#peter: only fools rush in

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 (PART 1)

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: After being the forgotten one your whole life, you thought that they wouldn't forget you.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Angst, Getting stood up

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: poly!marauders x reader

♡ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ : part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

The small café was almost unbearably stuffy, the kind of warmth that clung to your skin like a bad memory. You sat at the tiny table, your fingers wrapped around the fifth, long-cold cup of coffee. Five empty cups already littered the space around you, their contents drained, and yet the boys were nowhere to be seen. The delicate pink and gold décor of Madam Puddifoot's—once sweet and charming—now felt suffocating.

You glanced up at the clock again.

They were an hour late.

Your heart sank lower into your stomach. An hour. The tiny voice in your head whispered cruel thoughts, thoughts you tried so hard to push away but they gnawed at you nonetheless. Did they stand me up?

You and the boys had only been dating for a few months—James, Sirius, Remus, Peter. It was unconventional, but you all cared about each other, or so you thought. The beginning had been a whirlwind of excitement and passion, stolen kisses in the corridors, late-night sneaking into the Gryffindor common room. But lately… lately, something had shifted.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were slipping through the cracks, that the bond they shared with each other was unbreakable and you were just some added accessory, an outsider trying to fit into a world that already had no space left for you.

A pang of doubt stung your chest. Maybe you had been stupid to believe that this could work. That they wanted you, truly wanted you. A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you stared down at the empty cups. Five cups. Five glasses, just like five people. You had been here. But where were they?

Each tick of the clock seemed to mock you. You had tried to convince yourself, at first, that they were just running late, that something had come up. They were the Marauders after all, always busy with some adventure or prank. But now? Now, you weren't so sure. The knot in your chest tightened, the air in the café becoming harder to breathe in. You were drowning in your thoughts, the same ones spiraling over and over.

Maybe I’m not important enough for them. Maybe they’ve realized they don’t need me. Just each other.

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. You quickly wiped it away, but the damage was done. Your heart was cracking with each passing second, each tick of the clock hammering the reality into you: they weren’t coming. They had forgotten you. Or worse, maybe they never even planned on showing up.

The idea that they had stood you up made your blood boil, but underneath the anger was the cold sting of hurt. They were supposed to be yours. How could they do this? How could they leave you waiting here, like some fool, while they—?

You couldn’t stay here any longer. The sight of the café and the sound of the clinking china cups was making you nauseous. You grabbed your things, hands shaking, and bolted out of the door, the chilly evening air hitting your tear-streaked face. The wind stung, but not as much as the empty feeling gnawing at your chest.

Your feet carried you without thinking. You needed to get away, to find solace, to bury yourself in someone who cared. And there was only one place to go.

Lily and Mary’s dorm.

When you burst into the room, Lily and Mary were tangled up together on the bed, kissing softly, not noticing your entrance at first. The door creaked behind you, and suddenly, they pulled apart, eyes wide and worried as they saw your tear-stained face.

“Oh my God, what happened?!” Lily was up in an instant, rushing over to you, her hands gripping your shoulders gently as she took in the sight of you, broken and shaking.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead, a sob escaped, one that ripped through you, and you crumpled into her arms. Mary had joined the two of you by now, her eyes filled with concern.

“Sweetheart, what is it? What happened?” Mary’s voice was gentle, but the panic was clear.

You choked back another sob, wiping furiously at the tears streaming down your cheeks. “I hate them,” you finally spat, the bitterness in your voice taking even you by surprise. “I hate them so much.”

Lily’s brow furrowed in confusion. “The boys? What did they do?”

“They didn’t show up,” you hissed, the words tumbling out like venom. “They were supposed to meet me at Madam Puddifoot's… an hour ago. And they didn’t come. Not even a bloody owl. Nothing.”

Lily’s face hardened, and Mary’s mouth opened in shock.

“They… they stood you up?” Mary asked, her voice soft, as if she couldn’t believe it.

You nodded, your throat tightening as the tears threatened to fall again. “I waited, and I waited, and they never came. I… I thought they cared, you know? But maybe I’m just—maybe I’m just not important enough for them.” The last part came out in a broken whisper.

Lily pulled you closer, her arms wrapping around you tightly. “No. No, don’t you dare think that. They’re idiots, all of them. Complete and utter prats.”

“But I’m always the last thought, Lily,” you sobbed, the hurt spilling out. “They’ve been so distant lately. Like… like I’m not even part of the group anymore. Like they’re fine with just each other and I’m… I’m just in the way.”

Mary knelt beside you, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “You deserve better than this. So much better.”

“I thought they were different,” you said bitterly, “I didn’t expect this from them. Not from them. But… I guess I was wrong.”

The room was quiet for a moment, only the sound of your broken breaths filling the space. Lily and Mary exchanged a look, one that told you they were just as furious as they were heartbroken for you.

You had come to them with your broken heart, and now, you didn’t know what to do with the pieces. All you knew was that in this moment, you wanted nothing to do with the Marauders. You wanted to scream, cry, and hate them with everything you had.

And maybe—just maybe—you could learn how to forget them too.

[rainydayathogwarts]

The rabbit hole - Remus Lupin

remus lupin has a way with all the ladies, even the popular girls wc: 1.3k

Despite not being the most sought after marauder, Remus Lupin got more than enough attention from the ladies. Everyone knew it, especially you, who lived around girls always gushing about their newest crush. You have to admit, his name did come up a few times. But did it even matter? The term 'popular' wasn't one you’d use to describe yourself because you didn’t believe in putting people up on pedestals, including yourself. However, you couldn’t help it if those words were thrown at you by other people. You weren’t mad at it; getting attention from boys and being admired by younger girls was fulfilling and validating, and meant you never had trouble finding dates when you got bored. 

Unfortunately, it seemed you had fallen into the same rabbit hole many other girls surrounding you fell into - the rabbit hole called 'wanting the one man who wasn't interested'. You don’t know when this fascination over him started, but you assumed it had to do with the fact that he didn’t pay any attention to you. It was refreshing, but frustrating. Guys always gave you what you wanted, or made the first move. Remus, on the other hand, had only ever spoken to you in class when you’d be paired up, and he’d never made a pass at you, unlike the two friends at his right and left side who had both previously flirted with you at parties in an attempt to getting on your roster. You had laughed and thrown a snarky comment at them before amusedly walking away. But Remus Lupin and his stupid chestnut hair had caught your eye, and when you wanted something, you didn’t stop until you got it.

Remus had noticed this new attention from you in potions class - a simple doe eyed look from you when you’d asked him to get pearl dust for your potion had him doing a double take, making sure he hadn’t imagined your signature move. He’d heard boys talking, and he had to admit, even he was intrigued by you. “Mate she just gave me those eyes...” was a popular start to a sentence when he heard boys exchange stories, but now that he’d laid his eyes on them himself, he knew he was in for it.

On the way back to his dorm, he wondered if that was you making a first move, or just a subtle ask for him to make a move. He decided that he'd wait and see, make sure he hadn't been mistaken and make a fool of himself by throwing himself into something nonexistent. The more he waited, the harder it was to hold himself back. Of course, Remus prided himself on being respectful to all women and being quiet, which is what drew many of the ladies in. This meant that he tried incredibly hard to hold back the flirtatious comments and sly responses during lessons. You knew the game he was playing, because you often took the route of playing hard to get.

"You're being delusional" Sirius finally told him, James nodding from his spot beside him on Peter's bed. "Like, good for you man if there is anything there, but there isn't." James said teasingly. "No- I swear! She's flirting with me! She's flirting and I'm enjoying it! She's flirting and now I like her, and now I'm like every other guy at Hogwarts." Sirius and James exchanged a look. "Well you're not like every other guy if you actually end up with her. How many guys have you heard of who actually became her boyfriend?" He thought long and hard, and when he looked back at the other two, knew they shared the same number. "None."

The map showed that you were alone by the black lake. If he wanted to catch you in time, he'd have to hurry along. He stole a book off his bed before rushing off, haphazardly throwing his jumper somewhere into the dorm. He slowed down his pace once he made it past the main entrance, catching his breath as he began walking in your general directly. Remus didn't want to seem to obvious, so he marked the page he had left his book from with his index finger dipping between the pages. His breath hitched when he got closer to you, realising you were just in shorts and a bikini top, enjoying the spring sun, a boombox next to you playing some music.

"Any chance I could sit in the shade under that tree without looking like a total creep?" He asks, gesturing to the tree merely a couple of meters from you. Your eyes flutter open, a hand coming to your face to protect your eyes from the sun. "Mhmm, I don't think there is. But that's okay, I'm used to being admired." Remus scoffs, sitting down with his back against the tree, and opens up his book. From the corner of his eyes, he sees your body turning in his general direction, as though surprised that he's not giving you any attention. If that was the case, his mission was already succeeding. He feels the hesitation from you, glancing up at you to see you open and close your mouth, speechless. You turn onto your back once more, closing your eyes with a sigh.

You both sit there in comfortable silence, but Remus hasn't turned a single page of his book and despite you having your eyes closed, the only thing you can think of is how close he is to you. Suddenly, you sit up, turning to take a long sip of the water bottle next to you. Remus has to pretend he wasn't looking at you, but when you address him by his first name, his head immediately snaps up to meet your gaze. "Yes?" "Want to go in for a swim?" Well he wasn't expecting that. You grin when he begins to stutter; you'd finally caught him off guard for the first time since you'd started flirting with him three weeks ago. "Well, I'm- I'm not in my swimmers." You cock your head to the side, raising an eyebrow at him. "Is that a problem?"

Yes, Remus wants to say. Yes, because I have scars and I'm insecure, and I don't want you to see me like that. But he doesn't say any of those things. Instead, he stands, and you follow his movements promptly. You wait for him to take at least his shirt off, but he only loosens his tie, pulling it over his head before stalking towards you predatorily. You try to take a step away from him when the proximity becomes too intimidating for you, but one of his hands snakes around your waist and your breath is hitching and he's leaning his head down close to your ear and you only hear "Hold your breath" before you're being whisked into his arms and your feet are leaving the ground.

You're suddenly gasping for air, breaking through the surface of the water, but you immediately spot Remus's grinning face, shaking his hair away from his eyes and you can't be mad. Like physically, it is impossible for you, even if your denim shorts are now all wet and you almost died. But you're swimming towards him and holding onto him with your legs wrapping around his waist and somehow you're leaning into him and pressing your lips against his. The position is weird: Remus can probably reach the ground, his hands supporting your denim-clad hips whilst your hands grip onto his wet uniform, but in some odd way, it's perfect.

The second you pull away, Remus's eyes are widening and he's muttering "Oh, no." Confused, you turn to see what he's looking at, only to spot a quickly approaching figure called the insolent Filch, already yelling about "Jumping in with Uniform!" and "Get them Mrs. Norris!"

[hadesrise]

can’t help falling in love.

summary ➳ no matter what tragedy strikes, you and jason can’t help falling in love with each other. based on “can’t help falling in love” by elvis presley.

pairings ➳ jason peter todd x addams!male reader

warnings ➳ fluff, angst, very suggestive in the beginning, foul language, death and resurrection, mentions of violence, brainwash, hurt/comfort, destined soulmates, possessiveness if you squint, blood

author’s note ➳ okay, i take back what i said. i probably won’t stop writing addams!reader anytime soon. by the way, i don’t have specific jason in mind so any universe can be imagined for all my jason fics.

Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can’t help falling in love with you

The chilly air makes goosebumps appear on Jason’s skin as he hugs himself to shield away from the cold. Dark shine of the moon bringing peace to the silence completely surrounding him, Jason admires the statues littered across the graveyard behind Addams manor in honor of your fallen ancestors. Despite darkness lurking behind every shadow and spirits wandering around tirelessly, this place held utter peace and comfort, warming Jason’s heart by embracing it tightly in their arms.

Each ancestors had extraordinary headstone that fits them best with their statue standing tall and proud, it truly shows how Addams honor their family members the right way. None of their headstones were simple or boring, each having unique traits that Jason was certain they used to have when they were alive. Each Addams have unique traits that differed from one another, but all of them are undeniably extraordinary. They aren’t like any other, much like how his lover’s not like any other.

Jason feels a coat being wrapped around him before two arms sneaks around his waist, shoulder weighing slightly from where you rest your chin on it. He fights back a smile.

“You could’ve called for me, mon chéri. My siblings wouldn’t have minded one less duelling partner.” You softly say, pressing a kiss on his shoulder.

Jason instinctually leans back, snuggling to your neck. “Yeah, but you should spend more time with ‘em. Always with me, they’re gonna start thinking you’re forgetting your own siblings.”

“I assure you, they would not.” You start slowly swaying your bodies together to a non-existent music as Jason follows through with you. “They’re going to start thinking you’re forgetting them. Wednesday and Pugsley prefer you more than me, sweetheart, especially Wednesday.”

“Oh, really?” Jason smirks.

“Yes, really.” You nod with a sigh, though he could tell you weren’t annoyed at all. “She pushed me down the stairs last night after we’ve gotten back from our date.”

Jason throws his head back with a laugh, “Sorry babe. She might or might not have invited me to throw an axe at Pugsley and I turned it down.”

“No wonder she was beyond annoyed with me,” Amusement fills your tone as the corner of your lips twitch up to form a subtle smile. Jason looks at you over his shoulder and you immediately lean in for a lingering kiss, butterflies erupting in his stomach as his heart skip a beat. You then kiss his cheek and forehead before resting your chin back on his shoulder with eyes closed.

Jason sighs in content, admiring your captivating features that somehow reminds him of death. but your presence weren’t as cold as death, it’s warm and engulfing despite your touch rivaling that coldness of an ice. He leans closer for a moment, only to lift your arms that were around him so he could face you while still being embraced by you, burying his face on the crook of your neck.

“I really love you.” He sighs, arms secure around your back.

“I would do everything for you,” Your reply was instant, resting your head against his. He felt your arms squeeze him as if to emphasize, and he chuckled.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” The silly question slips from his lips, half-joking and half-serious, pulling his head back to look into your nearly lifeless eyes. He’s reminded of how it’s only alive because of him.

Your eyebrows raised slightly in mere question and amusement, but you take his hand and press a tender kiss on his palm.

“I adore you in every universe. I love you just as much as Icarus has loved the sun — even more than he’s loved the sun. I would shatter the ground and raise hell just to find you wherever you go. I would paint the sky with shooting stars to fulfill your wish. I would tear the world apart and watch the universe collapse if you are ever taken from me, for a life without you is a life full of unquenchable thirst and eternal hunger unworthy of surviving. I would worship every ground you stand and walk on to an extent which I wish not to touch the ground you haven’t touched yet, for it hasn’t been blessed with your divine greatness. I would offer you my eyes if your vision fails, my voice if yours can no longer function, my heart if yours cease to beat, my hands if you can no longer hold the world in yours, my legs if yours fail to take you to places you’ve dreamed of. Only death shall keep me away from you, and even so, it would merely be enough to prevent me from either clawing the dirt apart and rising alive to hold you in my arms, or dragging you down with me to rest for all eternity together.”

By the end of your speech, Jason was already crying ocean of tears as his eyes twinkles in overwhelming happiness, extremely touched.

Both of you always make long and romantic declaration of your love for each other in most random times, and while his speech makes you smile from ear to ear and giddy like a high schooler, yours often never failed to reduce him into nothing but a sobbing and crying mess. He hates it, but could never bring himself to hate you for making him cry.

You smile gently at him and press very soft kisses on both of his eyelids before continuing, “Therefore, the answer is yes, my love. I would still love you if you were a worm.”

Jason chokes out a chuckle, sniffing. “Fuck you for always catching me off guard and making me cry.”

Your hands cup his red face as you coo, “Do not be ashamed for shedding your tears, Jason. Quite frankly, I find them very captivating.”

“Yeah?” He smirked. “You like seeing me cry?”

“Ah, yes...” A flirtatious smirk appears on your lips, one arm pulling him close and the other hand sneaking up to gently clasp your fingers around his throat. “Indeed, I do. Especially in bed.”

Jason resists his urge to moan when you squeezed slightly, tilting his head back a little to give you more access. “Why in bed when you can make me cry right here and now?” He whispered, rather lusciously as you stare into his lustful eyes.

You lick your lips before smashing your lips on his hungrily and Jason quickly reciprocates, no longer feeling the chilliness of the graveyard air.

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can’t help falling in love with you?

Jason loves you more than words can express. He loves you oh so dearly that he would turn back to the God that his heart stopped believing after he came back to life just so he could recite prayers for an eternity with you. Jason never thought it was possible to love someone so much so that he’d be willing to both give up everything for you and give you everything you want.

But sometimes, love makes him afraid.

Afraid of losing you. Afraid of seeing you hurt. Afraid of knowing anyone and anything can take you away any moment. He hadn’t thought about what you feel everytime you see him injured, but when you walked into the living room all bloody, bruised and slashed, his heart stopped and the mug he was holding just slipped from his hand to shatter on the floor.

You laid down on the large expensive sofa with a slight wince as Jason ran off to find some medical kits available in the Addams manor, being helped by Thing to locate its whereabout, before running back in with the necessities. He almost got a heart attack when he saw you had your eyes closed, seemingly not breathing, looking paler than usual. Dropping the medical kits on the carpeted floor below the sofa, he quickly checks on your pulse and sighs in relief when he feels it, just then remembering that an Addams is very unlikely to show any physical signs of breathing unless letting out a sigh.

You open your eyes and admire his face twisted in worry and fear, moving up a hand to pat his head twice. “It’s not necessary to be overly concerned, my dear. Nothing to fear of, these are mere injuries that can easily be treated.” You wave it off with the same hand, somehow very calm and nonchalant despite how intense your injuries looked.

Sadness now replacing the look on his face, Jason wordlessly shakes his head and begins to treat the bruises and cuts on your face with careful and soothing hands. You stop him gently to remove your vigilante suit before letting him continue, comforting silence filling the almost grim atmosphere. Jason doesn’t realize you’re watching every bit of his expression, seeing the way his perfect eyebrows furrow and his lips frown slightly every time he moves from one injury to another. It feels like the injury’s getting worse the more he moved to the next, and it made his heart heavy.

Your gaze softens, knowing he was having second thoughts about speaking the things that bothered him.

It seems Jason has quickly gathered the strength to speak because before you can throw encouraging words, his quiet voice interrupts the comfortable silence. “I know you’re not afraid of dying or anything with your culture and all, but it makes me worry a lot.” You nod to let him know you’re listening. “I sound like a real hypocrite ‘cause I go out on mission then come back here like a fucking zombie more than I want to admit, so I don’t have the right to say anything like this, but you almost gave me a heart attack.”

The corner of your mouth twitched, silently encouraging him to speak his thoughts more as he cleans your wounds. You don’t miss the way Jason’s hand trembled.

“You’re not...” He trailed off, hesitant to continue as he bit his lip as if to contemplate whether or not to say it out loud. He followed through it, anyway. “You’re not gonna leave me, right?” Jason tries, looking up and meeting your eyes. His emerald irises were wavering in worry and hint of fear.

Your hand gently caress his face, Jason leaning on it immediately. “As I’ve said before, mon amour... Death is merely enough to prevent me from crawling back to you.” Ignoring your freshly bandaged wounds, you pulled Jason on your lap and tugged at the back of his neck to kiss his lips passionately and comfortingly. “Leaving you only means leaving my heart and soul behind, darling. We wouldn’t want me to feel incomplete, would we?”

Jason sighs in content against your lips, before carefully shifting on the big sofa so he could squish beside you and pull you to his chest, initiatively big-spooning you.

“ ‘m just really scared to lose you,” He whispered, burying his face on your hair and hugging you close, but not tight enough to hurt. It’s not like you’re capable of feeling pain, but you appreciated his kindness nonetheless.

You press a tender kiss on his chest, looking up at him and frowning softly. “I sincerely apologize for frightening you, my love. I’ll make an oath to be careful next time.”

Jason nods, basking in your warmth, your scent, your presence.

Gods, he loves you too much to let you go. He could never, would never. You belong to him just as much as he belongs to you and even death has no right to take that away. You were his, and only his — in life and death.

You feel Jason’s arms tighten around you, and resisted the smile spreading across your face. Death can never intimidate you as your culture revolves around it, but the thought of losing Jason was always triggering for you. It made you dive into insanity and quickly get rid of the problem at hand, as if you’ll suffocate if you’re not quick enough to eliminate the threat. Handling Joker physically, handling Bruce mentally, handling those irrelevant crime lords who nearly hurt Red Hood off the streets violently, all things of sort.

Fall down with me further, mon chéri.

Your mind shall be filled with me and only me, even if it’s utter fear of losing me.

A dreamy look flashed across your eyes before disappearing fast, burying your face in his chest and embracing him tighter. If you’re both too afraid for the other to die and lose them, then maybe dying together would not sound so bad at all.

You had read once on a book that falling in love is a curse, for you’ll drown in it before you even realize and fail to resurface once you fall too deep, unable to ever get out again.

However, if that is the case, you disagreed. Because it was never a curse, it’s only ever been a blessing.

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

“Where the fuck is he!?” Jason yelled in rage, red clouding his vision as he threw the mug on a wall. Panic, anger, and worry filled his chest that made his frustration grow even more.

Bruce sighed, worry also plastering his face as he attempted to grasp your location with the computer. “He’s only been gone for an hour, Jason. Be patient.”

“Anything can fucking happen in an hour!” He growled back, glaring harshly before the worry and panic began to overthrow his anger, one hand slipping through his hair and tugging at it. “I— fuck, what am I gonna do? I shouldn’t have let him go alone, I should’ve went with him—”

Dick quickly approached his little brother when his breathing started to grow uneven. “Jay, hey... Breathe, calm yourself first. He’s going to be okay, he’s an untouchable badass.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Jason shakes his head, rubbing his face. “I wouldn’t know what to do without him— I can’t live without him, Dicky. I can’t.” His voice broke as he trembled, silence filling the air with everyone frowning in sadness and worry.

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Jason felt his heart thumping loudly against his chest when he saw you fighting enemies with only sustaining little injuries, relief flooding throughout his body. It’s like the world brightened up again, ironically.

You made eye contact in the middle of the fight, smirking at him. “Can’t get rid of me easily, love.”

A light-hearted chuckle erupts from Jason as he joins you along with the Batfam in fighting the League of Assassins, you and Jason moving in sync as if dancing through the violence. Both of you moved swiftly together, fitting each other perfectly like the pieces of puzzle, using each other occassionally as a leverage against them.

“This is like dancing in our graveyard,” Jason grinned under his Red Hood helmet, adrenaline rushing in his veins.

“Indeed, it does feel like it.” You responded with subtle enthusiasm, only noticeable by your lover. He laughs at your answer, enjoying the moment even when it was violent.

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

He doesn’t know why he got distracted. He doesn’t know why he didn’t pay attention more to his surroundings. But before Jason knew it, Raj’s Al Ghul’s sword was nearly piercing into him.

Until your firm and cold hand pushed him away, everything feeling like a slow motion in Jason’s eyes as the sword pierced into your chest and through your back, directly striking the heart. Jason’s eyes widened, anguished call of your name slipping from his lips. Blood dripping from your mouth, you tightly held onto the sword before driving one of your sais on Raj’s Al Ghul’s throat, where a vital point is.

The League of Assassins member fell on the ground first, clutching his throat and choking on his own blood.

Amusement flickers in your eyes, even at the graveness of the situation. You looked back at Jason and smiled, grabbing the sword’s handle and pulling it off your chest despite Batman’s loud protests. Loud metallic clank echoes within the warehouse as you dropped the sword on the concrete, stepping forward once towards your lover, but your legs giving away made you almost tumble down.

Jason immediately catches you in his arms and lays you on his lap, tears stinging his eyes as his breath quickens, removing his helmet to throw it beside him. Heartbeat rapid and restless, heart dropped to his stomach, nausea forming in the pit of his stomach due to the sight of blood flowing outwards to your vigilante suit from the hole on your chest. He could feel a panic attack nearing, but couldn’t be bothered to care when the blood kept pouring out even when he applied pressure.

“No— no, no, no, no.” He chokes up, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat, trembling hands continuously putting pressure on your chest. “Stay with me, please. Stay with me. I can’t—” He sobbed. “I can’t lose you.”

Your breathing was shallow yet no fear plastered your face. There’s your usual calmness, the nonchalance that Bruce used to be so unsettled when he first met you, your almost dead eyes still sparkling in love and adoration for Jason. You don’t seem to care about your injury nor the outstretched arms of the Grim Reaper.

Your bloodied lips stretches to form a weak smile, captivated by Jason’s beauty under the moonlight. “You’re still magnificent, mon cherí… A sight to behold… under the moonlight…”

“Baby, now’s not the time.” Jason whined pathetically, tears flowing endlessly from his eyes. Dread, fear, devastation settling in his chest. “Please, baby. Please. I don’t know— fuck, I can’t live without you.” He cried, uncaring that you two were surrounded by his family. “I don’t… I can’t, baby. I— I can’t lose you, please.”

Adrenaline rushing through your veins and motivated by your sheer love for him, you reached up to wipe his tears and grab his other hand to intertwine it with yours. Jason’s heart drops further down the abyss when you then used it to pull out his dagger — the one you gifted him — out of his holster. “You would not lose me, by other’s hands, my sweetheart… I made an oath, to only offer you my life and soul, with no one else to have the privilege of ending me.”

“No— please, baby, no.” Jason weakly shakes his head, sobbing.

You gripped his hand that held the dagger. “You ought to, cherí… It is an honour for me to die by your hands. Please, allow me… to love you, one last time.”

Jason whimpered your name, crying heavily as he leans down to rest his head on yours. You were so cruel, wanting to die by his hands, wanting him to live forever with his hands stained in your blood— but Jason knew that’s how extent your love was for him. He could never deny you, not when it was your greatest wish.

Croaks and sobs escaping him, Jason finally drives the dagger through your chest, right where the sword pierced you. It is only then you slumped against him, hands slowly dropping to your sides with mouth slightly turned up in a smile of peace and satisfaction.

The greatest proof that you love him. Carving yourself deep into his heart, so he could never be alone even when you’re physically gone.

Jason wailed in anguish and sorrow, hugging your now lifeless body close as he brokenly recites the speech you gave him in the graveyard.

You hurt him badly, loved him too cruelly, but it was still better than losing you forever. He would’ve driven the dagger into his own beating heart if only you allowed him.

For I can’t help falling in love with you

Jason lost the brightness he had in him. Emerald eyes lifeless that seemed as if you took his soul with him, still functioning yet lacking in human emotions as if he was a robotic being.

Sometimes, he breaks so suddenly.

Utters your name like a curse, sobbing and weeping in his room, scar so deep in his heart he scratches at his chest in attempt to get it out to stop the ache. His emotions were too unstable that left him unqualified to continue the vigilantism, which he agreed emotionlessly when pointed out by Bruce.

Sometimes, he’s shattered too much and far too gone in grief that he sleeps on your grave. Covers himself in blanket and nuzzles on your headstone, as if it would give him the warmth you always radiated despite being as cold as death. He could only sleep that way; the sleeping pills don’t help, but being close to your body does.

He holds his dagger close to him all the time. Stained in your dried blood that he never got the nerve to wash off, afraid that his mind would someday choose to forget your existence to block out the trauma.

He wears everything you used to wear. Uses your weapons, things, accessories. His favourite is your sunglasses. Having your possessions close always made him feel like you were embracing him.

No one ever attempted to get them away from him in fear of shattering his soul furthermore. His entire being seemingly dependent on everything that reminded of you, they didn’t want to trigger something inside of him any more than the scar in his heart did.

“Love truly is the greatest twisted curse in the world, Mr. Wayne.” Morticia mutters in sorrow as she looks out the window of the Addams’ manor, watching Jason curl up against your headstone with tears silently streaming down his face.

Bruce looks down in dejection, nodding his head.

His boy was beyond repair, and no one could do anything about it because you were gone.

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Jason’s eyes were wide in shock and horror. Emotions swirled within his chest; anger, disgust, sadness, grief, disbelief, and joy battling one another that overwhelmed him all at once. His family stood with him in front of the monitor, their expressions just as horrified as him, the familiar situation causing dread to settle on the pit of Bruce’s stomach.

The monitor showed you, alive and well with the exception of your eyes seeming more dead and lifeless than before. Everything was the same from your emotionless face to your vigilante suit that you died in, but Jason could see right through you. This wasn’t you. This you wasn’t his.

Not when you were standing in the same room as the Joker who you’d immediately kill if you were put together.

Jason was even more certain you weren’t his when he sees you up close, your personality different from that sophisticated, nonchalant yet wonderful one you had before. You’re just… blank. A dead person living without humanity and following orders. You don’t follow orders, you hated being controlled.

The familiarity makes his chest clench and hurt. He’s been through this exact thing, he never thought you would experience it too.

“I don’t want to fight you, baby.” Jason whispered, voice cracking. His helmet hiding the heartbroken look on his face that you were standing in front of him with your sais pointed dangerously in his direction.

You scowled. He’s somehow familiar, your chest erupting in unknown emotions that Talia never taught you about. The urge to hold him close was tugging at the strings of your heart, but you stay glued to your spot. “I do not know you, fool.” You emotionlessly remark.

Hurt flashed across his face. There’s nothing he wanted more than to be held by you and hold you close, but how could he when you don’t recognise him? Did they brainwash you? Your memories lack, but they could come back, right?

“Red Hood,” Batman warningly calls his name when you lowered your stance.

Jason still didn’t pull out his guns.

“Baby, it’s me.” He whispered weakly. “Please, you said you’ll hold me again. You’ll crawl out of dirt to hold me or pull me under with you, remember?” Jason tried again, tears shimmering his eyes. His throat burned.

Your eyes narrowed, brows furrowing. You feel like you’ve told him that, but couldn’t remember. Something was banging on your head from the depths of your mind that made it throb. Gripping your sais, you desperately ignored the pain to focus on your task.

“Ignore it,” Talia’s voice entered your ears. “Kill him.”

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

“Fuck!” Jason yelps when you managed to slash him on his leg, dodging your next attack quickly. “Wait— please, listen to me!”

“Red Hood, watch out!” Red Robin shouts just as Jason narrowly avoids your sai flying towards his head.

He couldn’t find any other way to get you to listen. The way you attempted to tune him out makes him believe you were feeling something, but there’s nothing he could do when you keep coming at his throat. Desperation runs through his veins, heart still bleeding out for you even as you try to kill him. The coldness in your eyes was foreign that carved another scar in his heart, but he can’t hate you no matter what.

Jason’s heart jackhammered against his ribcage when you finally caught him by the throat and slammed him harshly on the floor, your murderous look that he always loved plastered over your face. He stops struggling after realising he could never hurt you again, and slowly hovers his hand over your wrist. Your grip on his throat was tight, but Jason couldn’t be bothered to panic.

He finally had you again at last. Why should he panic when the source of his life was so near to him?

“Have you gotten exhausted of fighting back?” You calmly tilted your head, curiosity in your eyes. Jason doesn’t miss the split seconds of conflicted look.

“I can’t,” He replies quietly. “I love you, baby. Never stopped.” His other hand raised to remove his helmet, ignoring Bruce’s protest, and your grip on his throat faltered as soon as you make eye contact with the emerald eyes that you adore too much.

“I don’t want to fight you, (Y/n). So kill me,” Jason mumbled with a soft voice. “Allow me to love you one last time and stab my heart with your sai. For a life without you is a life full of unquenchable thirst and eternal hunger unworthy of surviving.” He recited your own quote back to you with a tearful smile.

Closing his eyes, peace overtakes Jason for the first time in a long while since losing you as he waits for the abrupt pain of being pierced through the heart. However, all that came was softness attaching itself to his lips.

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

Jason snaps his eyes wide open in shock at your lips pressing against his, the death grip on his throat loosening just to hover affectionately over it. His body naturally reacts, moving on its own to reciprocate your kiss and relish in it, arms flying up to wrap around your neck.

You pulled away when he yearns for oxygen, a sob nearly escaping him again when he sees the love and warmth in your eyes. You smile gently at him, brightness returning to your previously dead eyes. “I’m deeply sorry, my love. I’m back.”

Jason tearfully chuckled and crushed you in a hug, heart rapidly beating against his chest. Relief wasn’t enough of a word to describe the happiness he felt. The feeling of being embraced tightly by you causing tears to stream down his face for the nth time, his longing and yearning finally being fulfilled. He missed this, he missed you, he missed his only home.

For I can’t help falling in love with you

Neither you nor Jason had left the bedroom since returning, having locked yourselves up in his room that you shared to obtain privacy for yourselves. None of the Waynes were bothered too much as they understood how much Jason yearned for your presence, the only comfort he’s ever had in his life.

Jason’s been holding onto you for dear life with the fear of you vanishing out of nowhere, his face buried on the crook of your neck and hand resting on your chest directly above your heart to feel it beating through his palm. Your arms securely wrapped around him in reassurance makes him feel more safe and at peace than he ever did. He pulls away slightly to look up, seeing you already staring at him with fondness and comfort.

“Don’t leave me again, please.” He croaks like a lost child, voice cracking.

You kissed his forehead. “I’d return to you in a heartbeat, my Jason.”

Jason stares into your gentle eyes, snuggling closer to you and intwining his legs with yours to feel every part of you. “Can’t live without you, baby.” He whispered.

You smiled. Perhaps, it was time to tell him.

Even death can’t severe the emotional bond and love you have for each other, which leaves one option; together. Falling out of love was never in either of your vocabulary, anyway.

For I can’t help falling in love with you

© ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴅᴇsʀɪsᴇ. sᴛᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ, ᴘʟᴀɢɪᴀʀɪᴢɪɴɢ, ᴏʀ ᴜsɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ғᴏʀ ᴍᴏɴᴇᴛᴀʀʏ ɢᴀɪɴ ɪs sᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ᴘʀᴏʜɪʙɪᴛᴇᴅ. ᴀsᴋ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪɴɢ.

[silkscream]

angel unaware

ꨄ︎ pairing: peter parker x silk!reader

ꨄ︎ synopsis: you’ve known peter since you were fifteen, shortly after you were both bitten by the same spider. it was too obvious that you’d end up loving him. as you drift apart during your first year of college, you’re not sure how much longer you can keep dancing in circles with him.

ꨄ︎ genres: best friends to lovers, angst, idiots in love, slowburn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort

ꨄ︎ tags: rated explicit/18+ (smut), alcohol usage, mention of drug usage, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), characters are 19, mild violence, gun violence (there is a school shooting in the beginning but there aren't too many details)

ꨄ︎ wc: 13.8k

ꨄ︎ notes: omg. happy valentine’s day y’all. i’ve been working on this Big Bertha for literal MONTHS and i’m so happy to finish it and share it with you. thank you for being around even though i haven’t been the most active; this is a gift to you <3

ꨄ︎ listen to the playlist!

The spider bit you first.

It isn’t until you’re fifteen that someone else finds out about it.

In many ways, you should’ve known. The symptoms, the hypervigilance, the strange, gradual transition of filling out your body. You blame puberty first, but this feels more than abnormal. It's almost as if it's bursting through your skin. The only other person who seems to mirror your coming of age is Peter Parker, whose twitchy nature exacerbates the longer high school goes on.

You keep your head low because there’s no reason for you to tell anyone about your powers. Not even the boy about whom you’re positive shares the same curse as you.

But then the videos come out. Red and blue lycra flying through buildings, a blurred figure saving cats from trees, webs shooting and swaying as onlookers stare like it’s a circus act. He calls himself Spider-man and you think it’s awfully corny.

You’d be a fool to think that you were safe from the antics of Avengers propaganda, rubble, and ash blocking your way to school on more days than not. You’d be a fool to think that you could evade the classic tropes of American violence that force the president to lament about "unthinkable tragedies" multiple times a year. At this moment, you’re a fool for getting yourself locked in a janitor’s closet while there’s an active shooter at Midtown High.

Your breath hitches when the doorknob jangles in front of you. On instinct, you stick yourself to the ceiling, far in the corner with your senses on fire. You’ve never actually had to attack anyone before. You aren’t entirely sure how this would play out with a gun involved.

Peter Parker’s labored breaths fill your eardrums, and without thinking, you shoot your webs directly at him. He stumbles, clumsily tripping over an empty mop bucket. He looks up at you in confusion. He’s wearing half of his suit.

"You. You just–"

"Shut the fuck up," you hiss, covering his mouth with your palm. In the darkness, your eyes widen. Someone is near.

It’s a stupid ordeal. The crime happening, this meet-cute, the way your senses feel haywire being this close to him. Both of you are holding your breath, your heart is pounding erratically in your chest, and blood is rushing through your ears.

The day ends with you and Peter making it out of the closet through a vent and the shooter getting subdued by the police. A troubled sophomore who barely knew how to use the gun in the first place made it easy for Spider-man to intercept the weapon the moment the kid raised his arms.

Peter follows you home that afternoon like a stray cat, babbling over a game of twenty questions that you aren’t in the mood to entertain. Somehow, his presence leaves your chest feeling warm and light, and you realize that you don’t mind the company. Twenty questions become routine.

He’s the only one who gets it, of course.

He tells you about the Avengers, ignoring the way you scoff under your breath. Secretly, you’re only a little jealous. Not because you want that kind of prestige or even a fancy suit, but because at least there’s a group of freaks out there who know.  "How come you didn’t tell me?" Peter asks you. He looks small on your couch despite his sixteen-year-old sleeper build and the fact that he’s taking up more than half of your space.

"What do you mean?"

"If you knew about Spider-Man this whole time… why didn’t you say something?"

"What, like I was supposed to seek you out on the street with a mask on?"

He gives you a pointed look. "You had a feeling about me. In school. Didn’t you?"

You don’t answer, which, to Peter, is an answer in itself.

"I didn’t want to be any trouble. It’s my burden to deal with," you say slowly, blinking up at him.

Burden. Peter smooths the word over in his mind and watches the way your nimble fingers pick at the threads of your sweater. He suddenly feels guilty for pestering you with questions, especially after the trauma of today.

"It’s not a burden," he says carefully. You don’t protest, but he knows there’s a certain level of repression inside you that won't let you give this part of yourself up. As if his knowing about your powers would only be that — knowing. He keeps staring at your fingers.

"You don’t have web shooters?" He gestures to your hands.

"Comes from my fingertips."

"No fucking way. You gotta show me."

"You saw it today," you chuckle as you take a breath.

"Not really," he pouts. The amber-brown of his eyes is annoyingly irresistible, and you know it because of how hot the back of your neck suddenly feels. There’s a hint of a taunting smile on his face, as if he knows.

You take him to the fire escape outside your bedroom window. It’s barely past five and it’s already gotten dark. Luckily, your bedroom faces an empty alley.

"I’m not some circus act, just so you know," you warn him.

"Please," he tuts. "If anything, we both are. Two arachno-freaks."

"You should rebrand as that," you say with a grin.

You shoot a web to the fire escape railing above you, holding yourself up and swinging like you're in P.E. climbing a rope. You feel ridiculous, to say the least. You quickly shoot more webs after a quick scan of your surroundings to swaddle yourself in something resembling a cocoon. It hangs like a playground swing from the metal above.

"Holy shit! Does it ever… run out? Do you get web blocks? Does it come out of anywhere else–"

"I’m not answering that." Your cheeks heat up at the insinuation.

"Sorry, just curious." He holds his palms up in defense, then reaches to touch a fingertip to the silk holding you together. It feels soft like cotton candy and is much less sticky than what came out of his web shooters.

He asks you to swing with him, and for some reason, you say yes. You don’t like to swing very much, and if you do, you try to look for construction sites or abandoned scaffolding to evade attention. Tonight, however, the New York City lights look warm against the velvety backdrop of the sky, and you decide that flying through the air with someone else feels better than doing it alone.

____

He doesn’t understand your desire to stay under the radar. Whenever he brings it up, you take the opportunity to bring up the New York City disasters that have gone underway before the two of you even graduate. If anything, you’ve been a decent backup, but you refuse to be in the public eye. You don’t want to be Spider-girl.

But you don’t mind swinging around the city in your handmade suit, spun and woven together with the silk that flows straight from your fingertips. It’s one thing that Peter’s jealous of, but it helps him when he needs to patch up a wound when he’s on the go with you.

Peter comes through your window with a red gash on his thigh. You can smell him before you see him.

"Ugh, you broke the streak. Five days without a scratch. That’s a record for you, Parker," you sigh, already rummaging through your drawers for the usual first-aid kit.

"I’m fine." He winces as he crouches down carefully on the floor. You’ve gotten good at minding your business and not asking about his wounds, at least not ones that aren’t too deep into the flesh. He knows it would only hurt you if you knew.

"And yet you’re here."

"I wanted to see you. You know I always want to see you."

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You kneel before him, pouring hydrogen peroxide onto the gash as you dab gently with a hand towel. He hisses and grabs your forearm with more force than he intends to.

"You’ll be fine," you reassure him gently.

"Yeah. I could've done it, you know," he says as he carefully holds your gaze.

"‘S’fun sometimes," you reply without looking at him. Carefully, you wrap gauze around his leg. "When I was little, my neighbor and I used to play House, but it always turned into, like… Hospital. And I’d pretend to be a nurse and take care of her, I’d tuck her into bed, and I’d give her lollipops from my Halloween stash for being a good patient."

Peter chuckles. He wobbles slightly as he stands up with your help.

"Am I a good patient?"

"Mm. A very brave boy," you say as you pat his cheek.

"What, I don’t get a treat?"

"Your treat is staying alive." You take him by the wrist towards your living room couch.

He doesn’t know what he’d do without you. It’s not right for him to think of you as an extension of himself, but he often yearns for your presence like a phantom limb whenever you aren’t on patrol with him. He realizes you're the yin to his yang.

It excites him, the images of you two that end up on the Internet. How good you look together. You, on the other hand, dread any semblance of perception by the world.

"People are catching on, you know. Ned found a subreddit on you the other day," Peter murmurs into your lap.

You snort, rolling your eyes the way you always do. You fiddle with the soft strands of his hair. It’s second nature to you. "Ned needs to reduce his screen time tenfold."

"Rabbit."

You sigh dramatically at the nickname. He’d adopted it after the many jumpscares he’d give you when he’d sneak into your room at night. You’d become so accustomed to him that your spider-sense would dull when it came to Peter. He was your source of comfort.

"What, Pete?"

"Why don’t you patrol with me?"

"You know why." It’s too stressful. Too public. Too many run-ins with death that you can anticipate.

"It’s better when you’re around."

"You’re a big boy, Peter," you murmur. Your hand slides across his scalp again, this time with your fingertips settling in the space behind his ears. You aren’t looking at him; instead, you are watching the documentary on the television at a low volume. He crumples at your touch.

"May says you’re my guardian angel. Every time something really bad has happened, it always worked out because you were there."

"I mean, it probably helps when you have another Spider-person as a backup."

"I think she’s right, though."

You don’t say anything. You’re tempted to reply with something sardonic or self-deprecating. You put too much faith in me. But you can’t – he’s looking at you with something that you can’t fathom. Something earnest and entirely too fragile. You have to look away.

He hums, sighing into a tattered copy of Hamlet. "I can’t deal with any more Shakespeare."

"You’re such a slow reader despite being a goddamn genius."

"Did you just say something nice about me?" Peter raises a brow.

"Oh my God, relax, Big Bang Theory."

He scoffs and swallows down a smart-ass remark. A grin lingers in his mouth as he settles back into the book.

____

You’re apart from Peter for the first time since age sixteen. You don’t tell him – you don’t tell anyone – but you decide on an out-of-state university because you don’t want to feel tethered to him. Your friends consider you and Peter a package deal, and yes, he’s probably the first real best friend you’ve ever had, but the gnawing inside of you telling you that distance is needed doesn’t stop.

You, the black sheep, are the antithesis of your hero of a best friend, despite being bitten by the same spider. You’ve always wondered if your story was supposed to play out like some sort of Shakespearean tragedy because of your bond with Peter, so you decide to take your mind off of it. At least it won’t be as painful as severing it completely.

It feels free to be away from all the chaos. In Rhode Island, you can focus on your art and fold your feelings away in a neat little envelope. You’d rather die than let any of that out, especially when Peter insists on such frequent FaceTime calls.

Sometimes, you fall asleep to the sound of his voice. He tells you about taking a train down to Providence in the middle of September to visit you like some kind of long distance boyfriend. The thought makes something in your stomach bloom and stagger in the same way. He doesn’t keep his promise – chem labs are already kicking his ass halfway to Thanksgiving break, not to mention the crime rate in New York City rockets beyond normal.

Thanksgiving comes, and both of you are the same. Peter is exactly as boyish as you left him three months ago, though his brown hair has grown longer and he wears blue-light readers to help with the mild headaches he gets from staring at screens.

He isn't attached to your hip like you expected. Your week off is filled with missed texts and a marathon of TV shows about broken women—the kind with dark humor and falling in love with priests.

The next time you see him, your roommate is out of town. It's not an unusual occurrence given how little she spends time in the dorm, always elsewhere with her new boyfriend.

Peter takes up so much space in your bed that you almost offer to push the two twin beds together, but the feeling of his warmth is too comforting. Propped against the wall, you’re hip-to-hip with him as you scroll through Netflix on your laptop.

You can feel him staring. It becomes routine, or maybe it’s your senses, but you can always tell when he’s merely observing you, watching you carefully like ripples on a pond. You've never really chastised him about it, but it doesn't help that you know he can tell when you're nervous. He has you memorized.

He likes the way you look when you concentrate. Sometimes, when you’re deep in thought, he likes to take his thumb and smooth out the ridges of your furrowed brows even though you end up swatting him away. When he does this now, you look up at him with wide, doe eyes.

"Still as indecisive as ever."

"I have to be, otherwise you’ll just put on Gilmore Girls," you scoff.

"You’re the one who showed me that!" Peter protests.

"And then it was the only thing you wanted to watch to the point where I genuinely considered locking you out of my Netflix account!"

He doesn’t bother to argue, instead resorting to poking you in the side. You squirm immediately, yelping as he continues. He flashes you a leering grin as you whine in dissent, flinching from the feather-like touch of his fingertips dancing across your skin.

"You’re so annoying," you huff, curling your body toward the wall.

"And you love it."

More than you’d ever know.

You pause, rolling your eyes at him. You contemplate kicking him again just to get a rise out of him, anything other than the short silence between you that feels more present than it should be. Your stomach feels warm at his proximity, but then again, Peter’s built like a human furnace anyway.

When you attempt to playfully shove him, he catches your wrist with quick reflexes until the two of you are tangled together. It’s easy to fight with him when you’re both running off the same biological fuel. When he ends up on top of you, you forget how to breathe.

The two of you stare at each other like this, as if frozen in time. It’s you who looks away first, then back to his big brown eyes, settling a palm to his cheek. You can feel how hard he is. You wonder if he knows.

It’s something you’ve only thought about in your subconscious, in dreams, or in moments when you’re bandaging his wounds. How would it feel to have his skin all over yours? It’s a selfish thought, but it rings in your brain without warning at times like these, times of such closeness. The spider bit the two of you for a reason. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

It’s a curious thing for sure, but there are doors you don’t want to open yet.  

"One episode and then I pick a movie," you mumble.

____

You don’t tell him about transferring when you come back for Christmas break. It feels embarrassing, despite knowing that he’d be ecstatic about the news. RISD proved to be too difficult for your one-track mind as you found yourself sleeping in more and more, flaking on the most rigorous of classes due to your mood. You’d successfully gotten into Pratt for the next semester and were fully moved out, thankfully. But when you see Peter in the arms of another, you wish you hadn't left.

You should’ve expected it, maybe. Peter had always had a thing for Michelle Jones but could never quite get past the friend zone. It seems as though your absence has nudged him further.

No, that feels too selfish to say.

But it’s still too difficult to bear in the loneliness of December, knowing that when the New Year’s parties hit, you’re still the black sheep. Even in a shiny little dress.

You don’t see him much over winter break, but he gets you a silver necklace for Christmas with a spider pendant hanging on it. It’s more sentimental than you expect, and it’s the nicest gift you’ve ever received. It certainly beats the Lego set you’d gotten for him.

Now, in your black cocktail dress, you smile dopily at Ned Leeds as the rest of the room counts down at the television, waiting for the ball to drop. It’s bittersweet when you remember last year’s countdown, in which Peter insisted the two of you swung out to Manhattan to watch the ball drop in person. You remember how much you wanted to kiss him then, but you didn’t. Thank God for his hero's anonymity and the impediment of his suit.

"Five, four, three, two, one – Happy New Year!"

Makeshift confetti falls to the ground as you watch him and MJ kiss. There’s enough champagne in your system for your heart to grow warm at the sight of it.  

____

January is cold. Desolate. Even if you have your friends around you in New York, the place that feels most like home, you’ve come to realize. But there’s still something missing, something lacking. Like you’re inside a familiar place inside a dream.

You ignore the itch, learning to numb it with champagne. It worked on New Year’s, and now it’s been working for several weeks. You don’t leave your apartment.

Even though Peter Parker is a text or phone call away, you fade into the background of his life, watching him through newsreels and YouTube videos. You’re on his mind more than you’d expect. He doesn’t know why, though he does realize that your absence bothers him in small ways.

Sometimes, when he’s on patrol, he’s frustrated by his loneliness, especially in the dead of winter. You were never one to play the hero – he knew that – but it was still comforting to have someone to patch up his wounds or soften his fall. The webs that flow from your fingertips have always been strong, enough to form hammocks in between the corners of his bedroom or a makeshift suit.

And then there are the dreams. They feel real, vivid, and much too physical for something that his mind could conjure in his unconscious. You had only kissed him once before (in real life, that is), at a stupid basement party in the ninth grade, before the two of you were friends, but shortly after the initial spider bite. Although it’s something that’s only been brought up as a joke these past few years, Peter remembers vividly how hard his heart was pounding when the glass bottle landed on you after what felt like an excruciatingly long spin. He could never forget the feeling. He wonders if you feel the same.

It’s not something he should be thinking about right now. Especially when you’re not his girlfriend. He’d rather die a thousand deaths than have you know what you do to him in his dreams when you’re nothing but a reverie of your own silk-spun webs and soft, bare skin. You treat him like prey. He loves it.

Peter can nearly smell you, that sandalwood-citrus shampoo of yours, and your warm breath over his face. Your little whispers of praise, your tiny whimpers. The image of your eyes struggling to stay open while you’re underneath him is burned into his brain.

"I missed you," you say breathlessly. "Missed you so much."

God, how is this a dream? He can feel you so clearly. Until he doesn't, and he wakes up with a groan, an exhale, and an excess of sweat on his brow. Not to mention a dampness below him.

"Fucking Christ," he curses under his breath.

The ghost of you is on his bedroom ceiling, in the corner of his room. Something nearby smells like you, even though you haven’t been in his room in ages. This makes something in his chest hurt until he decides to get out of bed.

He wants to see you, but he feels guilty knowing what he's just dreamt about. He can’t help that the person that makes him feel the most human is the only other one who shares the venom in his blood.

Sometimes he follows you. It feels almost meditative for him to sit on a rooftop and watch you from the window of your favorite cafe, reading and writing and breathing. The brightness of his phone screen illuminates his face as his eyes scan over your contact. Your face smiles back at him, but there’s a distance considering the lack of texts between the two of you over the past month. He sighs as he zooms in on your location – the two of you had shared each others’ years ago and only found it convenient to keep.

Peter doesn’t know why he’s feeling all this yearning all of a sudden – sometimes he recognizes the feeling in his body and he thinks of you and he thinks of safety. Other times, like now, he knows that it only breeds guilt.

But he misses being quiet with you, misses the mundane intimacies of him poking you and you fixing his hair. All the small expressions you make with your face that only he notices. There’s something empty in the space he usually holds for you in his heart, and he doesn’t know why.

He has to see you. Maybe then, something in his brain will click, or he’ll see you as the old friend you’ve always been, and he can blame the heat in his body on his subconscious.

You’re predictable with your routine, because this afternoon, he finds you in your usual spot by the window at your favorite cafe again. You’re writing in your journal with your noise-canceling headphones on, so Peter’s presence is completely unknown to you. After he gets his coffee, he watches you from afar, just for a little bit.

As if on cue, you already know. The moment you skip a song and a millisecond of silence fills the space in your head, you feel him immediately. You always know when he’s around.

"Peter," you murmur without thinking. Your gaze is soft but carries the surprise of a deer caught in headlights.

"Hey," he smiles. "Mind if I sit here?"

He gestures to the armchair across from you, and you nod.

Peter knows how to coax your warmth from you, because within minutes, he has you talking about school, what’s on your mind, and why it feels better to be holed up in a cafe than sit miserably at home. You do the same for him, though you notice he’s more reserved for some reason – he’s tight-lipped about MJ, and doesn’t delve into the details of his hero work. He prefers to bombard you with questions instead, listening intently to your most recent fixations or the newest movie you saw alone in theaters.

"You replaced me yet, Rabbit?" he teases you.

"Never," you scoff, tipping your coffee cup to hide any embarrassment on your face. You haven’t heard him call you that in so long. "You know me. I’m a lone wolf."

"Pratt seems like your crowd though, no? No one at Midtown High was a match for you. You were way too cool."

"Mmm, true, yet you’re my best friend."

"Hey!"

Your laugh is like a song to him; he can’t help but smile ear to ear when he hears it.

"The only person who talks to me at school is this guy Cam from my ceramics class. He’s actually from Brooklyn so we took the train together to get home and he’s around for break, which is cool."

Peter’s face nearly goes cold at the sound of someone else’s name, though he stays composed.

"Fun. Are you two…" He gestures vaguely.

"We hooked up like, once, but I don’t really know where it’s going." You say it so nonchalantly like it’s an afterthought. You’re not even looking at Peter.

"If he fucks anything up, you know where to find me."

You smile, rolling your eyes in that bashful way you do when you shrug things off, and it’s more apparent to Peter now how much he adores all your little quirks and mannerisms. He realizes that he might have them all memorized.

"We’re actually going to a party tonight if you want to come. A friend of a friend’s birthday party in Manhattan, I think? I think her name was Anna?"

"Oh, my friend Gwen knows her and invited me!"

"Small world." You swallow down the image of Peter at the party with an ESU girl for a second, and it feels rough in your throat. But you’ll manage. You always do. "Is MJ coming?"

Peter shakes his head. "Ah, she’s in Philly visiting family. I’ll probably go with Gwen and her boyfriend Harry, though."

You feel shame in your relief. It’s sickening how much you have to bury your desire and your tenderness because you know better. You know that even though the two of you were bitten by the same spider, it doesn’t mean you’re necessarily compatible. Sometimes you think your attraction to Peter is some biological fluke determined by the cells in both of your bodies. And then you think, God, how can anyone look into his brown eyes and not feel a thing?

You're both warm in your chests as you part ways, waiting for your next meeting.

____

The night of the party, Peter revels in the sight of you wearing your spider necklace, which sparkles under the flashing lights of the penthouse apartment you’re both in. His mood dampens when he notices the tall boy attached to your hip like a guard dog.

It’s a stupid game and he knows it. The way he pretends not to see you or acknowledge your presence is cruel, but it feels safe for now. He doesn’t feel ready. He’s high off some gummy that Harry had given him an hour earlier, and it’s still fogging his senses, and even though he can be cloudy and nonchalant at this party, his paranoia precedes him. It feels like you’re everywhere.

He shouldn’t feel this way. Why does he feel this way? You’re his best friend and you have your own life that’s separate from his – he knew this would happen the moment he found out you were going to different colleges. Despite that, there’s a piece of you tethered to him that he can’t bear to cut off. It makes him feel sane, the parts of you that you’ve given him.

But now, he sees you laughing and swaying your hips with someone else’s hands resting on your waist and it makes his face burn.

"Dude," Gwen snaps her fingers in front of his face. Peter blinks back at her. "Are you good?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"Harry wanted to do a shot, you want to join?"

Peter nods numbly, following the blonde to the kitchen. He watches everyone else in the kitchen pour shots and drinks like they are rehearsed marionettes. Harry snaps him out of his daze once he slams down a shot glass full of vodka in front of him.

"Drink up, Parker!" Harry cheers.

The alcohol burns Peter’s throat, but he feels the head rush and the warmth. It feels good, makes him feel looser. Malleable. Invincible, maybe, if he took two or three more. But he knows he has to pace himself. He hates that his default setting is to look for you no matter where he is. But when he scans the room this time, you’re downing a glass of champagne alone.

Your body feels heavy at the moment, so you don’t register him plopping down on the couch next to you. You wake up to the sound of his voice as you always do.

"Hey, you."

"Hey."

Your glass of champagne is empty, so you take the beer bottle out of Peter’s hand without saying a word, and he lets you. He watches you gulp a bit of it down. Maybe you’re a little too drunk. Maybe you’re imagining the way his eyes scan your body.

You’re drunk enough to feel social, but truthfully, you’re deathly afraid of being alone with anyone right now. Being alone with someone would make you feel much too raw and vulnerable, so you convince Peter to introduce you to his friends that you’ve never met, and you try to cope with the fact that they look like they were cut straight out of a magazine.

"Peter talks about you all the time," Gwen gushes, sipping from her champagne flute.

"He does?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course," she nods incessantly.

"Only incredible reviews all around," Harry nods, drunkenly slinging an arm around Peter’s shoulders. The brunette smiles sheepishly, bashfully. You raise an eyebrow at him along with a coy smile.

"Should hope so," you tease. "He wouldn’t have gotten through high school without me."

It’s mostly a lie considering Peter was the star student and you were barely second to him. Maybe fifth or sixth. In a way, your words are true, because Peter’s agreeing with you.

You zone out as he starts a story from junior year and you have half the mind to chime in when needed. Harry suddenly puts a whisky coke in your hand and you don’t want to refuse out of politeness, but you know the mix of different alcohol will have your head banging in the morning. Peter downs half of his within a millisecond.

"What?" he asks when he notices you making a face.

"Since when do you drink so much?"

"It’s a party," he shrugs.

"Peter, when I brought you to your first party, you refused to drink anything that wasn’t a fruity canned cocktail. You won’t go near wine let alone whiskey."

"A semester at ESU changes you," Harry interjects. "He’s still a little fruity, though."

Peter chastises him as you and Gwen laugh. As the boys bicker, Gwen gets your attention. She asks you mundane questions, like your major, your zodiac sign, and what you thought of the season finale of White Lotus. You’re grateful when she beckons you to follow her to the kitchen to make another whiskey coke.

Her glossed lips twist to the side, eyes bright with a teasing glance. She has the ability to make you feel calm, almost excited to be there.

"He is obsessed with you," she sneers.

"What do you mean?"

"He just talked about you so much when we met him that I had to stalk your Insta, and I was like Jesus Christ, that makes so much sense. If I wasn’t with Harry I’d snatch you up myself. And then when I met his girlfriend and I was confused that it wasn’t you. Unless you’re doing that, like, exes-that-are-still-best-friends thing."

You blush and nearly choke on your drink. "Peter and I never dated."

"Seriously?"

You say nothing, only forcing an amused smile. You don’t know where to put her assumptions, but you sure as hell can’t keep them.

"I’m actually, uh, here with someone," you mutter, pretending to look around. Briefly, you lock eyes with Peter on the couch, who’s pretending to listen to Harry's rambling. Your eyes flit away quickly. "I think I might step outside for a smoke and look for him."

You don’t have to turn around to know that Peter’s eyes are following you. Or maybe you’re just drunk and projecting. Gwen’s bubbly nature makes her seem like the type to gossip, and just because your best friend happened to talk about you doesn’t mean that there was anything under the surface. But then you notice his slightly nervous energy tonight, the silver necklace around your neck, and the last time he visited you months before, when his body was so close to yours.

A pair of hands situate themselves on your waist and it makes you jump. The warmth feels different, as does the sudden smell of sharp cologne, and then you feel your heart drop the slightest bit when you hear his voice.

"Was looking for you," Cam slurs. You can smell the beer breath as he exhales on your neck, making you shiver.

"You sure? Because you’ve been MIA for like forty-five minutes."

You try to keep your voice even, sighing when he plants a kiss on your neck. Any animosity in your tone is completely ignored.

"I was catching up with some people that I wanted to introduce you to," he says, tugging you along by the wrist like a child. You pull up a chair to a firepit surrounded by a group of strangers, and the charade of icebreakers returns. There’s no point in remembering anyone’s name.

You think about returning inside to look for Peter or maybe Gwen and Harry, but being on Cam’s lap is distracting you. At some point, a joint a passed around, and the feeling of the boy’s arms around you makes it easy to melt into nothing.

____

You’re right. You always are. Peter Parker doesn’t drink, and he’s never drunk this much in his entire life. He’s been sitting in the bathtub for… how long? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that his senses were dulled to the point of detachment and he needed to get alone to ground himself.

He’s so out of it that he doesn’t realize someone’s knocking on the door of the bathroom, and his reaction time is too slow before Harry barges in.

"Are you hiding in the bathtub?" Harry squints.

"No, I’m just… hangin’ out," Peter stammers.

Harry snaps out of the facade of a confused daze and shrugs, unbuckling his belt with nonchalance in front of the toilet.

"Dude!"

"What? I’m turned around!"

Sighing, Peter looks around his surroundings. Generic brand shampoo and conditioner. A deformed bar of soap. A red solo cup with clear liquid. He remembers suddenly – he’d filled an empty cup he found with sink water before getting in the tub.

His brain swims with dizziness and mild nausea that mix up his stomach. Gulping down the water, his throat burns immediately, only to realize that it isn’t water at all. It’s fucking vodka and seltzer. Harry’s turned around again, cackling before washing his hands.

"Idiot."

"Fuckingshitjesusfuckingchrist," Peter groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You should just drink straight vodka at this point, man."

"Oh, I do," Harry agrees. He crouches down, squatting to meet Peter at eye level. A warm palm taps Peter’s cheek. "You good, bro?"

"Mmm," Peter nods. His breathing turns shallow as he hunches over, pulling his knees into his chest.

"Jesus, you need to get home, don’t you?"

"‘m fine. You go home."

"Gwen’s been nagging me to for the past ten minutes, so I might. I’d let you crash on the couch, but we’re getting up early to go upstate. How are you getting home, bro?"

Harry frowns when he realizes Peter is barely listening. "Pete!"

He grimaces at Harry’s constant fidgeting. With an annoyed sigh, he shoos the other boy away with flailing arms.

"Heard you," he slurs. "I’ll– I’ll share an Uber with Y/N."

Harry sighs with exasperation, pulling Peter’s arm forcefully to get him out of the tub and down to the living room of the house. Peter is dizzy in his vision, clumsy in his movements, but finds clarity when he glances towards the couch and sees you sitting there with furrowed brows.

"Peter? Are you okay?" you ask.

"Yeah, absolutely not," Harry says. "Gwen and I gotta head home and we’re leaving early tomorrow so he can’t crash. You guys are like, neighbors, right?"

You swallow a lump in your throat, briefly turning your head to glance back at Cam, then back at Peter. He looks at you with a guilty cadence, though his eyes lull with a tiredness that is unusual for him. He’s corpse-like, still hanging onto Harry’s shoulder like a lifeline. It makes the pit of your stomach stir.

It’s unlike him, to be this drunk. The only other time Peter has been this drunk was once in high school, when he was slurring his words all night and determined to clutch you like a teddy bear in his twin-sized bed. You recall his warmth and how his post-puberty figure appeared gargantuan to your body. Foreign, but warm. Comforting. When you think about taking Peter home tonight, you feel like you aren’t allowed to lay next to a body that doesn’t belong to you.

"Yeah, I’ll take him home."

____

"Coulda swung home myself," the boy mumbles. You hit him on the arm and give him a chastising look. Thankfully, your current Uber driver speaks a limited amount of English, not to mention the radio is on blast.

"You couldn’t have. You’re so fucking drunk, you’d kill yourself," you hiss in a low tone.

"Not if you were with me."

"Well, I wouldn’t be. I wasn’t even gonna go home tonight."

"Ah. Of course. Cam,” he exasperates. “Is he your boyfriend?"

You sigh. "No, he’s not."

"Right, you don’t… you don’t do boyfriends," Peter murmurs, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

The car stops in front of Peter’s apartment building.

"Thank you," you say stiffly to the Uber driver as you drag Peter out of the car. The elevator ride is awkward and quiet, as is the fumbling of keys when Peter tries to unlock the door.

He leans on your body as you coerce him into his bedroom, with him thumping onto his bottom bunk.

"Jesus. I feel like if Richie Rich called you an Uber himself you could’ve easily made it up the elevator by yourself. Right, Pete?"

"Mhmm. He’s such. A worry wart. For some rea–" Peter makes a gulping sound that makes your face pale. Immediately, you grab his trash bin and place it between his feet.

"‘m not gonna puke."

"I think you might, Peter."

He pauses and examines you as you kneel in front of him. He’s so drunk, so awfully drunk, but he has enough sense in him to take the caution that the anxious voice in the back of his head commands. But fuck, you look so pretty. He doesn’t know what to do about it.

Peter takes a strand of your hair in his hands and curls it around his finger. His shallow breaths feel louder than they should be. Or maybe they’re yours. He can’t really tell.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shrugs. "I won’t vomit. I promise."

You sigh.

"I should get going–"

"Can you stay for a little?"

Swallowing, you nod. You get into bed with him, because, quite frankly, you’ve had your fair share of alcohol tonight, and laying down in Peter’s warm bed makes you want to melt off the bone.

"I'm sorry for fucking up your night." Peter turns to lie on his side and drapes an arm carefully around you. His hand is feather-bare on your hip.

"You didn’t."

"You were gonna go home with Cam."

"It’s fine, Peter. I wanted to make sure you were safe."

"Like a chore."

"Not like a chore."

"Yeah, okay."

He does that thing again – holds a strand of your hair in his hands. He runs his fingertips nimbly across your scalp as if he’s handling an injured bird. As if he’s afraid you’d bite.

Your eyes are huge, like flying saucers. He used to say that all the time, especially whenever you came to his apartment after experimenting with any new drugs. You only felt safe with him – you had told him that – and he took care of you and your big eyes and your tendencies toward erratic behavior. He always knew how to calm you down. And now, in your adult lives, you were doing it for him.

You let him keep his hands in your hair and he doesn’t know why. There’s a theory he wants to test – one that he dreams about even when he knows he shouldn’t. He thinks about it in vulnerable moments. He considers that maybe this is a vulnerable moment.

His fingertips trace your face between the edge of your eyebrow and the baby hairs on your hairline. He taps along your temple gently, smoothing across the softness of your skin until he sculpts down your cheek and jaw. He blinks once, then twice. And then he rests the pad of his thumb on the corner of your mouth.

Almost automatically, you part your lips. Your mouth is pink, dusted with a purplish-red in the center from the merlot you’d drank hours before, and he wants to lick it off you.

He feels your heart beating, too, and you can hear his. It's a loud bang that resonates in between your eardrums. It’s that shared venom that makes your bodies so acquainted with one another. You briefly consider whether a human body can overheat and burn away simply by being touched by another. You wonder how human the two of you can really be.

You close your eyes.

"What are you doing?" you whisper. Your voice is gossamer-thin, barely there, but you’re so close to him that he hears it so clearly.

"Whatever you want." His voice is dripping honey.

You shake your head, still with your eyes closed. Peter’s hand descends to your jaw, thumb on your bone, with the rest of his fingers warming up your neck. You feel like you might just choke on the feeling of it.

"No, that’s not fair. That’s not… okay."

"What?"

"You’re drunk, Peter. Don’t do that to me. Please."

"What am I doing?"

Your face scrunches up as your eyes open to look at him with a pained expression. You have to close them again. You don’t want to look at him. You want his hands off of you, so you push them away.

"You’re with MJ."

"I… I know."

Your face is crumpled as you inch out of his bed. You’re back to kneeling on the floor in front of him.

"Please don’t leave," Peter whispers.

"I’m tired. I’ll sleep on the top bunk," you mumble. You try not to let him catch you sniffling.

"Goodnight.” You don’t respond.

He falls asleep shortly after and smells your perfume even in his dreams. When he wakes up, he smells you. But you’re nowhere to be found. There’s only the cold air coming from a crack of his window left slightly open.

____

It’s not your fault, but you’ve broken his heart a million times. The night of the party was the most recent one. To be fair, he had also broken your heart. He was just too fucking drunk to remember most of it.

You’ve become a ghost, barely texting Peter back, and when you do, your responses are short and clipped. You don’t have much time to hang out, and he realizes he doesn’t either, not when he has MJ to spend time with along with his Spider-Man duties.

But he would make time for you if you wanted it. He wonders if you know that. He feels too ashamed to tell you that himself.

It’s been like this before, and he’s been able to cope. The way you’re on his brain and won’t leave —stuck on him like a parasite. It’s his fault, he decides, not yours. He knows he’s not being fair. Not to you, not to MJ, not to himself. But he keeps it all in and hopes it doesn’t boil over.

Truthfully, Peter wants to avoid everyone. He understands now why you abhor winter to the degree that you always have. The desolation is too much to bear when there’s not much sunlight in January to activate dopamine receptors, so Peter sleeps in longer than he should. Late enough for Aunt May to get on his case about it.

"Something’s up with you," MJ accuses him on a Thursday evening. It’s one of their ritual movie nights with pizza and wine.

"Huh? Nothing’s up," Peter shrugs.

"No, I know you. Something’s wrong."

"I’m fine, Em." A lie.

It’s a miracle that Michelle Jones sees through Peter’s bullshit because it means that she has the incentive to protect herself from any future bullshit that may break her later on. Peter is too numb to process any of it. There was the refusal of admission, the attempt to keep up the wall of his emotions, which crashed down soon enough by the time MJ was out of the door.

He thinks he should call you, but he doesn’t.

____

Peter is used to scrapes and bruises. He’s seen more than enough charred flesh than a nineteen-year-old should. You had never asked to be his caretaker, but over the course of years, that was what you became. His guardian angel.

He used to make excuses to come over after patrol, trying to coax you out of your nest of a room for just an evening. He'd always known you were far more talented than you gave yourself credit for when it came to spider abilities, but it felt more like a curse than a gift for you to bear.

Some nights, he dreams of you falling stories beneath him. Your face is covered in rubble and ash, and although his nightmares often start with this, he knows that somehow, it’s his fault. It feels visceral, the burning in his calloused hands. Torn lycra to show the dirt underneath his fingernails. Hot tears dripping.

He starts taking that Ambien you gave him years ago.

After that, each day passes like he’s trapped in a nightmarish purgatory. No, that’s an exaggeration. He’s just a victim of a New York winter, and he misses you more than he wants to admit to himself or anyone else.

"I can take care of myself." And with that, the image of you disappears.

"I know," he murmurs softly. He’s always known. It is insignificant in comparison to how badly he wants to take care of you if you let him. Your voice echoes in the cavern of his room. You get farther away by the second until you disappear completely, and he evidently wakes up.

Even in your worst state, he’s obsessed with your honeyed skin. It doesn’t matter the number of bruises or cuts – he caresses them all with his nimble fingertips, and he’s ready to kiss them until they heal. He thinks about this sometimes, how much he cares for you and your body. What he'd do if you just let him in, let him devour you however he pleases, and it disgusts him.

In his dreams where you’re hurt, he’s willing to sacrifice whatever he can so that you can revert to your clean, unbothered state. I’d never let anyone break you. It’s a prayer for him. One that he whispers in your ear whenever he can, at least in these dreams. In reality, he knows that he has to let you go because he knows you. Knows how much you want to be free and alone. How you can take care of yourself. You’re not a damsel in distress – you never have been. But Peter feels like he was made to care for you. It would gut him all the same regardless of whether you loved him or not, and he was willing.

When it’s real, he doesn’t know what to do. He didn’t ever think the two of you would be in this position.

He’s been in enough battles to know how these things end. Mr. Stark had walked him through it all and been by his side while the rest of the Avengers repaired the other broken bits of the universe.

Right now is one of those unique times, the quiet and wretched ones, where Peter is contemplating breath after breath before imagining the full picture. Shambles of the street he’s in. The ache of his bruised body and the blood that he sees from yours, that he shouldn’t have seen, because you said it yourself. You’re not a fucking hero. So why is your blood streaked on the palm of his hands?

The distance between you and Peter doesn’t matter – it never does. The moment you’d felt a dread stirring in your stomach, there was a sharp pain in your head that refused to leave unless the working adrenaline in your body was satiated. It wasn’t the same adrenaline that circulated within you from a night of debauchery – instead, it felt like poison. A compulsory kind of pain, a sharp jolt to your senses. Tonight, you’d felt Peter in danger, and it would’ve killed you if you couldn’t get to him. He'd been the destination you'd been dead set on by the end of the night because of your spider instincts.

The police broadcast was too muffled for you to understand much of it, but you picked out the parts where Spider-Man was mentioned and followed through on them. Although you didn’t fall into the shadow of his hero work, you still kept enough tabs on Peter to know where he would usually be on patrol. It wasn’t like he knew, or that you’d ever told him, but when he was starting out as another guard dog for the Avengers in high school, you needed to at least know his approximate location in the event that something went terribly wrong.

An explosion blasts in the center of a park, where the two of you would meet in the middle between Queens and Stark Tower. This is where you lay your courage down. This is where you find Spider-Man’s mangled body before anyone else does.

"Peter," you huff. "S’gonna be okay. You with me? I’m gonna make sure you’re okay."

He’s just less than conscious, the stretch of his animated eyes limited by his weakness. When he sees your face, however, his face glows – not that you can see it through his mask.

He says your name with a fervor that surprises you. His voice is raspy.

"‘m fine. I have to stay," he grunts, his pain palpable. You know that he’s telling the truth, but you don’t want to leave him alone in his misery.

"Peter. You’re hurt."

"You go home. I’ll come find you later. Just let me–"

"You’re fucking limping."

You had always carried yourself like a feather-like, lithe ghost. Quiet, whereas Peter was bold, despite the fact that his anxious nature had rendered him a boyish thing all these years. This is why he’s surprised that you carry him easily with your supernatural strength. He forgets that you have the same abilities as him. If anything, he’d think you were stronger than him in every way.

Even with his thick skin, he melts into something malleable, comfortable. The solace of your arms makes him feel better already.

A pang of small guilt rots away within him, knowing the circumstances of your last meeting. You’re too good. He didn’t deserve to be saved by you, to be patched up with your nimble fingers like he had been treated when he was younger and more naive.

"I can make it to my place, it’s okay," he rasps gently.

You don’t have to say anything, because bullshit radiates through the stern expression of your eyes, your mouth in a grimace. You had always been stubborn and today isn’t an exception. With your webs, you crochet a path for him toward your home, lifting and catching the boy effortlessly as you swing.

A gentle sigh escapes his mouth when the two of you crawl into the safety of your fire escape. The night is quiet behind you. When he looks at you, you have to look away, fixing your hair nervously or occupying your gaze anywhere but in his direction. His eyes are poignant in their longing, though you’re unsure of what he could be thinking. If he’s sorry about before. If he’s ashamed.

Your wispy webs wrap around the parts of him that hurt, but you wince when you check on him to see that the white fibers are slowly saturated with the dark crimson of his open wounds.

"Peter, you have to wash up," you whisper. "Shit’s gonna get infected. I can put some gauze on you after you shower."

He nods wordlessly when you ask him if he can manage the shower on his own. He feels vulnerable, and although your presence is always desired by him, he finds relief in the hot steam of your shower, alone with his thoughts. He’s still shaken from the explosion. Not completely catatonic, but tense. As if he isn’t in his body at all.

When Peter emerges from the bathroom, he looks like a stranger. Scars adorn his sides. Your face crumples at the sight of his fresh wounds.

"C’mere."

It doesn’t take you long to fix him up, cleaning his cuts and wrapping gauze around his stomach and chest. His quiet grunts startle you, as if he's a wild animal. Eyes screwed shut, brows cinched in pain. A heavy exhale and a mumbled apology followed.

You forgive him with a soft touch and a hushed whisper. He wishes the ache would stop. He wishes he could lie on your bed and have you whisper in his ear all night until the sound of your voice lulls him to sleep.

There aren’t many words exchanged, and you want to ask him why. If you did something. But then you think about the images on the news and his withered face, and you decide not to probe the sphere of trauma surrounding him. Peter has probably gone through more in the last twelve hours than you have in a week.

You stop him before he tries to make it out of your bedroom door and towards the living room.

"I don’t mind sleeping on the couch, I’ve done it before."

"It’s like sleeping on a rock, Parker. You just gone through God knows what," you chide. "Just… get in here."

As he breathes in and out, he nestles in your shoulder, his clean hair tickling your bare skin. There’s a nasty guilt that lurches from your sternum. As if you were the reason for his pain. For the state of his body. And you think back to the desperate look in Peter’s eyes the night you took him home from the party. Were you too cruel, then?

It’s like he steals the words from your mouth. He beats you to it.

"I’m sorry," Peter murmurs. His amber eyes blink up at you, unfathomable. You flash him a downturned grin.

"For what?"

"I feel like… there’s been a distance between us lately. And I don’t want that, because you’re my best friend. And now you’re taking care of me when you don’t have to. I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate it. That I, um, lo–," he stammers. He chews on his bottom lip. "You’re really good."

"‘m not all that good, Peter."

But of course, you are, he protests in his head. You are the moon and the stars and everything in between.

"I’m sorry for not being around."

"Not just your fault," you shrug. "Phone works both ways."

He knows you better than you think because, within seconds, his palm rests softly on your cheek, where he feels a hot tear.

"What’s up, Spidey?" he asks you. It makes you laugh.

"Shut up." You shake your head, trying to hide your face. The feeling of his thumb rubbing your cheek makes the tears flow even more. "I wouldn’t know what I’d do if something bad happened to you. If I couldn’t get to you. Or if you – if you were gone."

"I’m okay, Rabbit. We’re okay."

"Yeah," you chuckle, trying to hide your tears.

"Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried."

You feel warmer in his grasp. His small breaths fall on your arm as his body curls up next to you. He’s bigger than he’d been before back when you were teenagers. The jaw is chiseled and sharp. Not as soft and boyish as you once knew. With your senses, you can discern the steadiness of his heartbeat as his chest rises and falls into slumber. You fall asleep soon after, dreamless but full of warmth.

____

Waking up next to him is nothing new, but it’s been years. You never thought anything of it when the two of you were sixteen, staying up all night reading creepypastas and watching movies until you’d fall asleep on top of each other by four in the morning.

After a night’s sleep, Peter's sullen face is a bit brighter despite his dark circles. His limbs are entangled in yours, bodies fused together. Yin and yang. You can only assume that this is how it will always be.

You keep mental notes of him like trinkets. The uneven slant in his left eyebrow. The faint freckles dotted along his nose, the one near the corner of his mouth. The faint shadow of hollowed-out cheeks. Peter is still half-boy to you, and half-man, but you didn’t want to come to terms with it. Maybe he was something else. Half-ghost. Half-angel.

Slowly, over the course of a few weeks, he comes back to you again. Sitting together and reading at a cafe. The occasional 3 am swing. Walking around high at the 7-11.

"Did you like Rhode Island?" he asks over a joint one night.

You hum for a second, trying to come up with an acceptable answer. It wasn’t that you hated being in Rhode Island. It was that you hated being away from him.

So instead, you shrug. "It was nice to get away from everything. Providence is still a city, but it isn't as large as all this–”

You trail off, making a vague gesture with your hands. Chaos, Peter presumes.

"Less overwhelming?"

"Sure," you say, nodding. "I missed being home, though."

I missed you.

Peter passes you the joint. His brain feels fuzzy. Warm. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He massages your ankle absentmindedly.

"I get it," he says, breaking the silence.

"You get what?"

"Wanting to leave. I've been thinking about it," Peter shrugs, his eyes squinting in the late afternoon sun. "Sometimes I wish we could pack our bags and go to the countryside. See some cows and shit."

We. We. We.

"There are cows upstate," you snort.

"You know what I mean."

"We can do a road trip."

"You can’t drive."

"I am aware and perfectly fine with being a passenger princess. In fact, I’m looking forward to it," you grin.

He yanks your ankle this time, causing you to slip from where you’re sitting on the pavement. Giggling, you swat away his hands, but he’s too quick, untying your shoelaces as you kick and thrash.

"Honestly, it’s probably better for society if you never get behind the wheel," Peter teases. He dodges you when you try to kick him in the shin.

"Oh, but you can be? You get so distracted so easily! Whenever you’d practice driving, you’d miss so many exits or be too anxious to merge on the highway."

"Okay, well, you’re just a force of distraction," he shrugs, throwing his hands up in defeat. "You have that effect on people."

You look at him quizzically, your eyes narrowing. If there’s anything behind his statement, he doesn’t show it on his face. Peter knows his cheeks are burning, however.

There are more moments like these. Ever since you’d rescued Peter that night, he’s grown accustomed to spending hours of his day idly looking for you, learning your class schedule, and following you home like a pet when it’s time to unwind. He stays for hours like he used to when you were kids, and although he always thinks he’s overstaying his welcome, you don’t seem affected.

You curl into him more these days, like a sunflower stretching toward the morning glow. There are more lingering touches, here and there. You have to remind yourself not to get too comfortable, but God, he makes it so easy.

So the burning question pops out during a marathon of Chainsaw Man.

"Does MJ care that we hang out so much?" you blurt out. He looks at you like you have three heads. Also, his mouth is full.

"Um, webrobrup," he mumbles. He frowns as he looks down. Hot Cheeto fingers.

You mock him, of course.

"English, yeah?"

He chuckles as he finishes scarfing it all down. He shyly licks his fingertips, and you have to stop yourself from staring at the way his fingers enter his mouth. Ugh, gross. This is hardly supposed to be hot.

"We broke up."

You keep a straight face. It’s not like you’re excited or anything. You realize you shouldn’t be surprised because… why else would he be so available to you lately?

"Shit. You really fumbled, then."

"Shut up," he laughs.

"Seriously. Who else is gonna wanna put up with you?" You both know the answer to that.

"It was mutual," he says, shrugging. "I’ve got all my Spider-man shit, she’s getting into a bunch of extracurriculars and even a research internship even though we’re literally first years."

"Classic MJ."

"Yeah."

"We’ll get you back on the market, buddy," you tease, patting his head like a dog. A coy smile lights up your features. It makes something inside him melt.

"I’m not a piece of meat."’

You click your tongue.

"Oh, right, you’re an insect."

"Hey, so are you!"

____

You used to think it was a kind of twin telepathy, the magnetism to Peter that you felt. Bitten by the same spider and entangled in the same web. You realize as you grow older that it’s more than a platonic bond. It feels like wanting to share the same skin.

Or maybe it’s the wine talking.

It’s not your job to keep Peter afloat at the party right now, but both of you remember too well how the last party went. He continually sips water in between gulps of whiskey like a paranoid freak, which you tease him about. Maybe it’s just the darkness of his eyes under this light, but his pupils look wide and dilated.

It’s almost March. You’d both endured a proper New York winter, which usually extends until April if you’re lucky, but global warming has other plans. It's warm enough for you to pair one of your favorite dresses with an oversized Carhartt jacket that used to belong to Peter before the bite bulked him up significantly. You fiddle with the black velvet wrapped around your body as you pretend to listen to banal conversations, leaning your head into Peter’s bicep.

You keep picking at loose threads obsessively. You think about your fingertips and their webs. You think that maybe you should take up crocheting to distract your hands from their restlessness.

Peter grabs your hand away from you, squeezing it slightly, not even looking at you. His flushed palm rests against yours. Gently rubbing your thumb between your finger divots

If you were a cat, Peter would imagine you purring right about now. He wants to take you into his lap, stroke your hair while the alcohol subsides in both of your systems. The thought of you on top of him causes his cock to twitch slightly. His rose-colored cheeks are from the whiskey, he reassures himself. An affirmation. He lets go of your hand.

He knows that this isn't the time or place for such thoughts, so he makes an effort to push the desires down. He knows they'll come up again when the whiskey leaves his veins, but at least he'll be of sober mind.

Christ, he feels like he's at a middle school dance. Especially when you run off with a spring in your step to socialize with some girls you recognize from school. The smell of your hair lingers next to him. It's sweet and slightly floral, a scent that makes him think of when you were kids.

His ears perk up like a dog's when you call his name, reaching out to him so that you can introduce your best friend. He has the right mind to be polite, even funny at times, but he knows he pales in comparison to your current charisma, which contrasts with your usual wallflower nature.

Peter likes watching you talk, and you like that he watches you so intently. When you know he's watching, it's easy to deadpan some drunken jokes and elaborate superfluous tall tales from your high school days. His eyes are bright, and his bottom lip is chewed in between his teeth.

Suddenly, he gets to be alone with you in the kitchen. Your scent permeates the air. He could drown in it.

“Rabbit," you whine petulantly. "Swing me home."

"How drunk are you?" he chuckles with adoration.

"Not very. Just tired, s'all," you respond with a yawn. You scrunch your nose. "Can I sleep at yours?"

Peter looks at you with a soft gaze. "Of course, angel."

Angel. He's never called you that before. You decide that you like the sound of it.

By the time midnight comes around, you're barefoot in his bedroom, black velvet spinning loosely around your figure. In Peter's blurred vision, you look like a friendly apparition, one that particularly favors "Champagne Coast" by Blood Orange.

"Come into my bedroom, come into my bedroom," you quietly sing along as you sway your hips.

"You're already in my room."

Your smile beams at him, huge and illuminating, and impossible to look away from. Peter wishes that he could bottle up this moment to revisit it, or maybe live in it for the rest of his life. The sweetest way to exist.

Your body sinks to his level -- no, collapses -- as you roll over his heavy frame and rest yourself on your back. Your hair fans out like you're underwater. Your lips are red and wine-colored, freshly bitten. When you turn your head toward Peter, his hand plays with the exposed nape of your neck, fingertips grazing the creases of your skin.

"You used to be so gangly, you know," you murmur. Your voice is lower than usual.

"Okay, well, I'm not anymore."

"I could totally still take you in a fight." Still refers to the times when the two of you would attempt something along the lines of combat training, if combat training was just you unleashing your hotheadedness with your mutant powers instead of with your fists. If you weren't so agile, maybe Peter would've had a chance of winning.

"I'd like to see you try, angel."

It's decided -- you are on top of him, knees bent around his waist as you wrestle. The fabric of your dress pools around your waist in a way that feels sacrilegious. Peter has his hand on your thighs, and his touch feels white-hot to both of you, so he closes his eyes, tries to focus on swatting you away like a bat instead. When he opens his eyes, he meets your devilish ones, gleeful that you've managed to pin his arms above his head.

It would take two inches to break this spell of separation. He keeps trying to keep this bubble intact because the last time he tried to pop it, the look on your face made him want to dig a hole and lay in it forever.

Peter feels sorry for many things. He feels sorry for the times he's intruded, when he's made Mr. Stark angry, for the times he couldn't be there for you. He feels sorry that you had to take care of him when he wanted to do that for you.

Right now, however, Peter doesn't feel sorry at all. The slight twitch of your pulse, the way you smell, the curve of your bare shoulders -- it's all too tempting for him to feel sorry for. So he kisses you.

He's surprised when you nearly bite him back. You inhale sharply, pressing your body against him as you let go of his wrists and rest your palms on his jaw instead. Your kiss is fervent, desperate.

His brow cinches in confusion when you pull away.

"Wha--"

"Fuck."

"What is it?" He frowns.

"I owe Ned twenty bucks."

"What?"

"I just remembered. At graduation, he was like, teasing me that we were gonna get together, and we bet on who would make the first move. I was just entertaining him, but you know how that kid gets about twenty dollars."

"So you thought you were going to make the first move, then?”

“I mean, yeah. How was I supposed to know that MJ was going to cuff you before I did?”

“You snooze, you lose, I guess,” he deadpans.

“You don’t even fucking deserve me, you little freak,” you taunt, tickling his exposed midriff.

“God, I know. I’ve known that for a while. Too bad I want you regardless.”

He smiles as he captures your lips again, tasting sweet and smoky at the same time. He coaxes you onto your back and you revel in his body heat and the way his large hands grab the plush of your thighs, pushing and pulling your skin taut. It’s so erotic that it almost feels dirty.

You kiss him back like he’s your last meal while you roam your hands under his shirt, then to his protruding collarbones, then experimentally, to the tufts of his chestnut hair. You pull a bit too hard due to your eagerness and he lets out a mewl that you never could’ve imagined to come out of him.

“You like that, don’t you?” you taunt darkly. “Is that why you always want me to scratch your head when we watch movies?”

“I don’t care what you do as long as you’re touching me,” he breathes out, like a confession. “Don’t care how you touch me, s’long as it’s you.”

A tepid blush soaks your face. You shut him up with another kiss. He licks at your bottom lip, groaning softly at the feeling of your soft body against his.

“You’re so pretty, Peter,” you whisper.

“You are.”

Before you can react, you hitch a breath in surprise when you find that his hands have fully reached above the hem of your dress and onto the bare skin of your hip, toying with the elastic of your underwear. You part your legs, bending your knees so that you can pull the fabric off.

He sighs as his fingers tease the slot of your cunt, which grows wetter and wetter with every touch. Your sensitivity makes you squirm a little. He can tell so easily that you’re falling apart for him. He loves it.

You nearly whine when he takes away his fingers from you. Instead, he towers over your body, pulling your legs toward him as he pulls up the hem of your velvet dress and cascades kisses on your knees. He slowly works his way up to your thighs, biting gently, then hard. Meanwhile, his hands roam the perimeter of your chest and your ribs, all soft and pliable for him. You’ll be delighted when you wake up to a bruise on your thigh stuck in the shape of Peter Parker’s mouth.

A shiver lacerates your lower body all the way up to your neck – you feel it, viscerally. All from his mouth. He slots his tongue onto the bud of your clit going slowly just to watch you squirm.

“Please,” you beg.

“Please what?” His eyes are as dark as the sky. As dark as your dress.

“Your– your mouth. I need it. Please. More.”

Peter’s grip on your thighs tightens as his face moves closer to your center, licking incessantly as you cry out. You attempt to muffle your sounds with your hand covering your mouth, biting the skin on your palm. Your blood is hot, pumping hard, all the way down to your swollen clit, and he treats you like a man starved.

“Oh my God,” you gasp. “More, please. Pleasepleaseplease.”

He listens to you, forcing his ring and middle finger into your cunt and curling upward. Your legs shake involuntarily when he does this and it takes everything in him to not stop just so he can see the look on your face head-on. You look so beautiful right now.

“Gonna cum, Pete. Fuck.”

He closes his eyes as he savors your sweet taste. He feels it when you cum as if it’s happening in his body, too. A jolt to the sense. A vivacious rumble. Your mouth is slack, jaw falling open with your eyes screwed shut as you finish, and Peter towers over you to watch. He’s never seen you like this. He wants to keep the image of it forever.

You thank him with a messy kiss, not caring about the remnants of your lipstick. Your hands attack him, teeth nipping at his earlobe as you help him undress. Soon enough, the two of you are naked together, limbs entangled and kissing without paying any mind to oxygen.

You take his jaw in your hand as if he’s a delicate thing. Easy to break. It’s your turn to tease, now.

“What do you wanna do?”

“You’re such a little shit,” he mumbles, but he can’t help but grin.

“Tell me about it, Spidey.”

“Want you, Rabbit, want to make you feel good.”

“And how exactly will you do that?”

“Gonna fuck you. I’ll make you cry if you keep being a little shit like this, too.”

There’s no time for a reaction. He’s on top of you, pinning you down, and he licks your collarbone up to your jaw as you whine like a newborn kitten. He spanks your ass and you have to your bottom lip to keep from being too loud.

“You want it that bad, huh?”

“Yeah,” you respond breathlessly. He melts at the sound of your voice, cooing softly as he playfully bites the skin of your cheek.

You love him like this, a burst of passionate energy focused on you and you only. His little angel. You remember your rabbit heart caged in your sternum fragile and thumping like an earthquake for him.

He pauses to give you another kiss, this time sweet as he licks up the bottom of your lip. You can feel him at the crux of your legs and you can feel the want pumping in your veins. Patience. Patience. Patience.

“You want me to go slow?”

“Of course not.”

You’re so relaxed in his grasp. Gooey with your desire that it might disgust you if you weren’t so enamored. You keep your eyes on him when he enters you – you want to see the look in his eyes.

Peter feels selfish wanting to tease you like this. He’s slow when he enters you, listening to your sweet exhales.

“Easy,” he warns. “‘m gonna take care of you, don’t worry."

Please floods your entire body like a heat stroke. You bend your knees upward and rake the smooth terrain of his back, lifting your hips up at the same time. He thrusts once, then twice, and already, he feels like he’s ready to unfurl completely.

“Fuck,” he groans. You’re so goddamn wet. Soft. Velvety.

“Don’t be shy, Peter,” you murmur. “C’mere.”

You keen into the way he buries his nose into your shoulder, shallow breaths uneven and erratic as he continues, losing control bit by bit as he goes on. His pleasure is the knife you twist inside yourself.

You gasp at the way he can carve you out, the way he knows exactly where to put his hands as he grasps for your body, like he’d molding you from clay. He drinks down your moans with his mouth, eyes fluttering at the impact of your cunt clenching him.

Peter props himself up now, moving his body backward so he’s perpendicular to your core. He holds you by your hips a little too hard, but you’d always liked it rough. You liked it when he would cuddle you or play with you or put his entire body weight on you. To smother was to be encased in something akin to love.

“Fuck,” he hisses, getting the hang of a constant rhythm. His hips slot with yours as his cock thrusts deeper into you, until he can feel the slight tremble of your thighs.

“You okay?” he asks, chest heaving.

“Yes, keep going. Keep going.”

You underestimate how fragile you are. A rough thrust almost has you there, until he pulls out of you like a stolen breath, and it leaves you whining.

“Pete.”

“Shh, I’m just trying to pace myself,” he breathes, jaw slack and glistening with sweat. “You feel too fucking good.”

“Come back or I’ll break your wrists.”

He chuckles, but you’re dead serious. You lift your body to him so you can pull his down, kissing him with a ragged hunger that’s all teeth and lust. He’s quick to match your vigor but with more tenderness than desperation. It makes you melt, how natural it is, how this is how it might’ve felt in a past life. Your bodies entwined in a way that’s proverbial.

He listens to you. Fucks you much rougher than before, giving in to what he wants, because he’s not sorry about how much he wants you. Your broken moans curl out of your throat and into his mouth and the feeling of him deep in you makes you feel like a balloon ready to burst from the pressure.

It’s like Peter reads your mind, because suddenly, his hand is around your throat. You’ve never looked more angelic to him than you do now, eyes half-lidded and your reddish mouth all lax.

“So fucking beautiful, I love you,” he mumbles against his mouth.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

All of Peter’s muscles are tense from holding back. Fuck, he doesn’t want to cum until you do.

Luckily, the way his cock stretches you out has you nearly drooling underneath him. He touches the deepest parts of your insides like he belongs there, like he was meant to be there, as if the way he turns his hips toward you is a vow in itself. You whimper at the feeling of it all and he nearly loses it.

“I’m so close,” you pants. Thank fucking God.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Cum for me,” he coos. “You’re doing so good. Fuck.”

Your gaze lingers on the shape of his mouth. You think about how his voice sounds when he calls you angel.

Your orgasm comes like a flower blooming, like a beam of light in the darkness. He feels it, too, so vividly like he shares your body. It feels strange how much he feels that he hasn’t felt before, and it makes him come undone right after you.

He pulls out of you and spills onto your stomach unceremoniously with something in between a grunt and a whimper. He’s all over you. You want to bury your body into his.

“Peter,” you whisper, your gaze languishing.

“Yes, angel?”

“I think I owe Ned fifty bucks now.”

He looks at you incredulously but you can’t keep the facade, bursting into laughter as he groans in annoyance and flops his body on top of yours.

“Ew, clean me up, at least,” you complain.

“Right,” he says, nodding. And he does, with a spare t-shirt from his floor absentmindedly while he shares a grin with you. “You serious, though?”

“Of course not,” you scoff. “Ned Leeds will never get anything over twenty bucks from me.”

He laughs and it sounds like heaven.

“You said you loved me,” you tell him.

“I do love you. I’ve always loved you.”

You could cry right now. Surely the influx of endorphins in your body is breaking the rest of your brain.

“I love you, too.”

You kiss him again, open-mouthed, teeth sucking slightly as his lips. He takes a fistful of your hair while his other hand caresses your jaw. It excites you when he breaks the kiss by pulling your hair. His cheeks dimple the slightest bit when he smiles at you.

“Don’t do that, you’re gonna get me hard again.”

“You have the stamina,” you shrug, hugging one of his oversized pillows to your chest.

“You’re cute.”

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“How come you call me angel now?”

Peter shrugs. He rubs his hands on your calves.

“You’re my guardian angel. Always have been. And you’re not allowed to complain about it being corny because it’s true.”

Peter is shy all of sudden as if he hadn’t just fucked you. His brown hair is tousled to bedhead perfection, messy and slightly frizzy, and the warmth of his skin radiates from the way his whole body seems to blush in front of you.

“I have a proposition.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Come on!” You nudge him, kicking him with your feet. You get off of his bed to rummage through his dresser drawers for an oversized t-shirt, just dodging his attempts to grab you by the waist.

“Okay. What is it?”

“We should use our webs next time.”

He blinks, smirking, indulging you for a second.

“Deal.”

tagging mutuals: @meliapis​ @cutetomholland​ @userholland​ @sparklingsin​ @tomdutch​ @userholland​ @vendettaparker​ @selfcarecap @simplykenni​ @uhlxis​ @cordiformity​ @sapphicsoie​ @seolaseoul​ @honeyspidey​ @logangarfield​ @justapurrcat​ @arachine​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​ @ohcaptains​ @aniqua

[thollandneedy]

Hey girl! I'm literally SO OBSESSED with your writing

Can you make a little oneshot where Y/n pranks Peter that she's pregnant, and he just freaks out? Ty <3

April’s Fool- Peter Parker

A/n: Omg my first request aft my comeback! 🥲🤍. Btw i already done this prank with my bf, and he almost died do i got inspo from that situation😂

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex, fake pregnancy

Don’t forget to share, like, comment and leave your ideas here

Bellah’s Masterlist 🪻

“Peter?” Y/n calls her boyfriend's name when she hears the door to her house open.

“Yes?” The boy answers from afar, and Y/n quickly gets up from the floor, arranging a positive pregnancy test and a pair of baby shoes on her bed, along with a letter congratulating the new dad.

For Peter and Y/n, the first day of April was a day when they planned increasingly absurd surprises, praying that they could pull off a prank on each other without the other finding out. This year, unlike every year since they were fourteen, Y/n had fallen for one of Peter's pranks, saying that she had failed the year because she had only gotten one bad grade. Parker, being the darling of the teachers and coordinators, managed to plan a fake riot in order to scare his girlfriend. After a crying fit and an intense existential crisis, Y/n decided to take revenge.

Her mother's best friend was a few months pregnant, and after finding some little shoes from when she was a baby lost in her parents' closet, Y/n decided to pull the best prank possible.

 Pretending to be pregnant

And as generic as it might seem to some people, for Peter it would be a nightmare on earth. Parker, because he lived with his aunt, had always tried not to give her a hard time and to give her everything she had once given him. A few months ago, he had been offered a change of position at Stark Enterprises, and his duties as Spider-Man were increasing, as were his responsibilities at school because he was in his final year. 

His focus was divided into two: studies and Spider-Man

In this world, monetary security was also a part, as it was a consequence of his studies. Of course, one day he would love to start a family, but that was a desire further down the line that, if realized now, could be detrimental to the life he had always hoped to have and provide for those he loved.

In addition to the hidden drama classes that Y/n took, she also decided to get her mother to act with her when Peter came to visit, as he did every day after his internship. Because he lived a few blocks from Y/n's apartment, his evening routine had a small part dedicated to his girlfriend. Parker took off his shoes, placing them next to a decorative plant that was positioned near the kitchen, where Y/n's mother was already ready to start the tense atmosphere. The woman stared at Peter with a closed face, while in her hands was a cup of chamomile tea, which spread its scent throughout the room. 

“Hello, Mrs. L/N” 

The woman continued to stare at him without reaction.

“I didn't know you liked tea. Y/n told me you hated it.” Parker gives a half-hearted smile, smoothing his brown hair with one of his free hands.  

“I don't like it, but today I needed to calm my nerves. Maybe you should too.” The woman in the colorful overalls says in response, getting up from the island stool positioned in the center of the kitchen and walking into the living room without exchanging another word with the newcomer.

Peter looked at her in confusion, but headed towards the end of the corridor that led to his girlfriend's bedroom. Before entering, she asked him again if he could open the door, to which he replied:

“Get in here pronto, Peter.” His girlfriend complained in a low tone, causing the young man to rush inside. 

The brunette closed the door behind him, keeping his brown eyes on his girlfriend, who was sitting on the end of the bed with her hands behind her and breathing irregularly. Peter approached slowly, feeling his heart beat faster every time he sensed his girlfriend's insecurity in her gaze. With trembling lips, the superhero asks:

“What happened?” Even though Peter already knew that something bad had happened, he still made a point of asking first, trying to soften the impact of a possible shocking revelation. 

Y/n takes a deep breath, concentrating on her Hollywood moment. The girl slowly moves away from the present she was hiding behind her, revealing what she had assembled on her bed. Peter feels the floor catching his feet, and the words escape his mouth like the air in his lungs. 

“ Dude.” Peter stares at his girlfriend, who cries silently. “Y/n for God's sake I'm going to have a heart attack.” 

Parker, with hurried steps, looks directly at the test, which was positive. He looked around for a red pen that could possibly have been used to tamper with the test result, but there was none. The hero's hands began to shake, and his mouth couldn't say a word except:

“Holy shit”

Y/n was holding back the pain he was feeling with all his might, for his thirst for revenge was greater.

“I don't know what to do.” Y/n decided to speak in a drunken voice.

“ Your- your mother she-she.” Peter points to the door, feeling his feet getting weaker and weaker, trying to ask Y/n if her mother knew about the pregnancy.

The girl just agrees, hugging her body and lowering her head.

“Oh my God, I'm literally going to shit myself” Peter sits down on the floor, running his fingers violently through his hair. “OH MY GOD”

“Peter! Stop freaking out. We need to do something” Y/n asks her boyfriend for support.

“We didn't do it without! I'm sure of it. I remember. My God, I didn't even know I could get someone pregnant with me- OH MY GOD HE'S GOING TO BE A MUTANT!" Peter shouts, getting up suddenly.

“Peter!” Y/n gets up together.

“HE'S GOING TO EAT YOUR ORGANS Y/N. HE'S GOING TO EXPLODE IN THERE.” 

“PETER PARKER!” Y/n catches her boyfriend's eye.

“My God, could it be that my cum is radioactive and the condom has melted?” Peter wonders for a second.

“What?” Y/n looks at him confused and teary-eyed.

“What if he's just like me? And he gets stuck in your womb and can't get out again? I only learned to stop getting things stuck in my hands after four months of being Spider-Man. IT GETS WORSE! WHAT IF HE'S NOT LIKE ME? Y/n, if you've fucked Marcus, I'll kill myself in front of you right here and now. I hate that guy.” Peter can't control the whirlwind of thoughts invading his head.

“Do you really think I'd cheat on you?” Y/n asks offended.

“No, fuck no! I don't think so, but... when did this happen? My God, I think I need to see a doctor. A DOCTOR! I CAN'T AFFORD THE BABY'S HEALTH INSURANCE”

His girlfriend just slams both arms into his legs, giving up talking and collapsing into heavy sobbing. 

The brunette takes a deep breath, feeling his body drenched in nervous sweat. The boy, trembling, crawls in front of his girlfriend, who is collapsed at the foot of the bed, looking for support from her boyfriend, who is on the verge of crying too. The hero touches his girlfriend's knees, caressing them briefly in an attempt to calm her down. Peter looked once more at the shoes and the positive pregnancy test, and then his rational side shook him hard, bringing him back to the reality he would have to overcome at that moment. His girlfriend was coughing between loud cries and sobs, while Peter couldn't think of what to say to calm her down. 

“I'm dropping out of MIT.” The brunette said after a second of silence.

The girl wiped away the tears that fell down her red face.

“What?” Y/n asks, feeling her heart stop.

“I'm going to study here in New York to be closer to you... well... you two.” Peter lays his head on his girlfriend's lap, who just listens to his declaration attentively. “I'm going to quit Stark's internship and get a home-office job so I can help you with him or her. How far along are you?”

Y/n feels her heart heavy, and answers while holding back a real cry.

“More than a month.” He replied, feeling like he was going to fall apart at any moment.

“ Damn it, love. Why didn't you tell me?” The girl just stares at him, trying to make him remember his brief outburst. “Oh... never mind.”

“I-I didn't want to end your dream.” Y/n cries, now a real cry as she realizes that she has chosen the right boyfriend to share her life with, even in difficult times. After so many disappointments in love, and men who she knew wouldn't give up even a night of drinking and gambling to be in her company, she had finally managed to choose the right one.

“Love.” Peter brings one of his hands to his girlfriend's cheek, caressing it with his thumb. “You're my dream”

The girl smiles through her tears and bends down so that her lips meet his.

“Peter?” The girl calls out.

“Huh?”

“It was a prank. APRIL FIRST, YOU MORON!” The girl stood up screaming and went to her dressing table, where a cell phone was hidden behind some make-up brushes. She took it out and finished recording the reaction of her boyfriend, who was static once again, realizing that he had been caught for revenge.

“I swear to God, one of these days you're going to kill me with your fucking crazy ass ideas." The brunette nodded, putting his hand on his heart and bursting into laughter after all the nerves he'd built up. “How did you get a positive test?”

“Marie, my mother's best friend is pregnant. I asked her to take the test and my mother gave it to me this afternoon. The shoes are mine. I found them in my parents' closet.” The girl wiped her crying eyes, sat down next to her boyfriend, and then hugged him, allowing the pain to wash over her.

“Did your mom get in on this too?” The brunette laughed louder, feeling his stomach ache, and then he collapsed into a sob of relief. “I hate you” 

“You love me” The girl wipes away the older man's tears.

“I really do. But don't ever do that again in your life. I was about to have a freak-out”

[remember-the-fanfics]

Belated April Fool's! Had this thought on the first but was at work so enjoy it now!

If GenZ!Overlord!Reader went to Heaven instead of hell

I lost any kind of format along the way, tell me if you find it, I would like it back.

• You appeared at the Golden/Pearly gates in a panic confused state, yelling as soon as you saw the person watching over the gate.

• Scaring Saint Peter which made him yell and then you both were yelling

"Why are you screaming?!"

"Because you were screaming!"

"Well I'm sorry for screaming! Where am I?!

• Saint Peter told you this was Heaven and ask for your name, after giving it he confirmed you were ment to be here.

• Asking him how you died because it was a blur to remember

• Telling you only the Seraphim would know and that you would get some of it back when you adjust to being a Winner.

• Cue you walking off to find a Seraphim before he finished and Peter quickly following you because you have no idea where you were going.

• Quickly running into Emily talking to some winners, seeing you with Peter went to greet you.

• Seeing you were young, more young than most Winners when they appear, most usually have mid 20's to mid 40's age look.

• Asking her if she would know how you died.

• Emily telling you that Sera would know being the High Seraphim.

"Why is her name is just a part of Seraphim?"

• Emily lead you and Peter to Sera's office.

• Sera confused on why would Emily and Peter bring a new winner to her.

• Asking your question again, Sera repeated Peter saying you'll remember in time.

"I wasn't alone before I died! I just want to know if-."

"You're sibling is alive, you made quite sure of that."

"Oh thank God... Wait can I say that here?"

• You left with Peter for him to show you to where you would stay in Heaven.

• You quickly became friends with Emily, getting to know most of the winners and angels that go to her.

• Emily enjoyed having someone younger than her to hang out with, well technically physically she's older than most of the winners but mentally she's older than you.

• She even showed you how to fly with your new wings with minor issues.

• You had barely any control to begin with so when you got high enough your wings decided to forget how to fly.

• Ending with you crashing on the ground or into people.

• One time you crashed into a window of Sera's office, one of your few injuries in Heaven.

"(Y/n)! You need to be more careful of yourself." Said Sera, quickly coming over to you. "Are you alright?"

"Oh shoot, I'm sorry!" You said getting off the ground trying to shake off shards of glass. "I told Emily that I shouldn't fly in the area yet.." You quickly noticed you had cuts, that were bleeding gold.

"You're injured, let's me see it." Said Sera before hovering her hand over you, with a subtle light, she had quickly healed your injuries. "There, you should be healed now."

You looked up at her with awe in your eyes.

"You can do magic?!"

• Quickly asking her if you could do magic

• Saying that you could probably do small amount like the rest of the winners to help with day to day.

• Emily came in and you rushed to her with a new found interest and Emily was quickly on border to help you learn

• Almost leaving Sera alone to clean up the mess you made before making your way back but she ushered you and Emily away saying she could handle it.

• Quickly your lessons with Emily turned into flying and magic lessons with the help of other winners.

• Finally getting the hag of flying, you flew through what magic that you could be taught from the winners.

• After finding an injured Angel that you never before with what hopefully not blood on them (you didn't ask)

• She did not want to be seen by any of the winner when you appeared out of nowhere.

• You were young for even a winner, she noticed quickly, wondering why a child was bothering her.

• Asking if her wing was alright, it looked like it went though hell.

• Saying yes before hissing in pain when you faintly touched it

"If you thought it was injured why would you touch it?!

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you!"

• Quickly shutting up when in a flash of light of your own, healed her wing.

• Still apologizing to her and introducing yourself.

• She introduced her self as Vaggie, saying she was apart of Heaven's Army.

• You obviously questioned why Heaven had an army since it's Heaven.

• Vaggie said it was for incase anything happened, explaining her injury as training gone wrong.

• You believed her, not knowing what day it was and where she was just before.

• You told her to be more careful and if she ever want, you could meet up again.

• After giving her where to usually find you during the day, leaving to find Emily to tell her.

• Emily was with Sera for the day, so you found both of them.

• Explaining what had happen to the two of them.

"You must be alot strong than most Winners, (Y/n)." Said Emily, looking to Sera for information.

"Yes, usually only Angel could heal or do any decent amount of magic, I'll have to see about." Said Sera. "Why don't you two go celebrate (Y/n)'s magic with some ice cream? I'll look into this."

• Sera quickly got into contact with the winner turned archangel, Adam, about meeting with you.

• Telling to not be to inappropriate around you nor tell you anything that he shouldn't.

• He said he would try atleast.

• You meet Adam and Lute at a train area that you never seen before because usally winner dont come over here

• Neither of the two was expecting someone so young so Adam didn't think you were actually (Y/n).

• After realizing who you were, instantly trys to get you make a holy beam of light to shot something because he's never really met someone who died and was possibly almost as powerful as he is.

• He's still number one

• After demonstrated what he ment, you did it on a less large scale because damn Adam just about destroyed a whole chunk of the ground.

"Well Danger tits, I don't think we're dealing with a winner anymore. They're fucking archangel like me!" Said Adam watching you do some minor things he showed you.

"Do you think Sera would let them know or join us, sir?" Asked Lute.

"Ha fuck no." Said Adam laughing, "If you haven't noticed they close with Emily and they're a kid."

"The file that Sera sent over is that they died just after they turned 18." Said Lute. "...Protecting their brother, sir." Adam stiffened at the mentioned of it.

"Of course... the old man does like doing shit in mysterious ways." Said Adam, noticing (Y/n) was talking to another recruit.

"Hey Vauh-gie!" He yelled across the area before heading towards the two.

"Adam, sir." Said Vaggie, (Y/n) noticing the way Adam said Vaggies name.

"Why you over here talking to the recruit kid?" Asked Adam, using (Y/n) as something to lean on.

"Just catching up, she was wondering why I was here." Said (Y/n).

• Lute quickly got Vaggie to leave you and Adam some inane task while you told Adam he said Vaggie's name wrong.

• He told you he knew her name and he was correct but you defend her saying it's her name, she decided how it pronounced.

• You soon had weekly training with Adam and sometimes Lute, who wanted you to have some fighting skill.

• But Lute quickly found out that you wouldn't fight unless absolutely needed to

• Having a way with words you could talk down any arguments that the exorcists had when they would have solved it in a fight

• Lute would rather have them brawl than listen to another conversation about talking about your feelings.

• You quickly became a favorite among most of the exorcist, being around Adam and Lute most times.

• The two treated you like a kid most of the time when you weren't training.

• Adam saw the betterment of Humanity in you, reminding him of what his first two sons could have been like

• Being the opposite of what happened to Able and Cain does that.

• Lute saw you as reason to keep Heaven safe

• Not wanting you to ever actually use your training to protect yourself

• Because why would you? You're in Heaven, nothing can hurt you, right?

• You would show Emily what you could do after every training session.

• You learned how to make non-dangerous fireworks to help Emily bring joy to the winners.

• Sera would tell you that God had chosen you to be an archangel, that would usally come with a job but you were to young for any of it so she let you help with Emily job.

• You were a chaotic force of good to excit people, telling them new kind of jokes.

• Emily had to stop you from making to many dark humor jokes, everyday.

• Some Winners would ask if something was still a thing and you had no idea what they were talking about Like 'Wat?'

• Then them explaining what it was and purpose.

• You would never have to take a history class again with how much people talk about the past to you.

• Winners would forget that you are too young for something.

"You had to use a brick as phone?"

• Having friends with most angels and winners was nice, you were just as popular as Emily these days.

• Then Adam and Lute came back from what they told you was a training expedition that they do yearly.

• With Vaggies halo (they disposed of her wings, to graphic for you to see.)

• Lute and Adam explained that Vaggie had died in an accident after betraying Heaven.

"Oh... I thought Angels couldn't die?" You muttered, trying to wipe the tears from your eyes.

"She stopped being Protected by... the holy light when she betrayed us." Said Lute, trying to come up with an excuse.

"Don't think sweat about it, kid. You still have these two badasses here to keep you safe." Said Adam.

"I didn't think I could lose anyone here.

• The two tried to comfort you, never seeing you cry before.

• In their own messed up way.

• Cursing vaggie in vain in their heads.

• They hung around you the next few days, keeping you company while you mourn your friend.

• Emily would bring you snacks to try and cheer you up.

• Sera sent a letter saying that she wished you well and take the time you need.

• The next few year went in a blur, everyday was the same.

• Helping Emily with the winner, train with Adam and Lute, chat with Sera every few days, and having lunch with Saint Peter.

• You never would have guess that time worked differently than on earth.

• Definitely not expecting your younger brother showing up one day, being older than you.

• Finding you with Emily, the same age you were that day.

"(Y/n)?" He said looking right at you, you looked confused for a second before realizing who he was.

"Frederick? Freddy? What are you doing here?! You should be alive!" You said before rushing for a bone crushing hug.

"I died at 87, I'm guess time works differently up here." He said, "I knew you would be up here, I lived a good life and done good things just for the possibility to see you again."

"I missed you! Let me tell you everything!" You said,

• Introducing Emily to your brother and telling her you need to catch up.

• She excitedly ushered you away saying she can handle things.

• Emily told Sera after the day was done

• Frederick answered all your questions and you answered his.

"So am I your older brother now?"

"Not a chance. You're still my little brother, just not quite that little anymore."

• Introducing him to everyone, not taking an issue when Sera wanted to meet him alone.

• Sera wanted to see if he had any magical prowess like you did.

• He had more than a normal winner but not enough to be in the class of Archangel like you and Adam.

"Would you do anything to protect (Y/n)? They are quite naiveté when it comes to certain things, being so young when they died. You're older and wiser than them now."

• Sera gaslighting

• Frederick questioned where it was going and had to swear not to tell a soul about what Sera was about to say.

• He was surprised when told than Heaven sent angel down to hell to kill sinners.

• Sera telling him that she didn't tell (Y/n) about this because of their age and unwilling to hurt people without reason.

• But he had time and age to come to term that somethings need to happen for the greater good.

• So he joined in with Adam and Lute, training for the extermination day.

• Telling you that he wanted to train his magic as well with them.

• Adam meeting the last peice of the puzzle of your death, who you died protecting, your own brother.

• Adam got along with him well enough, being a bad influence on him.

• Lute trained him on fighting, going hard to make sure he could protect Heaven and you.

• Probably had a version of out of love, the toxic version.

• After another portion of time, Emily told you that the princess of hell was coming for a meeting to talk about the redemption of sinners souls.

• You were excited about the concept, seeing potential about it.

• Youre brother didn't think so, telling you that they were in Hell for a reason.

• Sera didn't want Emily or you to meet anyone coming from Hell but the two of you convinced her.

• Meeting up with the group after they got past the gate.

• Seeing Charlie and someone who looked very familiar

• Clapping after Peter and Emily's song.

"Good job Em and Pete!" You said cheering the two.

"So um who are exactly?" Asked Charlie, exited to meet another angel.

"Oh I'm (Y/n), I help Emily to keep the Winners happy. I'm an winner turned Archangel like old man Adam." Introducing yourself to the two.

"You're friends with Adam?!" Said Charlie, not expecting Adam to actually have friends.

"Yep, trained me. He's been training my brother now of days, Freddy."

• She wasn't expecting you to be siblings with one of the main antagonist from her meeting with Adam.

• Frederick kept shutting her idea down and trashed talked her along with Lute.

• You were the exact opposite of your brother.

• When Adam, Lute, and your brother saw you with Charlie and Vaggie showing them around with Emily and Sera.

• They were pissed, Lute had to stop both from trying to fight them in the open.

"They don't need to be influenced by a hellspawn."

• When Adam and Lute went to bothered Vaggie, Frederick went to you to the Zoo.

• Keeping an eye on Charlie and making side japs at her until you intervened.

"Dude if you're gonna be a butt to her then leave."

• He quickly stopped making fun of Charlie, just stared at her from your side.

• With Lute and Adam, they questioned if you realized who Vaggie was.

• With a no, they said how unimportant she must have been.

• In the court room, you stood next Adam.

• Pointing out hole in his responses.

• After believing that this Angel Dust should be here, you questioned with Emily.

• With the big extermination day reveal, you and Emily were shocked.

• "Neither of you knew?"

• That what Adam and Lute does once every year, and now with your brother

"I just want to protect you, this is for the great good, you will not get hurt for me again."

"I don't need to be protected! There's no good in any of this, you hurt me doing so."

• Then the whole Vaggie reveal, you were pissed at Adam and Lute.

"You said she died! You hurt her and left her there to do so! You let me mourn when she was alive!"

"Kid, listen she didn't do what was needed so we didn't need her anymore! She defied the order and must of paid the price."

"There would be nothing to pay if you didn't murder anyone! She spared a kid, younger than I, and you said she defied the order? There is no order to this!"

• Then you were arguing with everyone you trusted but Emily.

• Sera dismissing the court saying no soul in Hell could be saved.

• Then Adams threat to Charlie's hotel, portaling the two back.

• You decided that you weren't gonna sit here safe while they fright for their soul

• You weren't a kid like Heaven treated you.

• So you jumped in after them to fight against everyone you knew.

-

Just some facts between hell and Heaven Genz!Reader

• When in hell you had to learn to be grown up quickly, while Heaven kept treating you as a kid.

• Frederick wouldn't be an antagonist in the hell version because he wouldn't have a reason to be

• I was gonna write about your older sibling but I'm tried, I've been working on this for a week+

• The end is up to fate, do you fight Heaven and get stuck in hell or does your old friends and family drag you back?

• Most youngs souls that died get reborn but there are some cases that slip though so they would be stuck where ever they got sent.

• Heaven you is less chaotic and speak your mind because it's Heaven,

-

Okay love yall I'm gonna go look at other fanfics

[whorety-k]

Hello! Wanted to say that I really love your work about Konrad. I recently listened to the song Type O Negative - Love You To Death and realized that it would be just perfect for him. I would be glad if you get inspired to write a new post for it (´꒳`)♡

(sound warning) TYPE O NEGATIVE BESTIE?? YOU HAVE MY ATTENTION.

I love this song and you're absolutely right: it's perfect. This is targeting me for being goth (and a Peter Steele appreciator, rest in peace beloved) and I am unable to get it out of my mind, thank you. Type O Negative songs + Konrad Curze and just the natural progression of things. You ripped me right out of another fic like my soul ascending to daemonhood (sorry Fulgrim asker, this is one of my favorite songs).

Please have another really good Konrad song for what I've written! Tear You Apart - She Wants Revenge [YouTube] [Spotify]

without further ado, have some horny

Pairing: Konrad Curze x afab!Reader

Song Inspiration: Love You to Death - Type O Negative [YouTube] [Spotify] “I beg to serve / your wish is my law / Now close your eyes and let me love you to death / Shall I prove I mean what I’m saying, begging? / I say the beast inside of me is gonna getcha, getcha, get—”

Warnings: SMUT, porn without plot, dubcon (but not actually, reader is into it), injury, blood kink, descriptions of blood, not quite blood as lube but it’s there, physical restraints (bondage + gagging), we’re visiting an apothecary after this one everybody

Word Count: 666 (well if that's not telling...)

Tag List: @egrets-not-regrets @sleepyfan-blog @kit-williams

A shudder rips down your spine from the chill of the room, bare nipples perking. He eats up your soft whimpers, digging his sharpened nails into the soft flesh of your hips as if you’d run away at the first chance you could get. The pain sends jolts of electricity down your legs, knees twitching limply from where he has you restrained. Navy blue cordage has your arms trapped helplessly against your sides, wrists bound to your ankles. A claw ghosts down the pretty arch in your back. “Gorgeous little rabbit, you are,” he croons, breath puffing against your ear. You whine, causing the giant to tut at you in mock sympathy.

Konrad’s hot tongue laves desperate laps up and down your thighs— hot, wet, chasing after crimson trails like a man possessed. The intensity of his eyes has you just as pinned as the soft ropes affixing you to yourself. “You were the one that wanted this, my dear,” the Night Haunter taunts, softly shaking his head. You try to choke a response, but your words are lost to limitations of the ball-gag. Curze perks up, eyes alight in false sincerity. “Did you not?” he asks, using a sharp nail to raise your chin. Your eyes fall as they refuse to meet his gaze. Loaded silence passes between the two of you before he roughly grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. His voice is tense with disappointment, growling out, “Your body makes for an awful liar. I can smell you, bloody minx.”

A crimson hand traces the heat between your legs, rubbing tantalizing circles around your slit. “All of that effort to garner my favor… why act so ungrateful? Was this not your goal?” Konrad scoffs, sinking a thick finger inside of your wet warmth, “Only a fool shows such kindness without an expectation of repayment.” A second finger slips in beside the first, prodding roughly against your front as they pump in and out of your fluttering core. Stars fill your vision at the rush of adrenaline his ministrations send through your veins, and a muffled cry leaves your lips and your back arches forward against the restraints. You feel more than see the razor edge against your cheek before the gag in your mouth suddenly comes loose, dropping onto your spread lap. “Care to repeat yourself?” your captor inquires, continuing to tease your bud. 

A deep breath fills your lungs for the first time since the Night Haunter had lured you to his quarters. Your eyes rim with tears of overstimulation and delicious pain, thighs and hips aching with still-bleeding wounds. “Please,” you beg through glossy, spit-laden lips, angling your hips forward.

A wicked smile blooms on Konrad’s pale face, a modicum too wide to be ingenuous. He leans forward, whispering, “Good pet, finally being honest with yourself. Let me reward you.” Slick sounds of the Night Haunter working you open echo against the walls of the dark chamber, deadened by the rush of blood in your ears. The coil in your belly begins to wind tighter with each exploratory thrust of his fingers, large palm stimulating your nub. The harsh pleasure causes the tension to snap, and Curze dips his head to place a sloppy kiss to your parted lips, tongue devouring the inside of your mouth and eating up your cries as you clench around his digits. He coasts you through your high, bordering overstimulation before retreating his fingers from you. 

Konrad looks over his work, swiping up another trail of blood with a soiled finger. “Quite the mess,” he teases, dark eyes tracing your heaving form. He raises his hand to his lips and licks off the erotic mixture of blood and desire from his fingers as if it's his final meal, emitting low growls and grunts as commentary on the taste. When he’s finished, the primarch pushes you onto your front, pressing one of his massive hands between your shoulders. 

“One worthy of expanding, certainly.”

[shawnxstyles]

prom with nerd peter!!! reader asks him to prom and he’s literally shitting himself while doing it😭 every one in school is confused as to how tf this nerd dude bagged that finest gyal in school lmao

prom alert!

song: dream a little dream of me (cover)- the mamas & the papas

warnings: major fluff!! mentions of anxiety and nerves. but overall, a sappy prom experience that will make you feel so single.

note: in honor of prom season approaching… this is a nerd!peter blurb, the same peter and y/n from my (ongoing) nerd alert! series.

—

“oh my god. oh my god. oh god!” peter hyperventilates while looking at himself in the mirror. he’s sporting a perfectly fitting black tux with a bow tie. his pouch in the front was empty, awaiting for a flower. he couldn’t look at himself for more than a few seconds without freaking out. “i can’t do this.”

“peter,” aunt may called, stopping him from walking out of the room by clutching onto his shoulders. “what’s going on? you’ve been so excited since she asked you.”

that’s right. you asked peter to prom. ever since you guys started dating, peter has been in too much disbelief to even be present sometimes. how did someone so incredibly smart, gorgeous, and overall way out-of-his-league like him? every time he saw you his heart went haywire and nearly brought him into cardiac arrest. you were perfect in his eyes, and probably everyone else’s too. peter wanted—no needed—everything to be perfect.

“i can’t go.”

“that’s silly talk, peter. you’ve liked her for years and now you’re going to prom with her. what’s really going on?”

“i…” so many things were going on in his head. “what if she realizes i’m not good enough? what if i make a fool out of her? what if people laugh at us? what if—”

“stop, stop, stop,” may interrupts, staring at peter through the full length mirror. she dusts of his shoulders. “you’re going to kill yourself what all of these what if’s. there is only one thing you need to think about. how do you feel about her?”

peter scrunches his eyebrows, but doesn’t hesitate.

“i love being around her. she always makes me feel special. oh, and i can listen to her for hours, she has such a soothing voice. i really like her. like really really. i lo…” his wandering eyes landed on may’s soft smile.

“look at you. all grown up.”

it is then when he realizes what she was doing. she was making peter talk about you because he knows that you make him feel comfortable. she doesn’t want him to worry about the outside opinions. “thanks, may.”

“of course, peter. now, what are you waiting for! go, get!” may hurriedly rushed peter out of the room. as they pass the dining table, she snatches the red corsage in the clear container. “wait!”

before peter reaches the front door, he turns to look at may worryingly.

“what?”

“you forgot this,” she stuffs the corsage into his trembling hands.

“right. thank you. uh, i guess have to go now. love you,” he leans over to hug her.

“oh, you know i love you more. now go!”

—

peter has fought many dangerous people in the past. people that could kill him at any moment. however, he thinks he might die while he stands trembling on your doorstep.

the sun behind him is beginning to set while his heart bangs against his rib cage aggressively. after ringing the doorbell and waiting god knows how long (it felt like hours), your mom opens the door with a welcoming smile on her face.

“don’t you look handsome? y/n! come down!” she shouts up the stairs. she widens the door and beckons peter inside. with a shaky smile, peter shuffles inside and waits terrified on the bottom of the stairs.

your mom makes light conversation, and you two have already met, so it should’ve been easy. but peter’s nerves made everything ten times harder than it needed to be. peter could barely process any of her words and compliments, especially when he heard the click of your heels.

on instinct, peter’s neck cranes toward your figure as you stroll elegantly down the staircase. instead of racing, his heart stops completely. he feels the world around him freeze as his eyes lock onto your body. colored maroon, a long, silk dress adorns you along with black laced heels wrapped around your legs. your hair was curled romantically with the front pieces being pinned back precisely. he’s so caught up in how show-stopping you are he doesn’t catch the soft words that come out of your mouth once you’re in front of him.

“you look…wow. you look…there isn’t a word to describe how you look,” he rambled, eyes still in a daze. he strongly believed your name should be in a dictionary and be considered as a synonym for ethereal.

“how about amazing?”

“you’re way more than amazing. inside and out,” a warm wave of heat flushed over your skin causing your lips to lift into a smile.

“well, you don’t look too bad yourself, bug,” your hands press against his chest while he blushes profusely at your compliment. his wandering eyes finally find your face, glowing brighter than the sun and stars.

oh god. would it be bad if he cried? would it be bad if he kissed you and never let you go?

“let me get a picture of you two! i’ll make sure to send them to may!” your mom scurries into the kitchen for a moment to grab her camera.

“oh and um, here,” peter opens the dark red corsage that matches your dress. he places the plastic container on a stair before delicately wrapping the flower bundle around your wrist.

you pull another matching flower from behind you and tuck it into his empty pocket in the front. peter suggested doing it this way so you both had something to give each other. you thought it was the sweetest thing in the world. you thought he was the sweetest thing in the world, and you don’t know how you got so lucky to find someone like him.

when your mom comes back, you and peter pose cutely for a few pictures. you even do a few silly ones that you found online, like posing with finger guns while being back to back. when you’re done, peter and you finally leave for the dance, which is about a half an hour away.

—

“ready, bug?” you asked, squeezing peter hand’s reassuringly. he takes a few deep breaths, beyond nervous to walk through those fancy glass doors. anxiety is laced through his veins, pumping in his blood. you’ve already signed in, neon bracelets on your wrists. now, all you two had to do was walk into the room filled with your entire high school class.

it was a big deal for you both because no one really knew you two were together.

it was definitely one of the fancier events you’ve been to, but you weren’t nervous. if anything, you were comfortable because peter was by your side. however, it was very obvious that peter was on the brink of a panic attack. small spots of sweat could be seen on his forehead and nose while his teeth gnawed on his lip repeatedly.

“yeah. yeah, i can do this,” peter answers as if he’s trying to convince himself while his eyes focus heavily on the other side of the door.

“look at me,” your hands cup his cheeks and direct his face to look at yours. his eyes gaze into yours, muscles instantly relaxing into your touch. you were his kryptonite. “don’t think about anyone else. this isn’t about them. this about us. this is for us, not them.”

peter nods understandingly and takes another deep breath. holding your hand with newfound confidence, he pulls open the door and you both waltz inside.

the scenery was gorgeous. it was a huge ballroom with white ribbons hanging everywhere. lights flickered as upbeat music echoed throughout the room. as if you were in a movie, everyone’s heads turn towards the newest people to arrive: you.

peter’s grip on your hand tightens as everyone gossips. their expressions are priceless to you, jaws falling to the floor as they see you next to peter’s side. couples turn to each other as they bad-mouth your pairing.

“y/n came with peter?”

“someone has got to be paying her.”

“poor y/n.”

“god, she’s so hot. why peter?”

“if this is real, anything is possible.”

it’s hard for peter to ignore what everyone is saying when his senses are immediately heightened. every little whisper is shot straight into his eardrum, but he tries not to let them affect him.

“let’s go get a drink,” you shout to peter and tug him towards the food area. peter can barely shake off the staring eyes that burn into your backs. he shudders out a breath, hating that there was so much attention on you.

to distract himself, peter gets you both drinks. smiling, you take a sip and try to relax for a moment.

“that wasn’t as bad as i thought.”

“‘cause you didn’t hear what they said.”

“and you did?”

“yes,” peter points to his ear and you nod in understanding. of course, peter’s superhuman abilities still worked even at a regular high school event.

“well, just forget them. remember, it’s about us,” you smile and peter practically melts into a puddle on the ground.

“did you bring it?” you ask.

“bring what?”

you waddle closer to peter and set your drink down on the table. you lean towards his ear on your tiptoes.

“the suit,” you whisper, very, very secretly. peter chuckles, blushing at your proximity.

“of course. i know how much you like it,” discreetly, peter adjusts his collar and shows you a small peek of the red suit on his neckline. you gasp with a smile and quickly go to fix it for him.

“you’re so cute. i…” you stop yourself. you didn’t know if you were ready to say those three powerful words yet. so you peck a gentle kiss on peter’s cheek, hoping he didn’t notice. before you say anything else, you hear a song that you know all too well. gasping again, you force peter to put his drink down as you drag him onto the dance floor. “i love this song!”

—

when the song comes to an end, a slower, more romantic song begins. naturally, you find yourself slotted in front of peter, his hand resting on your waist politely while your arms wrap around his neck. your bodies sway leisurely to the sweet melody that pours throughout the speakers.

“stars shining bright above you,” the soft voice floats majestically in the air. peter gazes at your beauty in disbelief as the music continues to enhance the moment. you both stare into each other’s sparkling eyes as you mouth the lyrics with enchanting smiles upon your lips.

“night breezes seem to whisper “i love you”,” in that moment, your bodies stop moving as your eyes burn into one another’s. saying i love you was something you two hadn’t done yet, and even though it wasn’t direct or literal, it felt real. it felt right. it felt like that was a sign, your sign, that the time was finally right.

your hands drift into the hair on his nape, caressing him softly. peter’s breath is staggered, an overwhelming amount of emotions cascading through him.

“i love you, peter,” you lean into him, meeting his lips before he could say it back. if he said it back.

his rough hands press gently into your lower back as he deepens the kiss. peter could smell your rosy perfume better than ever when you guys kissed, so now every time he thought of kissing, he thought of roses and you. your noses brushed and your lips locked together as if you were the perfect combination. and to you both, you were.

“still craving your kiss,” the music hummed sweetly.

when you finally pull away, peter doesn’t let you go more than an inch from his face.

“i love you so much, y/n. thank you,” he tucks a strand of curled hair behind your ear. his heart thumps rapidly in his chest, but he doesn’t care. his complete and utter attention is on the graceful human being bundled in his arms.

“thank you? for what?” your grin is dopey.

“for giving me a chance.”

with a never ending smile, you crash your lips to peter’s once again, pushing him as close to you as possible. you never want to leave from his touch, needing to be consumed by his presence for eternity. as your hands caress his heated cheeks, the song nears its end.

“but in your dreams, whatever they be,”

“dream a little dream of me.”

—

this is so cute OMG. but can we talk about HOW Y/N DEFINITELY CALLS HIM BUG??? also, i’m in love with how they said i love you 😭😭

taglist: @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @raajali3

crossed out= not able to tag

[writeroutoftime]

marvel

-matt murdock-

Heartbeat - on a lazy day together, you ask for a small peak until Matt’s world

-foggy nelson-

You’re Heart in Exchange for Mine - Foggy has been led to believe it’s the material goods that keep a relationship alive, but you strive to prove to him that all you want is to love him and be loved in return

Feelings Confessed - You like Foggy, Foggy likes you, but neither of you know of the other’s feelings. What could happen when Foggy walks you home from Josie’s one night?

-peter parker-

Not the Same Girl - Before the Blip, Peter would babysit you, but not that he’s back and you’ve grown up, what feelings will come to play? 

Little Fall of Rain - Based on ‘A Little Fall of Rain’ from Les Mis

You're Stunning - When Peter takes your picture unexpectedly, he learns how you feel about yourself and tries to change your mind

Speak Now - When Peter is getting married, you just want to go and make sure he’s happy. but what happens when the officiant asks a very pertinent question?

-jack thompson- 

By Your Side -   “You wanna go save the world with me?”

Undercover Feelings -  You and Jack don’t like each other in the slightest. But when an undercover mission throws the two of you together, what will become of your relationship? (aka - undercover enemies to lovers)  

We’re Okay - When out on the field, you run into a burning building to save a young child, and all Jack can do is pray you’ll be safe

-steve rogers- 

Bail You Out - A midnight call wakes you up, asking you to pick Steve and Bucky up in a less than ideal location 

True Gentleman - After a date with Steve, he wants to make sure that you get home safe, but you reassure him that you’ll be alright

-bucky barnes-

A Secret Language - flower shop au - when Bucky stumbles across your little flower shop, you’re enamored. too bad he keeps coming in to buy flowers for his mystery women (using the prompts “you aren’t over her, are you?/not even close”)

-tony stark- 

The Scoops Troop - It’s Halloween and you want to do a group costume, but Tony isn’t onboard with the idea 

Only Wanna Be With You - It’s yours and Tony’s anniversary but why is he acting so odd?

-druig-

Stop the Tears - Druig finds you crying and can only focus on the pull he feels towards you and taking your tears away

-jack thompson- 

13 Days of Halloween - Day Seven - “I picked it out especially with you in mind. You’re hurting my feelings.” 

-steve rogers-

“you owe me a kiss”

-bucky barnes-

Lost in Love and Time (Ongoing) - Haunted Mansion AU

Prologue Part One || Prologue Part Two || Chapter One || Chapter Two || Chapter Three || Chapter Four

-peter parker- 

Fools Rush In (Ongoing) - When Peter finds himself claiming to the Avengers that he has a girlfriend, he turns to you for help even though the two of you are class rivals 

Chapter One || Chapter Two

-steve rogers- 

La La Land (Discontinued) - As a struggling actress in the big city, you aren’t sure how you are going to get your big break. Similarly, starving artist, Steve Rogers, doesn’t know how to move on after a deal gone wrong. What happens when you two meet and learn more about yourselves, love, and the power of dreams than you ever though possible? 

Chapter One

[roses-r-rosie3]

Prank You Very Much

Jason Todd x M!Reader

Warnings: Crack, Jason & Damian being pranksters,

Summary: Jason and Damian are having a prank war and the reader gets caught in the middle of it

A/n: This is very inspired by the "Prank you very much" Episode from lab rats.

Quote: "You two have been pulling pranks on each other for three weeks straight and I always end up paying for it!"

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You didn't know how Jason and Damian's whole petty prank war started, nor did you want to know. But what you did know was that you were always caught in the middle of it. Like last week when you were hanging out with Jason. Jason was in the middle of playing some type of video game and you got up to use the restroom, leaving only Jason and Damian in the room.

"Hey Damian could you grab me a water, I'm trying to beat my high score, and if I stop this cyborg will melt me, and if that happens the colonial bomb will go off and if that happens-"

"I will get your water just stop talking" Damian said in annoyance.

But then Damian stopped and remembered the prank war that was still ongoing.

"I know your tricks Todd you're not going to fool me" Damian said confidently.

All of a sudden you came out of the hallway and into the kitchen area.

"Hey Jay, I was thinking I should make your family something to eat before we have to go" You said as you walked up to the fridge.

"DON'T OPEN THE-"

BAM!

(Btw I love this episode of Lab Rats sm😭❤️)

When you opened the fridge a mix of mustard, ketchup, and mayo blasted onto your face and body.

"Fridge.."

You slowly turned around in anger to give Jason the death-glare. Damian stood there, trying to hold in his laughter.

"Someone's getting put in the doghouse~" Damian whistled.

"Would it help at all if I said that was supposed to be Damian's face?" Jason laughed nervously.

"Jason Peter Todd!" you yelled.

Jason scrambled out of the room quicker than even the flash could.

"Well y/n because of this whole.. fiasco.. I would assume that you are taking my side in me and your boyfriend's little rivalry" Damian suggested.

Now it was Damian's turn to receive a death-glare from you, and he too scrambled out the room.

And a couple days ago when you were getting ready in your shared apartment with Jason. When you got out the shower and looked into the mirror your hair was hot pink.

"Jason!" You yelled.

Jason came rushing into your room and saw your hair and immediately bursted out laughing.

"This isn't funny! I had things I had to do today!" you complained.

"I'm guessing Damian put hair dye in the wrong shampoo bottle. HA! wait a minute.. how did he get into our apartment.." Jason said.

"Can this day get any worse" you whined as you picked up the blow dryer.

When you turned on the blow dryer, baby powder and glitter came flying out of it, causing Jason to laugh even harder. It took you all day to get the dye and glitter out of your hair. You finally decided that enough was enough, and that you were going to end it. You asked Alfred for a little favor and your plan was complete.

That day, Jason and Damian were walking upstairs from training, and the fresh scent of Alfred’s famous chocolate chip cookies filled the air. Jason and Damian were immediately alured by the smell and went straight to the kitchen. As soon as they stepped inside, a trap was set, and little did they know, they were hanging upside down.

"Hey! What is this!" Damian yelled.

"It was me, with a bit of help from Alfred, but that's not the point" you said as you revealed yourself.

"You two have been pulling pranks on each other for 3 weeks straight and I always end up paying for it!" you said.

"He started it!" Jason said as he pointed to Damian.

"Well if you didn't dye Titus pink then-"

"Enough! I am sick of your pranks so if you don't stop, for Jason, I will burn all of your pride and prejudice books" you said as you held Jason's book in your hand.

"You wouldn't dare!" Jason gasped.

"Pffft, really you're that concerned over a book?" Damian scoffed.

"And for your Damian, I will shave off all of Alfred's hair" you said as Alfred (the cat) snuggled next to your leg.

"That's evil!" Damian yelled.

"Now, will the two of you stop your prank war? Or do I have to stick to my word?" you asked.

"Yes!"

"Deal!"

You clicked the button on your phone, and both of them were let down. After that day, both Damian and Jason learned something important. Damian learned not to get on your bad side, and Jason learned to hide his books in a safer place if he ever pissed you off.

[deadpresidents]

Is it true that bill clinton was a night owl and also had a really bad temper?

Oh yeah, President Clinton had a legendarily volcanic temper. There have even been moments in interviews or speeches where he gets annoyed and you'll see a flash of anger in his eyes, his face turns bright red, and he starts pointing his finger at whomever he's speaking with. Some of his former White House aides have written about his temper over the years and said it never lasted very long, but was pretty intense when it happened, and the only thing more uncomfortable was when he would get really mad at someone and he'd give them an icy stare and silent treatment. In his book All Too Human: A Political Education (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO), George Stephanopoulos, who was a senior staff member in the White House during most of Clinton's first term wrote:

"When Hillary was angry, you didn't always know it right away -- a calculated chill would descend over time. [President] Clinton's anger was a more impersonal physical force, like a tornado. The tantrum would form in an instant and exhaust itself in a violent rush. Whoever happened to be in the way would have to deal with it; more often than not, that person was me. I guess Clinton figured that I could fix whatever problem was causing his frustration, and he must have sensed that I didn't take his temper personally. The trick was to have a kind of thin skin -- to understand that Clinton's didn't really yell at you; he yelled through you, as the rage passed through him. My job was to absorb the anger and address its cause."

You can see some hints of Clinton's volatile temper in this 2004 interview with Peter Jennings, this tense back-and-forth with Jerry Brown during a 1992 Democratic Presidential primary debate, and, most famously, throughout the deposition he gave to independent counsel Kenneth Starr regarding his affair with Monica Lewinsky.

Believe it or not, another relatively recent President who had an explosive temper was Jimmy Carter. There are quite a few stories about Carter's icy glare and silent treatment when angry, as well as a borderline mean-spirited form of sarcasm when he was really pissed off. In his excellent biography, His Very Best: Jimmy Carter, A Life (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO), author Jonathan Alter wrote:

"Carter enjoyed oddballs but rarely suffered fools. His staff got used to the 'tells' of his annoyance or anger. A vein in his temple throbbed, and his jaw moved. Then came an uncomfortable silence and a stare from his 'icy blues,' enough to make one hide under his desk even though the Governor [Carter] never raised his voice. 'He can curl your hair when he wants to chew you out,' his close friend Bert Lance wrote. 'And he'll flash those eyes at you so brightly you'll need sunglasses.'"

[idkjustlemmedrownlikerab]

Evermore (Marauder's Version)

@marsmarauders and I welcome you back to our Taylor Swift x Marauders series. We got carried away again but what's new about that huh? Anyways here you have every single song from Evermore related to the Marauders characters :D (I totally didn't forget about this series at all due to midterms, what r y'all talking about? Nope not me)

willow

"Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark, Show me the places where the others gave you scars"

Both of us wholeheartedly agree that this is for sure a wolfstar song. This particular lyric could go either way with scars Sirius has from his mother or the scars Remus has because of Greyback and his furry little problem and "Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneaking in, as if you were a mythical thing" bcoz obviously they shared a dorm for 7 yrs and mythical thing aka a werewolf!

champagne problems

"How evergreen, our group of friends, Don't think we'll say that word again"

WOLFSTAR. I feel like this isn't even an argument every single person in the fandom who listens to Taylor can agree on this, this song screams wolfstar from Sirius' pov. "She would've made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in the head," being said about Sirius ofc

And Tonks being the new real thing who will patch up the tapestry that Sirius shred

gold rush

"I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush, I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch"

Now this is about unrequited love and I was certain from the beginning is about jegulus specifically from Regulus' pov talking about James pining after Lily for years when he was right there

'tis the damn season

"We could call it even, You could call me babe for the weekend, 'Tis the damn season,"

Seeing as the song talks about a fleeting relationship we couldn't help but think of this as Remus and Grant

tolerate it

"While you were out building other worlds, where was I? Where's that man who'd throw blankets over my barbed wire?"

BLACK BROTHERS. Like no discussion required at all this song screams Black Brothers from Regulus' pov like try and tell me that isn't Regulus talking about Sirius building a separate life for himself with the Gryffindors leaving Reg behind when he always used to be his protector, and now he's all alone. "I made you my temple, my mural, my sky, Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life" this is soo Regulus Black coded

no body, no crime

"I think he did it but I just can't prove it, No, no body, no crime, But I ain't letting up until the day I die"

Upon a lot of discussion and deliberation we have come to the conclusion that this song is Regulus Black about Peter coz he saw him at a meeting and knows he's the spy but by this time his relationship with his brother is basically non existent and he knows Sirius won't believe him so he needs proof

But at the ending the pov changes to Peter, convincing everyone that Sirius was the spy and the murderer

happiness

"Haunted by the look in my eyes, that would've loved you for a lifetime, Leave it all behind and there is happiness"

Now this song we think could go two ways either with jegulus or with nobleflower coz the lyrics "I hope she'll be a beautiful fool, Who takes my spot next to you" and the whole song overall has this tone of the singer wanting their ex lover to lead a happy life without them while also having a very spiteful undertone due to not being a part of it and that screams Black family to us

dorothea

"Hey Dorothea, Do you ever stop and think about me? When we were younger, down in the park honey, making a lark of the misery

Now we have two interpretations for this Marls was thinking more of Remus and Mary from Remus' pov since they are the only two members left of their friend group and Mary was the one who fled, I on the other hand could also see another version which could be Snape talking about Lily, "You got shiny friends since you left town, A tiny screen's the only place I see you now"

coney island

"I'm on a bench in Coney Island, Wondering, where did my baby go?"

For this song while Marls wasn't that sure but I could see Nobelflower all over since the song talks about this badly ended relationship bcoz one of them (Narcissa) had started distancing themselves and acting strange, so the other (Alice) starts questioning their own existence and wondering if they are all alone now that their partner no longer feels known. This being coz Cissa is bound to her house and her duties, one of them being getting married to a pure blood and Alice starts to resent her for it even tho she knows she doesn't have much of a choice

ivy

"My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand, Taking mine, but it's been promised to another"

Now ignoring the affair since we don't think any of them would do that, if we just look at the dying relationship and the beginning of a new one aspect of the song I can definitely see the end of bartylus and then Barty falling in love with Evan and thankfully Marls agrees with me on this

cowboy like me

"And the skeletons in both our closets, Plotted hard to fuck this up"

Both of us agree that is song is rosekiller all the way through bcoz it talks about two con artists who thought they never needed love but then they fall for each other?? Tell me that isn't sooo rosekiller coded

long story short

"And I fell from the pedestal, Right down the rabbit hole, Long story short, it was a bad time"

This is very obviously about Lily falling in love with James after Severus to the both of us, about how in hindsight that friendship wasn't really what she thought it was and now she is genuinely happy and it's all about James now

Tho Marls also suggested it about James and Lily getting together after he broke up with Regulus as well and while I do like it, I personally refuse to associate "Long story short, it was the wrong guy" with jegulus coz that just makes me sad :(

marjorie

"Should've kept every grocery store receipt, 'Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me"

This track again is Black Brothers coded but this time from Sirius' pov missing his brother after his death and regretting not mending their relationship bcoz there was still a part of him which hated his little brother for not running away with him

"What died didn't stay dead, You're alive, you're alive in my head"

closure

"It's been a long time, And seeing the shape of your name, Still spells out pain"

Evans sister. Yep that's it, it's Lily singing to Petunia about their broken relationship

evermore

"I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone, Trying to find the one where I went wrong"

In the words of our lovely Marls herself "REGULUS RIGHT BEFORE HE DIES LIKE RIGHT AS HE'S GOING DOWN TO THE CAVE, I TAKE NO CRITICISM"

And no criticism she had to take bcoz those were exactly my thoughts no discussion needed at all

right where you left me

"Help, I'm still at the restaurant, still sitting in a corner I haunt"

Now Marls sees this as Remus post war bcoz everyone other than him died (or fled in Mary's case) and left him alone and he couldn't move on from the fact for the longest time

And while I do love this interpretation I can also see jegulus after the break up from Regulus' pov, seeing James falling in love with Lily again and having a family "I'm sure that you got a wife out there, Kids and Christmas, but I'm unaware" "If our love died young, I can't bear witness" while he's still stuck there reminiscing their time together bcoz that's genuinely the happiest he's ever been

it's time to go

"Sometimes, givin' up is the strong thing, Sometimes, to run is the brave thing, Sometimes, walkin' out is the one thing"

Sirius Black. That's it. We hear no criticism at all, try and fight us about it and we will strangle you in ur sleep :D I'm not kidding we hope yk that for ur own safety

AND THAT'S ALL FOR TODAY!! Thank you for sticking with us even tho I was very late for this post, the next post probably won't take this long coz Marls is the one who's gonna post that, not me, but I hope u liked our opinions and if not, we'd love to hear urs

Make sure to come back to see Folklore, coming soon! (To a theater near you)

[kairiscorner]

Ok ok I just read your NoirXFlorist and I am so in love. A personal HC I have is that Noir’s giving love language is acts of service and so ⬇️

-Imagine Noir being colorblind, but he wants to help at your shop and since the easiest way to differentiate between flowers is color he learns other ways to tell the difference- scent, texture, size, shape, or just memorizing where a certain type of flower is most often stored, because he wants to help. -Also, if any heavy lifting needs to be done, he rushes to do it before you even get the chance, even if it’s just a box. “No, no, I got it, doll.” “A lady of mine shall not do any heavy work, not while I’m here.”

anon are you trying to kill me with cuteness and fluff.

BC IT'S WORKING OMGGGGG YEAH, NO, I WANNA MAKE A FIC OF THIS, THANK YOU FOR THE IDEA AND FOR SHARING :>

(i wish i could credit you anon, you and your big beautiful brain 😭😭😭🫂🫂 also reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <;:D)

(part 1)

so imagine:

it was a real hectic, busy day at your floral shop; people came flooding into your place more frequently, and while it was good for business, you were completely and utterly overwhelmed.

you managed a small establishment, and business was going well recently, but you were the only one working there, of course a pair of hands and a couple of fast feet can only do so much work.

peter'd have come in all chipper and point out the long line of people coming in, and then he'd see your tired, overworked face still smiling and wrapping up bouquets so darn fast.

he'd be in awe, of course, and fall in love with your hardworking and capable self, but he'd be super concerned as well for you so he'd pull you to the side as the influx of people died down for a bit and ask you with a concerned smile if you were okay.

"dear, you good? looks like you had to run several laps back there." he joked lightheartedly as he put his hands on your shoulders. "i know i'm not exactly the most helpful guy out there for this job, but if it gives you any comfort, i can help. i'm around you and the flowers all the time, i... i kinda got everything down about them." he said in a slightly cocky tone, but of course, it was to impress you with his new confidence since you first met him as a bumbling fool who was head over heels in love with you the moment you showed him just what kind of hidden beauty was lying in wait for him to discover.

you hesitated telling him you were okay and that he didn't have to bother himself to help you, because you were seriously considering getting some help at the very last minute to complete your clients' requests. "well... i'm actually kind of drowning over here, pete. i'm worried i can't do this on my own." you admitted.

peter smiled as he put his hand to your cheek. "don't you worry about a thing, i've got you. i meant it when i said i know everything there is know about the flowers here. i may not be able to tell which flowers are what color, but you of all people know a flower's color isn't the only thing worth nothing." he said with a small wink at you. yes, he'd been practicing that wink, he waited for the right occasion to use it on you.

it made you smile widely as peter agreed to help, and you had a lot of faith in him that he'd be able to ease your burden. you had shown peter the ropes before after work hours, it was another option for a date between you two. you loved how fast he picked up at tying the bouquets together, ringing up change, and memorizing the descriptions of the flowers; it really warmed your heart that he took interest in these things and was determined to show you he could do these things for you if you needed him to.

he got to work immediately, hoping that him having to interact with the customers would come as natural and easy as learning everything there is to know about the flowers; but humans are no flowers, they're significantly much harder to please, so that thought kind of scared him. but you were counting on him, that was all he could think about--you counting on him, you needing him right then and there.

you couldn't believe how different peter seemed when he was talking to the customers, helping them out as you tied up the bouquets. he appeared like a door to door salesman, and you meant that in the nicest way possible.

he seemed more upbeat, cheery, and... you dare say, a lot more charming. you two soon switched shifts, he was on tying and ringing up the bouquets, and you were the one helping out the customers pick flowers.

you were a little worried because you knew peter didn't do so well when having other people wait for him, it sort of intimidated him. you never taught him everything he now knows during work hours, it was just you two--and as pleasant as it was for both of you, you were still concerned how he'd be doing applying that practice in a real scenario.

but lo and behold, peter did it all in a jiffy. he didn't even need to use a calculator or do the math on paper, the minute he saw the flowers, counted them, and took note of other things--he could instantly give them their total, with tax. he was extraordinarily fast, too; he was extremely agile yet delicate with handling the bouquets, they were flowers, after all; they needed room to breathe, a single mistake can end in them being crushed, so of course, he was mindful of that, too.

soon, the day was ending; the sky had red, orange, pink, and purple strewn out over the horizon as the sun set. you and peter just finished up the last round of orders, and the floral shop was nearly empty by the time you were finished.

you both breathed out a breath you both didn't realize you were both holding in this entire time. the two of you laughed since you did it at the exact same time. "thank you for helping, peter. really, i... i don't know what i'd've done without you." you said as you went over behind the counter and stood next to him.

now this is when the shy, flustered peter parker comes back to you. he smiled at you widely and blushed profusely; leading all the way up to the tips of his ears, an innocent and pleasing mix of red and pink dancing on his cheeks.

"it's no biggie." he muttered, trying to sound as confident as he was earlier, but his defenses broke down when he caught you leaning closer to his face, your nose mere inches away from his own. he chuckled. "well... maybe it is kind of a biggie." he said as he put his hands on your arms and rubbed them lightly.

"well, thank you, again, pete." you repeated as you put your hand on the back of his. soon, peter noticed a truck coming by and a man coming down the truck with a clipboard in his hand, a few other men bringing boxes about and laying them by the door of your floral shop.

"oh, wait right here, pete." you said as you went over to talk to the man. peter watched as you signed the papers on the man's clipboard, thanked him, and... they left without helping you carry those boxes!

peter was enraged just the slightest bit as he watched you, your poor, overworked self, carry them into the floral shop without contempt for those men who didn't even bother to help. immediately, peter rushed to your aid, flung the door open, and took the box you were trying to carry away from you and into his arms.

"peter--!" you exclaimed as he took the box with ease. "i've got it, don't worry, really! i've already asked for your help today, this... i got this." you tried telling him, but he refused to listen and took box after box into the floral shop.

he smiled up at you and adjusted his glasses with one hand, carrying a box in his other hand. "no, no, i got it, doll. don't you worry about a thing, a lady of mine shall not do any heavy work, not while i'm here." he said as he flashed you another wink, he was getting better at it, you had to admit.

you blushed at his gallantry and general altruism towards you. you decided to reward him for all his hard work afterwards. he finished carrying the boxes and putting them aside. he turned to look at you as you walked into the floral shop, blushing a bit as you kept admiring how sweet he was towards you and for all his help.

"i really can't thank you enough for today, peter. it's far beyond what i originally asked you to do." you said as you took his hands into your own, and he blushed yet again. "of course. anything for you, my darling." he murmured, still admiring how soft and warm your hands were. you giggled. you opened a box to unveil a flurry of flowers of every kind in it, and you placed a flower behind his ear yet again.

he chuckled. "my, you never get tired of doing that, don't you?" he asks. you shake your head playfully. "it looks beautiful." you remarked. "it does?" he asked, a little joyful at that compliment. "well..." he said as he took a flower from the box that he thought was the prettiest and tucked it behind your ear, too. "i've always wanted to do that. and now... oh goodness, you're a complete and total beauty on your own, and now... oh, call an ambulance, love, i'm having a heart attack!" he said as he leaned over to brush his nose against yours, smiling and chuckling to himself all the while as his eyes stared intently into your own big, beautiful ones.

"i truly, truly love you, dear." he tells you as his lips are just centimeters away from your own. "and i love you, truly, pete." you reply as you close the distance between you two, kissing him as the sun sank down into the horizon--you two greeting the night with a loving kiss shared between you two.

maybe he should come out to help you more often, after all, such is to be done when you're planning to become one's husband, no?

a/n: BUIREBFIUBEVIUBHIUFEHIFIRFRBVIURBVBRVR I LOVED WRITING THIS SM AAAAAA TY AGAIN ANON HOPE YOU LIKE ITTTTT <33

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @fictarian @pixqlsin

[v4mpgutz]

Call It What You Want, Ethan Landry [ DRABBLES ]

— you don't need to save me, but would you run away with me?

ethan landry spiderman au mini fics !

note: this au isn't based off of the original peter parker story its just ethan with the core 4 + anika, quinn and you ! basically everything is the same as scream 6 except no ghostface (wayne is still an asshole and richie is still dead) ... totally didn't reference scooby-doo, not at all.

warnings ! — ethan has attachment issues, mentions of violence but not descriptive, blood and mild gore, petnames (baby, angel)

you discovering that ethan was your friendly neighbourhood spiderman wasn't exactly intentional.

-> you live in the apartment directly next to chad and ethan's, making fast friends with them when you moved in which was a relief to you. one night, ethan is all bloodied up from fighting some amateur villian and he accidentally swings himself onto your fire escape — not paying full attention as he bleeds out.

he grunts as he lands, panting and whining softly as the pain starts to kick in. shit, that hurts more than he thought. he slowly opens the window, climbing inside. your eyes are wide open as you lay in your bed, thinking someone just broke in. you struggle to hide a gasp when you watch as spiderman leans against your wall, his eyes rolling around lazily as he struggles to keep them open.

you go to get up from your bed, to help him, when he takes off his mask. immediately, your concern doubles as you see the face you loved so dearly.

"ethan?!" you exclaim and rush over to him, helping him onto your bed

he laughs, drowsy, "woahhh! this isn't my apartment!" he giggles before his eyes shut and hes unconscious.

you examine his body and realise he's bleeding in quite a few places, cuts and bruises being evidence of a nasty fight between someone who clearly had a weapon.

you patch him up and let him stay the night, explaining how he got there when he wakes up the next morning.

"wait so—" he panics, eyes wide.

"yes, i know you're spiderman," you sigh. "don't worry, i can keep a secret," you whisper with a wink, holding a finger to your lips and kissing it gently.

ethan landry who is so terrified when you start dating because what if some lunatic finds out he's dating you and tries to take you hostage?

-> "i'm just worried about you, angel," he huffs in frustration when he discourages you from going out with your friends again.

you look annoyed, your brows furrowed. "you don't trust me?" you ask before scoffing, "unbelievable!"

he frowns and walks over to you from where he was sitting on your bed and sighs, wrapping you in a hug. he leaves a gentle kiss behind your ear and whispers to you softly, "i don't want someone to take you."

you go to protest again before realising this wasn't coming from ethan landry, econ student — it was coming from ethan landry, spiderman.

you pull away a little, hands on his shoulders as you look into his eyes. "hey, i'll be okay," you reassure him with a kiss to his cheek.

"and if you're not?" he asks, eyes watery as his voice cracks.

"then i know you'll be there to save me."

ethan landry who takes you on late-night swings throughout the city.

-> "ethan, if you drop me i swear to god!" you yell. he's holding you tight to him with one arm as you hold on for dear life and he's using the other to sling webs from building to building.

"i'm not gonna drop you, baby," he laughs as he plants the both of you down on the roof of some random apartment building.

you smack him on the shoulder and cross your arms, looking away from him. he chuckles and wraps his arms around your waist as he hugs you from behind, pulling his mask up just enough to show his lips before he kisses the back of your neck gently.

he rests his head on your shoulder, seeing you fight off a smile as he moves a hand up to turn your jaw towards him.

he pulls his mask completely off, holding it in his hand as he presses a soft kiss to your lips, mumbling against them.

"only a fool would drop someone like you."

dropping this here now hehehaha, might make a full oneshot from this bc i love spiderman ethan

[iridescentparkers]

follower celebration

wise men say, only fools rush in… but i can’t help…falling in love with you….

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ FOR 500 FOLLOWERS! you can request a blurb using this list or this one (18+) and add whatever you want to your submission!!!

RULES:

ೃ⁀➷ make sure to follow the baseline of my rules !!!!!

ೃ⁀➷ must be from any of the following characters:

: ̗̀➛ tasm!peter parker

: ̗̀➛ mcu!peter parker

: ̗̀➛ also specify which reader ! gn or female !

TIMELINE: 5/18-5/24 - REQUESTS OPEN NOW !

MASTERLIST

: ̗̀➛ **too much

: ̗̀➛** hidden treasures

**18+ means 18+!

also - requests for these blurbs will come first !!!!

[masivechaos]

HEALING MY ACHING SOUL

remus lupin x fem! reader

Request: yes / no

see the request here!

Synopsis: You ask Remus out on a date but he refuses for a mysterious reason

Warning/content: kinda hurt to comfort, kissing, mention of wounds and bandages etc, reader is hufflepuff and pureblood, grumpy! remus and sunshine! reader, my English

a.n.: 1.6k words- remus loml

masterlist/ marauders masterlist / navigation / taglist 

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

Remus groaned as he felt James shoving his shoulder, the pre-full moon period wasn't the best one if his friends decided to annoy him. "What?" he asked irritated. James smirked before nodding his head towards you, you were chatting at the Hufflepuff table with your friends. Remus looked at you and- without even meaning to- his face softened. You were so pretty, even in the morning, whereas he thought about his own appearance and realised he looked like he haven't slept in weeks. 

"Y/n?" Peter asked as he threw a roll of bread in his mouth. Remus shooted him a glare and tried his best not to look at you even if he wanted to. He wanted to convince himself of the opposite but he needed you. When he was with you he never had to worry about anything, you were healing his aching soul every day. 

Every time he was grumpy and just wanted to lie down on his bed, to stay away from everyone and everything you would make an apparition and a smile would find his lips. 

Sirius, very not subtly, turned his head to look at you "You're ever going to ask her out?" he asked Remus. 

The latter let out a sigh "I don't know," he said as he took a bite of his toast. He wanted to ask you out on a date. You often had sort of rendezvous but it was as friends and he wanted you to understand how much he cared about you. 

"During class?" Peter suggested. 

James's face lighted up "Yeah! You're partners in potions!" his mind was digging to find a way of helping his best friend. Remus shrugged his shoulders, he didn't want his friends to get involved. As much as he always told his friends communication was important he was the last one to speak about his emotions. He hated talking about his feelings for you, it made him feel like an idiot, a fool. He knew how much he loved you, how much you were occupating his brain but he felt horrible when he told his friends. His mind was a funny little thing.

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Potion class quickly came and Remus found himself next to you as usual. You smiled at him and his stomach twisted in his body. "Hi Remmy," you said. Godric, he hated this nickname. But the way it sounded when it came from your lips, he could only cherish it. It was one of the many exclusivities you had in his heart. 

You started to work on the assignment Slughorn gave you but he was more focused on the way you were so meticulous with the ingredients than his own work. He could stare at you for hours and it scared him. Just the way your tongue was poking out the corner of your lips was turning him into a puddle. 

When the class came to an end he didn't want to leave, he wanted to stay by your side. Maybe one day he'd be courageous enough to ask you to stay with him. 

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

"Lily!" you called, waving your hand. 

The girl turned around and smiled at you "Y/n!" she hugged you and you smile into the embrace. 

"I have things to tell you," you said with a grin. Lily's eyes widened comedically before rushing to her dorm, ready to hear whatever gossip you had to tell her. She plopped down on her bed and you followed her. "I think I have a crush on someone," you said followed by a 'heeee' of excitement. 

Her mouth fell open "No way! Who?" she almost sounded more excited than you. 

"Remus." 

"Oh my-" Lily responded. "You would be so cute together!" she grinned and you could only smile at the idea to be with him. 

You bit your bottom lip "I'm scared to ask him out..." you couldn't stand the idea of being rejected by him "During potion class all I was focusing on was the way his hands were so pretty as he was writing and-" You fell down on Lily's bed as you smile dreamily. 

"Ooh," she said with a teasing tone "His hands, huh?" Embarrassed, you felt your cheeks heating up and hid your face in her pillow. "You should ask him out," Lily said a little more seriously. 

"I don't know..." 

"You should! I don't think you'll get rejected. If you want my opinion, he loves you too." Your heart missed a beat. Was she telling the truth? Did you have a chance?

You decided that you were going to ask him out. Because if Lily was telling the truth and that he loved you, he didn't ask you out yet and probably wasn't going to. You had to make the first move. 

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

The next day, you found Remus at the Black Lake, he seemed a little angry, grumbling something as he aggressively tapped his quill on the parchment paper. "Remmy?" you said as you sat next to him. 

He tore his eyes from his paper and his face subtly light up, he was happy to see you. "Yes, love?" The nickname? You could die on the spot. 

You took a deep breath, it wasn't the time to be a coward. "I-I wanted to ask you something..." 

"Go ahead," he said with an encouraging smile. 

"D-do you want to go on a date with me tomorrow night?" you turned your head away, refusing to look at him. Remus' heart stopped beating for a moment, was all this really happening? He wanted to accept so much but then he remembered, tomorrow was the full moon and he won't be able to come. He hated to tell you no but he could find another day, right? 

He cleared his throat "Um... actually- I-I can't... I'm sorry-" But before he could ask you on another date you got up and left, too embarrassed to face the defeat. "No wait- Y/n!" he shouted but it was already too late. "Fuck!" he swore as he throw his paper on the ground. Lycanthropy was truly a curse and it poisoned him every day. With a heavy heart, he walked back to his dorm, refusing to answer the questions Sirius just kept asking.

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

You told Lily about what happened and decided to spend the night in her dorm, you needed comfort and could mainly find it next to her, she was like a sister to you.

To make you think about something else and wipe your tears she decided to talk to you about the muggle world. As a pureblood, you never had the opportunity to learn about muggles and Lily loved to tell you about her world. You listened carefully and laughed when she told you about their pictures than weren't moving. 

During the following days you tried to forget about Remus but you couldn't ignore the fact that you hadn't seen him in a while. It wasn't the first time this happened but this time you felt a little more worried than usual. 

"James?" The boy turned around and smiled when he saw you but you noticed that it seemed like he knew what happened and was sorry for you. 

"Yes?"

"Where is Remus?" James looked a little uncomfortable. "Can you tell me, please?" you wanted to know, you were scared something happened to him.

James considered telling you or not before finally answering "In the infirmary." You barely waited for him to finish his sentence before running to the said place.

You opened the doors a little too loudly and earned a scolding from Mrs Pomfrey. "Sorry," you whispered. You looked around and found Remus' bed. As you saw him asleep there, covered in bandages, you felt guilty for being mad at him. 

You sat on a chair next to him and took his hand between yours. You stroke his skin slowly, you hoped he was okay. You waited hours for him to wake up and started to lose hope, maybe you had to come back tomorrow. 

"Y/n?" you heard Remus' weak voice calling for you.

"Remmy!" you straightened up in your seat and- without even thinking- you cupped his wounded cheek with your hand. "What happened?" you asked with a hint of panic in your voice.

Remus stayed quiet, he was hesitating. Maybe his secret had already ruined too many things, maybe it was time to finally let it out. "Please don't hate me," he said and it broke your heart. You could never hate him. "I- I'm a werewolf." He shut his eyes, waiting for your reaction.

"Oh Remus," you cooed, "You thought I would hate you for this?" Remus nodded, a little ashamed, "I would never hate you for this Remus. I will help you, I will heal your wounds- you know I want to be a medical witch" You went on and on about all the things you would do for him and Remus listened carefully with a smile on his lips. There was a moment when you thought you were talking too much but the boy asked you to continue. And so you did.

"Is it why you refused the date?" you asked, remembering two days ago was the full moon.

"Yeah"

"Oh I'm sorry for leaving Remmy," you apologized, resting your forehead against his. He told you not to worry and leaned forward. With his back against the headboard and your hand on his cheek, he kissed you.

You couldn't believe it was happening but you kissed him back anyway. "I love you so much," you whispered before pulling him for a kiss again.

"I love you too. Thank you for healing my aching soul, love."

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

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