#peter is going through a roller coaster of emotions

[erinwantstowrite]

5 words or less to describe the next chapter?

"Everybody is confused and tired"

[imagines--galore]

idk Peter being toxic and reader and him both know that he’s bad for this relationship but it’s smutty? it could also end in fluff

Pairing: TASM! Peter Parker x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: M. Romance. Angst. Fluff. A bit of smut, allusions to sex, and minor drinking so those under 18 please turn away. A/N: Ok yes, I live for these kind of requests! Also I think this fic got away from me a little bit. Woops? Also, THIS was a roller coaster to write!

What had started out as a casual one time thing, had quickly escalated into something that would not be considered healthy.

Peter had been grieving, was still probably grieving, the loss of his girlfriend. Gwen Stacy. His first love.

You had been mourning the loss of your best friend. The girl you had known since you were in kindergarten together. Had grown up with. Whom you considered a sister and told everything to.

Seems like none of those feelings and years of friendship mattered when you slept with Peter the first time a month after her death.

You felt guilty everyday. Simply recalling the memory of that first night made you feel twisted up and sick inside. You were betraying her, betraying Gwen by sleeping with her boyfriend.

Former boyfriend, your mind had tried to reason with you on more then one occasion. That did not matter, your heart had argued back, she had still loved him, she said so herself.

As you sat in your apartment, nursing a warm cup of tea between your cold hands, your treacherous mind drifted to the fateful night. How you had been crying into your pillow, trying your best to get some sleep. You had a long day of work tomorrow, and yet sleep alluded you. Flashes of Gwen's smiling and laughing plagued your mind, causing you to close your eyes, wishing for those images to go away. They were only causing you heartache.

But then you heard someone, right outside your window. You sat up, and once you recognized that silhouette through the drawn curtains of your window, you quickly threw it open, allowing Peter to stumble in.

You could smell the alcohol on his breath, barely caught him when he almost fell over. You questioned him, asking if he was alright and what was he thinking swinging around while drinking. He could've gotten seriously hurt. He wasn't full on drunk, but he was a little inebriated at the very best.

But once he met your gaze, and you were able to see the sheer sorrow and despair in his eyes, you stopped in your questioning. He whispered Gwen's name before all but falling against you, sobbing into your shoulder.

You felt your own tears sting your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him and held him closer, needing to feel his warmth just as he needed to feel yours. He kept whispering Gwen's name and how he could save her, how he had failed to save the girl he loved. As an act of comfort you pressed a kiss to his forehead, before moving to brush your lips against his cheek.

What you hadn't anticipated was him moving his head at the exact moment. Just enough to allow your lips to meet his lips. Shocked, you quickly pulled back, stuttering an apology as your cheeks reddened and you moved to step out of his embrace. But he stopped you, bringing you back to him. He was looking at you now, and you knew his heart was beating just as fast as yours given how you had your hands pressed up against his chest.

Neither of you knew who moved first, but a moment later your lips clashed together in a flurry of teeth and tongues as your hands began to explore one another. Clothes were pulled off, two bodies fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and heady kisses. There was nothing romantic, soft or slow about what happened next.

It was raw.

Emotional.

Desperate.

Your lips continued to meet, tongues battling against one another, hands never stilling as the two of you explored the other's body. There was no gentleness to it either. It was scrapping nails and gripping the other with an almost bruising strength. Never once did either of you open your eyes, perhaps because deep down you knew that once you did, the moment would be over, and reality would come crashing down.

All you needed, what both of you needed, was some semblance of comfort. Of familiarity. A reminder that you weren't alone. Neither of you.

And when Peter pushed himself inside you, when he began to move against you, when you held on tighter and buried your face into his neck to bite and nip at the sensitive flesh, when he moaned deep and sensual against your ear, when you threw back your head and allowed the sweet sweet release to drown every coherent thought from both of your minds, you found.......peace.

As you came down from your high, Peter rolled away from on top of you. You had wrapped your blanket around your body, laying on your back and staring up at the ceiling as you slowly came back to your body, and realized what you had just done.

And perhaps you were feeling selfish, perhaps you were angry at Gwen for leaving you, or perhaps you were exhausted from that constant gut-wrenching pain that crushed your soul, but you couldn't bring yourself to regret your actions. Peter had given you a few moments where you didn't feel like your heart was breaking. And you knew, he had found comfort in your body as well.

Though it didn't stop that feeling of guilt prickle under your very skin as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

                                             ————————–

That had been almost six months ago.

Since then, whenever Gwen's loss would get too much for either of you, Peter more so then you, the two of you would sought out the company of the other.

And while it did provide the two of you with some semblance of comfort and peace for a few moments, your friendship turned into a dry husk.

Before that Gwen's death, you and Peter had been decent friends. You had always been a third wheel between the two lovebirds, but you didn't mind. You were happy for your friend, and Peter was a great guy. And the two of you shared a passion for photography. Now? For almost a year, you hadn't spoken to one another. Even during sex there was barely any verbal exchange, unless one would count sounds of pleasure and approval. Even after sex things were quiet.

Once the act was done, you two would either lay on your back, or turn your backs to each other. And if it had been a particularly tiring day, you would sleep together. Otherwise one of you would put your clothes on and leave.

No greeting, no goodbyes.

And it was tearing you apart.

Tears lined your eyes and this time you didn't bother wiping them away. Pushing aside the now cold tea, you buried your head in your arms placed atop the kitchen island and cried. With every sob your shoulders shook.

You cried for Gwen.

You cried for Peter.

You cried for yourself.

You cried until you had no tears left, but you didn't move from your position.

                                             ————————–

A gentle hand on your shoulder was what shook you awake. Your head snapped up, eyes blinking to clear away the sleep and remaining tears as you did. You found Peter looking down at you, at the look in his eyes seemed to drive a knife into your heart.

He hadn't seen you cry, and yet you had a feeling he had been there for a long time now.

"We need to talk." You said, your voice low and quivering as you looked up at him.

Silently, he nodded.

                                             ————————–

It was her first death anniversary, and you were beginning to feel like your old self again.

You stood in front of her grave, holding a bouquet of beautiful yellow roses. The color symbolized two things, the deep friendship the two of you had shared, and the forgiveness you sought from your friend. Slowly sliding to the ground to sit cross-legged in front of the headstone, you heaved a deep sigh.

"Well its been quite the year Gwenie. My first one without you and its been so strange. Not having you here." As you spoke, you untied the ribbon that was tied around the bouquet, allowing the flowers to separate in your lap. "I did manage to get the apartment we both had our eye on, of course I have to work two jobs now, to pay rent, but its okay, its keeping me busy." You set down a flower on the grass in front of the tombstone.

Tears pricked your eyes but you continued. "And you won't believe it, but I finally managed to get around to watching The Lord of the Rings. I understand now why you begged me to all those years. Though its unfair of you to have called dibs on Aragorn without giving me a fair chance." A small laugh fell from your lips as you laid down another flower.

"Your mom and brothers are alright. They moved away a couple months after you went. I still talk to them over the phone. Your mom actually asked me to come and pick up some of the stuff we shared over the years. Says you would want me to have it. Though she doesn't know I already called dibs on your blue sweater." Another tearful laugh, followed by a flower and a tears that dripped down your cheeks.

You sighed softly. "I.....started to see a therapist. I wasn't....right after you left Gwenie. And I did something bad. But I've been working on it." Laying two more roses, you played with the petals of the next one.

"And I wanted to apologize." Here your voice trembled as your raised your eyes to the name that was engraved in the grey stone. "For what I did with Peter, I just.......I was just so lost and sad with you gone Gwenie. And he was just there. He....understood." You shook your head. "And I know that is a lame excuse for what I did, and I know how much you loved him, and I am so so so so sorry Gwenie. I'm so sorry." Aside from the flower you held in your hand, you laid down every last one of them on the ground.

You sat there quietly for a good few minutes before speaking. "I haven't met him or seen him for months now. We finally decided to just sit down and talk. And we agreed that what we were doing wasn't going to help either of us in the long run. So we stopped."

A deep sigh, one that echoed from the very depth of your soul fell from your lips as you tilted your head back and looked to the beautiful blue skies. "I hope you will forgive me Gwenie." You whispered, your head coming back down to press a sweet kiss to the final flower you held.

You stood up, leaning down to set the flower atop the gravestone. Your fingers lingered there, caressing the cold stone lovingly.

"She wouldn't want you to feel that way you know?"

You jumped slightly at the voice, your head whipping around to see Peter standing there with his hands in his coat pockets. He wasn't carrying any flowers, so you guessed that the ones already there were from him. You had suspected that perhaps it had been Mrs Stacy.

Slowly he approached you, so he could stand beside you, his eyes never leaving the headstone. "I remember when her father died and she was grieving. She was just so sad all the time." You nodded, recalling how devastated she had been after Mr. Stacy's death.

"It was actually the first time we slept together." Your turned your gaze towards Peter, lips parted in surprise. Gwen had never told you that. Peter sighed. "She just looked so sad and I couldn't do anything about it and it just happened. She felt guilty afterwards, saying she had taken advantage of me or something like that, but I told her to not even think like that. That I was glad I could comfort her in some way." He finally turned his gaze towards you, a small understanding smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

You swallowed thickly, pushing back the tears as you returned the smile. "Maybe we could comfort each other as well. As friends." You offered, your heart beating fast in your chest. You had missed Peter, had missed your friend. Maybe this was the do-over the both of you needed.

Reaching out, he grasped your hand tightly, prompting you to smile at the gravestone in front of you. The wins blew softly around you, and though you knew it was not possible, as you closed your eyes, you swore you could hear Gwen's hand slipping into your other hand as you stood side by side.

                                             ————————–

Your eyes blinked open, eyelashes fluttering as you fought the heaviness of sleep from them. Slowly, you blinked them open, snuggling deeper into your warm blankets.

Only to be made aware of the person sleeping beside you.

The scent that enveloped you could only belong to one person, and you smiled as you snuggled closer to him, feeling his arm wrap around your waist as he pulled you closer in his sleep.

You and Peter had spent months building your friendship once again. The two of you had been one another's rock during some very trying times, and now it had been nearly a year and a half. A year and a half of friendship that had slowly started to shift to become something more.

He had asked you out on a date, wanting to do things properly this time. And though you had been hesitant at first, an accidental mention to Mrs. Stacy had made you say yes, after the older woman had urged you to not let a guy like Peter get away.

Your first date had been a month ago. Your first kiss as a couple had happened a week after. Your first night together had been last night.

It had been the complete opposite of what the two of you had shared all those months ago. Last night had been slow, sweet and loving. Every caress, every kiss, every look had been full of love and trust as the two of you had floated on a cloud of utter bliss and pleasure. And while you had never met one another's eyes previously, this time neither of you had looked away.

This time neither of you slept with your back to the other.

Neither of you left the bed before the other woke.

And as you felt Peter stir awake, saw him smile sleepily at you, his hair all mussed up from the night before, greeting you with a morning kiss, you allowed yourself to feel something you had not felt in a long long time.

Loved.

[fearsmagazine]

COBWEB - Review

DISTRIBUTOR: Lionsgate

SYNOPSIS: Eight-year-old Peter’s nights have become plagued by a mysterious and constant tapping from inside his bedroom wall. Unable to sleep he turns to his parents who attribute the tapping to his imagination. As it continues and intensifies, Peter knows it is real and he suspects his parents could be hiding a terrible and dangerous secret. WIth no one to turn to for help, Peter’s world descends into a deadly nightmare he may not survive.

REVIEW: COBWEB is a classic tale that combines Grimm Fairy Tale elements with contemporary themes in a wonderfully crafted tale with plenty of twists and turns to keep its secrets hidden to the terrifying end.

Screenwriter Chris Thomas Devlin does an admirable job of laying out a chilling tale of a child in peril. The screenplay weaves a fairy tale style with haunted house themes, and a menacing tone of sinister adults that is reminiscent of 1961’s “The Innocents.” Peter is the central character, but the plot has some solid character arcs for his parents, Carol & Mark, and his teacher Miss Devine. He takes the view on an emotional roller-coaster ride and just when you think you know what is going on flips the tale on its head in a jaw-dropping reveal. The story does a nice job building the mystery and suspense and it saves the majority of the horror and shocks for the story’s final act. While the screenplay takes the edge off the tension, the closing moments ratchet it up a bit and set it up for a potential sequel.

COBWEB has excellent production values. Overall, the cinematography has this blue, gray, brown, and green nightmare look that adds to the emotional tone of the film. Even the exterior white of the house looks old and dirty. They create a sense of unease through an engaging use of space for the interior use of space, especially Peter’s bedroom. There is interesting framing and skilled editing that crafts a pacing that ebbs and flows like an amusement park ride. There is an interesting use of color, especially for the pumpkin patch in the backyard. Clearly there is something “not well” with this home, and it extends into the neighborhood. The way it is shot, it seems to fade the further you get away from the house, until you come to the school where there are more vibrant colors, but it is still surrounded by this grayness. The family’s costumes are also grays and blues, where in contrast Miss Devine’s wardrobe feels like a beacon in Peter’s bad dream. It all combines to create a visually compelling experience.

COBWEB features a wonderful ensemble cast. Young actor Woody Norman, with already 19 acting credits, does an excellent job of bringing Peter to life, hooking the sympathies of the viewer and taking them along for the emotional ride. Lizzy Caplan, who played Annie Wilkes in the TV series “Castle Rock,” delivers an amazing performance as Peter’s mother. She presents a character consumed by an emotional storm. She clearly loves her son, but there is some much more going on that is internalized and we see that storm brewing beneath the surface. She is both terrifying and sympathetic. Antony Starr, unforgettable as Homelander on the Prime series “The Boys,” gets to work a slightly broader palette as Peter’s father. His performance fluctuates between being an authority figure and psychotic, at times finding these tranquil moments that are convincing. Caplan and Starr are truly menacing yet provide moments that leave the viewer questioning what is going on here. Cleopatra Coleman, an Australian film and television actor, has been in numerous genre films and brings her unique skills to Miss Devine. She is totally believable as an educator who perceives that one of her students is in peril and is compelled to ensure that he is kept from harm. She presents a brightlight in this dark tale.

Back in the day, before Covid and streaming platforms, there were solid genre films that would help fill in the space between the summer blockbusters. They also served as a vehicle for tv stars to make the transition from the small screens (again back in the day before large flatscreen tvs) to the big screen. COBWEB feels like one of those films, a creepy, greasy popcorn movie. There are many reasons to make the trek to your local theater to put a chill into a hot summer day. Great cast, great production designs, and a haunting tale that leaves a lingering chill. There are a few moments that feel a bit off in the film’s logic, but considering this is a dark, modern fairy tale they’re easily forgiven due to the fantastical theme. It’s more of a tween to adult family film, and definitely in need of a drive-in.

CAST: Woody Norman, Lizzy Caplan, Antony Starr, Cleopatra Coleman, Ellen Dubin (voice), and Luke Busey. CREW: Director - Samuel Bodin; Screenplay - Chris Thomas Devlin; Producers - Evan Goldberg, Roy Lee, Seth Rogen and James Weaver; Cinematographer - Philip Lozano; Score - Drum & Lace; Editors - Kevin Greutert & Richard Riffaud; Production Designer - Alan Gilmore; Costume Designer - Anna Gelinova; Prosthetic Designer - Yana Stoyanova; Special Effects Supervisor - Ivo Jivkov; Visual Effects - VFX Legion, Outlanders VFX & Worldwide FX. OFFICIAL: www.lionsgate.com/movies/cobweb FACEBOOK: N.A. TWITTER: N.A. TRAILER: https://youtu.be/Y3mwqvSachk RELEASE DATE: In Theaters on July 21, 2023.

**Until we can all head back into the theaters our “COVID Reel Value” will be similar to how you rate a film on digital platforms - 👍 (Like), 👌 (It’s just okay), or 👎 (Dislike)

Reviewed by Joseph B Mauceri

[ethandude15]

Book pages project – My Friend the Enemy

Smith, Dan. My Friend the Enemy. Scholastic, 2013.

My Friend the Enemy, by Dan Smith, is an incredibly interesting young adult novel set-in north-east England during World War 2. The year is 1941 and Peter, a boy living in a small English town, hopes that the war will come to an end soon and his father, who’s out fighting, will come home alright. Suddenly, a plane crashes near Peter and his mother’s cottage so Peter, and his friend Kim, go to investigate the crash for any souvenirs. Upon discovering the plane, Peter realizes while three of the airmen have died on impact one is still alive and has parachuted to safety. Along with this, Peter and Kim come to the discovery that the plane is of German origin, the enemy. Shortly after, Peter and Kim discover Erik, the surviving airmen but, to their surprise, he is not the scary vicious monster that the German’s are supposed to be but merely an injured and afraid 18-year-old stuck in dangerous territory. Despite the language barrier, and the fact that he is from the enemy country, Peter and Kim decide to nurse Erik back to health and keep him hidden from the military police who are now investigating the crash.

My Friend the Enemy is a fantastic read with an incredible story and interesting plot. The theme of the book is very much anti-war as it shows the biggest similarity between people, just being people. In the novel, Erik is, at first, seen as the ‘scary German solider’ but Peter realized that Erik is a lot like his father. Much like Peter’s father, Erik has a family waiting for him back home. Along with this, the novel calls out the cruelness of the military as it emphasizes the fact that Erik, much like a lot of other solider in the past and present, is merely 18, a teenager, barley an adult. The governments of the world essentially send out children to fight their wars, which the novel makes extremely clear through the characterization of Erik. The book, while seeming simple, is very much an emotional roller coaster that not only makes one question the morality of the military complex but also its system and very presence in our society. Lastly, the book also calls into question if the soldiers of war, especially conscripted by a draft, are victims in their own right. For example, while Germany was certainly on the wrong side of history, young men on both sides, such as Erik, would be given the choice to either fight in horrific battles and war or be imprisoned, and possibly even executed, for refusing to fight. While a controversial take, it certainly makes one question their views on the soldiers who fought on both sides of the war.

This book very much tells an emotional story of war and makes one question many perspectives of the past and present, however, another theme the book has is growing up during hard times. The book depicts what it was like for children to be growing up during war times and how hard it could be to live so young an innocent yet live so close to one of the most horrific things in history. Along with this, the book makes it a point to display the forming of one’s own morals and thinking for oneself. Children are always told to follow the rules and stay in line, yet this sort of thinking does not allow for the forming of one’s own morals and the independent growth one needs in order to mature. This book very much displays the way that children can learn such important and valuable lessons from experiences and teaches children to think for themselves and follow their own path, even if no one else will.

[moonyslove78]

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.

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 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!

[alexandrarosa]

TO ALL THE BOYS I’VE LOVED BEFORE | PS I LOVE YOU | ALWAYS AND FOREVER (Lara Jean Song Covey & Peter Kavinsky)

COVINSKY HEADCANONS (post-book) pt 1

Lara Jean and Peter stay together through college, sometimes the distance helps them calm themselves after a fight, sometimes it causes a fight, most times it makes them realize if they can survive this they’ll survive anything

Peter writes Lara Jean at least once a month, a real letter, on nice paper. His frat friends vote him the most romantic boyfriend. It starts as a tease but it’s true

LJ, Margot, Kitty and Doctor Covey come to UW for Peter’s last game of the season. Lara Jean writes the number of his shirt on her cheek. Peter l o v e s it

That game is the first opportunity for Lara Jean to meet Peter’s friends and vice versa. The guys hope that since they met her they wouldn’t have to listen so much about her. Boy were they wrong

The scrapbook Lara Jean gave Peter became a hit. One of Peter’s friends asked his girlfriend why he didn’t get one of those. It was quite a loud fight

After the first year the students were allowed to have their cars with them so Peter could visit Lara Jean more often. And he did. And so did LJ, just with a lot more hesitation

[that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main]

Being Frank Castle's Daughter in Hawkins Pt 6

Gif Caption: Top Gif- Matt Murdock and Frank castle in Marvel's Daredevil, Aka Frank yeets Matt off a boat. Bottom Gif- Steve Harrington eating pringles from Netflix's Strangers Things

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Reader: 17-18 age range | female reader

Characters Mentioned: Frank Castle (MCU), Matt Murdock (MCU), Dinah Madani (MCU) Curtis "Curt" Hoyle (MCU), Karen Page (MCU), Peter Parker (MCU), Foggy Nelson (briefly MCU), Thor Odinsion (briefly MCU), Steve Harrington (ST), Billy Hargrove (ST), Max Mayfeild (ST)

A/n: this was a roller coaster of emotions

Warnings: Max is in the hospital, Neil Hargrove >:( , revenge sweet brutal revenge, also has a chunk of really sad Billy and U

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Let's just say Steve was thinking he was gonna hear "Oh Steve. I love you too." Or an "I love you too bro"

Not a line of compliments back that would cause him to fluster intensely

"I think, you misjudge yourself, you know you're a person, you make mistakes, and you make great choices. I think they stereotype you too much. Ya know? If they took the time to get to know you. They'd actually really like you like I do."

Wait. That's also Super unclear.

Do...do you just really like him? Or do you just really like him?

It's unknown and you're already getting out of the car and you're both walking down a path now

Talking about life and random shit: avoiding the actual topic he needs to talk about you guys reaching the lake

It's beautiful

"Thanks again..ya know for takin' me around." Y/n spoke, "This is a lot more calming than yesterday."

Steve chuckles, "I bet."

Y/n smiled at him "still its nice to see them once in a while."

"Yeah..." he picked up a stone off the floor and walked closer to the lake, skipping it across the water, "I. I've gotta ask you somethin'."

Y/n hummed in response grabbing her own stone and joining him, "what's up?"

"Would you uh, go with me- out." He spoke.

"We're out right now-"

"On a date."

Y/n through the stone across the water, watching it skip farther than Steve's had gone.

"We could go somewhere fancy? Or not." Steve suggested.

"Oh." Y/n spoke looking down at her hands, "Steve...I..."

"No! No its okay we don't have to..." Steve suggested, "yeah we don't have to..."

Y/n looked at him, that look caused his heart to squeeze his face to grow warm.

I don't want to hurt you..." y/n spoke.

"I. I get it. Yeah." Steve answered, "yeah..I don't want to hurt you either...its uh. Chilly. Im gonna go grab my jacket..."

"Wait. Steve." Y/n stopped him, grabbing his wrist, She let his wrist go figuring she had grabbed it too roughly, "Sorry..."

"I just. Im scared."

Steve looked at her concered, "Of me?"

Y/n shook her head: "Of loosing someone....again."

"Hey," Steve started, feet shuffling closer, tips of each others converse touching one another, "Im not going anywhere. I'll follow you where ever you go...Might have to deal with me tailing you like a lost puppy with his mom."

Y/n chuckled, "Im use to people followin me. God I've gotta take you to New York."

He laughed shortly, a smile on face, "Id love to go...with you."

His hand found her cheek, thumb coming out to rub her skin softly. Y/n leaning into the touch the slightest.

"Can...Can I?" He asked softly, "can I kiss you?"

Y/n was quiet for a moment, "...yeah..."

He leaned over as he tilted her head to the side the slightest, allowing him easy access to her lips, his hand falling from her cheek to the side of her neck, her eyes closing as he did so. Letting his lips ghost hers before he pressed his firmly against hers. They stay like that for a moment, before Steve pulls away, Y/n quickly catching his bottom lip in a kiss, pulling him back in to her.

Yep. You and steve harrington kissed

And it was diffrent that the Billy kiss, this one was... heart pounding, and hip grabbing, and well hot

But it was also sweet, you wanted this one to go way off the road of platonic: you didnt even want the word platonic to EXIST

Soon you two had to pull away, and the warmth from the kiss dispursed and the cold of Fall came at you once again

So you both walked to the car

Where you both looked at each other for a short moment and just had to kiss again

He just wants to kiss you, constantly now.

Not that he didn't want to kiss you before

But now that he can? That's all he wants to do, no not wants, needs

"Okay! Haha! Steve!-" Y/n laughed pulling away from him.

"One more. Your just so damn beautiful."

One more kiss as he says and he pulls away to start driving.

He cant stop holding your hand either, or kissing your knuckles especially when your both stopped at a light or at a stop sign

He still contuines to take you around, Hawkins just this time hand in hand

Oh he's so excited!!

He drops you off at the end of the day, still all giddy from earlier

"I'll see you later." Steve spoke.

"See? You mean call?" Y/n protested with a smile.

"I don't mind sneaking through the window. Ya know. For a good night kiss."

"Jesus H. Christ." Y/n rolled her eyes playfully, "i'll see you, Steve."

He smiled leaning over to kiss her softly goodbye, "I'll see you later...babe?"

"Mhm." Y/n grimmanced, "Too cheesey."

He laughed as she got out the car, he watching her walkin in before he drove off.

He's immediately calling Henderson when he comes home, he doesnt care how loud he is or who can hear

"Steve?"

"I got the girl! I got the girl!" He cheered.

"What!? Seriously!? How!?"

"I don't even know! You're going to love her man! I swear! She's the coolest!! Get your little shithead gang together. Icecreams on me!"

Meanwhile, you're eating dinner with Frank, talking over dinner plans when Matt comes along.

You heard it was Curt coming along to see him along with Matt, Madani, and Karen, Foggy is still kinda nervous about Frank in general.

They said they were bringing someone else but didn't say who exactly confusing you

Secret Person? Scott yeah Scott seemed like the type to hide in the back of a truck and pop out and scream he's here.

Could be Kate, but Kate seemed to have worked all the time

Maybe it was Foggy actually coming to see you

You'd give anyone 100 bucks for it to be Natasha

But you seen there's no point in guessing and you both continue making plans

"Are you inviting ya know who?" Y/n asked eating some of the chicken soup in response, "your new friend."

He looked at her with a 'really?' look as she shrugged, "How long that been goin' on?"

Frank messed with his food, "I met her, two, three weeks ago. Somethin like that."

Y/n nodded, drinking some of her soup.

"I didn't want you to find out how you did."

"Eh, doesn't matter to me." She spoke, "As long as your happy...are you happy?"

"Yeah." Frank spoke, "I am."

Y/n smiled, "Good, thought you'd never get a girlfriend, Just like I never thought I'd be sucking faces with Steve Harrington."

"What?"

well if your both coming clean you might as well come out fully

You had been kissing Steve Harrington basically half the day

and he vaguely told you about Joyce Byers, now that you knew her full name, you didn't want all the details anyways

Frank seemed to really like her, and you were really glad he had someone besides you

"Don't let Matt find out though."

"God damn it Y/n."

"What!? oh come on: you guys argued like an old married couple still do I bet."

"You must be dating a lot more than I realize then." Frank joked as Y/n let a playful scoff out.

"Oh so it's like that huh?"

"yeah it is."

you're glad dating has changed either of you, it's hasn't been too long since you guys both started down your separate paths but still you're glad your able to talk to him

you take dishes for the night and then go to bed to read

and then there's knocking on the window

you should just install a door where your window is you swear

Opening it it's Steve.

"hey baby doll." Steve smiled.

"Still real cheesy." Y/n responded leaning on the seal.

"Sweet Cheeks."

"Ew."

"Gum drop."

"No."

"Stud Muffin?"

That one made her laugh as she held out a hand, and helped him climb in.

"Stud Muffin, I like it." Y/n spoke.

Steve rolled his eyes and laughed, "I'll remember that one."

She smiled, his hand holding her check he smiling back.

"you're beautiful you know that-"

He paused in shock, "Hm?"

"is...Is that a knife collection?"

"Hm? Oh yeah!" Y/n smiled pulling away, "you haven't seen it before?"

He shook his head no, he had never actually been in her room.

"I'm thinking the nickname killer may be the best for you." He joked as she smiled.

"I like that one, but I still like Stud Muffin."

He chuckled as Y/n walked over, grabbing his hand, "Don't worry, If i ever use them, I'll watch the hair."

"my god."

"What?"

"your a weirdo."

Y/n laughed, Steve smiling, grabbing her by her arms as they rocked back and forht "My werido."

"yeah?"

"yeah."

He leaned over kissing her softly as she smiled kissing back.

He stayed over for the next hour and a half, you two talking...making out...just a bit tho, just a bit

You told him and invited him to the dinner, and he said he'd gladly come because these people meant a lot to you and he was up to redeem his name after the last dinner

you told him who you're inviting and he rolled his eyes almost, Billy Hargrove, he hated Hargrove but knew somewhere deep down you two were extremely close with one another, plus Max also really liked you

He knew there was something else going on between you two though, you were just, so close; hiding a secret he assumed

Maybe just Billy knew you better: plus he realized Billy had stopped being a massive shit disturber at school and had actually helped in defending you during a fight

So the guys had some redeeming qualities: or was at least starting to gain some in Steve's eyes

"You okay?"

"I'm a fine killer." Steve spoke with a smile, "Lost in how pretty you are."

Y/n smiled looking up at him, her head in his lap, "I don't mind Killer ya know."

"Good, Stud Muffin and Killer."

Y/n laughed, "Yeah..."

"look at the time I should go."

Y/n nodded.

"Alright, Mr.Prince of Hair."

Steve chuckled as she sat up, kissing him softly- but the phone interrupted her. She looked confused as she got up and out of the room answering the wall phone beside her door.

"Hello?"

"Y/n!" Billy spoke, he was frantic, sounded worried even, with a serious tone to his voice,

"Billy?" Y/n answered, "Hey. Hey, What's wrong-"

"I need you to come here now."

"I'm comin', I'm comin'," Y/n spoke quickly hanging up the phone and going back into the room.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked.

"I need you to go home-"

"What No way."

"Go home, Steve." Y/n argued, "Please,"

"We're not done talking about this," Steve argued, before following her out the door, he went to his car, and Y/n took Frank's truck

Fuck you've never been so worried before.

Also, driving over the speed limit? Absolutely you're flying down those long roads to where Billy and Max live.

You swear you could hear the arguing a mile away as you parked and went through the glove box finding Frank's pistol and one of the masks from the previous Adventures of Y/n, Billy, and Max

You had to conceal yourself somehow

And rushed in, the door unlocked and everything.

But Billy was already coming out of the house with Max in his arms, he has a bloody nose and cut across his cheek

"What the fuck?!" He shouted.

"It's me! It's me! What's the problem?!" Y/n demanded lifting up the mask.

"She has a fucking peanut allergy! And the fucker was so drunk he put fucking peanuts in her food! I don't know where he put my keys!"

"Shit!"

You rushed so fast to the truck letting Billy drive, he figured you had at least better medical experience than him.

"Max! Max can you hear me!"

"Can't!" She tried to get out unable to breathe.

"Fuck Billy drive faster!" Y/n shouted, he floored on the gas, and she turned Max on her side.

Soon they were at the hospital and Y/n grabbed Max out the back, rushing into the emergency room and within seconds they took her from you

Luckily within a few hours, they were able to come out to you and say everything's fine now and said they were gonna send her home with EpiPens.

You guys were allowed to see her.

"Hey Max." Y/n spoke with a smile sitting on the bed, "You okay?"

"Y/n?".

"Mhm and-"

She turned her head but didn't see Billy there, and frowned, "Just me...sorry I don't have your best friend Loki here."

She smiled weakly, "what happened?"

"You had an allergic reaction to some peanuts." Y/n spoke, "you're okay now. They wanna keep you for a few more hours though okay?"

Max nodded as Y/n held her hand.

"You know." Y/n spoke, "I was thinking when I see Loki again. I could ask him to take you to Asgaurd for a week."

You tried to entertain Max until the doctors asked you to step back while they did some other test. You told her you'd be back and was gonna get both you a snack

Just to find Billy smoking in the hallway by the vending machine.

"She okay?" Billy asked messing with the pack of cigrattes.

"Yeah. She'll be fine." Y/n told, "Promised her a trip to space seemed to make her happy."

He chuckled but shook as he lifted his cigarette to his lips, Y/n taking it from him.

"She's okay, alright?" Y/n spoke crushing the burning tip before grinding the cigarette and dumping it in the arm length away trash can.

"I was smoking that."

"Its racking you with anxiety." Y/n spoke.

He was silent as she looked at him concered, "You have to say something to someone."

"I did."

"Who?"

"You."

Y/n sighed, "Billy."

"You're a superhero. Fuckin make this go away." Billy spoke looking down, "Just...fuck..."

Pulling another cigarette out he stopped himself, "just make it go away."

"By doing what Billy? You realize how I make shit disappear?" Y/n asked, leaning into him, "I kill people to make shit go away. No Mercy. I torture people Billy. You understand what the means?"

"Don't you get it?" Billy argued, "I don't care. I don't fucking care. He almost killed Max!"

"You have to tell the cops." Y/n spoke in defense, "Or I will."

"You fuckin promised."

"Billy this crosses the line." Y/n argued, "I love you, but what are you gonna let him do? He's gonna get tired of you and move on to her."

He was silent, "hard to swallow?" Y/n asked.

The look in his eye told her so, "then its the truth."

She grabbed the snacks and left Billy to think, on her way back to Max's room she stopped at a payphone dialing the house

"Dad."

"Y/n?"

"Dad I think I gotta put that vest on. Just one last time."

"The hell." Frank spoke, "where the fuck are you?"

"At the hospital." Y/n spoke, "Max's in the hosptial."

"Mayfield?"

"Yeah..." Y/n spoke, "Billy's with me...I can't tell you much more. I promised. But I'm taking on Neil Hargrove either you like it or not."

"I can't stop you can I?"

"No." Y/n spoke, "I'll be clean. I promise."

Frank sighed on the other end of the phone

"You listen to me." Frank ordered, "You do this. And you fuck this up. You fuck up what you worked for. You get that's the consequences of getting caught."

"Yes." Y/n responsed, "I love you."

"I love you too kid."

You went back to Max to sit and chat with her, you told her you had to leave for about an hour and a half but had brought her lots of sweets just in case she got hungry

"You're leaving me here?" Max asked.

"I'm coming back. Don't worry." Y/n smiled, "I always come back."

She nodded, "When it hits 3:30 am. If I'm not back in time, call my house phone okay? My dad will come help."

She nodded Y/n kissing her head as she got up and walked out, leaving in the opposite direction that Billy was sitting in.

You left to Billy's house, house quickly

If the trucks still the same as you hoped pulling up the back seat was some knives you kept on hand.

You left the mask behind and walked to the front door knocking.

"What!!?" Neil answered half assed and drunk as he opened the door, Y/n grabbing him by the shirt and rushing him forward into a wall the heavy door closing behind her.

He sobered up real quick as he tried to grab at her.

"Stop squirming fucking dick!" Y/n shouted throwing him roughly into a small decorative table causing him to fall to the ground, she grabbed him by the back of his shirt dragging him up and against the wall.

"You crazy sum of bitch! You're Frank's daughter-"

Y/n pulled out a knife, "You're gonna shut the fuck up right now."

She pressed the knife to his neck.

"And what you're gonna use that?" He threatened.

"Yeah, I am," Y/n spoke slicing quickly, the knife just passing the first layer of skin on his neck as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"So this is what you're going to do." Y/n ordered, "I'm gonna beat the shit out of you, till you bleed and you're gonna stand here and take it like all the others who have taken it from you. Then. Your gonna call the police station and turn yourself in for child abuse. And you're going to forget we ever had this chat."

"Yeah right you fuckin bitch-" A hard punch sent him to the ground.

"sure. We can play it the hard way," Y/n grabbed him by the back of his head, dragging him into the kitchen the hard tile would hurt the worse as she threw him into the island head first.

Resulting in a splat of blood.

"Does that hurt?" Y/n spoke standing tall above him, "one batch, two batch."

Y/n took a deep sigh cracking her bones: "Penny and Dime"

She returned to the hospital earlier than the time given to Max she smiled as she sat back beside her.

"Look what I brought you!" Y/n cheered, "Comic book based on one of my favorite heroes."

"Venom?" Max asked looking at the cover.

Y/n nodded, "I promise he's a lot nicer in person than on the page."

She smiled, "everything's okay?"

Y/n nodded once again, "Everything's fine Max. I heard they're gonna bring you your stuff in a few and we can leave."

And when the time came Max was released from ER, and Billy was out smoking by the truck.

It was a silent ride, you were taking their house, now that it was safe.

"Max where's your mom?"

"She was spending the night at a friend's house, her friend just had a baby."

Good they were safe and alone for the time being then

You tell Billy his dad won't hurt him. Not for a long time now anyways.

Max gets out first leaving you and Billy in the truck.

"I tried to be the superhero." Y/n told him holding out a pinky.

He looked down at it and linked pinkies with you.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet Hargrove."

And you drove back home in silence.

By the time you get home, it's what? 5? 6 am?

And when you get out: you didn't expect Frank to come rushing out the way he did to check you over.

"Hey. Kid. Jesus." Frank spoke kissing her head holding her close.

"Hey..." She responded holding him tightly.

"You okay?"

Y/n nodded hugging him tighter.

He took you inside, and immediately put you to bed, you needed it

It's one thing to attempt to kill someone but its another when it's personal

Its mentally draining, and you feel like you are on a mental break if you haven't experienced it all ready

"Get some rest. Alright?"

Y/n nodded, "Just. Stay till I fall asleep."

"You got it kid. I'm here."

He stayed with you for a solid hour until you fell asleep, tucking you in

The gang from New York was meant to be there early as well.

So when they arrived,.they were more surprised that you weren't out to greet them

"Where's Y/n?' Matt asked hands mapping out the cabin.

"In her room sleeping."

"You sound on gaurd." Matt explained, "more than usual."

"She went after a Neil Hargrove." Frank suggested.

"So Much for low Profile." Madani spoke, "what he do? Bully her?"

"Nah. She was too set on doing this." Frank answered, "he did somethin' bad."

"Glad to know neither of you changes." Curt spoke greeting Frank with a hug.

"Hi. Uh. Mr. Castle. I'm Peter." He spoke, "Y/n's uh. Good friend."

"I know who you are Parker."

"Right."

Matt knocked on your door, as you got up reluctantly with just a few hours of sleep

"What? OH HOLY SHIT!"

"Hey-"

Y/n hugged Matt quickly happy to see him, he laughed: "Good to see you too."

You've never been so happy to hug someone. And that hug lasted a while. Matts hugs are just, they just feel like home

You were happy to see everyone else

But you man. Your main man. Your partner in crime. Peter Parker was there

"Ah!!!" You shouted

"Ahh! I know!" Peter laughed, the two hugging happily

Your lego buddy is here finally

"Oh and matt!" Y/n cheered leaning into his ear.

"What!? He did what?!" Matt argued, "how dare he cheat on me."

"We were never god damn dating!" Frank shouts from the kitchen.

Y/n laughed, "come on come map out my room!"

You took him by the hand and let Peter follow Matt careful maping out the new area.

"Hey! Is that the alien head thor sent you?" Peter asked, "awesome."

"It makes a good desk lamp."

Matt stopped, "there was a boy in here. Well Boys. They like there hair products."

Y/n laughed, "yeah my friends."

"Wow. You have friends?" Matt joked.

"Jealous?"

He laughed, "extremely."

"Yep." Karen spoke from the doorway, "this is definitely your room."

"For sure." Madani spoke poking her head in, "Im surpised. Seems....alot more mellow than I thought. Was expecting blood and heads-"

She seen the floating alien head in a canister used as a desk light, "I spoke too soon."

Y/n laughed

It was good to catch up with the group, Frank was glad to be able to talk with Curt: they went way back and Karen was someone who showed him compasion

Wonder how that'd turn out when Joyce and Karen met.

Madani was middle ground between you and Frank. She knew her way around both of you in a way

Peter and you were actually normal teens together despite the pairing up when needed.

And Matt. Well Matt just made sense to be paired with you

He understood how you felt, especially about your past.

"Damn these are dark." Y/n spoke Matts glasses on her face she sitting on the couch in the living room.

Matt chuckled, "they are to block out light."

"Right." Y/n spoke, but there was a knock on the door and Y/n got up to answer it, "Hey Hair boy."

"Hey, nice glasses," He smiled, "I wanted...to talk to you about yesterday...oh uh. These are for you."

The flowers were stuck out to her, a bunch of lavender, "last of the season..."

"Thanks." She smiled, walking out the door closing it behind her.

"I...I promised I wouldn't talk about yesterday-"

"I don't care what happened." He explained, "that's not my business. I just want to know are you okay?"

Y/n smiled small and nodded, "Im okay."

"Good." He spoke, "you seemed really worried. And...I'd hate if anything happened to you and I could have helped."

"I'm a big girl Harrington. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can killer." He smiled.

"Come inside and meet everyone."

"Wait there here already?"

"Yeah."

"I look okay?" He asked.

"You look great." Y/n spoke, "Just be you."

Previous Part - Next Part.

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Tags (yes it keeps growing Im so happy!!!) @raelwrites @miiikkeey @beebslebobs @ah-witch @supernaturallover2002 @pearlstiare @simonsbluee @stilllivindue2spite @lvbred @dancingqueen21

[moonyslove78]

First off, I fucking love you! ❤️🥰

Second, Katie, you’ve done it yet again! The emotions I went through while reading this chapter were such a roller coaster ride. I hate being mad at either one of them and their both a couple softies on the inside so, I just wanna cry when they’re mean to each other.

I can never put into words how I feel when I read this series because I struggle to find the right way to describe how much I adore it already, so I’m once again just going to put all my favorite, important, thought provoking or just plain funny parts down and react to them as I go. And there’s quite a few!

👏🏼CH 4 SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT👏🏼

This was such a cute moment to start them off with. Him being comfy, soft wolf boy and telling her, her name was pretty! 😍 And the chipmunk being there for the food!

Annnnnd, the moment was broken... 😭 Though, I can't help but think how hot he would look getting all flustered and angry over the mention of the Silver Colt and what lycans thought of them... 🥵

God, I felt all of Aylin's struggles in this moment and it made me feel for her in ways I didn't think were possible! Sure, I get mad when she calls him a mutt or a monster. But it's moments like this that remind me that this poor girl has been brainwashed her entire life. Manipulated by the people that she thought were the "good guys". It really reminds me to be sympathetic towards her when I just want to scream at her for being how she is towards him. That's when I realize she's trying and growing and it makes me want to hug her! 😫🤗

Noooo!! I was screaming the whole way through this paragraph, "That's just Sergei talking! Don't think that, Aylin! Damn it, no! YOU CAN BE FRIENDS!! 😭AND SOOO MUCH MORE!" jskjskjskjskjsk

I had to breathe deep here. 😅 Like I said above, I have my moments where I just wanna shake her a little and go "STOP IT! THIS ISN'T RIGHT!" 😂 And this was one of those moments. Like, she's definitely intelligent and knows that he's not the reason personally that her father and brother are dead. But the way they've brainwashed her to think that all of them were the same, she really believes that because he's a werewolf and werewolves killed them, he is roped in with them because he would've killed them if it would've been him that they were hunting down that night. I know you're trying but you're pushing him away, Aylin! And you need to be getting closer! 😭

OWWWWW!! This one hurt! 😭😫 He's been abused and tortured! Assulted physically, emotionally, mentally and s*xu*lly. And yet, here this man is, being torn down by her cult-like views (Sergei's manipulation aside) and being blamed for the deaths of her family. Yet, he's not placing any blame of the losses he's faced on her. He knows it was all Sergei. He knew she had nothing to do with it and he wouldn't place any of that responsibility on her. No matter the situation. And not gonna lie, I cheered a little when he told her she's not the only one that feels pain. Cause that was my first thought while she was explaining her stance due to her father and brother's deaths. Like, losses aside, Peter's already been through the ringer as far as pain goes. Though, I am worried to see what Aylin is going to face when she gets back.

Now here's where I become conflicted... Cause I wanna know now, Peter!! 😅😫 My patience is going to be tested here but I will wait it out cause I feel like this is just going to fuel the anger in Peter when the time comes. And the more anger he has towards Kraven, the better when he kicks his ass. I just wanna see Peter muscle up and wolf out on cult boy leader and then see him be all soft and fluffy with Aylin. I also want him laying his head in her lap while she pets his fur and curls up with her to keep her warm. 😭🥰😵‍💫

Who wouldn't want him to like them?! SAME, AYLIN!! 👏🏼 And her description of him here is perfect. ✨Powerful and elusive✨

He's definitely a mystery I'd like to unravel... 😏

👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

It's about time!! He's given her no reason not to trust him and sometimes I yell that to her out loud. Example noted here. 😂

This gave me chills. It was like I could feel the shift in the air. The mood change was swift and painful! So beautifully written and perfectly crafted! It was bittersweet. 💔😭

This was so cute though! When he shows his interest in having her company back and wanting to know when he'll see her again. 😍 And I love how she couldn't hold it in anymore. She had to get it out right there and then. Like she couldn't take him thinking that about her any longer. The Aylin from a couple days ago wouldn't have gave a damn what he thought about her...😫

This has me sooooo anxious and scared to see what's happening next! The way he promises to be there still, but this time she believes him makes me feel like there's a reason she'll be glad he is. But I literally cannot wait because I neeeeeeeeed it to happen.

I can feel the pain we're all about to feel for Aylin coming full force but I pray that the comfort comes from Peter as well as the retaliation if they do punish her for her "disobedience".

I know I say this everytime but I feel like I have to continue to reiterate it for every chapter.

You're ability to build a world and bring it into existence in your writing is unbelievable. Your talent for storytelling doesn't end there though. IT'S EVERYTHING!!

You make us feel every emotion they feel, every chill, every mental backflip they have to do to control the urges they're prone to feel. Whether it be from the brainwashing discrimination of lycans for Aylin or the vengefulness Peter's heart feels when he thinks about her being apart of Kraven's community.

It's brilliant and thought provoking. I seriously cannot get enough!

Not to mention, I'm so damn grateful to have gotten to know you recently and have been able to really deep dive into this with the idea and knowledge that you and I enjoy so much of the same things so I know that no matter what you write about, I'm going to love it!

Now that I've taken up a whole evening running back and forth between writing most of this for the second time, reading through the final chapters of Sugar & Vice and having a mental breakdown with you over the ending and finally coming back to finish your reblog. I can now rest easy knowing it's finally done and posted! 😮‍💨 Until tomorrow when I do @liz-allynn's reblogs and my emotions go haywire again! 😂😭🥰

I'll be anxiously awaiting the next chapter of CLM! 😬👀

Until then, let's watch Andrew pet his beard and wish it were us petting it instead. 😍😍😍

Creature Like Me || Chapter Four: Hard Truths

[TASM Peter Parker!Werewolf AU]

Summary: Kraven and his guild of hunters have been tracking and quelling the werewolf population for centuries. The time has come for Aylin to complete her first solo hunt to prove herself to the guild. It was supposed to be simple. One wolf, one death, one victory. She never expected to end up with a secret hostage on her hands.

Chapter Four Warnings: some brief suicidal talk and mentions of deceased older brother and father, a lot hate talk towards one group of people (werewolves) but the way its said is meant to replicate the way assholes talk about groups of people different from them throughout all of history - the same “these people are different from me so I hate them” kind of shit

[link to chapter index]

She woke up to the soft pitter patter of rain bouncing off the camper windshield. 

The peaceful scent of wet, earthy soil wafted in through the crack of the open window beside her. She was surrounded by lush green no matter which way she looked. Raindrops chased each other in jagged lines down the slick glass. For one beautiful, fleeting moment, everything was perfect. 

Until she remembered why she was even here in the first place. 

Keep reading

[hotch-stufff]

Surprise, Surprise

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x F!reader

Warnings!: there are no warnings, im not telling you a single thing. It's a surprise. Just read and find out ;)

Also, as much as I love him, Jack does not exist in this story, wasn't really sure how to write him in.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry that I haven't written in a while, I have had no inspiration and my bf dumped me so... ya'know that was nice. Anyways, finally getting some inspo, hopefully I will be writing more. Hope you guys enjoy this one :) Also, the mood board is mine, but the images are all from pintrest.

Word count: 1.4 k words

This is an emotional roller coaster

------------

You couldn't breathe.

You couldn't move, or speak.

Your knees gave out as you fell to the floor, sobs racking your body.

You felt arms wrap around you, but it didn't help. You were suffocating. He was your air, and he had just been ripped from your lungs. 

He was gone, dead.

Your husband.

The love of your life.

Aaron Hotchner was dead

* * *

You don't remember anything after the doctor uttered those words. You don't remember Rossi picking you up and holding you. You don't remember the sad glances, the tears shed by your teammates. You don't remember the car ride to your now empty shared apartment. You don't remember lying down and sobbing into the pillow for hours.

No, you only remember the pain. The unbearable pain of loss.

He was gone. Really gone.

You cried and cried for hours on end. Until you had no tears left to shed. 

Then you just lied there, staring at the wall, gripping his favorite shirt in your arms, remembering every little moment with him.

And it hurt like hell just thinking of everything you did with him. The day you met. Your first kiss, your first date. The day he proposed. Your wedding. Every little thing. 

And you wouldn't be able to do anything else. You wouldn't have kids with him. You guys had just talked about having a baby just the other day. He wanted one so bad. 

You shouldn't have waited.

Because now, now he was gone.

* * *

The next few days were a blur. You found yourself with home-cooked meals overflowing your fridge. A team member at your house every night. But it was all a blur.

All meaningless without Aaron.

The funeral was coming up. You didn't make any arrangements, you asked Rossi if he could handle it and he quickly agreed. 

He had taken care of finding the casket, picking a place, and finding a burial site. Everything. 

The only thing you had asked for was a closed casket.

You couldn't handle looking at him.

* * *

On the day of the funeral, the girls all came over to help you get ready. 

"Alright y/n, do you have a dress?" Penny asked as she walked out of kitchen.

"In the closet." You croaked. Your voice being hoarse from the crying and lack of speaking for the past two weeks.

"Okay I'll grab that, and shoes. Jj is going to make you breakfast and Em is going to do your hair okay?" You gave her a sad smile and a small okay.

Penny quickly walked back your hallway as Em began pulling your hair back in a low ponytail. You felt the tears begin slipping down your face once again.

Jj saw as she walked back in the room with a bagel and coffee.

"Oh sweetheart." And the dam broke. They comforted you the best they could. But they couldn't even imagine what you were going through, because he was gone.

* * *

The funeral was a blur. It seemed like everything was these days. 

It was a beautiful service. You don't remember much. Lots of hugs and 'sorry for your loss's.

It had gone quickly, and soon you found yourself in Rossi's living room. Everyone but the team had left, you sat alone. The rest were in the kitchen cleaning up.

You didn't move from your spot, sipping your wine.

Everyone walked in, and found spots around you.

It was silent. Not a single word was spoken.

"I'm taking a leave of absence." You spoke.

6 pairs of eyes shot to you, but they couldn't say they were surprised.

"It's just too much. I'm not ready to come back." Your voice was quiet. Rossi was the first to say anything.

"Take all the time you need." 

* * *

And you did. You spent about 3 months in that apartment, alone and sad and heartbroken. 

But you realized that Aaron would never want you to live like this. And you really needed to be able to pay the bills.

So after those 3 months, you gave Rossi a call. He had become until chief since you had left, and he instantly accepted you back to the team.

You were slowly getting better. 

Each passing case a distraction. 

Each one fixing you just a bit more. 

Each one giving your life a purpose, a meaning again.

And you felt better. You stopped crying yourself to sleep. You stopped sitting in silence for hours on end. You stopped crying every time you thought about him.

But you still visited him every week. You still thought about him everyday. You still wore your wedding rings, refusing to take them off.

But you were better. 

* * *

A few more months went by and you started going out with the team again. You spent more time with them. Almost every weekend. And you were somewhat okay.

And it wasn't until about 8 months after his death did your world come to another crashing halt.

You had been called in to the BAU, not entirely sure why, but you came in none the less. 

You figured it was a case, but Jj hadn't specified on the phone, which was strange.

You had walked up to the conference room, and were surprised to see the whole team sitting there ready to go. 

"Hey guys, do we have a case?" You asked, but Jj sent you a sad look causing you to grow worried.

"Y/n, you should sit down for this." You had no idea what was going on. What on earth was happening. "Peter Raymond recently resurfaced, and was taken into custody this morning about an hour ago. He resisted arrest and pulled a gun on an officer. He was shot and killed." Your heart hammered in your chest. He was gone. The bastard who killed your husband was gone. Rossi stood walking towards Jj.

A pit grew in your stomach, there was more, something you didn't know.

"8 months ago I made a decision that greatly affected this team. Aaron Hotchner received substantial injuries from the wounds he endured, but his surgery was a success and he was airlifted to an unknown location. His identity was changed in order to keep him safe. But he is alive." 

You couldn't believe your ears. He was alive. Alive? 

Your eyes shot to the door and there he stood. 

Aaron Hotchner. 

You couldn't breathe. 

You couldn't move or speak. 

He was alive, you should be ecstatic.

But you only felt anger.

Your eyes shot to Rossi.

"How dare you." You whispered out, surprising the team. You weren't an angry person, you never yelled at your teammates. But you, you were seething. "How could you do that. You knew he was alive and yet you let me suffer. You watched as I cried day and night. You watched as I let myself go, as I lost myself." You shook your head in anger.

Aaron stepped forward reaching out for you, but you shook your head.

"Dont touch me. Don't fucking touch me." You felt the tears fall down your face. Again. "You left me. You're dead. You're gone. Y-you left." You were shaking and crying and once again Aaron reached out for you, but this time you let him.

He brought you into a crushing hug, holding you like you had begged to be held for months. 

He was here, really here. You could smell and feel and see him. He was really here.

"Y-you bastard. You left me." You whispered desperately as you cried into his shirt. 

The team was quick to disperse. They too were mad at Rossi, and they wanted to reunite with Hotch. But they left you be, at least for now.

Aaron pulled back slightly, looking down at you.

"Sweetheart I'm so sorry. I wish I didn't have to. But he would have killed you and then he would have killed me." He had tears running down his face as well now. But you were so angry at him.

You pushed him away.

"I could have gone with you Aaron. You could have gone into witsec. You didn't need to fake your fucking death Aaron!" You yelled at him. you couldn't even believe you were eating this conversation.

"Y/n please, I'm so sorry." You were mad yeah, but you were so overwhelmingly relieved that it overpowered your anger. "I missed you sweetheart." He whispered out and you broke just a little bit more.

"You bastard. Y-you stupid man." You pulled him back to you and slammed your lips together. "You stupid, stupid man." You gasped out between kisses. 

"I know, I'm so sorry. I love you." He stated after you pulled away.

"I-I love you too." You were sobbing at this point.. "Don't ever do that to me again." He nodded, leaning in to kiss you again.

And you kissed your husband.

Because he wasn't gone. 

He was right here.

And god did it feel amazing to have him back

------------

Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away! Currently I'm only taking requests from my prompt list, which is right here! School is starting up soon though, so i may not be writing very often, but i will definitely try! Anyways, if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.

[rallamajoop]

Obsessed with you Dracula beauty and the beast au! Who are your top 5 favorite dracula characters?

Thank you very much, kind anon (and many apologies for all the months I've kept you waiting for a real answer). We still have stuff planned for that AU, but Em has been hella busy lately running conventions and recovering from covid and all that, and so things end up on the backburner longer than they really should.

Now, if you're asking me for my favourite characters in any version of Dracula, the top spot can only go to Peter Cushing's Van Helsing(s) from the Hammer Dracula films (a quick glance at my Peter Cushing tag will make this pretty hard to deny). But if we're talking Stoker's original Dracula novel, then VH is not even going to make the top 5.

So, without further ado:

1. Mina Murray/Harker Dracula is an ensemble novel, and Mina is neither the first nor the most vocal of our narrators, but there are ways in which it feels more like her story than any other single character's ‒ and I love Mina. Aggressively sensible and practical even in the face of horror, but still human enough to take the reader through a full roller coaster of emotional whammies, Mina is the kind of heroine you just don't get in gothic novels of the era ‒ or even most of the following century, sad to say. Even if the other characters' little Mina-appreciation-society thing gets a bit OTT towards the end of the book, it's not like they're wrong to appreciate her ‒ and I can only dream there might someday be a single adaptation of Dracula that really does her justice.

That said, there is a damn good Mina in the bizarre-by-excellent 2002 silent-film-ballet adaptation, Pages from a Virgin's Diary, played by CindyMarie Small. But my favourite 'Mina' from any adaptation would have to be Kate Nelligan from Universal's (WOEFULLY under-appreciated) 1979 Dracula, which is ironic for a number of reasons, not least of which that this is one of those adaptation which have swapped the names and spend the film calling her 'Lucy'. Getting back to the list, though, it probably won't surprise you to find that the two other characters who love Mina best take out spots 2 and 3.

2. Jonathan Harker Jonathan's the kind of character who could only have come out of the Victorian era, yet there's so much about his arc that feels subversive even today (and it's been so great to see tumblr take to him).

It's so easy to dismiss poor Jonathan as a coward, a weakling, a fool (plenty have) ‒ but then, people still just aren't comfortable seeing a male character so disempowered and traumatised by a predator like Dracula. It's all very well to do that sort of thing to Mina and Lucy, but to a man? Let alone a man who survives the experience, is "forgiven" by his pre-existing love-interest, recovers through the support and validation of friends and professionals, and goes on to get a happy ending. Nor does Jonathan get nearly enough credit for the way he evolves into a grim, knife-wielding badass towards the end of the novel, the first to throw himself into the fray with his old tormentor ‒ even the one to slice open Dracula's throat in the final moments of the book. He even manages to use his boring solicitor's-clerk skills to help bring Dracula down!

Now, I'm fully aware my opinion on Jonathan has been biased by seeing so many others express these same ideas (from Cleolinda's old posts to FFA's distinctive JONATHAN HARKER WOULD NEVER-anon, whose points I found so convincing I wound up kind of writing fic about it). But I don't just love Jonathan in spite of his detractors ‒ I love him because he's a heck of an endearing woobie-survivor all in his own right. Also, he and Mina are adorable, and goddamn do they earn that happy ending.

The only adaptation I've seen to come close to Getting Jonathan Harker Right would be Michael Pink's Dracula ballet (NOT to be confused with Pages from a Virgin's Diary, based on a completely different Dracula ballet ‒ seriously, there are so many), and even that refuses to give me any really good Jonathan-reference shots. So I'll just use this one again, which does at least tie into why so many mainstream audiences might find Jonathan's story (ahem) uncomfortable.

3. Lucy Westenra ‒ and she is so close behind Jonathan I could really just declare a tie. Here's the thing ‒ there's a 'Lucy' in every Victoran Gothic novel I've read* (because if the monster doesn't victimise some truly pure, sweet, innocent young soul, how will we know how monstrous he is?) She's always someone's love interest, and she usually dies tragically. It's the kind of role you could pretty much fill with a demure lamp ‒ so it says a lot that of all those Lucies, this is one one who feels like a real character to me.

Lucy may be sweet and fragile and sheltered, but she still gets to do things. She expresses herself as eloquently as any other narrator, she turns down two proposals because she knows her own heart too well to lead anyone else on ‒ and even in the wake of her weeks of illness and own mother's death, she has the presence of mind to take charge, calm the servants, and write down a record of events she knows she might not live to tell. In a book with three proposals, two engagements, and one wedding, I will still argue that easily the best-developed relationship is the one between Lucy and Mina ‒ some of the most memorable chapters of Dracula are just the two of them, exchanging correspondence and spending time together. In other words, I can buy Lucy as a person, not just an ideal ‒ and that only makes her death all the more tragic.

It's one thing to tell me how lovable a character is supposed to be ‒ it's another to actually make me love them, and Stoker actually pulls that off.

It seems to take a ballet to really get Lucy right, so have another pic from Pages from a Virgin's Diary (Michael Pink's Lucy is also great, as is Krzysztof Pastor's ‒ did I mention there are SO MANY?). And let's throw in that great Disney-Lucy concept from Joseph Szekeres again, while we're at it.

4. Quincey Morris Quincey's an odd one: a character who was obviously supposed to be much more important in Stoker's early concepts, but whose role in the finished book is mostly limited to bringing the tally of Lucy's suitors up to a round 3. But whenever he's actually on page, he's just such a breath of fresh air! In a novel packed with long-winded, very-British characters (and Van Helsing, who's only worse), Quincey will reliably cut to the heart of the matter in a handful of words. In a world where Jonathan takes a week to figure out he's dealing with a vampire, Van Helsing won't say a word without being allotted time to prepare the equivalent of a full powerpoint presentation, and Seward never even comes up with a theory as to where all Lucy's blood is even going, Quincey shows up in the morning and has figured out that this sure does look like a vampire problem before lunch. And while everyone else is busy having an extremely-long-winded strategy meeting, Quincey's the only one to notice a suspiciously-large bat hanging out over the window and go for his sidearm. Arthur really couldn't have had a better, er 'friend' to 'comfort' him after Lucy's death (if you know what I mean). Quincey's great.

I can't even really complain that Quincey's so ignored in most Dracula-adaptations ‒ it's a long book, and you've got to cut something. But he does at least appear in Michael Pink's ballet, so have a pick of him and Arthur having a threesome er, dancing with Lucy.

5. Dracula. Look, you can't do a top-X-Dracula-characters and not find space for Dracula himself. What do you think this book is about? For a figure who's been adapted, reinvented, and flanderised to the point of absurdity over the last century, there is something rather charming about going all the way to back in the Stoker's novel, and discovering that even the original Dracula was simultaneously utterly terrifying, and kind of ridiculous. He brings living babies home in sacks to feed his wives! (He meets Jonathan on the road in what has to be a fake beard.) He arrives in Britain aboard a ghost ship in the midst of a storm! (He prepares for the journey by amassing a teaboo-level 'research library', and tries to blend in by wearing a straw-boater hat.) He delivers an extended, gloating speech about the futility of his enemies' crusade against him, when he's already claimed both their women! (Then he turns tail and flees before they can catch up with him.) I will never know if Stoker meant all this stuff to be as funny as it is to me, but I love it all regardless. On some level, even the OG Count Dracula was as human as any of us.

Obviously, I had to include Christopher Lee's Dracula here, but I am also inordinately fond of Johnny Chang's Dracula from Pages from a Virgin's Diary,

* The others would be Elizabeth from Frankenstein, Flora from Varney the Vampire, and Sybil from Dorian Grey, if you want to know.

So, in conclusion... well, there's a lot to love about Stoker's characters and his novel that you won't find in any adaptation ‒ but some of the ballet versions come pretty close. What can I say, apparently some gothic novels just call for OTT musical adaptation.

...and on that note, I really should poke Em a bit about how that next Harker-and-the-Beast bit is coming along. *g*

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

For number 19 in your ask game—GOD i am obsessed with The First Step of Kintsugi!! It’s my overall top favorite fanfic, ever. It makes me go absolutely insane every time I read it—screaming, crying, clawing at the walls, etc :D

I could write a whole essay about how much I love it and why, because everything about it is absolutely phenomenal. One of the things I really appreciate is the humor you’ve woven through! There’s SO many incredible lines in that fic, but one line that makes me crack up every single time I reread is pretty early on:

“I get the concern, really. But my body got like. Super weird after I got enhanced. A car could run me over and I’d just get up and walk away.”

“Did a car run you over?” demands Frank.

 “That’s not the point of this,” says Peter.  I lose my entire mind every time I read that, holy shit—just, absolutely hilarious and perfectly in character for peter.

In a more general sense, I love the way your juxtapose the most top-tier humor with the more serious parts of your work! I go on an emotional roller coaster every time, and immediately run right back around to go again. Hope you have a great day!

that line was actually one of my FAVORITE jokes to write in the entire fic and I'm SO thrilled you liked it too. like, the sheer energy of that statement. peter is a walking red flag to reasonable adults. he's so concerning. i love him so much.

i don't think i've ever taken something seriously in my life and i think that's most of where my writing style comes from. like, i'm just a clown. i do a lot of generally serious things and i've had plenty of rock bottoms to become acquainted with and i tend to carve out the space for a joke in it. i have to actively make disclaimers when i do pro bono work where i'm like "hey this is a gender marker change/immigration petition/whatever for you and that's such a big deal, i'm always down to clown but i can totally sober up and not crack any more jokes during our meeting" and i've never had a meeting where someone didn't want a little levity. like, i can definitely tell when it's not the time to make a joke but i just generally think that the world is a much nicer place to live in if your sense of comedic timing is kept in easy reach

[shima-draws]

Seeing you mention irondad, any fic recs?

I SURE DO GOT SOME YEAH!!

Invoking Groundhog’s Day by IAmAllYetNotAtAll: By far my FAVORITE Marvel fic period. Peter snatches the Time Stone and uses it to go back and attempt to save Tony many, many, many times. It’s very painful and is loaded with angst but it’s so overwhelmingly good and the suffering is always worth it. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions and it makes me FEEL things and I just. Read it.

Twelve Days of Peter Parker by grilledcheesing: Perfect for this time of year to read bc it’s a Christmas themed fic!! Just a whole bunch of Tony’s experiences with Peter around the holidays, lots of fluff, definitely some angst too. Also let me mention that Peter and Steve have a snowball fight and it’s wonderful. Definitely check out this person’s other fics bc they’ve written a bunch of 5+1 formats and they’re all SO good. I literally want to just recommend them all on this post jfjdj but I’d be going on for too long

Lazarus, come forth by iron_spider: (TY to the person who found this one for me bc I love it to pieces.) Tony suddenly comes back from the dead and has to reenter a world that’s gone on without him. Very very fluffy, Tony is extremely emotional and clingy with everybody, all the Avengers come together and celebrate his return. But as time goes on Tony starts to realize something is wrong and there’s something more to his revival than he thought. Cue the mystery elements!!

5 Times Peter Fell and Tony Caught Him (And the 1 Time He Didn’t) by eva7673: Standard 5+1 fic but it’s SO good. Involves a bunch of different types of “falls” and Tony coming to Peter’s rescue. In the midst of all this, the rest of the estranged Avengers return to the compound, Peter is salty about Steve, and Tony is just trying to deal with everything. Also this fic has a sequel which is also very very good and heart wrenching and another emotional roller coaster that will put you through the wringer so proceed with caution :’)

Cyanide? In My Shawarma? by losingmymindtonight: Oh it’s Peter whump alright!! Peter gets cyanide poisoning while at an Avengers dinner, Tony proceeds to have a heart attack, and the rest of the Avengers are like wow Tony’s a real Dad now. But it’s also very heavy and sad and tense. Basically just a sick fic but Extreme™️ and it’s written super well!

[agirlwhoisaphantom]

Turning Page- Bucky Barnes x Reader

Turning Page- Bucky Barnes x Reader

a/n: This is a 3 part one shot. I wanted all parts to have their moment since there is going to be a bunch of fluff in them. Especially because they all take place at different times. This first part will be when you find out you are pregnant and you tell Bucky about it.

Words Count: 2300

Warnings: Fluff a lot of it. A hint of insecurity 

Summary: You have been feeling weird for the past couple of days. You decided to take a test and the results shocked you. Was telling Bucky about the results a great idea?

Hmm, the smell of freshly baked cookies surrounds you as you walk into the kitchen. Besides the smell of roses, your second favorite smell was the smell of homemade food. 

For the past three days, you haven’t felt the greatest. You had been vomiting, having random headaches, and you felt a very high fever. You didn’t think of it much. You must have been getting the cold or the flu.

You loved eating Chinese food, but for the past three days, whenever you wanted to eat it, you would immediately vomit it. You tried getting the food from different places, but it always led to the same results.

Searching your symptoms on the internet wasn’t the greatest idea, but you were just curious about what you might have.

Early signs of pregnancy

Signs that you might be Pregnant

Symptoms of the Flu

Those were your main results when you googled your symptoms. The one that made the most sense to you was that you might have the flu. Then it clicked to you. You and Bucky have never used protection, especially because you are on the pill. So you weren’t concerned about the lack of condoms. 

“Could I have been pregnant” “No, it can’t be” “what if I was? How will I tell Bucky?” your heart started to race faster and faster as your mind started to wonder if you were pregnant. You go through a roller coaster of emotions. You were excited, terrified, happy, sad, worried, every emotion in the book. Happy because you and Bucky have been talking about wanting to start your own little family. You were terrified because what if he didn’t want to have a kid this early? What would happen to Bucky? Would he quit? That was never something that popped up for the both of you.

Wanda walks into the room with a worried look on her face. “I don’t want to be that person, but I can hear your thoughts miles away. Is everything alright?” she takes a seat next to where you were sitting. She takes your hand and tries to comfort you. “I can go buy you a couple of tests if that brings your mind to ease.” you give her a small nod. She leans in forward to hug you. “I’ll be back. Wait right here and try to relax.” 

The moment she left the room, you go to the bathroom and start preparing for a bath. You stare at yourself in the mirror, looking at your lower stomach. You were able to see a small bump. You place your hand on your stomach. Now you were fantasizing, what if you were pregnant? Would it be a mini you or a mini James? 

You had the biggest smile at the thought that you might be carrying a baby in your stomach. 

You lower your body into the warm bath full of bubbles. You now felt relaxed. All you could focus on was the playlist that Bucky created for you, full of music that reminded him of you. The playlist went from 40’s music to present-day songs. Your mind wanders back to that day, where he was showing you the playlist he created for you.

You both were cuddling on the couch watching Star Wars: Empire Strikes Back. Your head was lying on his right shoulder and your arms wrapped around his bicep. Bucky looked confused watching the movie “so this is what you and Peter enjoy watching?” 

“Yes, this is a good movie, and if you don’t be quiet, I’m going to throw a handful of popcorn towards you” you giggled a little. You were serious. If he didn’t stay quiet, you were going to do that.

He turns his head, pressing his lips against your forehead. “Doll, I would like to see you try,” He whispers as he maintains his lips pressed on your skin. 

Without hesitation, you take a handful of popcorn and throw it to his face. He does the same thing and throws popcorn at you. At this point, you both forgot about the movie and focused on just throwing each other popcorn. There were shared laughs and smiles between the two of you.

Bucky moves to the floor, grabbing the pillow next to him, trying to protect himself. You grab the pillow next to you as well. 

Minutes pass by, and now the living room looked like a mess. It seemed like a popcorn machine has just exploded. The bowl that you and Bucky were getting popcorn was now empty.

You both were trying to catch your breath. From all the laughter you both had. Bucky gets back up and sits on the couch. He put his right arm around your shoulder. 

“Now, how are we going to watch the movie without popcorn?” you cross your arms and have a small frown on your face.

With his metal hand, he unwraps your arms and takes your left hand. He brings it up to his lips and softly kisses it “that sounds like a problem, doesn’t it doll?” he had a small smirk on his face.

You ignored him and snarky comment. It did make you giggle a little. 

Once the movie ended, Bucky reaches to his pocket and takes out his phone. “Doll, I have a surprise for you” his voice got small and a bit shaky. He was always nervous about giving you a present. He would always think that you wouldn’t like it.

He scratches his head, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to give this to you. It was something different it wasn’t the usual thing that he has given you. Such as flowers or food.

You notice how tense he was, so you place your hand on his cheek. You slowly move your thumb against his skin. “Baby, no matter what it is. I know I’m going to love it” you nodded briefly with a small smile on your face.

He takes a big gulp, but he was a bit more relaxed than he was a couple of minutes ago. “okay,” there is a small pause in between. He was unsure if he wanted to continue “Just to let you know Peter helped me create this since he knows more about this magic box than I do” he gave a brief giggle and hands you the phone “look for the app called Spotify, and there should be a playlist with your name on it.” 

You always found it cute that he never knew how the technology worked, but he was always willing to learn for you, as you scroll through the apps trying to find Spotify. The moment you opened the app, there it was the playlist made for you. The name of it was “songs that remind me of my angel.” You clicked on the playlist to see what songs it had. The playlist had over 100 songs.

Tears start falling down your cheeks. You were happy. You couldn’t believe that he had done this for you. 

Bucky had a concerned look on his face. “Doll, no, don’t start crying.” His voice was shaky, and he started to panic slowly. He intended never to make you cry.

You place both of your hands on his cheeks and pull him in for a kiss. As you both were kissing, you get on top of him, leaving no space in between the two of you. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer. 

You pull away for a moment. “Thank you, Bucky. I love it”

-----------------------------

You hear a knock on your door. “Hey, I’m back from the store with the tests” You sighed in relief. It was Wanda. 

You rapidly get out of the bathtub and grab a towel to wrap yourself in. “You can come in, Wanda.”

Wanda opens the door and places the tests on the countertop. She grabs a towel “turn around. I want to help you dry your hair” you listened to her and let her dry your hair. “I don’t know how you might feel, but one thing I will reassure you about is that no matter what the results may say. Bucky is always going to love you.” 

With what Wanda has just told you, it put your mind at ease. She was right. No matter what, he was always going to be there. You take Wanda’s hand “can you stay here with me while I take these?” you had a small smile on your face as she gives you a nod.

You put on your PJs. You didn’t want to stay in a towel anymore. Opening the box, you can feel your heart racing, a hundred beats a minute. 

The moment you took the test, you stared at it. You were waiting for the results to pop up. On the box, it said to wait for five minutes. To you, those five minutes felt like an eternity. You wanted to know, and you wanted to know now.

Positive.

Two dark blue lines, you started at those lines for a couple of minutes. Those minutes felt like they were hours. You wanted to make sure you weren’t delusional and that you saw those lines. The results on that little stick were positive. You were pregnant, something you thought wasn’t possible. But it happened, your heart full of joy and love. You were going to be a mom, and Bucky was going to be a dad. The little family you both, have dreamt for years is finally happening. 

Before telling Bucky about the news, you wanted to feel confident about the results. Lucky, the pregnancy test box that Wanda bought had two inside. You take a big breath before you take it, just in case if those results were negative. You didn’t want to your hopes up. You take the second test, and the same dark blue lines from earlier show up. Once again, your heart fills up with happiness, joy, but mainly love.

You couldn’t wait till Bucky came home. You were so excited to tell him. 

Wanda didn’t have to ask you about your results. She already knew, especially because you had the biggest smile on your face. 

Hours pass by, you were thinking about how you were going to tell him. “Should I just tell him the moment he walks in?” “no, that would catch him by surprise” “Should I-?” your thoughts were running wild. Before you knew it, the door was opening.

Bucky throws his bag onto the couch. He looked exhausted; it looked like he had a very long day. You run towards him and hug him tightly. “Woah, Woah, looks like someone missed me” He holds you and gently kisses your head. 

He grabs your hand and starts walking towards the direction where the couch was. He sits down and pats his thigh as he wants you to sit on his lap. The moment you sat down, he wraps his arms around you. “I’m glad that I’m finally holding my baby girl in my arms.” Whenever he would call you his baby girl, your cheeks would turn bright red with the biggest smile. “I can’t get enough of that beautiful smile of yours. Such a sweet smile that lights up your whole face” He places his hand on your cheek and pulls you in for a kiss. 

You lay your head on his shoulder. You were taking a big breath before you said anything. Once again, your heart was racing. “Bucky,” there was a small pause. You wanted to make sure you said the right words and that he would be able to hear you. “I’m pregnant.” 

Silence 

You could hear his heartbeat increase. You were unsure what face he had. You didn’t know what emotion he was portraying. All you could feel and hear is the sounds of his heartbeat dramatically increase. 

The silence lasted for minutes. “Oh no, did I do the wrong thing by telling him?” you thought. You hated the silence. Your stomach started twisting and turning.

Bucky takes a big breath and places his hand on your lower stomach. “are we-“ he pauses for a moment, his voice got small and shaky, “are we going to be parents?” He starts to slowly move his hand in circular motions on your stomach.

You left up to your head from his shoulder and looked at him. He had the biggest smile on his face, tears forming in his eyes. He was happy. He knew the answer you were going to say without saying a word. Just the look on your face said it all. 

Bucky places his hand behind your head, slowly running his fingers through your hair. He pulls you in, pressing his lips against yours. It felt like time has stopped for the both of you. All you could focus on was how soft he felt against your lips, how addictively he invaded all your senses. 

You both were kissing like there was no tomorrow and as if your lives were dependent on it. Bucky tongue slips inside your mouth, gentle but yet so demanding. Even though this wasn’t the first time he had done that, it always felt like it was. This was the type of kiss that melted you into his arms, every square inch of your body dissolves into his. Moving your hand from his neck to his hair, you grip his hair, pulling him closer. 

Without breaking the kiss, he pushes you gently onto the couch. Now you were lying down. Meanwhile, he was on top of you. He pulled away for a moment and had the cutest smile on his face “Baby girl. We are going to be parents” you give him that same smile and give him a small nod.

[flamingo-writes]

Ch. 8: When You're Close To Me

Keep You On My Side, Chapter 8: Slow Down, Fade Out

Andrew Garfield!Peter Parker x [Female] Reader

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A/N: Sorry for the delay (again)! I've been busy with work, besides I've had a few ideas for other fics roaming in my head and making it harder to concentrate in this one. However, fret not, my friends, the next chapter is almost done, and it's a long one!

Not so fun fact: Gal is inspired on someone I did meet in real life, someone I considered to be my best friend for three years, and during this time how much he manipulated and gaslighted me was unbelievable. Many of the things I wrote about Gallagher were my personal experience with this person (except the part in which I got romantically involved with them). It was a very dark moment in my life, one time I saw them outside my favorite Japanese place and had a panic attack just from seeing him just like the MC did last chapter from seeing Gal outside the coffee shop.

Also I projected myself again a little too much in this chapter. I've been dealing with my problems by going swimming just like MC did in this same chapter.

Summary: Friday night comes by and you go out with Peter. However, you would've never guessed how your entire day was going to turn out, as you had a roller coaster of emotions after the other.

Warnings: mentions of stalking,

Word Count: 4.8 K

“Do you mind if we make a small stop by my apartment?” He said as he offered to carry your backpack for you.

After having argued with him about the topic, you finally gave in and let him carry your things for you as you rolled your eyes playfully at him and sighed.

“So?” He asked.

“Yeah, sure…” You replied looking at him with a soft pout.

“Are you seriously mad at me for wanting to be a gentleman and carry your things?” He asked with a cheeky smirk.

“I am trying to make you feel guilty” You said in a dramatic voice. “Is it working?”

“Awh, come on” Peter laughed and looked at you. “It is not working, by the way” He said as he looked back at the front. A few seconds later, he looked back at you, the pout still there. “Seriously, it’s useless…” He laughed and looked away, sighing loudly. “Okay, fine. You win” He giggled. “Still not giving your backpack back…” He said as you giggled.

“Well, at least I won,” You said with a cheeky voice.

You two walked a few more blocks as you joked back and forth, shyly shoulders and the back of your hands brushing gently. Feeling like a teenager all over again, but not sure you liked it. It made you feel silly. Peter on the other hand was scared of causing a negative reaction if he held your hand.

After you finally made it to his apartment, you walked inside, noticing the small place. Barely enough for a single person. Although, you noticed a rather odd amount of cardboard boxes, some of them already sealed with tape, others halfway through getting filled with Peter’s stuff.

“Are you moving out?” You asked curiously as Peter shrugged softly.

“Lost my job, and freelance isn’t enough for me to pay rent right now…so, I’m going to be moving back with May for a while…” He said softly.

“Sounds good…”

“Yeah, I’ll help her with the expenses, and keep the house clean and all” He sighed. “It’ll be just like when I was in my first year of college…” He purred.

“Is that bad?”

“No, not at all…It’s melancholic. I’ll miss my full autonomy, but getting back home knowing there’s someone waiting for me it’s a very nice feeling as well” He said, his smile spreading and softening as he walked to his closet. "Let me change real quick, I've been running errands all morning and I know better than to show up like that to May's" He chuckled softly as he grabbed clothes and went to the bathroom. "Won't take long…" He said cheerfully.

You nodded and kept looking around curiously, as you usually could learn a lot about someone from how their homes looked like. Your eyes going around the corners as you took notes of the kind of person Peter was.

For the most part it was tidy, except for small things scattered around. Pens, some of his photography equipment, notes and post-it notes, it added something quirky to the place. Posters and pictures hung on the walls, and a small pile of CD stacked. Who even owned CDs anymore? You chuckled softly as you thought how cute of Peter to keep his CDs and have them visible on his apartment and not hidden at the back of the closet.

As your eyes glanced over the desk and the first thing that caught your attention was the cork board. It had so many pictures in them. Several of what you assumed was Peter and his family growing up, two really cool Spiderman pictures, some of the pictures he took the day of the abandoned building with your friends, and a few pictures of Gwen.

So he still missed her, you thought, and of course he did. Wasn't Gwen his first love? That was going to be hard to compete for, but you didn't try to, and it didn't seem necessary to do so as Peter seemed to correspond to your feelings. Sure, you weren’t Gwen, but you didn’t try to become her anyways. And Peter seemed happy with your own person.

Next to one of her pictures, there was one in particular that made your breath shorten. It was a picture of you from the day at the abandoned building. But it was just you, looking up with a cheeky grin, perhaps you were talking to Miles. You chuckled softly at the gesture. Slightly creepy, you thought, but made you realise you weren't the only one constantly fantasising about things. If Peter had that there, it meant he often thought of you, just like you'd often think of him.

What you saw next made your heart stop. Underneath your photo you saw a torn piece of paper. One you recognized instantly. The day Spiderman had left that message on the bridge, when so many people claimed to be MJ. The real MJ had left a note and Spiderman had apparently found it. Your note.

'Just like you, I am someone concealing my identity' in your handwriting staring back at you. Underneath a yellow post it with a messy note written there. ' Same handwriting?' It read and the post-it pointed at a photo of Miles's mural. Same mural that had your handwriting in it, as well as a photo you recognized from one of Kylie’s tweets in which she'd taken a pic of a piece of writing from your journal.

Two thoughts hit you like an ice bucket on your back.

Peter having MJ's note from the bridge confirmed he was Spiderman. You'd climbed the bridge very recklessly to try and leave the note higher than most of the other notes. For him to find it would mean either Peter lurked through the notes and found yours while climbing the bridge or Spiderman did by swinging and sticking to the bridge. But Peter or Spiderman had recognized MJ’s style just by reading the note… Peter was Spiderman. Your breath shook.

And second, Peter was good . He was able to recognize MJ's handwriting from Kylie’s tweet, and yours in the mural. Even before you decided to send him the email as MJ and let him read your draft.

The draft to your novel, in which a guy named Mark Jensen was both a writer and journalist documenting the rise of a revolutionary group. Peter must know by now, but he hadn't brought it up yet.

You felt your legs get weak at the sudden rush of emotions as you walked to his bed and sat on the edge as you put all your thoughts in order. You tried taking deep breaths. You pulled out your phone trying to distract yourself from what you'd seen in his cork board.

Shortly after Peter walked out in a plain black v neck shirt that fit his chest a little too well as you felt your heart skip a beat. It was a simple look. Just some jeans, boots and the v neck shirt but god, he looked–

"You look pretty nice, Pete" You said, containing yourself and trying to sound casual.

"Thanks. May gave me the shirt for my birthday, thought it would be nice to wear it" He said as he grabbed his wallet from the night stand. "Ready?"

You thanked the shirt for looking so good on him. Or else, your mind would still be desperately circling the realisation you just had. It was hard to concentrate when he looked like that .

"Sure…" You said slightly breathless as you grabbed your backpack and swung it over your shoulder.

"Can I?" He purred in a gentle voice as you met his stare and smirked softly.

"No, Peter. You already carried it on the way here…You've done more than enough" You sighed.

"I don't think May will be exactly happy to see you carrying your backpack…"

"Oh come on" You whined.

"She'll get mad at me. Saying she didn't raise me that way…horrendous, you don't want to see a pouty May, it'll break your heart…" He teased with a cheeky grin.

"You are impossible, Parker" You sighed with a cheeky grin as you handed him your backpack and he smirked proudly.

"And you're a darling" He said with a cheeky smile. "C'mon" He said happily.

A few blocks and one sub later, you followed Peter into a small and quiet neighbourhood. Houses piled next to each other as you thought about how Peter had grown in these streets. And you wondered the kind of person May was. Although you already had a good idea about how May must like and how Ben must have been like considering they voth raised Peter.

Peter guided you into a small porch as he grabbed the keys from the back pocket of his jeans and opened the door, letting you walk in first.

"May! We're here…" He said loudly, announcing your arrival, as his voice echoed around the house.

"Kitchen!" A gentle voice replied as he looked at you and smiled, jerking his head and pointing with it to the general direction

You shyly followed him as your eyes moved around, taking in the cosy details of the home already making you feel welcome as the sweet smell of bakery flooded your nose.

Peter went to the living room, placing your backpack on one of the couches. Shyly, you followed him around as if you were going to get lost inside the cosy home. You followed his steps into the kitchen as you saw an elder woman, who looked perhaps in her mid 50's, and the same kind and gentle stare Peter had.

He walked up to her and kissed her head as she turned to face him and greeted him with a tight hug.

"How is it going, Peter? I'm so glad you guys could make it…" She purred.

"Thank you for having us, May" He replied as he broke the hug and looked at you, calling your name softly. "This is my aunt May" He then proceeded to introduce you to her as you walked closer to her and shook her hand.

“Nice to meet you” You replied politely as she gave you the kindest smile.

“Nice to meet you too, sweetie” She purred as she then looked at Peter. “Can you help me set up the table?”

“Sure” He replied as he moved around the kitchen, getting the silverware to the table as you stood there feeling uncomfortably awkward.

“Can I help somehow?” You asked.

“No, it’s alright sweetie. You’re a guest. Don’t worry about it” She purred.

As much as you insisted, May kept telling you to not worry about it. The three of you had dinner as you chatted about all sorts of things. Anecdotes from high school, anecdotes of your own. It was nice. A pleasant dinner, with endless talking. And, although you’d been hanging out with Peter a lot in the last few months, the both of you still had quite a number of stories to tell each other.

Especially you. After having shamefully admitted to May that you were sort of a rule breaker at school, and Peter backing you up by stating “you were a rebel with a cause, though”, you brought up many of the things you’d done. Leaving aside the Flash’s car incident, you told them about the time you basically caused a scene when a teacher treated a foreign student poorly for not being able to speak English properly by insulting the teacher in a foreign language. How you’d convinced several of your guy friends to show up to school with short shirts after one of your best friends wasn’t allowed to go into school because her skirt was too short.

While May wouldn’t probably approve of these things, she liked your fearless spirit to do what you believed was right. And suddenly understood why Peter liked you. And how much he liked you. The way his eyes stared at you with a particular attention and colourful spark. May liked the way you seemed to look back at him with the same spark. Reflecting onto each other’s eyes as if May wasn’t even there to begin with. She never thought she’d see Peter like that again. Not since Gwen Stacy.

After dinner, you’d begged Peter and May to let you help cleaning or tidying up after dinner and reluctantly, Peter let you help by taking the dishes to the sink while he washed them. You talked back and forth about how good dinner was, and especially the pie May had baked. And Peter was right. She’d made several pies. Insisting that you’d take one of them for your roommates too, you couldn't help but think she was perhaps the sweetest human being you’d met.

Dinner was good. The pie was exceptional. And the company was perhaps the best part of it. May was kind, Peter had you over the moon the entire time. And on your walk home, the conversation stretched out.

Throughout the entire dinner, you noticed the way he was looking at you, melting your heart everytime you two made eye contact. You knew you were doomed, but god, what a good way to go. As Peter walked you home, shortly after leaving, shoulders bumping against each other and hands brushing gently. Making you feel like a silly teenager. Heart on your throat and subtle blush on your cheeks, only to feel your knees about to give up on you when Peter decided he had had enough of it and decided to finally hold your hand a few blocks after leaving May’s.

You didn’t hesitate in the slightest to close your hand around his, fingers entwined delicately as you felt the heat in your cheeks rising. And for the rest of the walk, you remained that way. Hands entwined, as you walked with slow steps, trying to make the walk to your apartment last longer as you were immersed in the conversation.

By the time you were outside your building, you stopped and looked at Peter as he handed you your backpack.

“You’re home” He purred as he stared at you with kind melting eyes.

Captured by the tender look he was giving you, you felt your heartbeat rising, knowing what was going to happen next. And god, how much you were anticipating this moment. As the thoughts about him being Spiderman were still running at the back of your head, right now it made no difference. Your feelings for him were the same regardless of that piece of news. You liked Peter , not Spiderman. Even if he wasn’t Spiderdman, you’d still like him.

“Thank you” You purred. “For everything. The dinner, the pie, carrying my laptop the entire time…” You purred.

“Oh, it’s the least thing I could do for everything you’ve done for me” He replied with a smile, his eyes slowly scanning your face as he took a step forward, slowly, reading your body language to know whether to proceed or not. As you didn’t move in the slightest and remained with your eyes on his, he leaned forward, bumping his forehead to yours.

“Hey…” He purred, as you chuckled.

“Hello” You replied.

His face leaning closer, as he teasingly ran the tip of his nose along yours, prolonging the anticipation the two of you were feeling. And as much as you were enjoying this little act of his, what happened next ruined the mood like very few things could.

Your phone rang as you sighed disappointed, and Peter chuckled softly as he could tell how annoyed you got by it.

“I’m gonna kill someone” You joked with a bitter chuckle as you pulled your phone out and looked at the screen. Big letters shone in your screen reading ‘UNKNOWN’ and underneath a phone number you did not recognize as you frowned confused, your phone ringing and vibrating in your hand.

“What?” You purred confused.

“You’re gonna pick it up?” He asked.

“I don’t like picking up when unknown numbers are calling…” You said.

“Want me to pick up for you?” His words pierced your heart in the kindest of ways as you looked up at him with a pleading look and he chuckled softly. “C’mon, let me do this for you” He insisted.

“I-I…do-don’t know…” You purred awkwardly.

“Hey, it’s fine, let me help…” He said smiling softly as you gave him your phone and he picked up. “Hello?” He said casually as you heard a guy’s voice on the other end and he frowned softly. “Who is this?” He said as you heard a reply on the other end but couldn’t figure out what he was saying nor who he was. “Yes, it is. Look man, give me a name and I’ll think about it” Peter chuckled bitterly and then frowned. “No, I’m sorry. It’s not going to be possible. How did you get this number?��� Peter’s voice got more serious. His jaw clenched and pulled the phone away from his ear, hanging up as the voice hadn’t finished talking.

“Who was that?” You asked worried as you’d noticed his reaction and the fact that he’d hung up without a warning and blocked the number as you started feeling worried.

“It’s best if you don’t know” He replied softly.

“Oh, shit…it was Gal, wasn’t it?” You said and you felt your heart stop for a painful second and you saw the way Peter looked back at you with a paralyzed look, no answer, and confirming your suspicions.

“I’m sorry…” He purred your name softly.

Your gut twisted and you felt an uncomfortable pressure at the back of your throat, similar to when you're going to puke. The nausea slowly took over as you shook your head and closed your eyes.

"N-no…it-it's…fine. If I had answered I-" You sighed and shook your head. "I would've puked already…" You sighed, meeting his stare. "Thank you…And, I mean…for everything, not just…answering my phone" You replied nervously as the thought of Gal perhaps stalking you terrified you. His timing was oddly perfect, and knowing him, he might as well be lurking somewhere.

"Yeah. Sure, right. No problem" Peter purred as Gal's words kept circling in his head.

"What do you need a name for? That's not relevant. Let me talk to her, its important"; "Fine, asshole. Tell her Gal is talking, and it's urgent" ; "Why do you care how I got her number? Are you a jealous boyfriend or something?".

"I…ha-have…"You sighed nervously as Peter nodded, understanding even before you spoke.

"Ye-yeah…go…" He purred softly as he, once again, frustrated as he was planning on finally kissing you tonight but once again Gal got in the way.

You basically ran up the stairs, completely ignoring the elevator as you wanted to drown the thoughts bubbling up in your head from what had just happened. As you kicked the door open, you closed it and left your backpack on the floor by the door and stared into the wall at the opposite end of the apartment.

“Hey, girl. How did your date go?” Kylie asked with a cheeky tone, her voice echoing from the kitchen.

“Awful” You sighed defeated.

“What?” Miles barked as he jumped out of his seat in the kitchen and walked towards you.

“It was perfect” You whined “Peter was perfect. The dinner was pretty good, the pie was amazing, his aunt May is a total sweetheart…” You sighed.

“What happened?” Andy asked following Miles.

“We walked for 3 miles from his aunt’s place so we had more time to talk and to avoid the noise and people from the subway…” You groaned. “I think Gal is stalking me…” You sighed.

“Whoa, wait, friend, hold up” Miles hissed.

“Peter was just about to kiss me, when my phone rang…” You sighed defeated.

“It was him ?” Miles barked.

“What did he say?” Kylie rushed after your friends to meet you by the door.

“I don’t know, Peter picked up…”

“How did he get your number?” Andy asked.

“Like hell I know. Peter asked him too…” You purred.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry…” Kylie sighed.

“If he knows I’m going out with Peter…he’ll try to scare him away…” You purred as you started walking towards your room, the thoughts you were running away from climbing the stairs were finally catching up.

“You think it’ll work?” Andy asked.

“I don't know. The man is a psycho…” Miles replied.

“That bad?” Kylie asked.

“You have no idea what he’s capable of doing” You said, your voice turning serious and cold. You shook your head and walked to the kitchen. “By the way, Peter’s aunt sent a pie for you guys” You said leaving the small bag with the pie in it over the table and then headed to your room.

“Yo, shit, for real?” Miles said surprised. “God bless that woman! Please, you’ve got to marry that guy”

“Shut up! We’re not even a couple” You groaned from your room.

“Yet” Kylie added.

“I mean, he makes you happy, his aunt makes pie for us…I agree…you should marry him” Andy teased.

After a few minutes you walked out of your room with your gym bag over your shoulder as you’d changed into gym clothes and had your swimming suit underneath. Your friends were swarmed around the kitchen table feasting on the pie as they all praised it over and over again.

As Adam looked up, his mouth stuffed with pie he frowned softly.

“Where are you going?” He asked with his mouth full.

“To the pool…”

“Dude, it’s midnight” Miles sat up straight and looked at you with a scolding stare.

“I need to clear my head”

“At midnight? When your ex is possibly stalking you?” Miles questioned with a frown.

“Do you prefer I go for a run in the streets? The pool has cameras and two guards 24/7…” You told Miles as you met his hazel eyes.

“Fine. go for a midnight swim, you freak. Text me when you get there. And when you leave, though…” He said.

“I will”

“If you take too long to text me, I’ll call you. And if you don’t pick up, I’m calling the police immediately” He threatened as you chuckled and looked at him over your shoulder as you walked to the door.

“I will text you, mom ” You chuckled looking at Miles as he smiled back at you.

“Just sayin’ man…” He giggled as he watched you leave through the door, feeling slightly worried, as apparently you had the worst luck when it came to being on the street.

The smell of chlorine and the humidity in the air seemed to have an instant calming effect on you as you stepped inside the pool waving at one of the guards by the door. Already familiarised with his face as you usually saw that same man with his characteristic moustache over his lip at different times at different days in the pool.

“Can’t sleep?” He greeted you with a gentle nod.

“I’ll tire myself out, perhaps I’ll be able to get some decent sleep” You replied with a smile.

“Knock yourself out, kiddo”

“Thanks, Hank” You purred as you went into the changing room and left your things in one of your lockers.

And soon, you found yourself jumping into the pool. Your body soon got used to the cool water, as you started swimming back and forth. Most of your mind focused on your technique and breathing every three strokes. Your eyes constantly glued to the dark blue line painted at the bottom. This line seemed oddly therapeutic when you were overthinking stuff. Something about this blue line running across the pool helped you focus on seeing your problems from a more objective perspective. Perhaps it was your survival instinct telling you to constantly pull out of the water to breathe, and that same survival instinct made you realise that Gal stalking you couldn’t be any worse than drowning or swallowing water by mistake. Man, swimming helped put things in perspective.

Not that you were afraid to drown. You’d been swimming since a very young age and felt way too comfortable in the water to even feel like your life was at risk. It was the fact that every few seconds you had to take a breath and keep swimming.

Your mind kept going from one thought to the other, like ping pong. Bouncing between Gal and Peter being Spiderman. The blue line stretching along with your thoughts.

Peter thought Gal's timing was too convenient, and thought perhaps Gal was stalking you. The thought alone made him cringe uncomfortably. What kind of bastard was Gal that he'd left you with PTSD, and now he was stalking his ex. Two very big red flags.

As he went by his night routine of patrolling Queens, the last few days he'd been trying to track the two guys known as The Shocker and The Prowler. He'd gotten a few clues from interrogating random criminals on the street and a little bit of dirty playing. He knew the Prowler and the Shocker were going to meet each other in another alley

And as soon as he spotted the familiar suit, he swung closer to the Prowler, but not close enough so he could be easily spotted as he tried to listen to their argument. As they argued back and forth, the Prowler threatened the Shocker as he simply shrugged it off saying he was technically abiding by his part of the deal. And before Peter could manage to hear any information that could reveal either of their identities, the Prowler was the first one to attack.

He jumped, propelled by his boots at the Shocker as the Shocker countered and attacked with his gauntlet, shocking the Prowler in the process. A loud roar, as the two men started fighting each other, and the midnight bypassers started screaming and running. Peter decided to come out from his hiding spot, mostly to drive the people away. At least until Peter was swinging towards one of the pedestrians when he felt his spider sense screaming at him as he looked over his shoulder.

In a split of a second, he used his free arm to cover himself from the kick the Prowler threw at him as he let go of his web.

“I told you to stay out of my shit!” The Prowler barked as Peter fell to the ground.

Groaning softly, he ignored the Prowler’s comment as Peter quickly ran towards a guy closeby.

“Sir, you have to get out of here” He said as he grabbed the man from the shoulders and showed him an alternate way to leave.

“What the fuck?!”

Peter’s blood turned cold. His heart stopped beating. And in the fraction of a second that took him to turn around, stretched out and felt like years. That was your voice. And as he tried to figure out what were you doing there at that time, his eyes finally fell on you as you looked terrified and confused as you swung on your toes ready to turn around and leave.

He yelled your name instinctively as he tried to rush by your side and take you out of there as soon as possible, as his body reacted without him being aware of it. The trauma left by Gwen’s death didn’t let him take a single millisecond to think as his body just acted, trying to get you out of the warzone.

“Out!” The Prowler growled as he hit Peter in the ribs. His spider sense too numbed down by his growing feat he was sent flying a few metres away on his way to reach you.

He saw you slowly turning upon hearing your name, his heart stopping again for another long second as he threw a web at the closest building and pulled himself, trying to gain some speed and momentum as he flew your way. You looked at him with a frightened stare as he landed on the ground, the sharp pain of his ribs making him groan but not stop as he clung to you, wrapping around you and shooting another web as he took you to the top of a closeby building. A building far away enough from the conflict between both villains, but close enough where he’d be able to keep an eye on you in any case.

You screamed and latched on to him as he swung and felt like your soul was leaving your body, and hid your face in his shoulder as the adrenaline rush took over. When he landed, he gently grabbed you by the waist pulling you away as you felt your knees weak from the sudden rush of emotions.

“Stay here, don’t go down, don’t do anything. I’ll come back for you as soon as I’m done” He babbled as he turned around and jumped down as you watched him incredulous, your heart beating fast as you dropped your gym bag and approached the edge.

“Peter!” You cried out as you started getting worried.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes and comments are very well appreciated!

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[moonyslove78]

Okay, so I've had time to sulk over the ending. And time to re-read the entire chapter again to try to gather some more thoughts on what occurred. My stance still remains that you're absolutely brilliant, @liz-allyn ! The emotions you put into this series is heart-wrenching and absolutely perfect! To put into words the roller coaster of emotions and feelings I had while reading this chapter alone would be virtually impossible. But never the less, I am going to try.

First and foremost, can I just say that the dialogue with Peter and his conscious was impeccable. I have never felt so much empathy for a character that should probably have been put in his place a while ago, like I did when reading this. The fact that I had a feeling Honey was gonna give it to him ten-fold, it almost made listening to him berate himself basically unbearable.

I had a strong premonition that Venom was going to make an appearance here and you did NOT disappoint when the time came. The font used when he was speaking to Peter made it all so much more real and creepy. Your talent for being able to do certain things such as this to convey the situation amazes me even more every chapter. And this was no exception. You literally gave me chills. It was perfection!

Now, as much as I believe he needs a MASSIVE reality check, as well as take accountability for what he's put Honey through... I also have a major soft spot for Peter and Honey... as you very well know already. So my first instinct was to be like 'Please, Honey! Come in and save him from himself before he goes off the deep end any further!' And boy was I happy when she did!

I knew though that this was just the beginning. I am so glad she showed her concern for him to be 'okay', no matter how angry she is at him. It at least gave me the slightest bit of hope that she hadn't been broken to the point that she'd just let him bleed out... and even at his insistence that he'd be fine, she still made sure she helped him and took care of him. And I cannot lie, I had a bit of a proud moment when she was stitching him up and jabbed him with the needle. And his reaction was better that I could've expected. 'Because of course she would.'

I was very surprised, to say the least, that she admitted to snooping through the box. And the way she asked him about Gwen... I really didn't expect that at this point. I had expected her to be relentless on the Bella circumstance and when she switched gears and went head on into questioning him about Gwen sent me into a slight panic.

Now this is where things get a little intense... I suspected there was going to be some sexual tension between them the second she hauled back and slapped him. Just because I felt it in the moment. That's how damn good you write these two... emotions were high and Honey had reached her breaking point in that moment.

What I did NOT expect was what actually happened! Holy shit!

I was gasping for air when she demanded him to kneel. And then telling him to get her off... my jaw was on the floor the whole time. This little peek of Dom!Honey was fucking HOT!! Though I was hoping for an alternate ending to the chapter, the point where she finished and then quite literally throat kicked him away... needless to say...

Now, my emotions were flung right back in headlong when she called him out and told him he had one last chance to tell the truth. I didn't know how to feel in that moment. First I was going, 'yes! Make him tell you the truth, Honey!' But then, when he finally opened up and told her... even though I understood her contemplation of his admission completely... her reaction of 'Now I never wanna see you again...' made me go... 'now hang on a minute, Honey! You've got a few skeletons in your closet too, especially one BIG one!'

But god help me, I love these two fools so much and want them to be okay and together more than anything...so in the back of my mind I keep going, just deal with the angst that's thrown at you and take what hope you get wherever you get it.

Because as much as she wants to hate him, I don't think she can fully hate Peter. I really feel like as much as she's broken because of Peter, right now... She's more so broken because of the combination of things that has happened to her, adding to her current situation and what John's doing to her. And I still hold onto hope that she'll realize that though he's not admitted it to her, Peter's just as broken and that they can be each other's saving grace.

I really feel like most of the horrible shit that's happened, is happening and probably will still happen, could be avoided if she was honest with him about the whole thing with dickhead John. Though I understand her hesitation, I still feel like she could help more by telling him the truth.

I have never been so attached emotionally to two characters more than these two, @liz-allyn and I am trying to survive the angst that is ensuing, because I feel like it's going to just get worse from here... but I just hope that that means it can only get better after that.

You're talent for writing and amazing depiction of such a complex couple, not to mention their inner turmoil is outstanding and I am blown away every time I read a chapter. I just can't put into words how much I love series.

I hope that things get/are getting better for you. Know that you deserve so much happiness and positivity and I'm sending you so much love! <33

sugar and vice, pt 16 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: your own worst enemy is yourself

words: 8.1 k

chapter warning: negative self-talk. or4l *f receiving* creepy font. mean dom honey.

series warnings: mob-typical violence, bang bang shoot shoot, whump. 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.

These two are f*cked up™️

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you've come this far you should know what you're getting yourself into.

Back to Part 15.

Part 16

Hey.

Hey, asshole. Can you hear me?

—wake up—

Are you still crazy? Snap out of it!

—W̶A̶K̶E̸— ̵U̵P̶—

Peter’s eyes snapped open as he flinched awake. He would have fallen flat on his face if he hadn’t caught himself on the doorframe. Blinking rapidly, he peered around at his surroundings.

He was sitting on the floor of the hallway in the condo. He found himself leaning up against the guest bedroom door. Honey’s bedroom, he needed to remind himself. It was pitch dark. His ears were still ringing from the explosion hours before.

Wiping the drool from his face, he pushed himself up to a dazed stand, his sleep-deprived mind struggling to come back online. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep—just rest his eyes for a moment. 

He could no longer remember the last time he slept, but it was with Honey next to him. That was days ago. The math was fuzzy—when had it ever been difficult for him?—”although both the EEG and behavior indicate wakefulness, local populations of neurons in the cortex may be falling asleep”—but the hours reached the triple digits. 

How could he sleep at a time like this?

They’d almost been killed. The woman he loved had almost died. Again.

As shock began to take hold of her on the rooftop, he wrapped her tightly in his jacket and swung home. He told her to close her eyes, and she did. He’d have to deal with her questions later. Might have even passed out. 

From the moment he landed on the terrace of his building, he was in a state of frenzied hypervigilance. As he entered the condo, he clutched her in his arms like a baby, and she curled her body around his like a koala. The only thing that kept him from losing his mind into blind panic was her steady exhales of oxygen on his neck. He counted every one of her breaths, the sensation being the only thing between him and hysteria.

Felicia was there, war-face on, having gathered a search-party of his guards as soon as she had gotten word of the explosion outside of the arcade and that the couple was missing. Despite her good intentions, Peter was outside of himself—even more so than he’d been recently. 

He didn’t want their help. He didn’t want their presence. He didn’t want them nearby, not within arm’s reach, not touching him. And he certainly didn’t want any of them touching his girl. 

He knew he was being unreasonable. He knew it was unproductive and hurtful to see everyone else as a threat. Particularly for Felicia, his most trusted ally.

He didn’t give a shit.

Psh, sounds like you.

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There was no one besides him and Honey in the Penthouse, he was certain of it. No other heartbeats detected. But where did that voice come from?

Down here, genius.

Peter’s eyes darted down the hallway, his hair standing on end. His senses were in overdrive, alerting him that the voice was coming from his office. Fists clenched, he stalked towards the room with cat-like steps. Trailing along the wall, he quieted his breathing, trying and failing to detect the other heartbeat in the room.

He set aside his fear, letting his rage give him courage. He stepped into the doorway, eyes alert, ready to face the intruder.

But no one was there.

Ooh. Here it is. He’s finally figuring it out. Took you long enough.

The voice was there again. He glanced around his darkened office in confusion, unable to see the source. Cold sweat beaded at his brow, his hands having gone numb with a clammy chill. 

Jaw slightly agape, he wandered further into the room, eyes roving the area. His pulse increased with every step, dread filling his belly like an anvil. Was his home suddenly haunted by ghosts? Was he finally going crazy?

I’d say the latter is more likely, wouldn’t you?

From where he was standing near the lounge area, he glanced over at the source of the voice, coming from behind his desk.

It was him.

He blinked.

Blinked again.

And again.

He stared in utter confusion, his mind unable to process what he was seeing. 

Himself. Sitting behind his desk, dressed up like it was Easter Sunday, wearing a bright white suit and white collared dress shirt, the top buttons loosely unbuttoned. It was one of the expensive suits, by some fancy designer that he didn’t care to remember. Only he didn’t remember the suit at all. He’d remember wearing an all-white fancy getup like that, looking like Lucifer on his wedding day.

By contrast, his eyes—or, the eyes of the him seated behind the desk—were as dark as a winter night and three times as cold. The jaw of his doppelgänger firmly set with a look of disapproval. 

“Fuck, I’m losin’ my mind.”

Well, you lost your soul a long time ago, his other self answered him, lips moving. His whole body went rigid with terror. So what’s a pesky mind worth? Never had any common sense to begin with.

Peter stepped back, eyes wide. He sealed them closed for a moment, willing the vision away. Praying to whatever god—

Oh, don’t bullshit me. We both know you got nothin’ to say to God.

“What the fuck is happening?” Peter murmured, barely louder than a whisper.

What do you think, Parker? 

Peter stared at the ivory-clad doppelgänger silently, heart hammering in his chest. His tongue felt dead in his mouth.

His twin rolled his eyes, agitated. Here, let me spell it out for you. Hi, Peter. It’s me—your conscience. We haven’t spoken for a while.

Peter shook his head. “This... this isn’t happening, I.... I’m dreaming. I hit my head. I’m-I’m—”

A crazy asshole? The Phantasm version of himself replied, eyes narrowed with disgust. A pathetic nutjob? A fuckin’ drug addict? A big baby in desperate need of a nap? Take your pick. They’re all true.

He tilted his head, confusion contorting his features. 

Thanks to all that crap in your veins, you’ve been awake for 104 hours. I did the math for you. You were a paranoid, fascist dictator; now you’re a sleepy, paranoid, fascist dictator.

Peter’s eyes darted, bewildered at the revelation. 

His other self glared at him through narrow slits. At a certain point, didn’t you think there were gonna be consequences? 

He looked up at the Phantasm, face blank.

His doppelgänger rolled his eyes. No, of course not. You never think, do you?

Peter brought both hands to his eyes, dragging them across his face, before burying them in his hair. The throbbing sensation that usually lived behind his eyes was back, this time with the force of a hurricane barreling down on a small house. 

That headache you have? It’s not a migraine. It’s that Thing inside you, telling you that you’re going through withdrawal. 

Withdrawal—that would explain why Peter thought he was going to throw up. 

His other half sneered, Christ, get ahold of yourself. You haven’t tweaked out like this since you got bit.

“I... gotta—” Peter swallowed hard, his mouth feeling drier than a desert. “I—Eddie, I need Eddie.”

Yeah, you do. The Phantasm spat. Too bad you treated him like shit, too. When are you ever gonna stop hurting the people around you?

Peter shot him an angrily glance. “I didn’t—” The sentence died in his mouth. “I’m trying to protect the people around me.”

Oh, like you protected Honey?

His heart lurched at her nickname.

Yeah. Bang up job you’re doin’ there. The Phantasm shot up to a stand behind the desk, pacing with silent, livid footfalls. Fuckin’ valet, really? How stupid could you be? You told her to get in the car! Another half second and she’d be nothing but a splatter on the pavement! The entity narrowed eyes on him, cruelly adding, ‘Course, that’s how you like ‘em, yeah? 

“Shut up.”

Or what, prick? You gotta throw me in the trunk of your car? Whack me right here in the street? His doppelgänger chuckled darkly as he echoed the words which speared him earlier that night. She got your number, alright.

“I didn’t ever want her to get hurt, that—” His throat tightened at the sting of tears in his eyes. “That wasn’t my intention.”

Well, congratulations. Road trip’s over. Thanks to you, we’re in hell.

“I’m doing what needs to be done,” Peter declared firmly. “It’s not nice and it’s not pretty, but without me, she’s in danger. She coulda been dead already, and I wasn’t gonna let that happen. Fisk is comin’ after all of us—”

Wouldya look at that? Too scared to say his name ‘cept when you’re passin’ off blame. 

Peter fell silent.

Don’t you see it, moron? He already won! He turned you inside out—made you give up everything that made you different. Your friends. Your philosophies. Your moral obligations. Whatever was left of that beat-up soul of yours—it’s all gone. And it’s your fault. You didn’t beat Kingpin, you became him.

Peter turned his face away, scowling at the shadows.

You know what Fisk didn’t do? His temper didn’t get Miguel thrown in jail so he could be eaten alive by the wolves. His shitty choice in guards didn’t get Hobie killed. That was all you. Goddamn it, even the kid that loves everybody can’t even stand the sight of you anymore.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like his skin was crawling off his skeleton. He paced with a locked jaw, eyes downcast.

And Fisk didn’t make that poor girl his prisoner. Not like you did.

Peter’s eyes snapped over at the accusation. “I never hurt her!”

Are you stupid or are you so used to the sound of your voice lying that you can’t tell the difference?! 

His Phantasm wheeled on him, stalking towards him with rage building. ‘Your Honey,’ eh? You’re a piece of shit for that, y’know. You stole that poor girl and you force her to sleep with you at night ‘cos you’re afraid of the dark. You’re afraid of your nightmares? Bullshit! You are the nightmare. 

Peter flinched as if the words were stab wounds. His face twisted with disgust turned inwards.

Every time you touch her you’re insulting everything you claim you stand for. Everything your family—your parents, Uncle Ben—everything they believed they saw in you! What May taught you about respecting women! Christ, what would she say if she saw what you did with that goddamn camera?

Peter grimaced, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. Tears pushed through his eyelids. His stomach roiled with nausea. “I didn’t... I didn’t mean to—”

You thought you could get her to break, huh? Thought you could get her to tell you the truth? That you’re a fucking monster and she wouldn’t hesitate to shoot you like a rabid dog if she had the chance? Is that what you wanted to hear?! Fucking answer the question, goddamn it!

“Yes!” Peter roared over the sound of his heart snapping in half. He whimpered, tears streaming down his cheeks, “I knew she hated me.” His voice was tiny and thin, his lower lip wobbling as he forced out his confession. “I just wanted her to say it.”

Hates you, The Phantasm corrected. Present tense. ‘Specially after what you said to her in the street. 

His brows furrowed, tears dripping from his chin.

And you had the audacity to be embarrassed? Worried about how those people looked at you like you’re an asshole? Got news for you, bub. You’re definitely the asshole!

Peter felt like his legs were turning to rubber. A wave of exhaustion came over him, powered by his adrenaline, anger, fear, and despair. He leaned over the edge of the pinhead sofa, hands gripping the frame still cracked from his earlier outburst. 

His lip trembled, and he bit it in place. “I’m sorry...”

Don’t apologize to me! his doppelgänger huffed. You shoulda said that to her! ‘I’m sorry. Don’t go.’ That’s all you had to say. ‘I’ll hunt you down?’ Really? What kind of Lifetime Movie-of-the-Week creep are you tryin’ to sound like?

Peter shuddered with anguish, haunted by the cruelty of his own words.

The voice was softer now, but not from kindness. How about ‘I need you. I’ll follow you anywhere, wherever you want to go. Not like some pathetic stalker. I’ll follow you just to make sure you get where you wanna be, and get there safely.’ The mocking voice of his twin went hollow. ‘Even if it’s not with me.’

The Phantasm added, sighing with frustration. ‘I’ll follow you because I have nowhere else to go.’ That’s what you should have said. You should have told her the truth.

With reddened eyes, Peter gazed up at the vision hopelessly. “What... what is this? Wha’do you—whaddya want from me?”

I want you to be a man and take responsibility for what you did. Responsibility, Peter! Take responsibility for what you did to Honey. For what you did to Gwen.

Peter shook his head in confusion. “What—what does that mean? What do you want me to do?”

—̵he wants you to D̷̫͆̊IĘ̶͖͎̝̰̹̫̋͒̃̍—

Peter’s stomach clenched at the foreign voice. Terror crawled up his throat. 

It was an awful, twisted voice, full of anguish and rage. Pulled taut and flayed. 

Peter watched his mirror reflection go still, its complexion paling like the color of his suit. The Phantasm looked beyond Peter’s shoulder, eyes widened as his gaze flicked back to the source of that voice.

Peter had heard it before. He’d heard it all along. He just never faced it.

Well, I guess now’s your chance, The Phantasm said grimly. Peter watched his mirror image’s eyes go cold, swallowing down trepidation. 

Not J̸̳̽U̴̢̦̍S̴̬̽͐T̷̥̐͂ ̶y̶o̵u̶— The tortured voice added. He wants U̴̡͍̗͍̣̟̻̹͂̾̒̈́̿̾̏̂Ş̸̙͓̟̪̳̩̜͋͐̊ to d̶i̶e̸!

Slowly, Peter turned his gaze around, pivoting towards the opposite side of the room. The shadows that shrouded the lounge area also hid something else in its darkness. Something moving. A humanoid figure with limbs and fingers stretched to a grotesque state, too long to be human. A figure that wasn’t just hidden in the darkness, it was darkness. 

Peter gulped down the urge to scream in terror at the entity. It looked like the lovechild between an H.R. Giger sculpture and one of Guillermo del Toro’s nightmares. He was terrified of it, despite knowing its origin. He understood the beast intimately, despite not having a word for it. Peter questioned whether or not something could be considered The Unknown, especially if he knew exactly where to find it.

Well there ya go, his doppelgänger supplied. Speak of the Devil.

At the end of the sentence, the shadow came alive. 

Two triangular eyes—giant, almost as large as the head of the creature—opened wide, blinking at Peter. They were milky white prisms that flexed and bent the way that eyes would. 

Peter was rooted in place, unable to move and unable to escape its gaze. At first glance, Peter wondered if it was actually smiling at him. He sealed his own lids shut, chest heaving, hoping that this was all a nightmare and that he would wake up.

No such luck, he heard in the darkness. 

Trembling, Peter opened his eyes and was only more shaken by the sight. It was smiling at him. In fact, the human-sized skull was nothing more than eyes and teeth, half of its face cradling rows of quill-like spikes, enough to rival a shark’s mouth. 

It was smiling alright, mouth oozing with thick goo. A sleek serpent slithered out of the mouth with viper scales, twisting and bending in the slime that dripped from the jaws of the creature. A few more blinks and Peter realized, as bile threatened to surge upwards, it wasn’t a snake after all; it was a tongue. 

The creature didn’t move so much as it flowed. Inky black liquid made into a living nightmare. 

N̸igh̸t̶m̷a̶r̴e̴?̶ A raspy hiss slid into Peter’s ear like a centipede, the sound sinking into his brain. Every hair on his body stood on end. It was almost as if he could feel a hundred tiny legs scampering and burrowing into his gray matter. W̸e̴ are here to keep y̶o̶u̵r̸ ̴n̷i̵g̵h̴tma̸r̷e̵s̸ from becoming ̷r̴e̵a̴l̴i̸t̶y̸.̴

It wasn’t just one voice coming from the mouth of the beast, but several. A Legion of voices—all of them intertwining into a dissonant squall. It created an unharmonious chorus of demon-speak, nails on a chalkboard, and what could be mistaken for Peter’s own voice—if he were being mutilated and flayed alive. The resulting sound sliced into Peter’s eardrum and made his skin crawl, like the feeling of accidentally grinding his own teeth together, or a fork scraping a plate.

W̵e̷ ̴Are the Ó̵͔͍̾N̵͕̂L̶Y̶̧̽͠ ̷̡͖̕O̴͈̿N̶͎̈͝E̷̬̠̎̉̄S̶̹̥̏͠ ̴standing b̶e̵t̴w̵e̴e̵n̶ ̵y̵o̷u̴ ̶and your own ̵̵̝̎̀f̴͜͠ǎ̵ḯ̴l̴̓u̵͊r̷̟͚̅e̶̟̪͊. W̷i̷t̵h̸o̵u̵t̷ ̴U̸̵̸̧̧̺̲͙̲̻̍̎͆̓͝S̵̷̴͚̞͖̻̘͖̲͔͊̃̈́, you would have ṇ̸̊ǫ̷̦t̵̝͗h̵̝̚î̴̜̖̈́ng̷̗͆!

Guy has an ego, doesn’t he? Wonder who he gets it from. The Phantasm said from behind. 

Part of Peter wanted to argue. But denying his involvement—denying his likeness in the beast—was useless.

W̴e̸’̸r̷e̵ M̶̤̃Ã̷̫̏D̴̦̰̃E̶̡̘͠ ̴f̵o̵r̶ ̴e̸a̸c̷h̴ ̵o̶t̸h̸e̵r̵, d̸̆̍́o̸n̷̓'̴̄̆ť̷ ̵̼̃ͅẙ̶̬̬o̴ǔ̶̘̖̆ ̵̱̫̄s̵̢͍͌s̸͉͙̺͗͝së̵̮́ee? Y̶o̸u̶r̸ R̵A̶G̶E̶ ̷a̵n̶d̷ V̶̧̺̻̽͒̚E̸͔̔̕N̶̻̬͓͐̂Ġ̷͈͚̇ͅĘ̷͓̞͂F̷͉͠U̵̻͍̫͌L̶̟̞̾N̷̡̠̤͝E̶̤̦͆̕S̸̮̿̆Ş̵̩̺̈́ ̵m̶a̵d̴e̴ u̸s̶̵ a̶ ̵P̶E̸R̷F̶E̷C̷T̴ ̸b̵r̵e̶e̸di̷n̸g̴ ̴g̷r̸o̵u̵n̷d. W̸E̵ ̴A̶R̵E̴ n̴o̷w̷ ̴a̴ p̸a̴rt̸ ̵o̸f̵ a̵ lif̴e̶ f̴o̵r̵c̸e ̴t̴h̶a̴t̷ ̷h̵a̵s̴ ̷e̵x̵iste̷d̷ s̷i̴n̶c̶e̵ ̷th̵e̴ D̴A̸WN̶ ̸O̴F ̴T̵IM̷E̵.̴ ̵No̸ more̸ ̵H̴̦͊̐Ḯ̶̤̘̖͝D̴͙̝͎̀͘I̴̗̐̅͗N̸͔̗̥̊̀̚G̴̡̰̽̀.̷̜̙̟͑ N̶̹̝͛̿̈o̴ ̴͋m̴͙̅̈́͋õ̴r̶̙̾̕e̵ M̶̙̬̌͘A̴̽S̶̅͂K̵̻̫͉̾. Y̶o̵u̵ ̷w̵i̵l̸l̴ ̴s̵e̶e̸ ̶Ŭ̷̡̧̢̢͚̬͔̥̜̪̭̖̖̂̄͋̌̔͘͝S̷̨̨̭̗̺̣̳̏͐͒͑̈́͘͘ ev̴e̷r̸y̴w̴h̸e̵r̴e̶ y̸o̷u̷ ̴l̷oo̶k̸. E̵̴̵s̶p̴e̴c̵i̵a̷l̷l̶y̵ ̵in̴ ̷y̶o̷ur̴ N̵̖̖͇͚̱̤͓̹̞I̶̡͔͇̣̦̯̍͂̽̋͋̐̎͆͝Ḡ̶̇͑͊̒Ḧ̵͑͌̑͘͘T̷̪̳͈̭̉́̿̍̎M̸̢̓́̿͐̉͒͠A̸͓̱͙̺͋̿̈́R̸̨̀̐̏̉͒̀͜͝Ȩ̴͈͎̘̬̩̹̀̎̍͊S̶̛̥͐̈́̐͛͋͛͋.

Peter stood in the middle distance between the two entities, literally caught between darkness and light. The only difference was that there was nothing vague about the two forces quarreling around him. Peter knew exactly what he was dealing with: the inner dialogue of self-loathing he had grown up with, and the new and improved model, spawned from the compound he had been dosing himself with for months.

Monsters of his own making.

D̴o̷ ̶you wish t̶o̶ ̷w̴a̷l̵l̵o̴w̵ in self-pity ̴a̵l̸l̵ ̵n̷i̶g̴h̸t̶?̷ ̸ The Darkness said. Or will W̵e̶ S̷̡͉̖͊́T̵̨̼̰͈̈́͑́̚R̵͕̪̳̈́̓͐Ȋ̴̞̝̫͊Ǩ̵͉̖̈́̕É̸̙̲̰̤̄͛ ̶̭͙͒͒̚̚B̶̩͉̰̱͛A̵̲̠͉͉͐̚C̵̪̲̥̓͆K̶̜̿̋͌ at those that wish to ̶H̸͕͓̖̣̗̮̹̫̺̮̹̲͖͕̠͒̉͒̎̄̎̒̓̓Ả̸͇̠̙̠́̈̎̀͛R̵̖͔͇͋͐̾̅̀̂M̸̼̘̮͎̖͉̹̉̐  U̸S? T̸h̵̶̴o̶̵s̷̷̷e̷ t̵ha̵t̴ t̴r̵i̵e̵d t̷o̸ T̷̤̤̉A̷͙͠K̵̹̩̑͊E̸̢͌͝  ̷́A̷̳͊Ẉ̴͔͒͑A̸̺͚͂̄Ỳ̴͇̗͠ w̵h̶a̷t̶ ̶i̴s̷ O̵̖̿Ù̶͔R̶̜̈́S̴̨̒?̴̝̈́?

“Fisk,” Peter said, lip curled up the way a dog growls.

What makes you so sure it was Fisk? The Phantasm countered. How did he know where you were goin’ tonight? Nobody knew. Tonight was supposed to be special. Something you planned just for her without anyone’s help. Not because you’re a controlling asshole, for once—but because you wanted to prove to yourself that you weren’t a total fuck-up. 

A cruel scoff echoed in Peter’s mind, and he bristled with shame. So much for that plan, huh?

Peter stared down at the floor, too afraid to look at either version of himself. “It had to be Fisk. Who else has the power to do somethin’ like that. You think Danny’s people—?”

The Phantasm let out an exasperated sigh. God, it’s a wonder you ever made it this far. How the fuck did you become a boss, by the way? Couldn’t think your way out of a paper bag with a pair of scissors in your hand.

F̴��̥͊Ö̴̡̟̟̣̱̪̭́̋̍̿̂͗Ọ̸͂̆̈́̀̑͠͝L̷̰̟̦̮̖̺̆̓͜.̴ You r̸e̵f̶us̴e̵ ̵t̷o̷ ̴s̴e̵e̸ ̶w̴h̴a̴t̴ is̵ ̴r̷i̴g̶ht̴ i̶n̵ ̶fro̵nt̷ o̴f̵ y̵o̶u̴. T̶h̵e̸r̷e̶ ̸i̷s̴ ̸a̸ ̴S̷̢͓͖̿N̴̸̶̴̶̶̵̶̢̡̨̼̹̪̫̮̰̼͎̔̃̃̿̎̍͗͝Ä̸̞̰̣͚Ḳ̵͇͖̜̓̎́̇Ę̶̭̝̿̑̋̋ in O̵̻͐u̴̟̓r̴̫̃ house. It mus̶̝͖̊̀̊͑̈́̒t be ex̷̟́traċ̴̞t̶e̸d̴͐.̸.̷̀.. I̵t m̶u̶s̵t be̴ ̷m̸a̴d̴e̶ ̶a̸n e̶x̵͆̔͆́a̴̞̔̌͋̄̅m̴̴̴̛̠̘̭͉̯̾̈́́̎̐ͅp̵l̶e̶ f̷o̶r̷ o̴t̶h̶e̸r̸s̵.̴

Peter’s eyes fell closed, expression twisted with anguish. A pit formed deep in his stomach. 

Ỷ̸̥o̴͔̾u̶̓ ̷hă̷v̵ë̵̴͉́͌ kn̵ó̸w̴n ̶̧̕ä̵͕́ll ̵̱̂alo̴̩͋n̶̤̆g̴.̸ Ŵ̷͜E̷͓͗ ̷h̵av̶e̵ Ą̶̛̼̩̮͎͆̂̑̈́̌͝Ļ̸̖̖̗̇̎́̑̕W̴̩̗̺̫̱̩̘̃̽̕͝Ạ̵̫͑̓͐̽Y̷͖̔̉Ṡ̷ k̶͖͗n̸ò̶ẁ̴n.

‘Please stay. I’m sorry.’ The Phantasm added onto the barrage of voices. Peter could feel the anger radiating off of his twin as he hissed inhis ear. That’s all you had to say. ‘You were right about me. You’re right about everything. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I broke your rib. Sorry I broke your spirit. I break things. That’s all I know how to do. I’m sorry I almost got you killed.’

A̶L̵M̴O̵S̵T̷ ̴i̵s̸ ̵Ṇ̸͍͈̫̓́̈ͅO̸̼͓̿͜T̷̠͌̽͊̚ ̶a̴c̷c̸ep̷t̷a̵b̷l̷e̸. On his other shoulder, on the dark side of his soul, Peter heard the other voice tempting him. W̸e̷ ̸n̴e̸ed̴e̷d̴ ̶t̷o̶ ̵b̶e̴ fa̷s̵t̷e̴r̶—S̵T̴̲͍̙̫̞͚̀̍̂̆̓͑͘̚R̵O̶N̵G̶̛͇̮͔̪̱͑̍͌͋̀͂̎̄͠E̸R̸.̴ W̷e̶ ̴Ṇ̴̛́̈́̍̒̒̂̎̒̕É̸̜̩̳̬̺̭̮E̸̻̠̥̹̞̻̫͍͔͕͛D̸͇̩͕̫̖͆͐̉̏̿̾ ̴t̴o̴ ̵e̴v̸̢͎̫͇͙̜̓ol̶̩̳̙̓̈̍̋̇͝͠ve̷.̵ ̶W̷e̸ ̵n̴e̵e̴d̸ ̶t̷o̶ ̸b̴ec̸om̷e̵ L̴̓̐̔͛̐̓͘͝E̷̍̐͠T̵̞̞̥̤̗͋̑̄͐̏̂͋́̄͜͜͝H̴̡͓͚͕̅̑̂̓̄̈́́Ạ̴̯̟̖̮̖͓́̀̽͜L̵͈͍̱͓͕̟͆̂̅

“Peter?”

With a gasp, he spun on his heel, wet eyes glaring at the doorway. His whole stance was defensive— fists balled, chin tight, face reddened. He was ready to attack.

By contrast, the tiny feminine form that barely took up a quarter of the door space made herself even smaller. Honey gazed at him with concern. “Who are you talking to?”

Chest still heaving, Peter’s jaw fell open. He realized that he was standing alone in a room talking to himself. Having an open conversation with his inner demons. 

Swallowing back his embarrassment, he looked her over more intently. She was dressed in a gray terry cloth robe, her hair soaked wet from her bath. Even in the dark, the cuts and bruises on her face from the explosion were visible. She leaned to one side gingerly, no doubt favoring the cracked rib from Peter’s tight grip. The sight brought more tears to his eyes, along with more self-loathing. And another sort of rage, one that he couldn’t immediately define.

“You’re hurt,” she murmured, stealing the words from his mouth. 

He connected with her gaze and followed its path to a blood stain on his shoulder. He leaned over to get a better look at it, hissing suddenly at the sting across his back. He was injured, alright. The explosion had sent burning shrapnel and bits of glass in all directions, including his back. He thought he had gotten it all, but a blood-streaked oozing laceration left his shirt sliced open.

She stepped closer to him, and inexplicably, it made him flinch. Honey paused, having noticed the cagey reaction. He looked disheveled, and not just from the dried blood and soot marking his skin. His eyes darted, unable to meet hers. 

“How... How’re you doin’?” he timidly asked, focusing his attention on hers.

Honey observed him quietly, and felt a pang in her heart. He looked lost. Afraid. Only slightly better than the sheer panic he experienced immediately after the explosion. He looked like he needed a hug and her arms ached to give it to him. 

And she loathed herself for that.

“I can help you,” Honey replied, ignoring his question. She nodded an indication of his wounds.

He shook his head. “‘S’fine.”

“I think you have a piece of metal sticking out of your back,” she replied.

Peter turned and glanced behind his shoulder to see that she was correct. A small three-inch piece protruded from a bloody gash on his left lats. His eyes grew wide, cheeks flushing pink at the sight. 

“Oh,” he said. “That would explain why it kinda hurts to breathe.”

He said it with a humorless laugh, and she stared back with a humorless expression. “Follow me,” she declared, turning her back to him and padding from the doorway. 

He contemplated the tone in her voice, lips buttoned up. She was the one giving him an order. She was the one leading him along now. 

With feet rooted to the floor, he was having trouble finding the courage to follow her.

Peter sat on a stool in the center of his bathroom, his shirt off and his bloody back exposed. The piece of metal was out. Peter had insisted that he remove it himself.

Honey sat behind him on an ottoman with a tray of bandages and disinfectant next to her. The pair spoke very little. 

He kept quiet with his head down, glancing periodically to the bathroom mirror. Every stolen glance was wary, as he struggled to read her stone-faced expression. Just as intently, he watched the pair of scissors on the tray within her reach.

“This looked worse than it is,” she announced, the most conversational they had been in hours. “Except for your lower back, the other wounds aren’t that deep. Probably don’t need stitches.” 

The contents of a trauma kit were laid out neatly in front of her. It only surprised her for a moment, before she considered how routine emergency room visits from gunshot wounds might be cause for suspicion. 

She reached for a surgical needle with dexterous fingers and a flat tone. “You’re lucky.”

He let out a small scoff in the pit of his throat. Muscles tensed at the pain, and also— for some reason he couldn’t ascertain— half-expecting her to slit his throat. Bitterly, he mumbled beneath his breath, “Good ol’ Parker Luck.” 

Keeping an intense focus, she snipped a length of stitching, threading it through a curved needle. 

Peter continuously bounced his heel on the foot of the stool, anxiously waiting for the needle’s bite. He hadn’t planned to suture the wound at all, relying instead on his accelerated healing abilities. Unfortunately, she saw the wound before he could hide it, and insisted she knew what she was doing and that he needed to allow her to help. He reluctantly agreed, with a suspicion that her insistence was less about providing aid and more about the opportunity to use him as a pin cushion. 

She stabbed the needle into his flesh, because of course she did. He jolted and hissed, his theory confirmed. “Sorry,” she said, in a tone that wasn’t very remorseful. “Slipped.”

He bit down hard, breathing through the pain, saying nothing. Better to let her stab him with a needle than with the scissors. 

He glanced over to the mirror to see her deftly drawing the needle upwards with a needle driver in one hand and forceps in the other. Instead of attempting to pinch his flesh together like a novice, she pressed the tip of the forceps beneath his gash, using them to steady his flesh while she drew the needle. She stitched a perfect centimeter on either side at the center of the wound, with a line as straight as an arrow.

She was good at this, he deduced. She had done this before.

He bit his bottom lip as she tied off the suture. Two surgeon’s knots and two square knots that would’ve made any nurse proud. “Where did you learn to do that?” he quietly asked.

With her mouth in a tight line, she pierced another hole into his flesh, this time slightly less vindictively. “Girl Scouts.” 

He pouted, letting his shoulders sag. He didn’t need to listen to her heartbeat this time. He shifted uncomfortably, irked by her callousness. “Huh. They teach field trauma response in between cookie seasons?”

“If you wanna talk about something,” she replied, her vocal chords pulled taut, “why don’t you answer my question from earlier?”

He rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Which question—”

“You know exactly which one,” she said with a cold glower. Her tone was icy with frostbitten contempt. He wondered if she intentionally chose the phrase he’d said to her in his office the previous night. 

He swallowed hard. Of course she did. 

“Bella,” he answered.

“Bingo.”

“What’s the sudden urge to know where she’s at?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“What? Do you not believe me when I tell you that she’s safe—?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Jesus,” Peter scoffed, offended. “Why are you—You really think I’d ever put a kid in danger?”

She jabbed him with the needle. “I don’t know what to think.”

He twisted around, leaping off of the stool and out of her reach. With a sharp line between his eyebrows, he towered over her and glared down indignantly. “How many times do I hafta say it, huh?” he demanded. “I don’t hurt children, and I don’t hurt women!”

“Who’s Gwen?”

It felt like a lightning strike. A jolt shot down his spine, eyes widening in shock. She stared up at him with her jaw locked tight, his surprise spiking her resentment. He blinked several times, mouth falling open. “Where did you—?”

“She’s the girl in your box,” she replied, cutting off his question at the knees. Defiant and fearless, she stood in front of him, not retreating an inch. “I found a photo of you and her together. Right next to a pile of dirty pictures of her.” Peter snapped his mouth closed, eyes screaming. She glowered at him like filth beneath her feet. “It’s sorta sweet—in a sadistic way. You keep those around to jerk off?”

His eyes glimmered with rage, shoulders tense. “I don’t know what you think you know,” Peter softly replied, swallowing back fury. “But watch your mouth.”

“Or what?” she seethed. “Am I gonna end up in a box too?” His brows furrowed, wounded by her words. “Is that what you do to us, Peter?” she questioned bitterly, skewering him with her glare. “You shove us in a box and bury us in a pile of your secrets?”

He swallowed hard.

“How dare you lecture me about lying,” she whispered. “You could fill a swimming pool with all your secrets and lies. A giant, fucking mass grave.”

The last word in her sentence dripped with acid. He flinched at it. She noticed. 

“Here,” she sneered, letting the surgical tools clamor down on the tray. “Lick your own wounds.” She rounded around him, stomping off.

He reached out, grabbing her forearm. “Wait a minu—”

As soon as he touched her, she wheeled on him faster than she’d ever moved in her life. Spinning on her heel, she flattened her hand across his cheek. The force of the slap was hard enough to set her palm on fire while knocking his gaze to the side. 

Time stopped. 

She stared at the red handprint on his cheek with wide eyes, her chest heaving. She could hear her blood pumping. Her heart thumping wildly. Her limbs shook with each giant breath through her nose. She felt enraptured by terror and rage, and the sickening thrill of causing him pain.

Slowly, he straightened his head, dark eyes meeting hers. 

She mirrored his hard expression, sharp breaths and blown out eyes. He looked like a statue carved from marble—all sleek, lean muscles, broad shoulders, and raw power. She pictured cracks of antiquity breaking him into pieces. She pictured a sledgehammer in her hands and what she would do with it.

He reminded her of a mountain of steadily-rising pressure and heat, like a volcano moments from eruption. Yesterday, she would’ve shrunk to her knees in his presence, as if praying to a fire god for mercy. Instead, she burned on the inside, her body already filled with molten lava. 

There was no more room for prayers. No faith in mercy. Her anger reached a fever pitch, driving her towards blind madness, twisting her view of the world around her. 

She was weak. 

Had always been weak. 

Had always begged for mercy. 

Had always been on her knees, in one way or another. For her family. For God. For John. For Peter.

The latter in the list took a step towards her, steel-eyed and jaw tense. She held her ground, glaring up at him boldly. 

She hated Peter. 

She hated John. 

She hated all men. 

If God was a man, she hated him too. 

And her mother. She loathed her mother. 

She hated being a pawn, being a tool. 

She hated being talked down to. 

She hated being used. 

She hated being an object. To be won or stolen away.

Fuck it. Fuck them all.

“Get on your knees.”

Peter blinked at her, untrusting of his ears, or his brain’s ability to comprehend the words that just came out of her mouth. She kept her eyes narrowed on him, unflinching. His hard glare faltered as confusion set in, his thick brow raised upwards.

“Did I stutter?” she said in an icy tone. “Get. On. Your. Knees.”

Wide-eyed, he took a step backwards, breath caught in his throat. He stared at her like a puzzle. A complex equation. One he’d run so many times, which always had a reliable outcome, and now, suddenly—the conclusion had changed. Not even math was reliable anymore.

She narrowed her eyes, piercing him with a vicious gaze. Her voice dipped down in her throat. “That means kneel.”

Electricity crackled off her tongue. It sent a jolt down his spine. Down and downwards further, electrifying the part of him that longed for her touch. He gulped, feeling his blood rushing in opposite directions. 

His brain urged caution and calculation. He considered the distance between her reach and the scissors on the tray, or the razor on the countertop, or any number of objects she could use to cut his throat. 

Simultaneously, his arousal urged him to respond without delay to that tone, which he’d never heard from that sweet voice. It begged him to kneel, to strip naked, to bend over, to save her the trouble and throw himself on the nearest blade. To do anything she fucking asked.

Another feeling tugged deep in the back of his mind, hoping that whatever she asked for next would involve a little bit of all of the above.

Never breaking eye contact with her, Peter moved like a cautious fawn and slowly sank to his knees. Now beneath her, his chin lifted high as she stared down at him. He was on the opposite side of the height advantage, but not by that much. 

By the look on her face, he had nothing over her. She towered over him in every possible way. She wasn’t just feisty, she was formidable. She was tantalizing and terrifying. Dauntless and dominating. 

She lifted her chin higher, peering down at him like a sacrificial lamb. Taking in the way he trembled before her with shameful, heavy breaths. She lifted her knee, hooking her foot over one of the stool’s rungs. The robe she wore parted scandalously, pulling back a curtain to reveal a hidden oasis in her scorching heat. 

“Make me come in your mouth,” she demanded. 

She kept a straight face as he stared up at her, stupefied. Brain rebooting and crashing. Gazed at her motionlessly, mind spinning off its axis, contemplating whether or not all of this had been the strangest dream he—

She slapped him again. Hard. 

He glanced back up at her, stunned. Anger crawled up in his chest—a spasm, really—only to be pushed down by filthy, Pavlovian desire pulsing from his cock. The result was a blazing concoction of passion that made him hard in a matter of moments. 

Slowly, he breathed in and out, and with it, he caught the scent of her arousal. All rational thought ceased, reduced to basic animal instincts. He swallowed painfully, eyes darting down to the source, mouth watering.

His gaze darkened with lust. His next outward breath dragged in his throat, like the pant of a dog responding to a female in heat. 

He looked up at her, his eyes unsure, questioning—challenging, even. Her face was unquestionable. Challenge accepted. 

He placed one of his hands on her raised thigh, pulling it up further over his shoulder. The force of it almost knocked her off balance; she had to grip the countertop to steady herself. She hissed at the sting at her rib, but didn’t stop him. It was a cracked rib. She’d been fucked through worse.

His other hand clamped around her opposite thigh, steadying her stance as he dove in. She sucked in a gasp as she felt the heat of his lungs on her flesh. His tongue darted out and licked a stripe from deep at the entrance of her core all the way up to her front. The slick force of his muscle sent goosebumps across her body. She whimpered with pleasure.

His abs clenched at the sound, twisting his insides like spaghetti on a fork. He felt like his stomach was being tossed into a pit. He dragged his tongue slowly, gathering her essence as it exploded across his taste buds.

Honey. 

She tasted just like honey.

He groaned at the realization, burying his tongue into her folds. 

She quivered in his grip, staring down at the lewd sight of him on his knees beneath her. Her eyes watched him through the valley of her heaving breasts. Modestly, her free hand reached up to clench the sides of her robe together, keeping her chest tightly concealed. 

He paid it no mind, as he dragged the muscle back through her heat, sucking her into his mouth. His grip tightened on her thigh, drawing another sharp gasp from her lungs. He ran his tongue greedily over her, the light stubble of his cheeks scraping her sensitive flesh. 

She hissed at the burn, and ached for more, imagining what it would have felt like had he not shaved his beard. She found herself longing for it. An breathless gasp and mewl broke out of her throat.

This was better than a dream.

Peter moaned into her folds, the vibration drawing another whimper from her lips. His eyes shot open, glancing up at her with a devilish smile. Not allowing himself to dwell on his pride, he retracted his lips, instead teasing her sensitive bud with kitten licks from the end of his tongue.  

Her eyes rolled back in her skull at the sensation, another mewl squeaking out. His hips involuntarily jerked at the tiny sound. He wrapped his lips around her sensitive bud, sucking gently, using his tongue to split her open further. 

Her sugary tanginess dizzied him. The sweet glucose of her thighs rewired his brain chemistry, and he was immediately addicted to the taste. With his neck craned uncomfortably, he lapped at her folds, drinking her in like a water fountain in a desert. His eyes would look up often, both to ensure she was satisfied and to reassure himself that this wasn’t a fever dream.

She squealed and flinched, bringing her hand up to stabilize her side. He remembered her injury, and even though she was distracted, he wanted to relieve her pain. He wrapped his hands around her waist like a belt, his lips never leaving her flesh. Lifting her by the hips, he hoisted her in the air suddenly, twirling her until she felt the cool marble of the vanity beneath her.

He didn’t slow down. With one arm bracing her lower back, he cradled her hips and held her still, while the other hand pushed her folds open. The new position allowed him to breach her further, his tongue dipping and teasing the inside of her opening. 

She was pooling nectar, spilling out between her legs and into his mouth. Desperately, he chased her juices, sucking at her flesh and groaning as he felt his cock twitch. 

She cried out in ecstasy — fuckfuckyes fuck me with your tongue, take every drop— spreading her legs wider. Simultaneously, her fingers dug into his thick tuft of hair, using him for leverage as he ground his tongue into her clit. Every time she tugged on his scalp, he had to steady his mind at the sensation. He steeled himself, filling his brain with vile images, afraid that he’d climax from the sting of her nails. He palmed his aching cock, whimpering into her pussy.

She yanked hard enough to tear at his scalp, and he looked up blearily to meet her disapproving stare. She gazed down at him, fire in her eyes. “Did I say you could do that?” she demanded. 

He flushed with a tidal wave of emotions. Her bratty tone matched with her dominating, lustful glare threatened to drown him. He released his crotch immediately, licking his lips, already longing for her cunt.

It was as if he tasted her once, and whatever power he had was ripped away. His skill and stamina, developed over a decade of casual one-night-stands, was suddenly worthless. He’d mastered the art of drawing pleasure, even after Gwen. He’d pour his frustration and aggression into the occasional fuck, mostly to satiate his own sado-masochistic desires. But on his knees before her, his confidence was negated. Before he was a feared leader. Now he was nothing more than a slut for her praise. Begging to be used. Anxiously waiting for her moans of approval.

She shoved him forward by the scruff of his head, and he eagerly returned to his station. There, he wrote a love letter. A letter of apology— of hopeless affection, of helpless devotion— drawing out each line with his tongue. His masterful calligraphy focused on her clit, with fingers timidly reaching up to tease her opening. He watched her intently as he slid his middle finger up through her velvet. 

She glanced down to catch his pleading gaze. He pulled back his mouth, borrowing his own tongue momentarily to pant desperate words at her cunt—Tell Daddy what you want, babygirl. All he wants is to make you feel good.

He pressed gentle kisses to her clit as a shudder rolled through her, his filthy words burrowing into her brain. Her eyes were blown black with desire as he tickled his fingertips at the plush spot in her pussy. His tongue returned to her clit hungrily with wet, open-mouthed kisses, spurring her pleasure faster with the added stimulation on her G-spot. 

She moaned, scaling towards the summit of not only her climax, but a twin peak of elation that was hard to describe. It was the kind of emotion that cartoon villains have as they bellow with laughter about their nefarious plans. An rageful joy. A violent thrill. 

She hatefucked his face and buried her nails into his scalp, hard enough that she hoped she could draw blood. And like the whore he was, he whimpered helplessly in her grip.

Her voice used to make those sounds, as she gargled and choked on John’s cock. 

She once made those needy, pleading noises on Peter’s desk, splayed out like a open diary. She revealed to him her secrets and desires and fantasies, watching him milk his cock as he read each line with a greedy smile.

John was always greedy when they had sex. It made her feel good to please him. On her wedding night, sex with John was different than it had been before. He fucked every hole like he was angry with her. She spent the rest of the night worried that she’d done something to offend him. Weeping in the bathroom quietly as she wiped blood stains from her pubic bone.

Her heart was going to burst through her chest, she was certain. Peter was good at this. He seemed to genuinely enjoy eating her out, she thought. He whines like a whore, she also thought. 

Peter probably fucked that silver whore until she was covered in blood.

Now, Peter was all over her cunt, with his tongue and his fingers and filthy begging. He held her hips steady with his grip. His arm pinned her to the bathroom partition wall like a steel beam across her chest.

It was hard to breathe; her lungs were going to explode. Hard to hear his pathetic mewling over the sounds of her moans. She was loud, relentless. She wanted the neighbors to hear it. Wanted the faceless ghosts haunting the hallways to hear it. Wanted all of New York to hear it. Wanted Johnny Storm and Danny Rand and even Felicia to hear it.

She was there, but she wasn’t. She was at the arcade. With Peter in the bathroom. His hand clenching around her throat. Greedy, bloody hands—his grip penetrating her, violating her, humiliating her—

“Fuck you’re clenching around my fingers,” Peter groaned breathlessly. “Fuck!—yes, use my hand—let Daddy help you—”

Lightning shot through her. Blinding white heat surged through her body, inside and out. She trembled and shuddered as a roman candle sparked in her belly, the explosion scorching her. Her body convulsed as her orgasm crashed through quivering thighs.

Electric screams echoed in her ears, rolling off of her tongue. They dwarfed Peter’s drunken voice—that’s it, good fuckin’ girl, god, y’taste so good—and she had almost forgotten everything about who they were. 

Until she felt his fingerprints tightening on her slippery thighs. She looked back down at him to find him helplessly moaning into her split, where he devoutly chased every drop of her with his tongue.

The sight of him on his knees—face wet, lips dripping with her cream, hips twitching with a raging hard-on—was so vulgar. So erotic, it almost made her come twice. She locked eyes with him, drinking in the charred whiskey barrel hue of his irises, and seeing his desperation to communicate. He telegraphed emotions so loudly, it was as if she could hear his thoughts. He thanked her graciously, plead for her mercy, vowed his love to her—

She picked up her leg and jabbed her heel into his throat as hard as she could. The kick stunned him, flattening him. From her perch, she watched him heave and cough on the bathroom floor, rolling onto his side defensively. He choked and gagged, palming his throat.

When he looked up at her, he looked like a kicked puppy. Too shocked to be angry. Too scared of her wrath to question it. She leered at him from above, fixing him with a vindictive glare. He laid beneath her, propped up on one elbow, while the other hand rubbed at his neck.

Her look reminded him of a cruel child chasing an ant with a magnifying glass on a sunny day. She looked to burn him alive. He fought the urge to crawl away. Her eyes flashed at him like a death ray. Lip curled upwards in disgust. He followed her gaze downward to his lap, and saw what she was seeing. The front of his pants were soaked through with his own cum. 

Cheeks blushing, he flinched, panicked. Moving his arm in a feeble attempt to hide his shame. Whatever drop in confidence he had plummeted straight through the center of the Earth. He was a child. A stupid boy awakening from a wet dream. He could barely meet her eyes.

“You have one final chance, Peter.” Every word came out like the ominous tolling of a bell. “One more chance to tell me the truth. Because I know what it sounds like when you lie.” 

Her voice sounded detached from her throat, untethered from her soul, echoing from a hollow cave where her heart had once been. The coldness of her tone was unnerving. He blinked up at her, lip quivering. Hating himself for what she had become.

Straight-faced and dark eyed, she asked, “Who is Gwen?” 

Peter swallowed hard, tears welling up in his eyes. It had been so long since he heard that name on anyone else’s lips. The sound of it still hurt to hear. Not just heart-shattering. It was like his entire being was made of glass. And the vicious look of contempt of her face was a stone being hurled towards him.

He studied her, half in despair, half in horrified awe. Full of regret.

He sniffled as he drew breath. “Gwen—” His voice cracked and he loathed the puny sound. He wanted to take the medical scissors off the tray and cut it out of his own throat. 

He rasped out his reply, “Gwen was my... my wife.” His tears felt like they were boiling against the coldness of his cheeks. “She was my everything.” He clenched his jaw to steady it. 

When he looked back up at her, her face remained unchanged. She rendered him with an unengaged stare, just shy of apathetic. 

“I lost her,” he added weakly. A shadow crossed his features, darkening his face and his spirit. “She died.” A lump formed in his throat, and each following breath was a painful, slow drag. The ache had nothing to do with his injuries.

A crease formed between her brows, tension in her jaw. They stayed silent forever, both fearing what the other one was going to say.

She broke the silence first.

“Peter,” she said with a wary tone. Her eyes grew colder as they began to rim with tears. “Are you responsible for her death?”

He sank further into misery, his face contorted with shame. He peeled his gaze away from hers. 

Responsibility, Peter.

His cheeks glistened with anguish. 

He nodded.

Observing the gesture felt like death. She felt like a corpse. She and Gwen were no different. Dead bodies trapped in boxes.

Her lips pulled in a tight line. “Thank you. For telling me the truth.” Despite the heartbreak and rage streaming through her, she was no louder than a whisper. She waited until he looked her in the eye.

“Now. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

To be continued...

A/N. Going through a hard time right now, thank you for being nice.

[betzabobababi]

Im dying on so many new unknown (for me) levels right now-

My cousin said she blames Tony stark for everything that happened to Peter. Her logic is that the only reason Peter became known was because of the CV war. (civil war) Tony recruited Peter to go to Germany for help and from then on then (Spiderman:Homecoming) the vulture stuff happened. Now Peter would have still tried to stop Liz's dad with or without the stark techy suit. (Infinity war) But with the additional help the suit gave him he then decided to jump out of a moving bus and help try to save the time stone. This is when shit goes down. Peter dusts and Tony lives his second chance with Morgan. Peter was his first chance and now he was gone. (intervention) Honestly I sometimes wonder if Tony blamed himself for ever turning to Peter for help during the war. Back to the point, Cecile (my cousins character name) then says that when End Game happened Peter was brought back and inevitably Peter watched as his mentor, father figure and friend sacrifices himself for humanity.(Spider-Man: Far From Home) Peter then has to deal with the aftermath of the snap and he has to maintain Tony's reputation. So when they went on vacation Peter saw it as an opportunity to wind down and relax for a bit. Well, sometimes life chooses to be a pain in the ass. In peter's case, life chose to be a pain during his vacation. Peter then has to deal with the elementals and Mysterio. (intervention) What if Tony didn't sacrifice himself and he was there to help Peter out during far from home? Or what if instead Nick didn't come for help during his vacation? Sometimes I feel like the grown-ups in the MCU need help from younger generations. Like Tony needed help during the war, Nick needed help during Far from home. I guess Vision would count as help from the younger generations bc Vision is 3 even though he looked like a grown man. And its not always physical help they need during fights. Sometimes it can just be like showing up in their life and helping then out emotionally. Like Peter and Tony. Or America and Steven Strange. Love and Thunder? Peter and Yondu. Clint and Kate. And even though Clint has his own children doesn't mean that Kate isn't anywhere near the adoptive child spectrum.

Once Far From Home ended, his identity was revealed which sucked because that put everyone he loved in danger. What he tried so hard to avoid for it to happen, happened.(Spider-Man:No Way Home) This was an absolute mental and emotional roller-coaster. The MCU decided it would be a wonderful idea for everyone to forget Peter after the multiverse was gone. (Intervention) WHY DID THEY THINK IT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA. This movie hurt my heart on so many levels. Peter is now alone. And HE DIDNT KEEP HIS GOD DAMN PROMISE. Like peter honey, i get your in a difficult situation. I get you didnt tell Mj or Ned because you didnt want the whole multiversal shit to happen again, but seriously? Just fucking tell them. Even if it happens again you know how to work it out right? Yeah. You just have to find the kinks of the spell. JUST TELL THEM. And some people will disagree with me but its better to have them and know a way to protect them rather than, spending life alone. Eventually he might find a friend or something but he'll keep them at bay from the depth of the life. Hopefully the next spiderman movie less heartbreaking. Which brings us to the end of Cecile's theory. She blames The Tony Stark, the man who sacrificed himself for humanity, for his wife, daughter and his 'adoptive son'. She blames Tony Stark, the Genius, Billionaire, Ex-playboy, Philanthropist for all the pain and agony Peter Parker, your friendly neighborhood Spiderman went through.