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satuguro · 1 year

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*ೃ࿐TO FAULT A NET

[ ACT I: KEEP YOUR FRIENDS CLOSE ]

spiderman! ethan landry x black cat! reader

#SYNOPSIS— you stumble across a murder, ethan has daddy issues, you think spider-man's an easy fight, and spider-man makes a deal with you.

#CONTAINS— enemies to lovers, slowburn, antihero&vigilante reader, familial issues, gore, blood, murder, death, sexual/suggestive content (in this part & some other parts), reader is overly flirtatious

#AUTHORSNOTE— is anyone really surprised that i started a new series? no, but i will warn you rn that this series won't be incredibly accurate to marvel and scream (obviously), so if that bothers you, don't read!

your feet moved quickly as you ran from rooftop to rooftop, the sound of distant sirens moving father and farther away from you was like music to your ears. it would've calmed you down— maybe even slowed your running —if it weren't for the fact that you had a shadow. a comically dressed shadow in red and blue.

the continuous sounds of webs being shot at you was the only thing keeping you running towards nothing. running away from the metropolitan museum (which you didn't even steal from, by the way) with some insect man close to your feet.

"hey, wait! lady, stop!"

and he wouldn't shut up. constantly calling at you, trying to catch your attention like some fanatic. it would've almost been cute if you weren't avoiding capture.

you didn't even turn back to look at him, forcing your body to move faster and faster until your momentum was stopped by a web hitting your ankle. you growled in annoyance, reaching down with your unsheathed claws to cut yourself free from the webbing, until you were harshly pulled onto a roof by the masked hero himself.

you laid on the rooftop, staring up at new york's very own spider-man (who was never a problem until a couple months ago, when he seemingly appeared out of nowehere). covering your obvious discontent, you smiled a malicious smile. "hi, spider," you said, before kicking his knee back and forcing him to fall. his groan of pain met your ears as you threw a punch at his face, one he quickly dodged.

"are you another hero?" he asked between kicks and punches, completely ignoring the fact that you were both in a fight. it didn't seem like much of a problem for him, as he was far too focused at multitasking between asking you personal questions and dodging your attacks. "i take that questions back— if you were, you wouldn't be attacking me right now," another dodge, "but you brought that painting back to the museum! but you also stole it so it's a bit of a question of morality, so i think i have to turn you in—"

you grabbed his arm and pinned it behind his back, your other hand coming up to wrap around his neck. your sharp claws dug into his neck, making him hiss in pain as you leant in close to his ear. "do you really think you can turn me in?" your hand let go of his neck but remained close to his face, your pointer finger coming to play with the edge of his mask. you pulled it up, only making it halfway up his face, before he broke free from your grasp.

but once he turned around, you were already gone.

some say that when your father died, the rich people of new york were finally able to breathe. finally, their endless valuables were finally safe, their priceless collections of stolen art, their rows of cars enough to pay any college kid's tuition, and their bank accounts were now all free from his iron grasp. gone was the man who had taken what he wanted and got it, gone was any trace of his legacy or his family; walter hardy was dead.

he always claimed that of all the valuables in his hands had taken, you were his most prized possession. the one person he would lay down his life for, and to have him gone.. it was all too unfair. all too wrong for him to die trying to get back to his daughter.

so that was why you had taken his place. black cat no longer became something policemen and journalists used to reference your father. that title was something you chose to share with him, because as policemen talked over their little radios about the burglary on west 81st street, you were already miles away, listening to their pathetic voices over the radio.

it was halloween in new york, and while many homeowners chose to stay home and tend to their candy duty, others were off partying at their friends' houses, oblivious to the fact that you had already deactivated the alarm to their home. three houses in the span of one night; you were sure that your greed would be your downfall one day.

but as you raised your hand up to the moon, watching how the rays of light danced along your wrist, you knew in your heart that your greed ran deeper than simple wants. you had your reasons.

a blood curdling scream met your ears, making you hurriedly shove the jewels into a pack and unsheathe your claws, ready to attack. walked near the edge of the building, the squelching sound of blood reached your ears, making you all the more on edge as you peered off the side just in time to watch a man shove a mask (the same mask from that one movie, stab) into his bag and turn a corner.

your eyes focused on the woman in yellow, dead and seated against the wall with blood pouring from her chest like a fountain. not a sound was made as you climbed down the wall and landed on your feet, cautious as you stepped closer to the unresponsive body.

"fuckin' asshole," you murmured as you observed the body, eyebrows furrowing. the woman, blonde and pretty, looked familiar to you. leaning down to take a closer look at her face (and careful not to step in the growing pool of blood around her), your eyes widened when you fully took in your features.

that was a film professor at your college.

wordlessly, you pulled out your phone and called a number you've never typed in your life.

"manhattan police department," the policeman stated.

"laura crane was just murdered in front of a manhattan bar." and with a click, you hung up.

the sound of that familiar thwip and landing feet made detective bailey roll his eyes in annoyance. just when they had gotten the reporters and journalists in control— a certain masked individual just had to make an appearance. "you aren't supposed to be here," he said in annoyance, turning to look at the masked hero.

"don't you know my m.o by now? like, isn't that your job?" spider-man asked with a cock of his head, obviously enjoying his teasing. "but you can't really.. not allow me to be here. i'm here to help, after all."

"i'm not letting some kid help," detective bailey practically growled, but the hero was already pushing past him to look at the body.

from beneath the mask, ethan hid his shock at the sight of one of his college's professors, dead and staring blankly into empty space. as if constantly being around his estranged his father wasn't enough; now a professor from his college was dead.

"what? bug man finally ran out of things to say?" detective bailey asked snarkily, making ethan snap out of his stupor.

"no, da— detective," ethan said in a faux matter-of-fact voice, squatting down to look closer at the dead body. he almost cringed at the slip up he just made; if only his father knew. "can't a man observe in silence?"

it wasn't like ethan had planned his superhero life out. he had moved to new york right after his brother's death for college, and being desperate to leave his brother's horrible crimes behind, he changed his last name. calls to his dad and his sister became texts. visits became nonexistent. even after he was bitten and took on the superhero roll he was desperate to move on, and right when he believed he finally was, his dad and sister moved to new york.

ethan didn't tell any of his friends that he was related to richie, nor did he tell them that he was the detective's kid. all they knew was that quinn was his sister, and while it hurt to pretend as though richie never existed, it was for the best. he left that life behind him, and quinn seemed to respect that at least.

"how'd you find her?" ethan asked a nearby cop.

"anonymous tip around the time she was murdered."

his eyes took in the gruesome scene in front of him. his eyes drifted to professor crane's blank face, before following the splashes of blood on the brick behind her. his eyes squinted as he continued to look up the wall, the dots connecting when he saw familiar claw marks above the body. they were faint, so faint, that if ethan hadn't seen them before, then he was sure that the police wouldn't have.

he raised his hand, and with another thwip of his webs, he was gone.

ethan was searching for any sign of you. a part of him hoped that you weren't within the confines of your home hiding behind your civilian name. there was a possibility that you helped kill the professor. maybe you were an accomplice. regardless of your role in it all, ethan was sure that you had seen something and chose to keep it to yourself. you had your own reasons for doing so; you believed you were far more clever than anyone. maybe you were.

the scratches on the walls were something you left behind. ethan knew that; he had literally been choked by those claws of yours when he first took up his job as a hero. he didn't want to believe that you you were quicker than him, but the fact that you had gotten away.. to say that he wasn't annoyed by it would be a lie.

he later learned who you were because of his father during one of their awkward dinners. the black cat.

he hadn't invited quinn this time. it was as though he was trying to strictly have some father-son time with ethan; some pathetic attempt at reconnecting, he assumed. if reconnecting meant taking him out to a thai restaurant and only talking about his job or richie and never asking ethan anything beyond the, "how's college?" question.

but something within his father's ramble about work had caught ethan's attention. home burglaries were a huge problem, that much ethan knew, but this had been the first time he ever heard his father talk about it; much less talk about who he suspects had done it.

"they call her black cat. witnesses have only ever seen enough of her to know she's a lady—"

"who do you think she is?" ethan asked, unable to stop himself as he leaned forward in his chair. so that was who he caught running along the roofs of new york. the one person who had gotten away from him.

"some fan of the original black cat, walter hardy. either that," his father put a forkful of pad thai in his mouth, chewing and swallowing, "or his daughter. there's no record of them, though."

"do you think they're the ones who stole from all those houses?"

"that's all i'm saying about the subject, ethan," his father said sternly, looking him up and down suspiciously. "just eat your food."

it didn't take much for you to catch yourself up on the stab murders. you had only heard a little bit about it; not because you lived under a rock, but because you didn't care. not until now, at least.

tara and sam carpenter. tara was in your psych class at blackmore university; you had talked to her enough times that she was probably the closest person you had to a 'friend,' as off as it sounded. you had a similar humor and she wasn't the type to pry over your past (which made sense now, after you scrolled mindlessly through your phone to catch up on the continuous murders).

that was why you were watching their apartment building from the building right in front of it. you had only seen them through their window, but at least you knew they were alive. on any other day you would've called anyone in your position creepy, but you considered this to be lawful stalking.

truthfully, you weren't sure why you were doing this. maybe you had gotten soft ever since you started college. maybe you were bored.

you toyed with a golden locket you had stolen that night, eyes set on their forms moving in and out of sight. you were so focused on them, something akin to worry thrumming through your veins until a web hit your back and dragged you away from the edge of the building. your back scratched across the roof floor, and as you looked up, you saw the familiar red and blue suit you had only ever seen from afar.

“hi, kitty,” spider-man said, almost smiling.

you practically hissed at the sight of him, your hands making quick work of unsheathing your claws as you narrowly dodged another web. you moved quickly and kicked him in the face, letting him hit the ground for just a second before you were straddling, legs tight around him as you grabbed his hands and held it above him. your claws came close to his wrists, the shining metal threatening to break and hurt his web makers.

"oh, spider. i didn't know you liked me enough to stalk me." you smiled wickedly, pressing the metal closer to his wrists. you could feel something bulky underneath his suit, and your malicious grin only grew as you pressed harder against it.

"i don't like you," the super hero said annoyedly, making you scoff in amusement.

"are you sure?" you leaned closer to him, practically touching your nose against his mask. "then why aren't you fighting back right now?" you sent him one last grin before your hand left his wrists. you stood up, not even bothering to offer him a hand as you let your claws come out fully, one of your hands reaching for your gun. "what do you want?"

"i needed to ask you questions about the murder of laura crane," spider-man grumbled, standing up and crossing his arms at you. he looked at the apartment building before glancing back at you, the eyes of his mask narrowing. "why're you watching tara and sam's apartment?"

"why do you know that tara and sam live there?" you fired back, raising a brow. it was moments like these where you were happy you had a mask that at least covered half your face; the more you heard the spider-boy speak, the more you noticed how young his voice sounded. what if he went to your college? what if he was friends with them?

"because based on their history, they're vulnerable to attacks. i know that— being the friendly neighborhood spiderman ‘n all," he said, and you swore he rolled his eyes. "but it doesn't make sense for a criminal like you—"

"that's unnecessarily rude."

"to be watching them.” he looked you up and down, eyes seemingly lingering on your grappling hook and pack of god knows what that were strapped to your sides. the hero’s head then snapped up to look at you. “did you kill her? laura crane?” even he seemed unsure by his own question, the uncertainty in his tone making you shrug nonchalantly.

"do you think i did?" you asked, "you seem unsure yourself."

a pause. "no, i don't. but you know something, and you need to tell me what it is."

you glanced at the apartment building before looking down at your nails, absentmindedly observing them. "what's in it for me?" you asked, not even looking up at new york's favorite hero.

"i don't bring you to the police."

"as if you could do that before," you scoffed, rolling your eyes. you heard him exhale slowly, a smirk appearing on your face at the sound. you were getting to him; with every snarky comment, you pissed him off more and more. and the sadistic part of you loved it. "don't you remember? you couldn't even catch me the first time. sad, isn't it?"

"i'm not gonna make that same mistake again," he said firmly, walking closer to you. stiffly, he brought his gloved hand out. "you tell me what you know and you help me—"

"well, don't word it like that," you muttered. "i'm only telling you information, spider. i'm not being your stupid sidekick."

"you aren't," he said, "but since you're such a well known felon, you could help me figure out who's the murderer. see if they're a criminal, if they were hired by anyone, anything." he sighed. "you help me, and i let you go. deal?"

warily, you looked at him up and down. you weren't one to make deals with anyone, much less a masked hero who was loved by practically everyone. but you found yourself wrapping your black gloved hand around his and shaking it once. "fine."

ACT II, ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V, EPILOGUE

#AUTHOR'S NOTE— feel free to ask to be on the taglist! i'm also sorry for all the typos lol

#scream 6 imagines #scream 6 smut #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagines #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry #ethan landry x you #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry x y/n #scream fanfic #scream 6 fanfic #ethan landry fanfiction #to fault a net—!#scream 6 imagine #scream vi imagine #scream vi smut #scream vi imagines

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livelaughsmut · 1 year

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Ethan Morales One-shot

warnings: just smut fr‼️‼️‼️

I walked into the science lab because i left my textbook, as i look up i see ethan. damn he seems hotter everytime i see him.

“sup y/n” he said with a smirk on his face

“sup ethan what are you doing?” i said anxiously because just his presence made

me nervous.

i have liked ethan since we were young and we’ve definitely made out at a few house parties but i always was yearning for more than that.

“well i was about to skip my next class. what are you doing?” he looks me up and down and licks his lips. i could just pass out, i want him so bad.

“i just needed to grab my textbook” i stepped toward the lab table and began to pick my textbook up but ethan pushed it back down on the stack of books it was resting on. i looked at him confused. he put a finger under my chin and looked me deep in the eyes.

“i think maybe you should skip class with me” he starts tracing my jawline.

i gulp hard. “that’s bad, i’m trying to get a scholarship” ethan pulled away and walked towards the door closing it and locking it.

“one class won’t kill you” he says walking back to me. he puts his hand on the small of my back and pulls me close to him. he leans forward and whispers in my ear “i know deep down you like to be bad” i exhale slowly and put my hands on the back of his neck. he starts kissing down my neck and i gasp, i feel his smile on my skin.

i pull his shirt over his head and he is quick to help me take it off. he knocks all the books of the lab table and picks me up and puts me on it. he kisses me deeply and he pulls my tank top over my head and starts kissing down my boobs. he continues kissing down my stomach until he gets to the top of my jean shorts. he looks up at me while he’s practically on his knees and starts unbuttoning my shorts.

he pulls my shorts off my legs and starts kissing my thighs. it doesn’t take him long before he pulls down my panties and starts kissing my clit. he starts licking slowly and i gasp. i can just feel his amusement as he starts eating me out and i can’t help but start moaning super loud. “fuck ethan!!!” any other guy would prefer to not get caught but ethan doesn’t care.

i lock my fingers in his hair as he enters his fingers inside of me. my mouth hangs open and i am breathing heavily. i’m so close to cumming and ethan can tell by the way i’m clenching his fingers. he quickly pulls away and i get pissed.

“what the fuck” i sit up staring at him.

“i just wanna be fucking you while you cum” he says as he’s unbuckling his belt. he quickly pulls down his boxers and im shocked by his size. like actually shocked. he opens his condom with his teeth and puts it on. he steps forward and lines his dick up with my pussy. he starts rubbing my clit with his tip and i feel so on the edge i need him to fuck me.

i grab onto his back and pull him closer and he finally slides into me.

“fuck” i yell so loudly that someone had to have heard me.

he starts sliding in and out of me and i cant keep my composure. i start uncontrollably moaning and he starts groaning in my ear. it’s so hot. he picks up his pace and starts rubbing my clit with his thumb.

“im gonna cum oh my god” i scratch his back and he just keeps going faster.

“fuck fuck fuck” he says in my ear. “y/n im so close”

“me too” im holding onto him for dear life as he fucks the shit out of me.

i cum all over his dick and he cums inside the condom.

we’re both panting and are stuck in place. he pulls out of me and leans forward and kisses me deeply.

i pull away and our noses are touching and i can feel his breath on my face as i say “maybe i do like being bad”

he smiles “yeah you do” and starts kissing me again.

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sunkendreams · 4 months

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I haven’t seen any billy loomis content on your blog ,,, would love to see some smut of him! nothing specific, I know you’ll write something good!

devil in disguise.

➾ pairing ; billy loomis x fem!reader.

in which billy decides to visit you once your father leaves for his shift — but there’s an additional element.

FORMAT: one-shot — requested.

WORD COUNT: 6.7K.

WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), loss of virginity, rough sex, unprotected sex, p in v sex, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, sex during a storm, dirty talk, fingering (f!receiving), cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), heavy knifeplay, billy is a little deranged in this, begging, creampie, cumplay, bloodplay, tiddy sucking, mild body worship, biting, hickeys/marking, choking, hair-pulling, finger sucking

AUTHOR’S NOTE: not gonna lie, I was suffering from billy brainrot and this emerged from my brain. I love him so much !!! I do want to write some more mickey & ethan landry content too, but I do need to tell y’all about my new influx of blorbos lately LOL! love you all so much and thanks for your continued support! Means the world to me!

Whenever it rained in California, you considered it to be a once-in-a-lifetime occasion — wisps of black clouds fluttered overhead, accompanied by the haze of an overcast sky. Even for the evening, the skies were unnaturally dark, making it seem like nighttime altogether. The scent of encroaching dewdrops drifted through your bedroom.

“Honey?” Your father gently tapped his knuckles against the white pane of your door, dressed in his police uniform. “Mind if we talk?” He asked, clearing his throat. The badge of the Woodsboro Sheriff’s Department glistened on his ironed shirt.

With the recent killings of Casey Becker and Steven Orth plaguing your school, your father had reason to be concerned. He was the Chief, after all — he was cleaning up mess after mess, investigating these murders without any leads. Stress shimmered upon his features, showing up as heavy bags underneath his eyes.

You swiveled around within your seat, busying yourself with homework for the evening. Books were strewn across your desk, accompanied by a computer that barely ran nowadays anyway.

“Sure,” You cleared your throat, awkwardly shuffling away from your chair to the edge of your bed. “What’s up?” The relationship with your father was somewhat tenuous — being the daughter of a police chief came with unwanted attention and his constant overprotective nature.

“You know about the murders,” He began, looming in the doorway of your bedroom. His countenance glistened with a thinly-veiled anxiousness, but also a bit of fear. You rarely saw your father show anything remotely close to terror, but here he was. “About your classmates.”

“Yeah,” Your brows furrowed together — where was he going with this? “You don’t want me to leave the house anymore, do you?” An exasperated sigh escaped you, but he immediately shook his head.

“No, no. I just think …” He clicked his tongue. “No visitors for a while, not until we clear everyone at the school as a suspect.” A sinking feeling pooled within the pit of your stomach, accompanied by disappointment. It meant that your boyfriend couldn’t come over — indefinitely.

Billy Loomis was a mysterious boy, cunning and charming with a silver tongue — he constantly wrapped you up in it, time and time again. He’d broken up with Sidney Prescott last year, not long after her mother had passed away. He was more than good to you, but your father wasn’t convinced.

His suspicion of Billy wasn’t subtle whatsoever, and it irked you at times. You’d gotten into several arguments about the morality and character of your paramour, and your father had inevitably relented, letting you date him — but there was always protest involved.

“I think you want to say Billy, Dad.” You uttered, lips curling into a sour frown as you stomped back to your chair with an indignant huff. “You’ve always disliked him. This isn’t about anyone else I hang out with — it’s about him.” Your tone became clipped and volatile, prompting you to return to studying.

Chief Burke let out a deep sigh, knowing he’d upset you with this news. “We’ll talk about that later,” He murmured, checking his watch with a thin-lipped expression. “I have to get going to the station.” Your father stepped forward, attempting to press a kiss against the top of your head — but you’d flinched away.

Gritting your teeth together, you attempted to maintain a shred of kindness towards your father. You wanted to explode, but it wasn’t a good time. He was under a lot of stress. “Love you.” You sighed, grabbing your pencil as you returned to writing something down in your notebook.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

From behind the curve of your shoulder, you watched as your father retreated from your bedroom, shutting the door behind him in the process. A twinge of guilt flickered through you, and you couldn’t help but feel like the villain. Your mother was out on work-related business, and your father was drowning away in work.

Oftentimes, you were left to your own devices, absorbed in school, hanging out with your friends, or spending time with Billy — but that was all on an eternal hiatus, it seemed. You pressed your tongue against the inside of your cheek, stepping toward your door. The house was eerily silent, just you and the encroaching thunderstorm.

A clap of thunder rattled the skies, causing you to nearly jump out of your own skin. Goosebumps formed along the column of your spine as you crept down the stairs, traipsing towards your kitchen. Being home alone had a plethora of perks — the alcohol being one of them. If your father knew about all of the underage drinking, he’d likely have a heart attack.

There were so many things that he didn’t know about.

A brief flash of lightning illuminated your surroundings, casting the kitchen in a quick burst of white. You opened up the refrigerator, carefully removing one of your dad’s Abita’s from the side door. After rattling around in the cupboards, you found the bottle opener, popping open the amber lager as a stream of vapor emerged from the top.

You were swift to retreat back upstairs, latching your bedroom door in the process. You placed the beverage along the edge of your desk, listening to the atmospheric deluge of rain pattering outside, falling against the rooftops. You left your window open, lulled into a sense of comfort from the stormy evening.

A sharp thump reverberated against the side paneling of your house, prompting you to rock forward. Normally, you wouldn’t have given it much thought, but considering that someone was killing your classmates, it filled you with a pang of dread.

Hesitant, you crept toward the window, and through the haze of rain and darkness, you noticed a figure moving against the tall wall of lattice that climbed around the back of your home. You squinted, head canting to one side as you realized who was sneaking around.

Billy’s soaked frame appeared before you within an instant, still scaring you as a strangled gasp escaped your lips. “Billy!” You squeaked, lips parted as you noticed his hair, slick and plastered to his skull. The blue-and-white flannel he wore atop a white t-shirt remained stuck to him like a second skin.

“Hey,” He greeted cooly, flashing you one of those little smiles that made butterflies erupt within your stomach. Those warm, earthen-colored hues shamelessly flickered across your attire, finding some sort of attraction in the long-sleeved nightgown you wore. “Cold?”

“Not really,” You mused, nibbling along your lower lip as he ogled the still-icy beer sitting atop your desk. A bemused chuckle left him as he sauntered forward, head cocked to one side. “You’re soaked. Did you walk all the way here?”

“Thought I’d walk, but I wasn’t expecting the rain,” Billy murmured, taking a hold of your drink. “A little brazen, don’t you think? Aren’t you worried that your father might arrest you for underage drinking?” He teased, mouth curling into a playful grin as he took a swig of lager.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” You chimed, nose wrinkling in amusement as he passed the bottle to you. With a brief exhale, you took a drink of lager, feeling the bitter twang of alcohol swarm your mouth as you swallowed. “Do you need me to throw anything in the dryer?” For someone soaked to the bone, Billy remained unphased.

He shook his head in dismissal, clicking his tongue soon afterwards. “No,” Billy’s brows furrowed together for a moment, and then he peered toward the door. “Your old man not around tonight?” Normally, he was always quiet for your sake — and you were often a ball of nerves, but you seemed so carefree tonight.

“He’s gone until the morning.” It was a declaration and a not-so-subtle hint — you could stay. Your relationship with Billy was still somewhat new and flourishing, but you were hoping that it would only continue to intensify. You hadn’t really done much of anything outside of making out and touching. He was patient with you, too.

Billy hummed, gaze surveying your bedroom with a sheen of curiosity. He often searched for new details or anything he found intriguing. His fingertips grazed across your quilted bedspread, and then toward the open window. “Do you like thunderstorms?” He asked. “Or do you keep the window open for me?”

“Would it make you feel better if I said both?” A bubbly burst of laughter escaped you as you tidied up your desk, putting your studying aside for the time being. You enjoyed the lightheartedness of it all despite the dour weather and less-than-savory conversation you’d had with your father twenty minutes prior.

His footsteps were light across the carpeted floor until he approached you, palm cupping your jaw with a certain level of care. At the very beginning, he asked you for everything — for a touch, for a kiss. You didn’t want him to ask nowadays, careening into the warmth of his hand as he brought you in for a kiss.

This bout of shyness always rippled through you whenever he was near — his presence was so enigmatic and overwhelming in the best of ways. He smelled like a smoky cologne, accompanied by the scent of dewdrops. You shivered when his arm crept to your hips, lightly massaging at your waist over the cotton of your nightgown.

Billy was an incredible kisser — always walking a fine line of soft and voracious. You wondered what it would be like for him to really give in. It was a fantasy that had crossed your mind more than you could count. His head tilted slightly, thumb tracing over your chin before he withdrew, stare bleeding with a thinly-veiled desire.

“You’re beautiful,” He uttered reverently, idly dragging the pad of his thumb across your lower lip. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Billy’s voice was husky, an alluring drawl that was barely above a whisper. It sent a shudder of delight cascading down your spine, anticipation pooling within the pit of your stomach.

A brief sigh left you, trapped within your throat as you tilted inward, hands pressed against his chest. The material was damp underneath your palms, not that you cared. He had snuck through your bedroom window countless times — but it felt so much heavier this time around, given your father’s stark statement of not wanting you to see him.

You ducked your head, heat crawling across your body as you chewed at your lower lip. Billy knew that you were smitten, and he devoured every scrap that he could, but something felt off, as if you had something to tell him, dancing upon the tip of your tongue. “Hey,” He murmured, titling your chin up to meet his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just …” You couldn’t lie to him. Billy had this radar for bullshit, able to see right through you, pierce your armor with ease. “It’s my dad, that’s all.” Admittedly, you were hesitant to reveal the truth, considering that Billy sometimes had a strong reaction to things.

Billy had a feeling that your father had it out for him — an intelligent man, to be certain. Of course, such suspicions were true, but he wasn’t about to make that known. A huff of laughter escaped him, followed by another debonair grin. “What, does he want to arrest me?” He mused, pressing a string of soft kisses along your jaw.

“Something like that,” You mumbled, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He smelled incredible, like a dusky night, drawing you in with his magnetizing pull. “He doesn’t want me to see you right now because of all of the killings and stuff.” The confession felt like a weight within your chest, but oddly enough, Billy didn’t seem too angered by this.

“Does he think I’m a suspect?” Billy questioned, point-blank. His tone became rather blunt, but still held that little shred of amusement. In the grand scheme of things, he was on the right track — unbeknownst to you, of course. It would stay that way.

“I don’t think so. He’s just skeptical, I guess. It’s his job.” You hesitated, drawing away just enough to get a look at your boyfriend’s handsome visage. “I just don’t want you to feel threatened or feel like you can’t come around. I don’t care what he says — I want to be with you.” You murmured, brows furrowing together.

His jaw tensed, gaze incendiary and oozing with a lasciviousness as he pressed a lingering kiss to your mouth, fingers idly stroking aside some of your hair. Billy had grown very fond of you, but with that, there was always some twisted desire to corrupt — the obsession that blossomed with it all.

“You have me,” Billy exhaled, body pressed against yours, hands pinning you close. “This all feels a little defiant, doesn’t it?” His tone had dropped an octave, akin to a delicate purr as he brushed his mouth against yours. You leaned in this time, pressing your lips against his as you chased after that sensation with a fervor.

“Yeah,” You whispered, feeling a newfound thrill churn within your stomach, coupled with exhilaration. “Can you stay tonight?” You asked, fingers gently weaving themselves into his mousy tresses, tugging at the hair around the nape of his neck.

His head cocked to one side as he arched an eyebrow. “I thought I couldn’t,” Staying implied one thing — sex. You had never propositioned it until now, let alone entertained the thought. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.” He didn’t want to rush anything or pressure you into something that you weren’t prepared for.

The constant feeling of doom hung over you — religion and saving yourself had always been a point of contention in your family. You were worried that Billy would leave you if he had you, but you knew that wouldn’t be the case. You were ready to have your first time and have it be with him.

Your head began to bob in a little nod, heat creeping across your body as it blossomed within your cheeks with a burning sensation. “I want you,” You whispered, breath hitching within your throat. “I — I need you, really. I don’t want you to go, Billy.” You mumbled, nearly gasping when his hand began to caress along the curve of your thigh.

“Are you sure?” Billy asked, brows knitting together in a moment of concern. “We don’t have to do anything intense,” He reassured, pressing another kiss against your jaw, and then to your neck. “I don’t want you to feel rushed.” Admittedly, he wanted nothing more than to touch you, to take your virginity, make you feel good, but it needed to be on your terms.

It felt good — the spark of retaliation and rebellion against your father, seeing Billy again in such a secretive fashion. You knew that if anyone found out, namely your parents, you’d be in a world of trouble. Fortunately, it was just the two of you and an empty house.

“You’ve been really patient with me,” You murmured, a soft sigh drifting from your lips as you sank forward into his embrace. “I want this.” Billy’s constant chase for consent and ensuring your comfort was beyond attractive, and you were thankful for it, but this was long overdue.

A soft laugh burst forth from his chest as Billy stroked at your cheek, calloused fingertips traveling across the delicate plane of your visage. “I would wait for as long as you wanted me to.” He uttered, gaze shifting from affectionate to incendiary, simmering with an unmistakable sensuality.

He was so good to you — your ex-boyfriend paled in comparison to Billy Loomis in more ways than one. “I know,” You sighed, lips twitching into a smitten smile as your digits plucked at the damp fabric of his shirt. You pressed another chaste kiss against his mouth. “Should I shut the window?”

Billy clicked his tongue, mouth twitching into a faint smirk. “No,” He swept strands of hair behind your ear, cradling your cheek within his warm palm. “You’ll have to be quiet. You think you can handle that?” The little evocation of a challenge was prevalent — your insides turned to metaphorical mush as you shivered.

“I can’t promise anything.” Your voice was wrought with excitement, barely above a whisper. The blood was rushing to your head and heart, hot and fervent as Billy gently guided you toward your bed. His smirk morphed into a wolfish grin, unable to tear his eyes away from you.

As he placed you down against the mattress, atop your quilted bedspread, he crawled in between your legs, lips hungrily returning to kiss you. He tasted like a lick of amber lager, intertwined with breath mints and the hint of cigarettes. Your heart began to beat faster as Billy’s hand rubbed along your thigh, digits flicking at the hem of your panties.

The ambiance of the thunderstorm outside provided a rather atmospheric setting, on top of the dim lighting throughout your bedroom. Rain noisily pounded against rooftops and the surrounding neighborhood, as if masking the salaciousness of your actions. Your hands pushed at his flannel, and he took it off, along with his white t-shirt.

“May I?” You whispered, eyes wide and mesmerized as Billy let out a brief chuckle. He was so painfully handsome, especially when he smiled — it only served to make you squirm, goosebumps erupting underneath his wandering touch.

“You’re sweet,” Billy murmured, voice deliciously husky as he pressed a kiss against your mouth, teeth playfully snagging your lower lip. The sheepish, stupefied reaction you had was well worth it, prompting him to grab one of your wrists, steering your hand to wherever you wanted it to go. “I want to see you.”

His composure was beginning to crumble, foundation being chipped away at. You were so infectious, like a fever, and Billy only wanted more. He had to restrain himself from being rough, watching with lustful eyes as you sat up a little bit.

You shivered when his hands slipped underneath your nightgown, curling into the hem as he helped you take off the lengthy, frilled garment. Billy licked at his lower lip, hooded stare eating you alive once you were stripped of that coverage. The pastel brassiere and panties you wore were just in the way.

“Lay down.” Billy husked, presence exuding a domineering edge without even trying. You silently obeyed, breath hitching within your throat as he covered your body with his, all sinewy muscle and tan skin. His mouth clashed with yours, voracious and all-consuming as he kept himself propped up with one arm.

Curious, needy digits found their way to your chest, groping and kneading at your chest over the material of your bra. “Billy.” You sighed, moaning into his mouth when he bit at your lip again. It was sharp and somewhat painful, but admittedly, you found that minuscule prick of discomfort to be exciting.

With a brusque tug, Billy’s palm circled around your bare breast, massaging at the sensitive flesh as he tugged at your nipple. Your hands flew to the nape of his neck, dragging through his hair as his mouth tore away from yours, only to find their purchase against the slender column of your throat.

Your flesh was velveteen underneath him, warm to the touch as he began to suckle against the sensitive flesh of your jugular. Teeth and lips created a series of marks — some were more obvious than others. A clap of thunder caused you to jump, a soft gasp escaping you as your body clashed with Billy’s.

His grin was tangible, like an imprint seared into your collarbone as he peered at you with those shimmering brown hues. “Scared?” He murmured, flashing those pearlescent teeth in a brief grin. Billy felt your skin erupt with goosebumps, creeping like a wildfire across your body.

“No,” You protested, tongue absentmindedly swiping across your lower lip. You gently tugged on his hair, hands wandering about until you were cupping his narrow face within your palms. “You’re so perfect.” A soft, enthralled sigh escaped you as he stared down at you.

That calculating, searing gaze would have burned right through you if it were possible — you could feel the desire that oozed from eyes alone. Billy turned his head, planting a kiss against your palm as he grabbed your wrist, fingers tangling with yours.

“You’re beautiful,” His voice dipped into a low, lascivious purr, a delicious octave that made you shudder. “You’re mine.” Billy uttered, and for a moment, there was something dark and innately possessive within his voice, something that you hadn’t heard before. While some might’ve found it strange and obsessive, you were hooked.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, feeling his lips press against yours again with a vigor and urgency. Silence drifted between the two of you, but the intensity and desire only seemed to amplify. His kisses were ravenous and passionate, accompanied by teeth and tongue.

“Take this off,” Billy murmured in between kisses, tugging on your brassiere for emphasis. His digits deftly felt along your body, ending up between your legs as he began to touch you. You were barely able to unclasp your bra without squirming and wriggling, hips jolting forward. “Hold still for me, baby.”

Inclined to obey, you ceased your movements, breath hitching within the back of your throat as his hand dipped beneath the waistband of your panties. You felt absolutely pathetic, already wet from just the tension and kissing alone. With this discovery, Billy grinned, letting out a soft laugh as his digits ghosted along your cunt.

“You’re wet for me and I haven’t even touched you yet,” Billy crooned, pressing a heated, sloppy kiss against your collarbone. His other hand torturously tugged and caressed at your breast. “So sweet.” He uttered, nipping at the soft flesh of your chest.

You moaned, body set ablaze as he dragged two digits along your cunt, allowing them to sink inward as he briefly touched your clit with his thumb. “Billy,” You whimpered, legs parting for him as he settled between them, reveling in your pleasured expression. “Please, please don’t stop.” You wanted to cry.

A low hum emerged from his chest, mouth pressing gentle, lasting kisses around your breast. “You’re so pretty.” He mumbled, taking your hardened peak into his maw as he sucked at your nipple. Those experienced, quick fingers developed a rhythm as he stroked along your slit, thumb lazily circling your clit.

Billy could only imagine what you’d be like if he were rough with you — if he had a knife in his hand, licking the blood from your swollen mouth. The thought alone made his cock throb within his jeans, but he would save it for another time.

As he bent you to his will, making you submit with his fingers alone, your body viscerally reacted to his ministrations, back beginning to arch. “B—Billy,” You sighed with passion, goosebumps beginning to coalesce along your spine. “God, feels so good.”

Innocent — that’s what you were. Vulnerable and pious, something to covet. Billy wanted to possess you, breathe you in, control you.

Akin to a canary trapped within the talons of a predator, you squirmed with delight, desperate for his embrace. His digits dipped toward your warm entrance, teasing you with gentle prod. “I’ll try to be gentle,” He crooned. “You make it so hard for me. Just relax.” Billy mumbled, teeth grazing your nipple as he licked at your sternum.

You nodded, stomach churning with molten heat as you felt some pressure. Your fingers dug into the nape of his neck, leaving behind crimson crescents as he kissed along your stomach. His digits sunk into you with some resistance, pushing into your tight cunt. A wanton moan escaped you, mouth agape.

It was a foreign sensation, but you savored every second, cunt clenching pathetically around his fingers as he began to find a sluggish rhythm. Billy kissed his way toward the heat between your thighs, tongue raking liquid heat over your aching core.

A spasm ran through you as a choked whine escaped your mouth, countenance rippling with surprise. “O—Oh,” You croaked, awash with delight as his mouth carefully roamed over your slick cunt. He began to lick and lap at your core — slower, at first — more exploratory. “Billy!” You squeaked.

The myriad of sensations you were experiencing were excruciatingly pleasant. It was pure bliss, feeling his lips caress your slit, digits steadily pumping their way in and out of you as he toyed with your clit. Every mewl and moan only spurred him on.

Something dark and alluring danced within his eyes, and when you lazily rolled your head to look down, his stare could’ve burned right through you. A flash of lightning only contributed to his sinister countenance, lips twitching into a smirk as he lapped at your cunt.

Billy ate you out like a man starved, touching you in places that you’d only dreamed of. His tongue was hot, raking hot embers over your slit as he showered you in endless attention. A strangled gasp escaped you as his fingers stilled, nose bumping against your clit.

His palm splayed out along the meat of your thigh, nails digging in, fingers pressing down hard enough to leave behind bruises. You clawed at his hair, hips lurching forward, but he pinned you down without hesitation, shivering at the sound of your sweet, innocuous moans.

Part of you wanted him to be rough, to really show you how much he desired you. Every fiber of your being ached for him in a way that made you itch, heat crawling across your supple flesh. “You can be rough,” You whispered, feeling the subtle hitch in his throat, tongue stilling atop your clit. “Billy.”

Billy’s jaw tensed, gaze dancing with a subtle malevolence, intermingled with obsession. His darker side often festered under the skin, but when you asked him to be rough, he knew he needed to be careful. He didn’t want to hurt you or scare you away with his potential antics.

“You want me to be rough?” His tone emerged as a low purr, murmured into the pliant meat of your inner thigh. Billy’s teeth suddenly nicked flesh before he licked at your cunt again, grazing your clit in an effort to tease you. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.” It was more of a warning than anything else.

Maybe he was right — you hadn’t the slightest clue of where this could lead.

Whatever darkness you saw, part of you viewed it as an act, as a facade for the sake of intimacy. Nonetheless, you still wanted him to be a little more forceful with you. As much as you savored his gentle streak, you wanted the intensity and the heat of the moment.

He wanted to let you stew on it for a little while, lips greedily pursing around your clit as he began to suck a the sensitive clutch of nerves. Billy’s fingers pushed themselves inside of you again, evoking a barrage of pleasured whines and moans from you. It very nearly derailed your train of thought.

With quivering digits, you reached for his hair again, raking through his tresses with a fervor. Billy felt you tug and pull, which only served to spur him on as he finger-fucked you into a blissful oblivion. It was intermingled with delicate licks to your clit, causing you to writhe in-place.

“I’m close,” You whined, hoping that he would keep going or be rough. Part of you wondered why he was so hesitant, but you didn’t want to push the matter. “Billy, please don’t stop!” With a shrill cry, his ministrations only intensified, fingers pistoning in and out of your cunt.

Billy gazed at you with eyes that almost appeared black, simmering with an unrestrained desire. “Yeah?” He purred, lips dutifully returning to suck and lap at your clit. The sensations were mind-numbing, nearly overwhelming as your stomach surged with a churning heat.

He curled his digits inside of you, letting you simmer on that sensation alone before he stopped. Billy finger-fucked you, accompanied by the tantalizing movements of his mouth. He couldn’t get enough of you, delighted to lap at your sweet cunt.

You nodded several times over, bucking toward his mouth as he continued to kiss and suck at your clit. Billy led you into the white-hot abyss of your orgasm, digits drenched in your slick as he withdrew, licking at his lower lip.

The pleasure was almost blinding, body hot and borderline feverish as you attempted to regain your composure. Your chest rose and fell with quick pants, mouth dry as Billy crawled up, covering your body with his as he placed two fingers against your lower lip.

“Open,” It wasn’t a question — it was a demand. Billy’s countenance had become shadowed, jaw tense as he watched you sheepishly open your mouth. You felt filthy for doing something like this, visibly flustered as his digits landed upon your tongue. “Only right if you have a taste.”

You shivered, a noise stirring within your throat as you began to suck, able to taste yourself in the process. He seemed delighted, lips twitching into a subtle smirk as he made you continue to his satisfaction.

“You sure you want this?”

His question was sharp and succinct, annunciated with something penetrating. Billy knew that if he went to his roots, to become something close to who he really was, he ran the risk of scaring you away. Brown eyes bored into you, hawkish and calculating as you withdrew his fingers from your mouth.

“Yes,” You replied, wondering what exactly he had in-mind in terms of being rough. “I trust you.”

A big mistake — your naïveté was laid bare, stretched out along your sleeve. Billy was untrustworthy, a sinister force with the means for destruction, but you were none the wiser. He liked your innocuous nature, the sweetness that oozed from every pore.

“Stay here.” Billy murmured, slipping off of your bed as he made for your bedroom door. You very nearly questioned him, wanting to know where he was going, but a rancorous clap of thunder effectively silenced you as you sank down into your mattress.

You counted — Billy was only gone for three minutes.

When he emerged through your bedroom door, it almost didn’t feel like the same person — not your charming, debonair brown-eyed boyfriend. He seemed possessed, as if something else had grabbed ahold of him. The glint of silver sparkled within his right hand, and that’s when you saw the large kitchen knife.

Something heavy swirled within the pit of your stomach — exhilaration intermingled with fear and uncertainty. You knew that he wouldn’t hurt you, but being rough was a different matter entirely. You gulped, throat thick as Billy moved toward the edge of your bed, available hand grabbing your thigh.

He dragged you close, looming over you with a shimmer in his eyes that told you he was still mostly himself. Even then, that pang of terror gripped you as he prodded the tip of the knife into your thigh.

“Billy,” You exhaled, goosebumps forming underneath the knife’s sharp blade. He continued to trace it across your supple flesh, moving it along your hip bone until he let it ghost above your stomach. “Want you t—to fuck me.” You stammered.

“You want me to fuck you?” Billy murmured, leaning inward, knife in-hand. You felt the blade jut into the swell of your breast, causing you to shudder from the icy chill of the steel. “Maybe I’ll gut you with this, instead.” He stated, though his voice held some modicum of playfulness to it, just enough to ease your nerves.

The doe-eyed look you wore made him frenzied — he wanted nothing more than to see you like this all the time. Billy hastily reached down, unbuckling his jeans with a sudden haste as he crawled on top of you, sticking the tip of the knife into your ribcage.

You gasped, and when you attempted to lean away from the knife, he simply pinned you there. The tip of his cock was oozing with precum, erection desperately grinding along your slit. “Billy!” You whimpered, afraid that he would accidentally dig the knife a little too far.

“Gotta stay still, pretty girl. You don’t want my hand to slip.” He warned, pressing a hot, incendiary kiss to your lips. You reciprocated, cunt throbbing from the added thrill of the blade as he began to ease himself inside of you.

The sudden intrusion made you cry out — you hadn’t done this before or gone this far, and Billy knew that. A myriad of breathy moans escaped you as you attempted to adjust, feeling his leg nudge you apart, spreading you open for him.

He pressed a series of kisses against your face in an effort to soothe you, teeth nicking the soft flesh of your jawline. Billy hesitated, waiting for you to have some time to adjust, heart pounding erratically, akin to the beating of a drum. You reached for his neck, hands tangling together at the nape.

“Still want it rough?” Billy murmured into your ear, hot breath fanning out across the side of your cheek. The blade of the knife prodded into your abdomen, as if it were issuing a stark warning — to turn back, or to proceed. You wanted him more than anything else — rough or not.

You couldn’t deny the excitement and sick thrill you gained from this, as if it had suddenly unlocked unfamiliar territory for you. Billy’s gaze danced with a lustful fire, tongue swiping across his lower lip.

After enough deliberation, you nodded, nearly shying away underneath his shadowed stare. “Yeah, I do.” You whispered, throat becoming thick as he thrust his hips forward, cock burying itself deep into your tight cunt. The feeling was intense, but his eyes were worse.

Billy grinned, throat erupting with a sardonic chuckle as he clicked his tongue. “That’s my girl.” He kept the knife against your stomach, threatening to dig into skin as he began to fuck you. The friction was delicious, breathing heavy, chest to chest, silvery blade prodding at your belly.

“Billy,” You moaned, back arching into the brutality of his thrusts, legs rattling like leaves. His hand grabbed at your leg, hitching it around his waist for better leverage, hips rutting forward in a series of sharp thrusts. “A—Ah! Please don’t stop!”

His teeth brazenly snagged across your lower lip, biting down hard enough to draw blood. He kissed you then — vitriolic copper intermingling between mouths, breath hot and labored as he fucked you in some frenzied state. Your poor cunt clenched around him, drawing him right in.

With a brief adjustment, he moved onto his knees, cock still pounding away at you as he used the grip on your leg as a crutch. Billy dragged the knife along your body, digging the tip into your sternum, letting it ghost above your breasts. He wanted to lick the fear in your eyes — drink it right from the source.

“Look so pretty like this,” He purred, using the cold flat of the knife to press into your chest. It caused you to moan, eyes rolling into the back of your skull as he continued to fuck you at a rather brutal pace. “You like this, don’t you?” Billy huffed, noticing the way your flesh prickled with a barrage of goosebumps.

You nodded, somewhat reluctant to admit to enjoying the roughness of it all. You felt the tip of the knife press just underneath your jaw, causing you to shudder, hips pushing forward as he met you halfway.

Every fiber of your being felt feverishly hot, like a live wire, coursing with raw electricity. The fire that burned bright within your belly demanded to be extinguished, cunt clenching around his cock as Billy continued to fuck you. He very nearly pulled out before ramming himself right back into your tight heat.

Billy momentarily abandoned the knife, grabbing at your hips as he turned you over, manhandling you onto your stomach. You gasped, letting out a series of moans and whimpers as his fingers roamed through your hair, tugging fistfuls of it as he rutted into you.

It was hot and quick, as if he didn’t have any time left at all. “Billy!” You cried out, feeling somewhat abashed as his cock slapped into your cunt, body pressed to yours. Once he’d gotten himself going, you felt the intrusive chill of the knife again, scraping back and forth along your spine.

“I—I’m close,” You panted, hands clawing at the quilt beneath you, nails threatening to pluck the strings and fabric away. Billy didn’t stop for anything, fucking you at a very erratic, feral speed, yanking on your hair. The knife added an element of danger, liquid heat coalescing between your thighs. “Don’t stop.”

“Yeah?” He purred, gritting his teeth together as his cock throbbed with an urgency. Billy groaned — a deep, unrestrained noise, and you yelped when the blade had cut too deep. He didn’t intend to cut you — it was a shallow, superficial wound, but it only drove him crazy. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

The cut on your back oozed with rivulets of blood, not nearly enough to warrant any concern. You moaned, huffing and writhing atop the quilt as Billy pushed into you once more, cumming inside of you without a second thought.

He pulled out midway through, leaving behind a sticky mess of his seed along your cunt and inner thighs, intermingled with your arousal. Your body twitched and spasmed, awash with a sense of relief.

“Shit,” Billy murmured, clamoring away to find you a towel. He pressed it against your back, hoping to wash away some of the blood, even if it wasn’t very much at all. “I’m sorry, baby. I got carried away — I didn’t even think.” He sighed, watching as you attempted to clean yourself up.

“It’s fine, Billy. I know you didn’t mean to,” A soft exhale escaped you as you attempted to regain your composure, hoping to seize another towel as you sheepishly wiped his cum off of your body. You were sensitive and hot to the touch in the aftermath of it all. “I did enjoy it.”

Billy appeared perplexed, neglecting to comment for now. He wanted to take care of you as any dutiful boyfriend would do, retrieving your panties and nightgown as he helped you get dressed again. Outside, the thunderstorm continued to rage on.

“You did?” You shouldn’t have said anything — Billy’s thoughts went somewhere dark and salacious. Now, he wanted to fuck you with the knife all the time. If he were lucky, you’d bear more than one scar. It was a possessive mark, a reminder that you belonged to him.

“Yeah,” You confessed, laying down on your bed. Billy hastily zipped his jeans up, declining to put his shirt back on, given that it was still soaking-wet from the rain. “That was amazing. I’m glad I got to do it with you.”

As he laid down beside you, his gaze became dark and shadowed once again. His finger idly traced across the newly-formed cut on your back, lips pressing themselves all over your neck. “Maybe we could try something different next time.” He proposed.

“Like what?” You asked, admittedly curious as you snuggled against him. His digits idly roamed throughout your hair, mouth briefly pressing against yours before he withdrew altogether.

There was a sly, indiscernible look within his eyes — you didn’t know if you should’ve been worried or not.

“Maybe a costume next time.” Billy murmured, and despite the bemused grin on your face and his subtle smirk, you were entirely oblivious to the multifaceted meaning of his words.

Fortunately for you, you were safe — for now.

#slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x you #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #billy loomis #ghostface fanfic #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic #slasher fandom #scream #scream fanfiction #billy loomis fic #sunkendreams masterlist

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johannestevans · 2 months

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The Real Harm in “Harmful Content”

Exploring the true harm in “harmful content” and “problematic” media.

Photo by Ethan Will via Pexels.

We live, unfortunately, in a world increasingly defined by people’s lack of media literacy.

It isn’t as simple as people not reading, because people do — as schools and universities increasingly cut or allocate resources away from English literature, history, and other humanities, students are robbed of their opportunities to exercise their critical thinking stills; in the USA, “balanced literacy” strategies all but ensure many children don’t learn the vital skills to read text in the first place; many CinemaSins and Ending Explained- style videos are critiqued for their contributions to these wider cultural concerns of anti-intellectualism.

What defines this anti-intellectualism, and the culture that goes with it?

Every film or book or article or opinion I don’t understand intuitively and immediately is “pretentious”. It’s superior and self-involved — it’s a waste of time. I might make snarky comments about black-and-white Serbian films from a hundred years ago shot from the perspective of a pigeon, and I come up with that hypothetical in the most scornful manner possible, because I don’t understand why someone would want to watch such a bizarre film, or why they should want to make it in the first place.

People blame TikTok, they blame YouTube, they blame iPad babies, they blame technology, but it isn’t video formats that impact people’s lack of skills — it’s the fact that their intellectual development is cut off at the knees, in primary and comprehensive schools, in universities, in life outside of school. In response to what people do not understand intuitively or immediately, robbed of these tools to let them understand it, they react negatively.

To teach children, then adults, how to understand and analyse things on their own terms is in itself an individual process — it takes that time, it’s complex, and this tutelage is increasingly impossible with large class sizes, underschooled and understaffed teachers, and a lacking syllabus for teaching these skills in the first place.

How can someone understand their own inability in this area? How is someone to come to terms with this, to become comfortable with the idea they might not understand things, or that they might read them wrongly, when to be “wrong” is bad, and scary?

After all, the underlying reason for the defunding and reallocation of resources from the above humanities I mentioned, on paper, is that these things take more time to examine, test, and score. To the anti-intellectual, STEM subjects have right and wrong answers: humanities don’t.

If things don’t have right and wrong answers, if the answers are in shades of grey, how can they be trusted? What is the value in degrees or nuance when nuance is so costly — when it takes time, effort, money? How can I automatically dismiss anyone who is “wrong” so that I can be “right” — so that I can win? Because if I win, I get to stop thinking about this?

When that’s the reward, it’s more than winning, isn’t it? “Winning” this sort of thing isn’t just about one’s feeling of superiority — it’s ultimately about feeling safe, secure, and unchallenged.

This is the core foundation of many anti-intellectual movements and perspectives — ideas that challenge our core beliefs and ideas, the thoughts we hold as certain and most secure, can be frightening, destabilising, even.

People become frustrated with adages like “There are no wrong answers,” because of course there are wrong answers. How can anything be right, if nothing is wrong? If nothing is wrong intellectually, does that mean nothing is wrong morally? If nothing is wrong morally, then what separates good people from bad people? What keeps good people safe from bad people?

Here comes the crux of what this piece is about: “harmful content.”

Read more in An Injustice!

Also on my Patreon and my SubscribeStar.

#musings #proship #antiship #discourse #essay

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luvrlou · 1 year

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Drunk on Cam

Pairing: CalFreezy x fem!reader

Warnings: Drinking, Sexual References, Swearing

Summary: Cal and his girlfriend have a bit too much fun helping Tobi film his video.

A/N: Sidemen + Cal imagines?

Word Count: 1.0k

"Who's ready to get their stomach pumped?" Harry teased, shaking Tobi's shoulder lightly, causing Ethan to giggle and Tobi to shoot him an odd yet frightened look.

You looked up at Cal from your seat on the couch in the corner of the room, hoping you had the same idea as him. He looked down at you, "we're tanning this bev after, yeah?"

"Fuck yeah!" You whisper-yelled back, hoping not to gain attention from the three boys sitting and talking to the camera.

Tobi had invited Ethan and Harry to make a video of his first time drinking alcohol, which caused Harry to drag you and Cal around Poundland and Asda looking for the cheapest booze you could find since it was being filmed in the flat you, Cal and Harry shared.

Originally, it was only going to be Harry, Ethan and Tobi but the two boys thought Tobi would benefit from some moral support.

You both watched in silence on the couch, Cal's arm slung over your shoulder, directing your body into his side. For the majority of the filming, you watched Tobi getting fed more and more drinks, occasionally saying the odd word to Cal.

"Y/N! I think Tobi's going to need some support!" Ethan shouted over to you, his voice uneven from laughter.

You went to stand up before Cal interrupted, "How come I can't come?"

"It's Glens Cal, I know what you would do to poor Tobi, believe it or not Y/N is the nicer one in your relationship."

You smiled tauntingly at Cal and walked to the couch, Ethan making room for you between him and the terrified man next to him.

"Okay so you're either a Vodka or a Sambuca person, never both." Harry explained, reaching over to get the shot glass. He filled it to the brim, poor Tobi looked absolutely mortified.

"Don't worry Tobi, I can have a shot too if you want!" You suggest, looking to Harry for approval.

"Oh yeah! Y/N! Feeling Brave!" Harry cheered, grabbing another shot glass and filling it up. "You will take your shots in," he paused, "3.. 2.. 1!" You tipped the burning liquid down your throat, giving your head a shake after.

"Holy shit! Pass me the Sambuca!" You dramatically announced. As soon as Ethan gave it over you snatched it, popping off the lid and pouring it directly in your mouth.

"Y/N! Stop getting gassed on our bev!" Ethan shouted, snatching the bottle out of your hands.

"I didn't see you slaving away after Harry all morning looking for all the bloody booze did I?" You snapped back, reaching for Tobi's carton of apple juice.

"See people! This is why I don't drink!" Tobi said to the camera, "it gets you all pissy."

"It was a rough night last night Tobi, I was wrongfully convinced to go to a rave, with that prick over there!" You groaned, pointing to Cal.

"Anyway! Back to the drinks!" Ethan grinned.

"It's time to pick your mixers-" Harry was cut off by Ethan hyena cackle, "shit you already did that. It's time to pick your poison!"

Harry set out all three liquors out in a row, letting Tobi pick one, he ends up picking Wray and Nephews. You and Ethan burst out laughing as Harry pours way too much into the cup, Tobi sits there dreading what is to come.

The rest of the cup is filled up with Sprite and pushed towards Tobi, "Drink up before I do," You smiled teasingly.

He reluctantly grabbed the cup and took a sip before slamming it to the table, "how can people drank that!"

"If you won't have it I will!" You grinned, reaching over Tobi and taking the glass, letting the cool liquid flow smoothly down my throat.

"Can we not get my girlfriend drunk! She has a hangover!" Cal can be heard shouting from the couch in the corner of the room.

"The best way to cure a hangover is more bev!" Harry shouts back, "and on that note," the proclaimed 'Sambuca' alarm goes off.

"I'm not doing it this time if no one else is." Tobi stated.

"Fine, we'll all do it! Even Cal," Ethan answered, grabbing four shot glasses, each one getting filled with the sweet liquor.

Cal trudged over as everyone got situated with their shots, we all clinked glasses and downed them, "my body hated that." Ethan mumbled.

"Same here!" Cal added.

"You know I think it's time to end the video," Tobi started.

Cal mouthed to Ethan for him to move so he could sit with you. Ethan obviously complied, claiming he would 'never stand in the way of love.' You got situated, comfily leaning into Cal, his hand slowly gliding over your hip.

You both knew fine this was going to be posted somewhere by a fan, but at this point, you couldn't care less. It was like a game, sometimes you wouldn't even glance at one another in videos, and others you would be all over one another. Just like this one.

When Tobi finished up his video, throwing himself back into the couch.

"Me and Cal are necking all this tonight, " you announced, indicating to all the opened bottles of alcohol.

"That's fine, don't have too much fun, I would like to have an undisturbed sleep tonight," Harry answered, narrowing his eyes at the last part.

"No promises!" You jokingly answered.

Tobi, Ethan and Harry said they were going out for an early dinner since it was about half-four. Which meant you and Cal were left alone with all the booze.

When Harry returned home about six hours later he saw that the bottles of Wray and Nephews, Glens and Rose Wine had been left empty on the couch.

"I should've sated over at Tobi's tonight!" He whispered full of regret.

"Hey Harry!" You slurred, hanging onto Cal's arm, the bottle of Sambuca near empty in your grasp.

"Y/N, Cal." He responded slightly concerned before turning and walking into his bedroom, "please, no shagging tonight!"

"Aw! That's what we were about to go do!" Cal shouted, leaning down to kiss my jawline.

#calfreezy x reader #cal x reader #cal freezy x reader #calfreezy imagine #sidemen x reader #x reader #lou writes fanfic

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ghostkingdoesstuff · 5 months

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Here's the thing, I've seen WAY TOO MUCH Leah hate in this fandom, but next to no one talking about Percy and Luke's casting.

I've been thinking about this for a long time but want to make this explicitly clear: IT'S NOT THE ACTORS FAULT FOR LANDING A JOB!

Everyone is up in a tissy about Annabeth being black, but no one seems to care that Percy is white. Now I'm aware that his race was never explicit in the text but Rick did mention in an interview that Percy has a "Mediterranean complection" a description so vauge it could mean anything from a slight tan to very melanin blessed. I think many of us in the PJO Fandom with some melanin were disappointed if not expecting the casting to fall as it is. It's not uncommon in Hollywood for casting directors to choose the conventional Blone haired blue-eyed white dude to be the main character of the story. It's what's expecting, and the primary projected audience for the show is going to be early teens white boys who want to see themselves as Percy.

Now, with Luke, my problem is the exact opposite. Being a white dude is intrinsic to his character arc (I'm only kinda joking about that) Luke Castellan, despite his rough child hood, was born and raised in Westport Coneticticut, a place where the population is over 92% white. To me, his character arc reminded me of the white men who thought they knew what was best for everyone. Taking the path of violents and anger to get his point across while others, often POC (see Charlie beckendorf, Ethan Nakamura, possibly Michael Yew) were caught in the crossfire of what he thought was the best course of action. Innuendo Studios on YouTube has a series called Alt Right Playbook, and in the episode titled "The cost of doing business," he explains how marginalized communities are offten the pawns in the game of white supremacy. For Luke, the pawns of this game are underage, often unclaimed, or children of minor god who feel they have no place at camp. Maybe his intentions were good, but ultimately, he didn't care about the demigods he was claiming to fight for as much as he hated the gods and wanted revenge. The thing that made Percy Jackson different was how he acknowledged the problems in the system and used his one shot to create institutional change.

I'm not saying that Walker and Charles can't tell the same story, but the message is certainly different, and it bugs me. Remember that Disney isn't your friend for bringing your childhood to life. It's a carefully crafted money-making scheme designed to appeal to the largest audience possible. Stop harassing the actors, especially Leah Jeffries, poor girl has been through too much. Dedicate that energy towards Disney and the fact that they're sending money to Israel to fund a genocide. The time is now to be a hero, fight some titans to get the gods to listen. Remember the moral of the story you hold so dearly and see that the God's are corrupt, but that doesn’t mean you're powerless against them. Percy Jackson didn't defeat Aries at 12 years old for you to feel powerless. You're strong, your voice is powerful, and you have the power to change the world. Have a nice day.

#pjo discourse #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo fandom #luke castellan #disney pjo #pjo disney+#disney+

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sillyrabbit81 · 1 year

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I al obsessed with your story ‘Even If You Don’t Mean It’! No shade to the many writers on here but it’s been a while for me to find a story that I can dig my teeth in - where character development, setting and story pace is great and you succeed in all of this! Thank you for this gift ha ha - hope to see more stories featuring Sy (new love unlocked lol) and all of Henry’s characters because you’re a phenomenal writer ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Thank you very much for your lovely words. I'm so glad you enjoyed that story and that you thought it was well written.

I have written A LOT of Syverson a couple of series and a lot of one shots. Here is a link to my Syverson masterlist.

There are a lot of great Sy series out there from other writers, here are a few I can think of right now:

@just-chirpin Eyes That See Your life consists of caring for others. This is a story of you learning to care for yourself.

@thesaucynomad No Morals It’s a continuing series of episodic parts centred around Sy, after getting out of the army. It’s gonna contain graphic spice here and there as the timeline progresses.

@mayloma Of Investments and Returns Due to global economic troubles, Sy was forced to sell most of his company's shares to investors. Much to his displeasure, the investors commissioned a business consultancy to check the company for potential savings and optimization. Dahlia Lewis is one of the unwelcome visitors. And she will soon begin to get under his skin in a different way.

@invisibleanonymousmonsters Syverson After Y/N’s job declares that employees may continue working remote for as long as they want, she wonders if this is sign from the universe to take a break from New York City. When her crazy cousin finds out, she begs Y/N to spend a year with her in Texas. For some crazy reason, Y/N agrees. A true city girl and a northerner, Y/N immediately feels like a fish out of water in the south. And her cousin’s friends enjoy teasing her for all their differences – especially a certain Ethan Syverson.

@peternoonewantsthat Shug and Sy series Masterlist An ongoing series of oneshots following the everyday life of Captain Syverson and his family.

@rmtndew Where Kindness Grows The Great Depression took its toll on a lot of people and some had to get creative to survive. Seraphina’s father decides his solution is to sell his only daughter to a much older man. But when Sy overhears a conversation about the young woman, he makes a decision that will change his life - and Seraphina’s - forever.

@angryschnauzer As Sweet As Honey Finding a new life in a new town, you stumble upon a Honey farmer at the town market. You both have pasts that have shaped the way you now live your lives, but can you find a way of putting them behind you to find happiness?

@poledancingdinos Girls Night Out

@littlefreya Lines In The Sand She is one of the best snipers serving in Iraq, but she is also suffering from an attitude problem and ironically has a hard time following orders. After an incident in her former base, she is sent to join the Special Forces unit led by Captain Syverson, who requires a talented sniper. Unlucky for her, Captain Syverson is a hard man who likes things by the book and according to order. He ain’t got the patience for troublemakers.

@winter2112rose A Captain and his Cowgirl A series of one -shot stories about how one meeting on a night out, changes the life of a young solider, Travis ‘Sy’ Syverson, forever. Giving him the one thing he’s always dreamed of, a family. The stories are in the correct chronological timeline.

@wolvesandhoundshowltogether Kissed By Fire Petra’s small art studio takes fire and a beefy cocky soldier-turned-firefighter is among the responding fire crew members. The acquaintance wouldn’t be long-lived but Lieutenant Syverson accidentally👀 takes something that belongs to her.

@viking-raider Southern Generation After more than a decade of service, Captain Syverson as retired from the military, but now that he is retired, he still needs to find a job.

Feel free to add anymore to this list!

❤️ Rabbit

#peacefulwriter88 #ask sillyrabbit81 #rabbitsrecs syverson

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callmearcturus · 1 year

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Okay here are the Mission Impossible grades now that I've seen them all

Mission Impossible 1: A-Tier

STILL LODGED IN MY FUCKING BRAIN. I did not go into this one expecting it to be that good. I only shouted at DePalma once I think and mostly I was staring in fascinated horror at the sexually-charged manipulative thriller unfolding. I am obsessed with the dynamic between Ethan, Phelps, and Claire, there is some SHIT going on there, the queer reading of this movie is off the charts. Would rewatch any day.

Mission Impossible 2 Silent Movie Recut: C-Tier

This is a bad fucking movie but Punct and I were screaming for 90% of the film, it was so fucking fun and stupid. Granted, I don't think we would have survived if we weren't watching the recut, BUT nothing will ever be funnier than Ethan doing a backflip and then mid-air changing to a down-kick. I was so shocked at the AUDACITY and the STUPIDITY I immediately rewound the scene to watch it again. Amazing. Totally batshit. Ethan why are you kicking everything you are a punchman.

Mission Impossible 3: Trash Tier

This movie was a nightmare. I feel actively bad for Cruise and Monaghan bringing their A game to a shit-tier script. This movie has MULTIPLE PROBLEMS. There were multiple sequences that were so poorly shot that I couldn't follow what the fuck was happening. The constant unnecessary cuts and the rapid tempo gave me a headache. JJA is incapable of letting a shot breathe at all, like if he doesn't cut every three to five seconds his head will explode. Also this script was ATROCIOUS. Fucking WHAT. There is no introducton to the team, making them feel completely tertiary. That line about sleeping with your sister catapulted me out of the movie like an ejection from a jet plane. The entire anti-god speech was peak 'take the keyboard away from JJA.' And WHAT was with the random bondage mask scene??? Was JJA like "sorry i have no idea how to keep the plot moving unless Ethan literally can't speak in this scene so here's the IMF-issued Unsexy Bondage Mask."

Also this Jack Bauerification of Ethan Hunt pisses me off. Ethan Hunt should not use assault rifles, that's not who he is, JJA meet me in the pit.

Ghost Protocol: A-Tier

Stupid and delightful and finally some good fucking food. The first of the McQuarrie Trilogy. After enduring MI3 I want to kiss McQuarrie on the fucking mouth for writing this. You actually get to know the team! There is time spent establishing each of their dynamics with Ethan! Finally Ethan is doing sneaky shit instead of just shooty shit! The Burj! The comedy! This is a 2 hour episode of Leverage and I fucking love it. Thank you, zero notes.

Rogue Nation: S-Tier

Oh babygirl here we fucking go. Not only McQuarrie on script (with help from good writers) but he's in the director chair, welcome to the party, hardy. I L O V E this movie. It has supplanted GP as my comfort watch of the series. Ilsa Faust is an excellent addition to the team with a lot of edge to her and the way she drives the plot thrills me chills me and fulfills me. And while she's kind of the love interest that is not even remotely the plot of the story, the story is crunchy with Solomon Lane serving such fuckin good vibes. He has actual motivation beyond "hello i am the baddie" he has thoughts and motivations and he also is STAGGERINGLY PETTY. Also I cannot tell what's my favorite bit of this one, the part where Ethan is fucking OUT OF IT after he gets resuscitated or when Ethan goes off the deep end.

This movie really said "Benji Dunn is 90% of Ethan's impulse control" and it was RIGHT! Thank you McQuarrie, I love you.

Fallout: S-Tier

I'm fucking unhinged about this movie. The batshit motorcycle chase in Paris, the HALO jump, the helicopter hijacking. Ethan's continued moral decay as his ethical compass begins to realign, and the way it fucks him over. Solomon fucking Lane back to haunt the shit out of everyone. That FUCKING bathroom brawl jesus fuck. Everyone is on their goddamn A game, they are giving everything. Watching the final act is like a prolonged heart attack. Also the cinematography and lighting is jawdroppingly gorgeous. Also Julia is AMAZING. HER SCENE WITH LUTHER MAKES ME EMOTIONAL.

Not only do I have no notes, I want McQuarrie to give me notes. Goddamn. Ethan Hunt is babygirl and his tired eyes give me feelings.

There it is, my lukewarm takes.

#mission impossible

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possessionisamyth · 1 year

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I will defend Mia Winters and her desire for experimenting without limitation only for her to realize the hard way that the code of ethics is there for a reason. Like, it's a very classic scientist take and it was done well for her in RE7.

Mia keeps trying to protect Ethan and save him while under Eveline's control. She's so upset and mournful when she comes back to herself after severely injuring him or trying to kill him. Ethan keeps risking everything to try and save her too despite all the fucked up shit she's doing to him! He knows she's not doing it of her own violation even if he doesn't understand everything that's happening.

They absolutely love each other, and it's very obvious in RE8 for how little we see her that Ethan's death in the Baker home haunted the fuck out of Mia. Prior to being kidnapped, she's fighting with Ethan because he accidentally brought up Dulvey since he's too fucking stupid and traumatized to notice that it's not normal to GLUE YOUR HAND BACK ON WITH DISINFECTANT. The healing animation they chose and kept was deliberate from an audience point of view as he's the first protagonist to glue himself back together. Miranda wouldn't know everything Mia went through, so it was easy to play mad and shut down conversations during the two weeks she was in the Winter's home.

Mia knows the man she married and had a child with is half mold, and it's a horrible secret to keep, but she worked in the damn lab with Eveline. She knew they'd take Ethan away to have the same fucked up shit done to him, and she did prevent this by keeping the secret. She was trying to protect him and his freedom as limited as it was under witness protection. I think it's actually very sweet of her to keep the trauma of her loved one being killed to herself in order for him to have a shot at living!!!! Like!!!! There's something really poetic about it!

Yes, it ended in tragedy, but that's because Miranda was a huge cunt! No, I don't think Mia telling Ethan sooner would've done either of them any favors. He'd either tell Chris or he wouldn't. Ethan would be as concerned and scared about Rose as I know Mia was during the whole fucking 9 months she was carrying that baby and afterwards. I don't know a single white couple that celebrates making it to six months unless their baby is sickly, and Rose was clearly really healthy.

Mia was not perfect, and that's the point! She did a horrible thing in the name of science, but I remember a lot of letters in NEST from RE2 of scientists coming to the same realizations after shit hit the fan. And this was if they weren't being actively threatened to remain employed. She also did give up her old career and went on the straight and narrow instead of having a child and ignoring her to pursue more science like someone I know (Anette Birkin, love ya girl, terrible parenting tho).

You know who else did horrible things in the name of science and regrets it only when shit hits the fan? Gasp! Is that your favorite spaniard Luis who worked on Nemesis? Hmm, it's almost as though working without the moral code of ethics in mind can lead you down a path of producing terrible things whether or not your intentions were well meaning, but hey, at least everyone wore their PPE.

#re #resident evil #mia winters #re7 #re8

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scorpionyx9621 · 1 year

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I've seen a few people compare Isaac Clarke and Nicole Brennan from Dead Space to Ethan and Mia Winters from Resident Evil and while I think the comparison is pretty apt, I do have some interesting things to point out. I'd say Isaac Clarke and Mia Winters have more in common with each other the same way I think Nicole Brennan and Ethan Winters have more in common.

While yes both Ethan and Isaac are badass action/survival horror men with sharp tongues and are shockingly witty and quippy, Ethan is driven out of love not only for his missing wife in RE 7 but for his wife and daughter in RE 8. Ethan is much more good-natured and genuinely wants to do everything he can to help the people around him even if his loved ones are his first priority. Ethan goes into the Baker Mansion because he's trying to find his missing wife. Ethan genuinely did not know what happened to Mia after her last call with him. So he goes through hell in Resident Evil flavor and has himself get killed by an infected redneck. Only to be re-animated by a super fungus that also co-ops his personality perfectly and Ethan has to go through hell twice to save his family. (I don't want to go into the moral/ethical argument of whether or not Ethan Winters is actually Ethan Winters or he's just a fragment of the Megamycede empowered by Ethan's drive to save his loved ones. It's too existential.) But every action Ethan took throughout the stories of Resident Evil 7 & 8 were for the betterment of his family and for his family's safety.

While I wouldn't say Isaac is a bad person anywhere near to the degree that Mia Winters is, Isaac is definitely the antagonist in terms of the relationship between him and Nicole. In the remake we see that Isaac's last conversation with Nicole he lashed out on her and accused her of indirectly causing the deaths of his parents. When Nicole tries to express her shock and explain herself Isaac shuts her down and barely lets her get a word in. The whole reason why we have the game of Dead Space to begin with is that Isaac is trying to get aboard the Ishimura for some reason even though he knows full-well that Nicole is dead. Isaac is trying to process an incredible amount of grief in that his mother killed his father and then herself, the last time Isaac spoke to Nicole he accused her of letting his mom kill his father and herself, and in Nicole's final transmission Isaac watched Nicole kill herself. The Marker on Aegis 7 that caused the Necromorph outbreak aboard the Ishimura and caused Isaac to see Elizabeth Cross as Nicole was because the Marker just capitalized on Isaac's immense trauma and guilt and used that to manipulate Isaac into doing what it wanted. Also it must be said that Isaac also has killed hundreds of people of his own volition. He killed at least 200 EarthGov soldiers on The Sprawl when they shot at him. Isaac hid and unleashed a whole swarm of Necromorphs on the soldiers and while I'm not certain Isaac was fully in his right mind when he did that. Isaac still did kill around 200 people.

When we compare this to Nicole Brennan, while the games depict her in a variety of ways (loving and supporting but deeply wrong in Dead Space 1 and the most demonic ex-girlfriend ever in Dead Space 2) Nicole is not in the wrong when it comes to hers and Isaac's relationship. Yes Nicole gave Octavia Clarke the go-ahead to be released from her inpatient facility, but there's literally no way that Nicole could have predicted that Octavia would have had another mental break and would have killed Poul and herself. Nicole is a medical professional who made the best choice given the information she had at the time. Isaac blaming Nicole for the death of his parents very much a heat of the moment thing, as Isaac admits that it was easy for him to say the wrong thing. Isaac was deeply in shock and in grief and lashing out at Nicole was his response when he felt he had little control. It fully was the Church of Unitology's fault but Isaac had no real way to take his emotions out on them so he took them out on Nicole. When Nicole realized that the Unitologists had taken over the Ishimura she actively did everything she could to stand against them and when the Necromorph outbreak started she did everything she could to try to help as many people with the best of her knowledge and abilities. Yet she was doomed, and in her final moments she apologized to Isaac. Even though she told Isaac to go to hell as her last words to him. Nicole deeply regretted her words and the fact that Octavia Clarke did what she did because of Nicole's judgement. Her final moments were filled with fear, grief and regret for all things that were completely out of her control.

And finally we get to Mia Winters. Not a single one of these three characters come even remotely close to the level of just being an awful person like Mia Winters. From the moment Mia met Ethan she lied about her identity and career, she worked as a researcher for a bioterrorist organization, committed actual atrocities against children in her experiments, showed little to no remorse for her actions while working in The Connections, continued to hide information about the severity of her husband's mold infection to her husband and actively caused the events of RE 8 to occur by standing around and just letting Mother Miranda find her when Mia KNEW Miranda was in Romania with them and knew full well just what kind of crazed monster Miranda was and did NOTHING. Yes Mia herself also committed atrocities and murdered people while being under the influence of the mold much in the same way Isaac did similar while under the effects of the marker, but Isaac was driven and manipulated by his own intense sense of grief and guilt. Isaac knew Nicole was dead when he volunteered to go fix the Ishimura but his psyche had become so damaged from losing both his parents and his girlfriend in such a short timeframe that Isaac literally was doing the Marker's bidding for it. I theorized that Mia didn't act on her knowledge of Mother Miranda because she didn't know what would happen if Ethan found out that he was still infected, whether he would have left her or if he would have mutated. Yet that doesn't dismiss that she actively lied and manipulated Ethan for three years after she was saved and it's because of this it directly led to Ethan's death as well as the deaths of hundreds in Romania.

These four characters all relate to each other but not in the way that you would think. Ethan Winters has much more to relate to Nicole Brennan in that they were both ultimately in the wrong place at the wrong time and both died because of it. Both of them tried to save people they either directly loved or directly served given the best information they had at the time and both of them ended up taking the brunt from their partners. Whereas Isaac and Mia relate closer to each other. Both have committed atrocities while under the influence of a power greater than their own and have lashed out against their partners (to varying degrees of severity) and have committed atrocities against people (TO VARYING DEGREES OF SEVERITY GOOD GOD) Both are the antagonistic factors of their relationships and again, while Isaac was lashing out because of an extreme trauma he was facing. Mia was actively committing crimes against humanity willingly while being an abusive girlfriend/wife after the fact. I feel so bad comparing Isaac to Mia because overall Isaac is nowhere even remotely close to being as evil of a character as Mia but he does have more in common with her than he does with Ethan unfortunately. (Please don't crucify me I love Isaac I really really do.)

#isaac clarke #ethan winters #mia winters #nicole brennan #dead space #resident evil 7 #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #This was fun to make!#but man oh boy do i feel so bad for comparing Isaac to Nicole.#like one is lashing out against his lover in the heat of the moment #the other is.... mia winters...

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shitideas · 10 months

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🪼 info

my name is celeste, i’m 18 and i’m just starting this blog! i’m planning on writing short stories or one shots on characters that i currently like, or by requests.

i won’t be writing smut, mostly because i feel weird writing it… 🌚 but maybe i’ll change my mind in the future..

i’ll mostly be writing fluff and angst, or just what i’m feeling in the moment.

i might also post some of my art here since i do draw!

♡ - fluff

☆ - angst

characters i’m writing for:

SCREAM

stu macher : melting ♡, the end ☆ the beggining ☆

billy loomis : polaroids ♡

mickey altieri

roman bridger

charlie walker

ethan landry

sidney prescott

tatum riley

gale weathers

jill roberts

kirby reed

amber freeman

TV SHOWS

never have i ever

devi vishwakumar

paxton hall-yoshida

ethan morales

stranger things

eddie munson

billy hargrove

max mayfield

ginny & georgia

marcus baker

abby littman

the umbrella academy

five hargreeves

diego hargreeves

klaus hargreeves

lila pitts

outer banks

jj maybank

pope heyward

rafe cameron

sarah cameron

cleo

shameless

carl gallagher

lip gallagher

ian gallagher

fiona gallagher

veronica fisher

you can send in requests for some other characters if you’d like, i can’t really remember all of the shows i’ve watched lol. thank you for coming onto my page! i’ll see you soon with some stories 🫶🏻

🪼

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satuguro · 1 year

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*ೃ࿐TO FAULT A NET

[ ACT II: A QUESTION OF MORALITY ]

spider-man! ethan landry x black cat! reader

#SYNOPSIS— tara thinks not even a murderer can disturb you, you have no friends and spider-man knows, and your cats like spider-man a little too much.

#AUTHORSNOTE— thank you so much for the support on the first part xoxo

ACT I, ACT II, ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V, EPILOGUE

you shut your book as lecture was concluded, gathering your notebook and notes together and putting them into your bag. your headphones hung around your neck, and in any other day you would’ve put it on and not said a word to anyone, but you were standing next to tara, waiting patiently for her to pack up.

her hands were shaking slightly as she shoved her items into her backpack hurriedly, occasionally dropping pencils. “fuck,” tara muttered under her breath, quickly picking up her dropped pencils and putting them into her bag haphazardly.

“you seem on edge,” you stated dryly, making her huff in frustration. of course, you knew the reason why; there was no need for her to treat you like a therapist and tell you everything.

“that’s one way to put it.” tara sighed as she threw her backpack over her shoulder. she walked alongside you as you made your way towards the exit. “you don’t usually wait for me,” she stated, glancing at you suspiciously, though you were looking ahead of you and not at her.

“i guess this class is finally teaching you something,” you hummed, looking at her from the corner of your eye. she didn’t seem to let it up, still tensed as you sighed, rolling your eyes. “call it a change of heart.” your response didn’t calm her completely, but her shoulders relaxed.

you both passed your professor, who acknowledged your leave with a small, “miss carpenter, miss vaughn,” which you only nodded at. you walked ahead of tara and held the door open for her.

“did you hear about the murders?” tara asked, tilting her head at you as you began to walk. she was probing at you, you knew that, but you knew better than to admit that ‘no, i’m not worried because i steal things to pay rent rather than kill people and i’d rather pay attention to that,’ so you kept it as honest as you could.

“‘course i did. just because i have no friends doesn’t mean i live under a rock, tara,” you teased with a slight smile, making her roll her eyes. she couldn’t even deny it; she of all people knew you kept to yourself. the only time she ever saw you socializing was at parties, flirting with guys and making them believe they were in charge of the situation before you led them upstairs (when you obviously had them wrapped around your finger).

“well, obviously. it’s just.. everyone seems so on edge, and it makes sense!” tara added hurriedly, “i’m not saying it doesn’t! but you look so..”

“so..?” you raised a brow.

“so calm.” tara let out a long sigh, hands holding onto the straps of her backpack. “i don’t know how you do it.”

was she asking you how to stay calm? you blinked, trying to analyze her words in a way you could understand. was she indirectly asking you for advice? “well, this is kind of an atypical situation to stay calm in,” you began, glancing at her, “but i’d say i’m just too spiteful to let anyone other than me influence how i feel. i’m not gonna let some psycho have so much power over me that i can’t live my life, y’know? i've been stressed out enough."

you looked away from tara, only slightly embarrassed at your own words. this was why you had no friends; too much second hand embarrassment. your eyes settled on the pavement ahead of you, tilting your head in interest at the sight of tara’s friend group; her sister, sam, mindy (who you only knew because you had taken a shot with her once) and some other people you didn’t know.

“you give good advice, y/n.” tara said, making you scoff as you raised a hand and waved her compliment away.

“whatever,” you said, managing a small smile her way. turning back to her friends (who were walking closer) you said a quick, “stay safe, tara,” before you walked away, allowing her friend group to walk up to her.

you passed by a brunette boy as you put your headphones on, not bothering to say hello to tara’s group (they were her friends, not yours). but you were too preoccupied with your music to notice that you had passed ethan, who looked back at you as you walked away. he took in your form, how you dressed in strictly black and white clothes yet had a tote bag with a small cat charm on it. he didn’t even get a good look at you, but he found himself watching you walk away.

“dude.” chad nudged his shoulder, breaking him from his stupor. a knowing grin made its way onto his friend's face, one that made ethan’s ears and cheeks burn red.

“don’t say anything.”

“who is she?” chad asked shamelessly loud, ignoring ethan’s groan of embarrassment. his voice broke the conversation the girls were having, making them lean in out of interest.

“literally no one!” ethan exclaimed, silently begging for chad to not make a big deal out of it. he’s been on his ass for ‘not putting himself out there’ and choosing the library life instead. he always told him off for never truly living a life of someone his age.

if only chad knew that ethan had been craving that feeling of living as though he was his age and not some 30 year old man. but after richie’s death and after he basically (almost) cut off his family (not to mention his secret nighttime job as a superhero), he felt as though that was basically impossible. simply put, ethan landry had more important things to focus on rather than worry about living like a college student.

“not really no one,” tara stated, poking her head into the conversation. “that’s y/n vaughn—”

“another side character. see— probably gonna die,” mindy said to her girlfriend, anika, who sighed as she squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“sure, babes.." anika said, "but maybe don’t assume everyone tara talks to is like, cursed or something?”

“i only ever talk to her during my psych class, so don’t worry,” tara huffed, sitting down at a nearby bench. chad wordlessly sat next to her. “i probably haven’t cursed her. besides, she doesn’t seem like the type to be really bothered by that stuff.”

“what does that mean?” ethan asked, sitting next to chad.

“she’s just really straightforward— the nonchalant type, y’know.”

“even more suspicious!” mindy stood up in front of them as though she was ready to give a presentation; which, honestly, she kind of was. a dark look befell her features as she began to talk about the possible suspects, listing off everyone’s name one by one and including one extra; y/n vaughn.

you polished every one of your retractable claws, pulling your lamp over it to allow it to shine brightly. it was razor sharp at this point, as you had been using everything in your power to make them as dangerous to others as possible. your room was boiling hot, and you had opened up the window of your room, silently thankful you had a balcony and not a fire escape. at least then, no psychos could casually climb up to your apartment.

the photo of you and your father was situated on the corner of your table as you worked; you, age only 8, were wearing huge headphones as you sat on your father’s shoulders at a rock concert. it was one of the few photos you had of your dad, and while you didn’t want to think of yourself as a particularly sentimental person, you were probably just in denial. because even as you worked and only saw it in the corner of your eye, you felt that familiar tug of pain in your chest.

if only he knew that you had a deal with an insect themed superhero.

you checked the clock, letting out a sigh upon seeing ‘11:12 am’ flash back at you. you were already 12 minutes late to your meeting with the hero, and you weren't even dressed yet. the sound of paws hitting your table and a soft coo made you turn your head towards one of your cats, a genuine smile gracing your features.

"how did i get into this situation, bitters?" you sighed, holding your hand up and feeling bitters rub his black fur under it, purring loudly. reluctantly, you stood up and began to get dressed, stripping before pulling on your usual black suit and mask. you reached for your gloves on the table and retracted your claws before reaching for the rest of your equipment; your grappling hook, your throwing knives, and your gun. the murderer (or murderers) were clever, you knew that, and they probably spent months or years preparing for their plan.

you never underestimated someone with a drive to kill.

the night was calm, void of any strong and chilly winds. the moon was still as full as ever, hanging over you like a lamp as you made your way out your window and shot your grappling hook up to the nearby building's ledge. pulling yourself up and over to the next roof, you began to run, allowing the adrenaline to flow smoothly through your veins.

your legs helped you jump over the gaps between the buildings as though it was second nature to you; and in a way, it was. you had been stealing ever since your father died, only taking up bigger projects when you were 16. you knew how to slink your way between alleys and roads, how to travel across streets and cops undetected. you weren't a novice.

the building in front of tara and sam's apartment came into view as you neared. you saw the familiar red and blue hero situated on the rooftop, his back to you as you set your feet down on the floor. immediately, he turned around, as though you had made all the sound in the world. only mildly perturbed, you rolled your eyes. "is that one of your little powers? being able to tell when i'm here?"

standing up to look at you, he crossed his arms over his chest. "you're 30 minutes late," spider-man said annoyedly, making you sigh exaggeratedly, walking towards him. one of your gloved hands came to flick his arm as you passed him.

"you're such a sourpuss. i wasn't aware that you were so strict about our meetings." squatting down to avoid detection, you gazed at the apartment building. he was practically radiating warmth, for as he sat next to you, you felt his warmth going off of him in waves. having powers must've made him similar to a furnace. throwing a quick look at him, you managed a smirk and added, "i didn't know you were so desperate to see me."

he scoffed at your words, shaking his head in disbelief. "jesus, not everything is about you, you know," he grumbled, "i needed you here on time so that we could talk about that information you gave me yesterday."

"right," you drawled, "the shit about the stab masks and the roommates. i was gonna ask one of the mafias i've worked with if they knew anything about that." you had told him what had happened after you had called the police to laura crane's body. you had followed the perpetrator after recognizing his backpack, and found him walking into his dorm room (which was at your college, another detail that truly made you think about whether you should just stop going to classes). he was killed right after you had left him, unwilling to call the police for obvious reasons, but you wanted to keep an eye on him. and while it wasn't your m.o, you might have killed him.

but spider-man didn't know that.

"i don't think there's only one killer. and as it's shown in the past, there's almost always two," spider-man said thoughtfully, eyes focused on the window view the both of you had into tara and sam's kitchen. unbeknownst to you, spider-man was also adamant on watching their apartment for another reason; quinn was in there. ethan wanted to keep an eye on his sister and protect her as much as he could, because he knew that being friends with the woodsboro survivors put her in as much danger as them.

you scoffed. "well, that's obvious. being that codependent on someone else has got to make you a sociopathic murderer. placing that much trust on another that you murder together.. that's collateral damage. they're practically bound for failure."

spider-man sent you a look (or as much of a look as he could with his mask covering his entire face). "i bet you have tons of friends with that mindset, kitty."

you rolled your eyes at his words. "thanks, spider, you're such a wonderful person to be around while we stake out this killer," you said dryly, letting out a huff.

"trust me," spider-man chuckled in disbelief, "the fact that i'm stuck with a criminal with more of an attitude problem than anyone i've ever met doesn't exactly make me thrilled."

you let out a joyless laugh. who was he to even talk to you like that? you weren't going to let some baby-man with powers talk about you as though you were nothing. "you can do this shit alone then, spider." you stood up, making him stand up alongside you. an accusatory finger poked at his chest. "if you can't deal with my attitude—"

"i'm surprised anyone can," spider-man seethed, walking closer to you.

you clenched your jaw, fists clenching as you stopped yourself from throwing a punch. "all that stuff about asking the mafia, you—"

spider-man's head turning to his left as he murmured a small, "shut up." his head turned around him frantically, as though he was suddenly searching for something. he felt that familiar chill run through his entire nervous system, and yet he found himself running a blank. nothing was happening; nothing he could see, at least.

"i won't, actually! you can kiss that plan goodbye if you keep being such a fucking—" spider-man grabbed your arm, his hold not tight, but firm enough to cut your words off.

"something is happening right now. and i don't know what it is." he seemed panicked as he spoke, as though everything was running on overdrive. usually he knew exactly what was happening, but he didn't know what this time. he couldn't see anything huge happening around him, but he knew something was going on. something in the apartment.

you looked at the apartment, squinting when you saw tara and her friends laughing over god knows what. turning back to the hero, you swallowed your pride down for once and forced out a, "take me to where you think it's happening."

a beat. he was studying your face, trying to see if you were serious, if you were actually willing to help him despite your interrupted argument. wordlessly, he put his hand around your waist and pulled you to him, throwing a web towards tara and sam's apartment.

a scream left mindy's lips when she ran into the bathroom, finding the body of one of quinn's hook-ups in the tub, stabbed repeatedly with his blood splattered all around him. "oh, fuck, that guy's dead!" mindy cried out, gripping her sliced arm tightly before she turned back to the bathroom entrance, screaming at the sight of the murderer right at the door.

they took a step towards her, knife glinting in their hand before you kicked him in the stomach, kicking him against the wall. your clawed hand came down to scratch his chest, your brows furrowing when your hand met a bulletproof vest rather than skin. the murderer swung his knife at you, only slicing the base of your neck as you quickly dodged. you punched their face and kicked them back further against the wall, using one of your knives to stab their chest, only praying it made it past their bulletproof vest. you then ran into the bathroom and shut the door behind you.

"who the fuck are you?!" mindy screamed, taking in your get up and mask, eyes widening in recognition. "you're that criminal—"

"stop talking and get into the room! take this," you put one of your throwing knives in her hand and turned to sam, who was pulling mindy into the bedroom and sending you a confused look. shoving them both into the bathroom, you helped them barricade the door before the killer came close, your back against the door as you kept the dresser against it.

"who is this?!" anika yelled, practically spilling her guts all over the bed.

"maybe don't ask questions while your intestines are threatening to come out!" you yelled, still holding the door shut.

"say something more positive!" anika screamed in response, mindy coming next to her to apply more pressure to her huge wound.

you looked at sam, who was yelling at the neighbor across the alleyway, before she looked up, her face laced with even more confusion. "about time!" she yelled at the hero, who crawled down the wall as he threw a web at the roof's ledge and held onto the other end of it.

"we're gonna get you across!" spider-man said reassuringly, offering a hand out for sam, who immediately took it. he pulled her close as he brought her across and into the other window into the arms of the neighbor before he went to the other window again, peeking in. "oh, hey!" he said lightly, trying not to show his panic.

"hi. can you help?!" mindy asked harshly, helping anika stand up and bringing her to the hero.

"oh, you don't look great!" he shot some webbing into his hand and places anika's hand more into her wound before wrapping her hand and her wound, keeping the pressure. "keep pressing down," he said, carefully putting his arm around her to bring her to the other side. "you doing okay there, kitty?" he asked behind his shoulder at you, making you groan in frustration.

"just fantastic!"

"okay, good!" with that, he swung out the window, anika screaming in her wake. he brought her to the neighbor's window, carefully putting her down before he went back for mindy.

the door behind you suddenly lurched forward, as though the killer had gained twice the strength than they originally had. the sudden strength pushed you far enough away from the door for it to open, the killer quick as they shoved it wider. you hand flew to your gun, ready to shoot despite the vest you knew they were wearing. behind you, mindy was already being brought to the other window, leaving you alone with the killer, who tilted their head at you. they took the knife you had stabbed into them and threw it back at you, making you dodge it quickly, shooting a shot at their leg.

they didn't fall. instead, they swung at you, cutting your side as you moved back. you groaned at the sudden pain, hand coming down to hold it tightly as warm liquid began to seep through your fingers. they managed to cut in the one area that wasn't protected by some of your armor. and while it was only a slice, they cut deep. they were angry; it was evident in their sudden frantic movements. they wanted you dead.

they lunged at you, making you move away from the window and shoot at them again, your shots to their chest doing nothing. "i fucking hate this," you grumbled, putting your gun back into your side before you unsheathed your claws and swung at his dominant arm, scratching it and hearing them groan in pain.

the sound was muffled, but they sounded like a man.

you kicked them, trying to kick them out of the window, only for them to grab the windows edges and lunge at you again, making you move swiftly out of the way and making them hit the dresser harshly.

a thwip sent a web towards their hand, and another sent one to their leg, sticking them there. spider-man swung in next to you, taking in the cut on your neck and the blood dripping from your hand. "you have to get out of here," he stated, grabbing your hand and lifting it to use a web to bandage your wound quickly.

"i'll be fine," you seethed, ignoring the pain, "remove his mask, we need to catch him."

"you're not going to be fine, i'm getting you out of here," his hands came down around your waist despite your protests, your want to remove the killers mask strong as you tried to wriggle your way out. "stop being so fucking stubborn and let me help you!" the hero snapped, already throwing a web out the window and pulling the both of you away from the apartment.

he laid you down on the rooftop of the building, giving you a quick once over before he went back to the apartment, leaving you alone. you hated to admit it, but the amount of blood you were losing from both your wounds was making you dizzy.

spider-man landed back inside the apartment, letting out a groan of frustration at the sight of the cut webs and the lack of a killer. turning to the neighbor's apartment, he swung over, landing in their kitchen casually. "help is on the way. in the meantime stay in here," he looked at all of them strewn throughout the apartment, all sporting some type of wound. the eyes of his mask narrowed when he noticed a few people were missing. tara and chad were gone, but most importantly, quinn was gone too. "was anyone left behind?" he asked sam, trying to keep a relatively calm front.

"tara and chad were locked out, and our roommate, quinn.." sam swallowed thickly, her eyes fogged over as she tried not to think too hard about it.

from beneath the mask, ethan's eyes began to blur over with tears out of worry, the lack of response making him want to shake sam and demand answers. demand where his sister is, cry out that they should've done more, that it was him under the mask, that he needed to know if she made it. "did," he exhaled shakily, makiing sam look at him in interest, "did she die?"

"she didn't make it," sam said with a heavy exhale. "ghostface got to her before we could stop them."

ethan's jaw clenched as his eyes began to well up with more tears that he couldn't wipe away. it felt like sensory overload; he could hear anika's labored breathing and mindy's reassurance from the living room, smell the smell of pennies from everyone's blood, feel every fiber of his suit sticking to his skin. he was suddenly aware of how small the apartment felt, how the ceiling seemed to come closer and closer to his head and how the walls seemed too reachable.

he had to get out.

"thank you. and tell your friend thank you too," sam said, breaking his cloud of sadness briefly.

his friend. you were still up there, bleeding all over the roof.

"i have to go. i'm.. i'm sorry about your roommate." he turned to the others in a silent farewell, before turning back to sam. "we'll be doing patrols around your guys' apartment." and with that, he swung out the window and back to you, pulling his mask over half his face to try and regain his breath.

"he was gone, wasn't he?" you asked, your voice monotone as you sat with your hand over your wound. you looked at him, your eyes unreadable as you took in how stressed he looked. he was drinking in air as though he had been drowning, and if you looked closely, you saw tearstains on his cheeks. his head had fallen back and his face was tilted up to the sky, his chest heaving as he tried to calm himself. rather than question it, you knew it wasn't your place.

ethan, while he wanted to desperately to cry and scream for the death of his sister, only tried to calm himself. he could feel anger thrumming through his veins, and most of all, he felt that same pain he felt when richie died. as though a part of him had died too.

he realized then that the panic he had felt from his senses was most likely the feeling of his older sister dying in the arms of a killer. he felt her attack.

"he was." the hero answered, taking in one more deep breath and exhaling slowly. he turned to you and moved to help you stand up. instinctively, his arm cam around your waist, allowing you to use him like a crutch. "we have to get you help," he murmured, turning towards the direction of the hospital.

"you and i both know that we can't go to the hospital," you muttered, looking at him. his mask was still pulled over half of his face, leaving the upper half of his face a mystery to you. but you could see the lower half, and you stopped the urge to roll your eyes at your conclusion.

of course, new york's spider-man was a pretty boy.

"fine, then. we're going to your place."

yeah, he was pretty. pretty stupid.

"are you serious?" you managed a laugh that quickly died due to the pain that shot up your chest. "no. why can't we go to your place?"

"because my roommate has a room right next to me and the walls are so thin that he can hear everything i do," he responded dryly, looking down at you. "you don't have to remove your mask. i won't do it either, and.. you can put away any photos you have in your apartment. deal?"

you stared at him, weighing the other options in your head before groaning. "fine," you grumbled in annoyance, "but i better not see you making any friendly visits any time soon. i'm not the hospitable type."

"'m not gonna make any visits, kitty. promise."

spider-man pushed your window open, helping you enter before he closed it shut behind you both. the sound of your two cats, bitters and junie, welcomed you home as per usual, their meows relaxing you as you managed a small smile their way. surprisingly enough, they rubbed themselves on the hero's leg as they made their way towards you.

"very on brand of you to be a cat lady," he hummed, making you send him a look as you reached down to pet them briefly. "am i wrong? you're black cat and you have black cat. and a white one. for all i know you could have more in here."

"do you want to meet my cats or help me stop losing blood?" you asked snarkily, making him turn to you, the eyes of his mask widening.

"oh, right. you're hurt."

"thanks for your concern," you responded dryly, feeling him fix his arm around your waist. "bathroom's down that hall to the left."

your weight seemed like nothing to him as he led you to your bathroom, sitting you down on your closed toilet. he threw open your cupboards, searching for your first aid and finding it. he managed a small triumphant smile as he took it out, closing the cupboard and sitting to your right.

"you know what you're doing, right?" you asked warily, staring at him as he brought out your suture kit. "scandalous," you couldn't help but comment as he pulled his gloves off, making him send you a look.

"stop staring at my hands."

"i'm staring at the needle you're going to stab me repeatedly with, not your hands," you stated, rolling your eyes. "your hands are nice too though, spider." you chuckled at his frustrated sigh, eyes on him as he stood up to wash his hands. "you didn't answer my question."

rushing water filled your ears as he washed his hands diligently. he seemed to be thinking about whether or not he should answer your question, but honestly, you were just trying to make the whole situation less awkward. you couldn't care less whether he had done it before or not; what mattered was that he could suture up your wound.

"i think it was the fifth time i was in a fight?" he began, eyes set on his hands as he dried them off on a nearby towel. "i was still.. new to all of this, i guess. caught this gang ready to beat this poor kid up— he was like, 13 at the most, and they were trying to get back at his older brother. 'course i had to help him." he moved back to your side, sitting down comfortably and taking the suture kit. "i was able to get most of 'em out of the way. but one snuck up on me. my senses made me get out of the way on time, but i got this huge cut on my stomach. another one on my side from his buddy." he carefully cut the webs on your side, looking up at you for permission. "i'm gonna have to cut your suit. may i?"

you nodded quickly. "i have more, just.. keep talking."

"right." he cut the rest of the webbing, including the cloth of your suit, reveling the entirety of your wound. "i spent that night suturing up my own cut with a needle and thread. i can heal pretty quickly but if i were to just bleed everywhere my roommate would notice." he then took a cloth and rubbing alcohol and gently cleaned around your cut. "hurt like a bitch, though."

"well, duh." you watched him pull out all the thread and take the forceps to bring the needle out. he brought it closer to your skin, and you took deep breaths.

"ready?"

"just get it over with." you groaned in pain when the needle entered your skin, the thread pulling through quickly after it. the pain was horrible, but soon enough he was tying the knot and beginning the next one. you were biting down harshly on your lip, trying not to cry out from the pain as you felt the next one enter. your mind was so focused on the needle continuously entering your skin that you didn't even hear spider-man talk to you.

"your apartment is nice," he said softly, only glancing up at you before he focused back on the task at hand. "you must be loaded from all the stealing 'n stuff."

his hands were a bit rough, most likely from training and from superhero duties. but the way he touched you, regardless of how harsh your personality was; it was as though he was scared he'd break you. as though he was watching his strength as he poked the needle through your skin and pulled, careful not to hurt you as much as he already was.

he didn't know why he was being so gentle, why he was watching how he was touching you. maybe he felt guilty for allowing you to be the one to go into the apartment. maybe he wanted to make up for the wounds he felt like he indirectly caused you. ethan didn't know.

"yeah," you forced out through gritted teeth, trying to steady your breathing. he was trying to distract you, trying to keep you talking about whatever he was asking you rather than having you focus solely on the thread moving through your skin.

but unbeknownst to you, ethan was asking you questions not only to distract you, but to distract himself as well. he was still reeling from the death of his sister, but he had compartmentalized it all before he had given himself the chance to fully cope. he hadn't fully cried yet, nor had he given himself time to grieve. he didn't know when he could; it felt like he had no time to grieve for her. "the day we first met, after i caught you—"

"you didn't catch me."

"after i almost caught you while you ran away from the museum," another stab, another stab, another knot. "why did you bring that painting back there? like," his lips twitched downwards, "you didn't even steal anything from the museum, which is weird considering you're a thief and probably a klepto who would love to have a collection of paintings in her really nice apartment—"

"i put it back where it came from." you avoided his gaze as you focused on the bathroom floor as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. "the rich people i stole it from hired some random criminals to steal it first," you explained, "so i just put it back. they don't deserve to keep that piece of art to themselves when the painter made it for everyone to enjoy."

he looked up at you after he finished tying another knot, taking in your features. how you seemed a million miles away despite being right in front of him, and how you had just admitted that one of your crimes had more meaning behind it than just a simple burglary. and you looked.. almost embarrassed to say it. as though you had never admitted it out loud before.

"the people you steal from are usually well off."

you turned your head to look at him, and this time it was his turn to focus on something else. his eyes were set on his stitches. "old money, new money, just people who are incredibly wealthy."

"have you been studying me, spider?" you asked teasingly, making his cheeks (or what you could see of it) burn red.

"no. i mean—" he stammered, groaning when he heard you chuckle softly. "i had to! i mean, i've been trying to keep track of the usual criminals in the city and you were obviously on that list so.. yeah!"

"so you were studying me." you tilted your head with a teasing smile.

"okay! you're done." he put a bandage around the suture to finish it off, throwing away the used needle and thread. he began to clean up quickly, shoving the suture kit into the first aid box. but as his eyes looked back at you, he paused his embarrassed antics. he stared as you stood up, ready to change your clothes, before he stopped you. "wait."

you looked at him in confusion as he took out a bandage and ran a cloth under water. he moved closer to you, and you saw him visibly gulp from where his mask was pulled up. "your neck," he murmured, and you raised a brow, but for once stayed quiet. the warm cloth met the base of your neck, rubbing away the dried blood from the cut that you forget was even there. water dripped down your skin and melted into your suit, but you were too preoccupied with looking at how his tongue poked at his cheek when he was focused.

he wiped away the rest of the blood and used a dry towel to pat it down dry before taking the bandage. his fingernails grazed your skin ever so lightly as he placed the bandage over your cut, his adam's apple bobbing when he saw your eyes set on his face through his peripherals. he could smell your lavender perfume from where he stood, pressing the bandage down into your skin, warming the skin with the heat of his palm. "done," he breathed, eyes looking back at you.

and suddenly, his hands fell at his sides as he focused on cleaning up again.

"what was that?" you couldn't help but ask, but he only shrugged in response.

"don't think about me too much, kitty."

"i should say the same to you," you said blankly, brows furrowing as you watched him clean up as though he hadn't just helped you patch up all your injuries.

you moved past him, making your way into your room and shutting the door behind you. you hid the photo of you and your father under some papers before unzipping your suit and pulling it off of you. the fabric moved over your wound, but you were careful enough that it add onto the pain. you put on a shirt and some shorts before walking out to your living room.

you bit back a comment when you saw the hero sitting criss-crossed on your living room floor with bitters on his lap and your white cat, junie, nudging herself under his hand as she purred. a genuine smile was on his face; he had a habit of pulling his lip under his teeth when he smiled.

"how're you feeling? you asked nonchalantly, making him look up towards you. you felt his eyes on you as you took out two glasses and poured water into both.

"fine, i guess."

"stop lying," you said over your shoulder, taking the two glasses and walking towards him. you held one glass out to him, looking at him pointedly. "i saw you after you went to check on them. something happened."

you were onto him. that was all ethan thought as he took the glass of water from your hand and looked down at your cats. your eyes were practically burning into his head as you waited for him to answer. you thought it was right; you gave him truth, now he should give you some in return. hell, you let him into your home.

taking a deep breath, he calmed down his rapidly beating heart. "i knew one of them, and they didn't make it. that's all." you could see him bite down on his lip as though he was stopping it from quivering, his eyes dead set on your cats despite your eye contact.

you didn't say anything for a minute, letting him relish in the quiet before you began talking again. "we'll find out who attacked them." no 'i'm sorry.' no condolences, because you were someone who hated hearing it from others. especially when your father died; mafia groups sent their condolences, sent their 'i'm sorrys' to the door of your past house as though they hadn't wanted him dead for years. you didn't like hearing it and your didn't like saying it.

the hero nodded, his brows coming down to furrow together. "we will." he stated. you had made a deal with him the night before, but that didn't truly feel like a deal. this one did; it walked a thin line between a deal and a promise.

ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V, EPILOGUE

#AUTHOR'S NOTE— i know i literally posted yesterday but i'm excited about this series so here! thank you so much for reading xx

#TAGLIST— @ethanlvndry , @iloveneilperry , @starsfilm , @goosenoggin , @aminatic , @wenvierismycomfort , @l5byrinth , @wroetoslut , @briefwinnerpersonaturtle , @oliviapopewannabe , @wzrlds , @raggedyoldwitch

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