throat. The air was being forced from her lungs as the ooze gripped tighter.

“What the fuck is that?”

Felicia. She sounded surprised. She sounded terrified.

Honey was terrified too. Opened her mouth wide to scream. But she couldn’t. No air. She couldn’t breathe. All she could do was gaze up at that horrifying Cheshire smile as it grew wider. The monster loomed larger. It was getting bigger. Towering over her.

It would be over soon, she hoped.

“Pete!” Eddie again.

This time, the beast let go.

She was tossed backward, flung through the air, landing hard against the side of the desk. After taking a deep, painful gasp, she fine-tuned her attention to what was happening in real-time.

A steel blade glinted in Felicia’s hand as she buried it deep into the black tentacle of the monster beneath her.

Miguel was in the room now, keeping himself from being dragged off by the creature with repeated jabs into its flesh. He flexed his wrist, and a set of razor-sharp blades, curved like talons, retracted from a device mounted on his forearm. He hit the monster with the spines of his arm guard, causing it to cry out with a shrieking squelch.

The real damage was done by Eddie. He held a pressurized canister of dust cleaner in one hand and a lighter in the other. Igniting a spark turned the spray into a blow torch. A column of fire shot out, lashing at the monster’s body. It shrank backward, retracting its shape.

“The window!” Eddie shouted, his voice nearly lost in the creature’s shrieks. “Felicia, take out the window!”

Gunshots rang out. Honey covered her ears as glass rained down into a crashing cascade. The monster screamed with a noise similar to nails on a chalkboard as cold air rushed into the office.

In a moment, everything was silent. The monster vanished.

And so had Peter.

An hour had passed. The great room was eerily silent, even with the gang gathered there.

John was in the wind, having slithered away. Johnny Storm had been escorting him to the garage just as Honey was retrieving Peter’s gun. Walker was gone before anyone knew what was happening.

Honey gazed down at a wound on her right thigh—a scrape from being tossed across Peter’s office. The ring in her ears from the gunshot was only now fading. Her head was throbbing. Although if Peter had been a quarter-second later knocking the weapon away, there’d be a hole in it.

Whatever healing her rib had accomplished had likely been undone by the desk. Or the—fuck, is tentacles even the right word?—the fierce grip of the monster.

Whatever healing she had accomplished was undone. All of it, out the window. Whisked away with the monster living inside of Peter.

Which the Spider family had now seen.

Once her sense of hearing had returned, Honey tuned in to the conversation again.

They had questions for her. They had questions in general, minds swirling with confusion and doubt. They were squabbling over facts, terrified by truths they weren’t ready for. Everyone, except Eddie, holding a solemn gaze on the windows outside.

Felicia was beyond questioning and had progressed to action. She paced the floor in the room, eyes firm. It wasn’t a nervous tick, although fear was not an inappropriate response. Instead, she looked more like a general strategizing in the war room.

That’s precisely what this was—a war. Honey could see that now—with secrets, spies, and death. Everyone was a casualty. The lines were blurred.

Even amongst Peter’s team.

Johnny sat on one side of the sectional with a pout on his face, and his arms crossed against his chest. “Wait, none of you were going to tell me that he was a psycho?” he protested. “Christ, I walked that guy to his car! I could’ve been killed!”

Miguel held an ice pack to the welt on his face. His response was colder. “Clearly, we were worried sick.”

Disgusted, Johnny whined, “You all left me out of your plan!”

“You’re not the only one,” Eddie muttered bitterly, staring at the black sky.

Felicia spun on her heel, facing the beefy hothead. “Johnny,” she began calmly, “I appreciate that this has been a real challenge for you. It’s been hard on all of us. And I want to be able to address your concerns. But for now? Do me a favor. Put a pin in it. And Shut. The Fuck. Up.”

Her raised voice echoed off the vaulted ceiling. With a scowl, Johnny wedged himself back further into the sofa. But he was silent.

Felicia turned her ire towards Eddie. “And you’ve got a lotta nerve bitching about secrets, Brock. You and Pete left out a couple of crucial details about Vegas.”

“Look, we can point fingers later,” Miguel sighed, agitated. He slapped the ice pack on the sofa cushions next to him. “Right now, we have bigger problems.” He fixed Honey with a stern gaze. “You’re the one who's been in communication with him. What can you tell us?”

Honey glared up at him coldly from beneath the fringe of her lashes. Didn’t bother to move her head or her slouched position in the armchair. “His name is John Walker,” she glowered. “He’s a Leo. And a vegetarian.”

Miguel’s lips straightened into a line. “Preferably something useful.”

“He’s a Fed and an asshole.”

Miguel huffed sardonically, “Okay, then. Something we don’t already know.”

Eyes flashing red, she hissed, “If you knew anything, you would know not to fuck with him!” Now sitting up in the chair, her vicious bite gave him pause. “He’s the devil,” she said. “He’s ten times worse than anything you’ve come up against.”

“I highly doubt that,” Miguel scoffed.

“You think this is a joke?” she snapped back, seething. “I’ve watched him destroy lives. Not just end them—destroy! The more violent, the better. He’s a cancer. He’s everywhere. He’s inside everything. He’s the man behind the curtain. The monster at the end of the book.” She fixed them with a grave expression, full of bitter resentment. “And one way or another, he always wins.”

Miguel shook his head with a sigh. “Look, no disrespect to what you’ve gone through, but you’re not—”

“You don’t know a goddamn thing about what I’ve gone through!” Her voice snapped like a whip, crashing like thunder. Miguel’s mouth snapped shut. “If you did,” she spitefully said, “if you knew what he was—you wouldn’t breathe the same air as him, let alone work with him!”

Felicia stepped into her field of vision, fixing her with a firm gaze. “Listen to me,” she said, her voice low and calm. “We are not with him. Never were. I need you to understand that right now.”

Honey blinked up at her skeptically, the corners of her mouth downturned.

“We were never against you,” Felicia explained, lips tight. She downcasted her eyes with a bitter scowl. “He came to us about the same time you did. We knew ‘Steve Rogers’ was a sham. The social security number on his accounts belonged to a real Steve Rogers, who died in 1945.” Honey’s brow furrowed curiously. Felicia continued, “Figured he was a Fed, but we couldn’t crack his identity. Whoever hid him hid him well. We knew he was important. That he wanted to help us. And he was lying to us. That’s all we knew.”

Honey glanced down, her tear-laden eyes suddenly heavy.

“I promise you,” Felicia declared, her steel gaze locking onto Honey’s. Her words were weighed with sincerity. “We didn’t know how you were connected.” A moment passed. Her face fell somber, eyes going cold, “Or why you were working for him.”

Honey stared at her, offended. “You say it like I had a choice!”

“Let’s hear it, then.” Felicia threw her hands up with a ‘come here’ gesture. “Why did you agree to help him?”

Her eyes narrowed defensively. “Because,” she answered with a razor-sharp edge, “if I said ‘no,’ he would’ve murdered everyone I ever cared about. So. I said ‘yes.’”

It was a simple enough answer, and Honey tossed it at her as such. The two women held an uncomfortable stare for several breaths. It was difficult for Honey to accept that this was Felicia whom she was skewering with her gaze, and the realization only made her heart sink further.

Honey’s face softened as her guilt settled in. “He had pictures of Bella. Peter said that he’d protect her, but that was a lie. It was never possible. Not when John’s involved.”

Miguel gazed at Honey, disappointed. “That’s not true,” he softly replied. “Peter wouldn’na let anything happen.”

Felicia shuffled her feet and continued to pace again. “Evidently not,” she muttered scornfully, “considering what we just saw.”

Miguel scowled at her. “We’re talking about Peter here!”

“Go suck his dick, then!” she cracked back like thunder. Miguel pulled his chin back as she jabbed her manicured finger towards him. “Letting a Fed into our backyard was your stupid idea,” she growled as she leveled her cold gaze, “and Peter was an idiot for agreeing to it! If you’d both listened to me, this Walker creep would have a bullet in his head already! And instead of dealing with that mistake right now, we have to focus on finding Peter and... killing whatever that thing is that’s got ‘em!”

“It’s not that easy,” Eddie replied, his back towards the group. “M’not even sure it can be killed.”

“What do you mean by it?” Honey looked over at him, wide-eyed. “Isn’t this about the drugs? The stuff he shoots up with?”

“Pete’s on drugs?” Johnny exclaimed, further irritated. “Whatthefu–are we Breaking Bad now?!”

“It’s not a drug,” Eddie said. A graveness weighed heavily on his voice. “It’s not... easy to explain.”

Felicia gritted her teeth. “Try.”

He looked at her over his shoulder, finally turning to face them. “It’s— it’s a living organism. A symbiote. Gets inside you and holds on. Like a parasite.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “We call it ‘Venom.’”

“Where the hell did that thing come from?” Johnny asked, eyes wide.

Eddie cast his gaze towards the floor. “From me.”

The room fell silent for a moment.

The gruff man tightened his lip, clearing his throat. “Pete helped me contain it,” he explained. “He studied it. And we thought... we thought we could use it to our advantage.”

“How exactly is turning into a giant squid helping our cause?” Miguel asked snidely.

“It feeds off of you—yeah, but it also makes you stronger,” Eddie said. “Makes you practically invincible. Makes everything better—gives you abilities you couldn’t imagine.” He sighed, then added thoughtfully, “If any of us was gonna take a bullet, Pete wanted it to be him. ”

“Yeah,” Felicia groaned skeptically, “That sounds like our boy. But I’m not sure ‘better’ is the word I’d use to describe it.”

He swallowed hard, bitter remorse returning to his eyes. “It doesn’t have the same effect on everybody,” he explained. “Everybody’s different. The way it responded to Pete was... different. His body was adapting to it too quickly. Kept needing more, using more. Sometimes... Sometimes he’d black out. It would take over, and he wouldn’t remember a thing.”

Eddie turned his attention to Honey. “That’s what happened in Vegas. The woman you saw was hired to kill him. Almost did. Ran him through with a sword. Then It took over. She never stood a chance.”

Honey glanced down, biting her lip as she contemplated the information.

Eddie turned his attention to the others. “That’ll happen to all of us if we’re not careful,” he warned.

Miguel said thoughtfully, apprehensive eyes fixed on Eddie, “You keep talking about this thing like it has a consciousness. Does it?”

“It has a mind of its own,” he answered. “It takes all your thoughts and scrambles them. Implants its own. Pete’s not in the driver’s seat anymore. And Venom will kill us if we get too close.”

“Not all of us,” Felicia said, gears turning. Honey followed her voice to see the silver-haired woman’s gaze fixed on her. “It kept her from shooting herself,” she said. “Maybe Pete was the one in control. Maybe he can stop It from killing her.”

Honey’s eyes bugged out of her skull.

Miguel was already thinking the same thing. “If we find Peter, we can use her to snap him out of this. Get him somewhere safe and—uh... ? Detox him? Exorcize him—whatever, I don’t know—find a way to get that thing out.”

“Bait?” Honey exclaimed. “Are you kidding me?!” She shot a glare at Felicia. “You can’t be serious—”

“It’s not the best plan, but it’s what I’ve got,” Felicia replied, holding up her hand to silence any protests. Her tone was cold. “And considering this is your mess, too, I’d appreciate your cooperation.”

Honey blinked up at her, stunned. “Are you mad at me?”

“Yeah, I’m mad,” she said with an eerie calm. “Not because you lied. I don’t care that you kept secrets from us. I can even understand why you did what you did.” Her somber expression gave way to bitter anger. “But you put a gun to my friend’s head,” she said through gritted teeth. “And that I can’t abide.”

Honey blinked up at her several times, her jaw agape. The image of Peter’s desperate expression as she pointed the gun at him echoed in her mind, filling her with shame. “I-I don’t think I would’ve actually shot him,” she murmured, more of a whimper than a statement. “I-I’ve never fired a gun before—I don’t even know where the safety is!”

Johnny raised a finger, offering his two cents. “Guns like that don’t have a safety.” He was ignored.

A hard crease had formed between Felicia’s eyebrows as she glared down at Honey, crossing her arms across her chest. “I’m not talking about him,” Felicia glowered.

Honey blinked again, pursing her lips shut. Then, reading her stern expression, confronting the betrayed look in her eyes.

Felicia didn’t have many friends, that was certain. But she had counted Honey as one of them. And with the same fierce protectiveness that she used to defend her, she also used to admonish her.

Buttoning up her emotions, Felicia turned to the others, “Alright, we can't afford to look vulnerable right now. We keep this quiet to everyone that’s not a Spider.” She looked at Miguel, Johnny, and Eddie. “We need to spread out. Cover all the ground we can until we find Peter. Eddie and Honey, you’re with me. Everyone, keep your eyes open. Not just for Peter but for our enemies. Feds included.”

Honey gasped, a terrifying thought crossing her mind. “Miles,” she said with alarm.

Felicia went still. “What about Miles?”

Honey glanced up at her, only taking a split second to decide. “John threatened to go after him,” she explained urgently. “He’s in danger.”

Felicia rolled her eyes, growling, “Fuck me! You shoulda led with that!”

Johnny leaped to his feet. “Don’t worry, I’m on it.”

Felicia said to Honey and Eddie. “Let’s go.”

Honey came to a careful stand. Eddie joined her side. “Where are we goin’?”

“Empire State Building,” Felicia grimly replied.

The first time Honey had been to the Empire State Building was on a class field trip. She remembered experiencing overwhelming vertigo from the sidewalk, one that almost kept her from being able to go up the elevator. She was equally unsettled now as she looked up at the orange sky.

Eddie stood beside her on the sidewalk, both in the glow of a convenience store. He was less interested in the building and more interested in lighting his cigarette. Felicia wasn’t present, having instructed them to wait for her.

“Did you know it only took, like, 400-something days to build?” Honey said.

Eddie glanced over only briefly, uninterested. “You don’t say.”

She looked over at him incredulously. “So you’re mad at me, too?”

“Why’d you do it?” Eddie asked, tossing out all pretense.

Honey pressed her lips in a line and returned her gaze to the sky. “I told you,” she said. “He threatened—”

“I’m not talkin’ about your ex,” Eddie argued. “I mean, what you did back at the office. Why’d you put the gun to your head?”

Honey didn’t have an answer for that. “So, you are mad.”

He bristled, stewing in his frustration. “Didn’t say that,” he muttered, then took a long drag from his cigarette. “It wasn’t the smartest move.”

She let out a long sigh, an edge of sarcasm in her voice, “You know, I looked inside my bag of ‘good ideas,’ and as it turns out—it was empty. Just like my bag of ‘fucks to give.’”

Eddie blew the smoke out of his lungs. “That doesn’t sound like you. ‘Specially after what Pete told you about how his girl died.”

“I never said I was a good person, Eddie,” she remarked with a clipped tone. “You want to judge me, that’s fine.”

“I’m not speaking from the point of judgment,” Eddie replied quietly. “I’m speaking from experience.” She turned to him curiously. He took another long drag. “That’s how I met Pete, y’know?”

She stayed silent, shaking her head, ‘no.’ He shoved his free hand in the pocket of a far-too-thin hoodie for the weather.

“Yep,” he sighed, avoiding meeting her gaze. “You’re not the only one that ran out of good ideas.”

Her head tilted at the admission, eyes softening. Idly, he scratched the scruff on his face, rubbing the back of his neck. He fidgeted in a way that reminded her of Peter.

“It was a couple of years ago, actually,” Eddie explained, only glancing up briefly. “I used to be a reporter back in San Francisco. I was covering this shady corporation— pretty sure I was about to expose them for illegal human testing. Instead, I, uh...well... Venom found me.”

His eyes darkened, shadows falling across his face. She stayed quiet.

“It was, uhm... rough,” he continued. “I couldn’t control it. Then the company I was investigating accused me of stealing their ‘property.’ I was trying everything I could to get rid of it. Lost everything. My job. Apartment. Girlfriend. Came here to start over, but... I pissed off the big guys in Silicon Valley. You don’t start over from that. They made sure of it.”

He paused, tensing with wet eyes. Sucked another breath through his cigarette, then continued. “I was angry,” he snarled under his breath. “Not just at them. Not even at the Symbiote. I was angry at me... for getting into this mess in the first place.”

The words slowed down, almost getting lost in his thoughts. “I got low. Decided that I didn’t care, either. All that mattered was killing this thing. Even if it killed me first.”

He stared at the passing cars with calm, haunted eyes. By contrast, she was shocked.

“Pete stopped me,” he said. “He saved me.” The fading sunlight reflected a shimmer in his gaze. “He’s the only one that tried to help me. He’s the only one that ever understood that this thing—Venom— it’s a gift and a curse. ‘Oppenheimer’s Genie,’ he called it.” A brief smile crossed his lips before it faded into his memories. “He’s the only one that understood the burden and wanted to help me carry it.”

She gulped hard as a burning sensation piled up behind her eyes. Her jaw tensed as she tried to blink the moisture away.

“When I met him, I didn’t realize that, of course,” Eddie added. “He had to knock my ass out. Carry me fireman-style out of a belltower.” A lump formed in his throat. He swallowed it down. “He coulda just let me die. I’ve never understood why Peter would go out of his way to save me. Until today.”

She stayed silent, although her heart ached so much she was confident the throb was audible. The pain she felt for him shimmered in her eyes.

“Nobody that tries to do the right thing is a bad person,” Eddie said, glancing over at her. “You’re not a bad person.”

His soft words felt like a knife to her heart, cutting open the thick muscle walled up around it. Tears welled up in her eyes. She fought the urge to collapse into a pile on the sidewalk.

“I know it seems like sometimes the world wants you to be your worst,” Eddie added. “Sometimes, you want to be your worst. I get that too. You think it’s easier that way to deal with all the bad shit that’s happened to you. As if it can make you immune.” He turned to face her, and for a moment, she felt like they were in their own little world. A snow globe amongst the chaos.

“Stop trying to be whoever you’re pretending to be,” he concluded thoughtfully. He put the cigarette up to his lips, taking a final draw. “Accept who you are, and work with that.”

He fell silent, taking in the sounds and sights of the city at twilight. She stared up at him with her lips pursed and her heart aching. Her first impression of Eddie was amusing to her in retrospect—the stoner-loner with a mouth full of cupcake— and now he had proven himself to be one of the wisest people she’d ever met.

They turned their attention towards Felicia as she jogged up to them breathlessly. Her look of barely-concealed dread told them what she had confirmed. “He’s not here,” she sighed in frustration. “Christ - do we really have to comb through every landmark that this pathetic emo boy could possibly mope on? We’ll be out here for days—”

“Why were you in a bell tower?” Honey asked Eddie. Both he and Felicia looked baffled by her question.

Eddie’s brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“You said you wanted to get rid of it,” Honey explained, “and you were in a bell tower? Why there?”

Eddie shrugged, “It doesn’t seem to like loud noises very much. Thought I could kill it.”

Honey gazed at him, her mind spinning as she plugged in pieces. “That’s what his plan is.”

“What?”

“Maybe Peter is in control,” she explained, turning to Felicia. “Maybe he’s trying to find a way to kill the Symbiote.”

Eddie shook his head, stunned at the foolishness of such a plan. “So, what, you’re saying he’s banging his head against a giant bell somewhere?”

Felicia’s eyes widened, before they rolled into the back of her head with frustration. “Shit.” The two of them turned to her worriedly. “I know exactly where he is.”

To be continued...

[back to masterlist]

A/N Thank you for your patience on this update everyone! We are in the home stretch. The next two chapters will feature almost everything you've been waiting for. :-)

To be tagged when they release, you must reblog so I can keep track of all 100+ of you!

#review angels 💜#lizzy writes.#💬 sugar and vice #mob!tasm peter parker #i fucking love you liz #my love for these two characters runs deep

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