#good old fashioned spider-man au

[ichorai]

i was just a kid ; marc spector.

track one of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; marc spector x vigilante!gn!reader

synopsis ; khonshu wanted you dead. marc just wanted you.

words ; 6.6k

themes ; action, mild angst/fluff, vigilante au, thief au

warnings / includes ; blood/injury, cursing, mentions of human trafficking/sexual assault but not at all graphic, marc is basically chasing after reader for half the fic, we're traveling the world in this fic baby !!! khonshu being Annoying, reader doesn't know marc has DID and thinks he's crazy, a steven cameo !! and one (1) mention of spider-man and daredevil <3

main masterlist.

NEW DELHI, INDIA.

The street market was crowded, bustling with chatty tourists, loud salesmen, and traveling vendors. The air was heavy with the sweet, saccharine smell of fresh mangoes, intertwined with the faintest trace of turmeric, ginger and garam masala from other stalls you hurriedly passed by. You would’ve given anything to stop and try some of the food, if not for the terrifying white-suited fucker hunting you down.

The bleeding cut on your cheek he’d given you from when he threw his crescent-shaped boomerang in your direction throbbed. You’d barely been able to duck away in time. At least here, in the busy street, he couldn’t risk hurting anyone else by striking you long-range. 

At least, you hoped so. You weren’t entirely sure how far this bastard was willing to go to get you. Sure, you’d made a lot of enemies in the past, but, to your recollection, you’d never met any moon-caped supers keen on taking your life before.

You were quick to duck through the tight-knit throng, panic setting in when you realized the market was thinning away—you were near the end of the street, and you no longer had the advantage of cover on your side. 

With agile steps, you sprinted into an alleyway, glancing up the side of an apartment.

Then, you began to climb. You scaled the small grooves in the bricks, expertly balancing your weight just right so you wouldn’t fall. You’d done this a million times before, with much smoother surfaces to climb—after all, that was the bare minimum required of a thief. 

You hauled yourself onto the rooftop, laying low so he wouldn’t be able to spot you from ground level. 

Only—he wasn’t on ground level.

A shadow loomed over you just as you crouched by the rusted air conditioning unit, and you had but a millisecond to roll out of the way before his foot came crashing clean through the metal.

Well, fuck me, he can fly, you wryly thought. 

“Glide!” the man behind the mask gruffed as he grabbed your arm and shoved you against the crumpled AC unit, the searing hot metal digging painfully into your skin. “I glide, I don’t fly!”

“I said that out loud?” you panted with a hoarse chuckle, before quickly twisting and kicking his knee, brandishing a sharp dagger from the utility belt loosely secured around your hips. Up close, his suit appeared to be fashioned from a multitude of bandages, not unlike the cheap mummies from old nineties halloween movies. “Sorry, would it be weird for me to ask why a toilet paper cosplayer is trying to murder me?”

The man offered you no response, only diving forward and landing a good punch to one side of your jaw, which made your vision go blurry with disorientation for a moment. 

There was no way you could best him with strength—you needed to get away from him. 

With quick, nimble fingers, you pulled two smoke bombs from your belt and threw them onto the ground. Large plumes of ashen white immediately ate up the space between you, and he was left blinded for a couple of seconds. You tugged a grenade out a moment later, pulling out the pin with your teeth before tossing it in his general direction and throwing yourself off the opposite side of the building, where you’d spotted a plastic-woven tarp over one of the stalls by the edge of the market.

You’d crashed straight through their booth, fruits and drinks spilling all over the street’s asphalt. The vendors started cussing at you in a language that was foreign to your ears, but you knew they were saying foul things nonetheless. With a groan, you pushed yourself up, ignoring the searing pain that ran down your leg and began running back into the crowd. 

The explosion on the building had blown Marc back several meters, and he cursed beneath his breath as he pushed himself back up. Just as he was about to set back off to track you down, Khonshu’s bellowing voice made him halt in his motions.

“Let them go,” the God rumbled. There was an undertone of mild disappointment that laid stagnant beneath his voice, as if he’d just lost a game rather than a target. “We have more pressing matters at hand. Ammit’s followers are stealing more souls in Cuba.”

Marc’s brow furrowed. “Let them go? You want me to go to Cuba? That’s halfway across the world! I can finish the job, they can’t have gotten too far—”

“We have more pressing matters,” he repeated himself, this time with an edge to his voice. A headache pulsed angrily through Marc’s temple. 

“Why’d you want them dead so bad? This target—that person, were they a follower of Ammit? Huh?” 

Much to his frustration, Khonshu ignored him completely, merely brushing past his avatar. “Go to Havana,” the bird-skull rumbled over his shoulder. “I’ll meet you there.”

And with that, he disappeared.

ASTANA, KAZAKHSTAN.

A final stream of smoke fell from Elena’s lips as she pulled the cigarette away, dropping it into the floor to stub with her boot. She fixed you with a neutral expression as you made your way to her, though the unmistakable affection in her molten brown eyes gave her away. 

“Took you long enough,” she said, glancing at the large black cloak you were wearing. Her demeanor gradually shifted into one of a more somber variety. “Verdict’s been decided. The court decided not to charge—all those police that beat my friends to death… they’re walking away free of consequence. The government’s gone to shit. Everything is more expensive now—riots are breaking out over fuel prices, which means more people are getting killed. Nobody is willing to help anymore.”

You nodded grimly. “What can I do?”

There was a dark glimmer to her eyes as she squared her jaw. “You’re going to help me burn down government buildings. I don’t know how many, but… as many as it takes for them to change.”

A hint of a grin graced your lips as you regarded your past-lover with a nostalgic kind of fondness. “It’s the first time I see you in years and you’re already throwing me headfirst into war.”

She offered you a shrug and a wry smile. “Don’t kid yourself. You live for this kind of shit.”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” you hummed distantly. “Where do we start?”

It was pandemonium. 

Everybody was yelling—the protestors, the police, the civilians watching from the sides, the sparse firemen as they tried to put out the massive, roaring flames that were greedily swallowing the government building in its entirety. You had to admit, you were rather proud of your handiwork—absentmindedly wondering if Elena would be happy with it, as well.

Before you could dwell on it any longer, a foreign hand tightly seized around your wrist and began to drag you back away from the crowd. Your gaze wildly swiveled around in confusion to the man yanking you along, noting his heavy-set furrowed brows and his frustrated scowl. With as much strength as you could muster, you dug your heels into the ground and halted his motion, pulling against him with all your might. He didn’t relent, only staring you down with dark eyes that held the warbling reflections of the fire you set behind you. 

“Who the fuck are you?!” you barked, starting to get more frantic as you fruitlessly attempted to get him to let go of you. 

And when he spoke, it finally dawned on you.

Well, fuck me. It’s that bitch that chased me down in New Delhi. Wonder why he isn’t wearing his super suit… probably not to attract attention like last time. The news was all over him.

“You’re just getting more people killed,” he husked, clearly talking about the fire you’d caused, before brandishing a dark karambit knife, one that you swore gave you a cut just by looking at it. “No wonder he wants you dead.”

Fear wove down your spinal column when the blade poked your lower stomach in warning. “I’m sending a message,” you growled in reply, lips curled over your teeth in a snarl as you bristled. “And what about you? You’re gonna fix the problem by killing me? I don’t even know you! Some hero you are—those people protesting out there? They’re better than you will ever be.”

For a moment, his pupils darted back to the rioting crowd, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features, and you used the short-lived distraction to your advantage. You expertly kicked the knife out of his hand and landed a quick blow square in the center of his face, feeling his nose break beneath your knuckles. 

Not wanting to push your luck—you remembered how fast he was during your last encounter—you gave him one final shove, sending him sprawling into a trash can with a groan and a muffled curse.

By the time he forced himself back onto his feet a second later, you’d already disappeared into the shadows.

Fuck. Khonshu was gonna kill him.

PODGORICA, MONTENEGRO.

Marc still wasn’t sure why Khonshu wanted you dead so badly. Then again, he wasn’t sure about anything when it came to Khonshu. 

But he knew one thing for certain—if Marc truly wanted you dead, then you would’ve been six feet under weeks ago. Which meant… he wasn’t actively trying to kill you because he didn’t actually want you dead. All the others that he’d killed for Khonshu felt like they’d deserved it—rapists, abusers, pedophiles… and though Marc didn’t know you very well, he knew you weren’t anything like the people he’d killed before.

Marc didn’t know what he was doing. 

Jaw clenched, he pulled the cap lower down his face, shoving his fists into the pockets of his jeans. He followed not too far behind you, silent as a wraith, watching as you merrily strode down the streets of Podgorica. 

Finally, when you stopped by a little coffee truck to order an iced latte, Marc stepped forward to stand beside you.

For the first minute, you idly tapped away on your phone, smiling down at the screen briefly before pocketing the device. You glanced at him, thinking nothing of the person beside you, assuming they were just another civilian—

Then you froze.

You knew that face.

After all, you’d broken that very same nose less than a week ago. Strange, it looked just fine now. 

Immediately, you hunkered down into a defensive position, backing away from him with quick steps. Then, you ran, sprinting away so quickly that Marc could’ve sworn a trail of dust kicked up beneath your feet.

The man in the coffee truck incredulously yelled out after you, followed by a string of what Marc could only assume was a creative litany of Montenegrin profanity. 

Dropping a few shillings onto the truck’s counter, Marc grabbed your coffee and ran after you, shocked at how far you’d managed to get in such a short amount of time. 

There was no denying that you were a fast runner—but as the old tale went, the quick hare would always get overly confident. You slowed down to a moderate jog when you glanced behind you, Marc nowhere in sight. With a relieved sigh, you turned the corner and slumped against a building, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. 

Damn, you’d kill for that iced coffee right about now.

As if on cue, Marc rounded the corner, catching you by surprise. You were just ready to turn tail and run away again, but his hand shot out and held onto your wrist, not unlike he did in Astana. 

You spewed out a myriad of curses, ranging from calling him an ‘insufferable cucumber-dicked motherfucker’ to ‘smooth-brained, butt-faced swine’, wildly trying to get him to let go of you. If you weren’t violently bucking against him with all the grace of a panicked mare, he would’ve laughed at the creativity of your insults. 

“Stop, I just want to talk!” exclaimed Marc, dodging when you pushed yourself forward to try and wrap your hands around his throat. 

“Last two times I saw you, you tried to kill me!” you breathlessly spat. “Sorry if I don’t quite trust you now!”

“I’m unarmed,” he gritted out, stepping back slightly to allow you to scan your gaze over him. Though you didn’t want to admit it, you knew that if Marc really wanted to kill you, you would’ve been dead long ago. “I just want to ask you a couple things. And look—I brought your coffee!”

A low hiss fell from your lips. “I’m not answering jack shit.”

With that, you lunged forward and shoved him hard—so hard that he stumbled into the jagged brick wall behind him with an oomf. The iced latte sloshed right out of its cup and spilled all over his chest. His head struck painfully against the stone and his vision went blurry for a moment, expression faltering. 

You stepped away, watching him with cautious, narrowed eyes. 

After a long, pregnant pause, the man blinked in a dazed fashion, seeming confused. 

“What? Where am I? What’s going on?” he said, accent suddenly… British. He fixed you with a genuinely miffed gaze, appearing slightly frightened at your withering glower. 

You didn’t stay to answer his question. 

As you were turning on your heel to run away, you faintly heard him mutter to himself, “Where the bloody hell am I?”

Crazy bastard.

VALENCIA, SPAIN.

Your knuckles were split. Blood dribbled down your fist, a mixture of yours and the man whose face you were caving in.

One of your hands was bunched into the collar of his shirt, holding him down as you rained punches on him. The sickening sound of his bones giving way with your strikes didn’t deter you, and you only snarled and hit him again as he blubbered out prayers in Spanish. Blood-flecked spittle dripped from his busted lips. 

“Who are you praying to?” you hissed, releasing his collar in favor of wrapping your hand over his throat, squeezing tight. The dull green of his eyes flashed with panic, legs flailing weakly. “The gods will not listen to the likes of you—I’ll make sure of it.”

A strangled wail erupted from him. 

And just as you were about to land another punch, you found yourself being shoved away from the man, and promptly lifted off the floor with the scruff of your shirt collar, shoving you against a wall. You began kicking and twisting blindly, cursing furiously when you saw the man you were beating up scurry onto his feet and haggardly sprint away.

Your struggling was of no avail, and you weren’t at all surprised to see the same person that’s been trying to track you down for months now. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, brows heavily furrowed and dark eyes stormy with anger. “You were about to kill that guy!”

“He deserves it,” you bit out, glaring back at him with just as much intensity. “The fucker’s been stalking a friend of mine and sexually assaulted her daughter.”

There was a beat of silence. Marc’s cross expression seemed to drain away, but he still bore a stern face as he slowly let you go. You slid down the wall and got back onto your feet with a wince. 

“Why have you been following me?” you huffed, dusting off your pants. “You think I don’t know that if you really wanted to kill me, I would be dead by now?”

Marc squared his jaw and leveled his gaze on you. “Someone… close to me wants you dead. I want to know why first—he won’t tell me.”

“Sounds like you shouldn't be all that close to him, then,” you snorted derisively. 

“Not for a lack of trying,” the man dryly replied. 

With a scoff, you stepped forward and wiped your bloody knuckles onto his shirt, leaving a damp trail of darkening crimson. “There’s way too many reasons a person would want me dead,” you whispered, one hand patting his chest. The other trailed down, down, down…

To the high-rise potted plant beside you. You grabbed a fistful of dirt.

“See, he’s not exactly what you’d call a person—”

Before Marc could finish his sentence, you chucked the dirt straight into his face. He inhaled some of the soil and doubled over, pounding on his chest as he coughed it out. With a growl, he frustratedly swiped the remaining flecks of dirt out of his eyes, blearily looking back up. And, to none of his surprise but much of his dismay, you were already gone.

OSLO, NORWAY.

“Why aren’t they dead yet, Marc?” grumbled Khonshu in that grating, gravely tone of his. Even though the God had no eyes, Marc could still feel his stare burning straight through him. 

With a frown, Marc was quick to respond, “Because you haven’t told me why yet.”

“You’ve never needed a reason before—always blindly following my orders,” the bird-skull crooned. “What makes them so different?”

There was a bitter taste to the back of Marc’s throat. What made you so different?

“Because I don’t know if they deserve it, alright?” he retorted, crossing his arms to glare up at the tall figure. “You can’t just expect me to kill everyone who mildly inconveniences you.”

Harrumphing, Khonshu snapped back, “They are naught but an inconvenience—they are a disruption to the very balance of nature. Y/N has taken justice into their own hands, and that is a very dangerous thing for a simple mortal to do.”

Marc cast his gaze away in frustration, pacing back and forth. “But that’s exactly what you make me do.”

“Yes, because you are my avatar,” deadpanned the God. “And Y/N is not. Though, they might as well be because you are being a fool.”

He could feel one of his eyes twitch. There wasn’t ever a conversation Marc could remember where Khonshu didn’t insult him. 

“They’re doing what they think is right,” defended Marc. “They’re not hurting people just for the sake of it.”

“That is not for them to decide!” bellowed the God, which made him step back just a bit. “They have done terrible, unimaginable things in the past—though mistakes some may be—and they will continue to make them. Take a look for yourself.” With that, Khonshu swept his arm out, gesturing to the large bank across the street, large windows giving him a clear view of what was going on inside.

His heart dropped down to his stomach when he saw you. 

You were wearing a mask that covered the entirety of your features, except for your eyes and your mouth. The rest of your body was shrouded with simple, dark clothing, suitable for running. 

And, most notably, you had a gun in your hand, pointing straight at the trembling woman working behind the counter. Your mouth was moving and you gestured with lax, calm movements, despite the explicit terror written across the woman’s face.

Marc’s brow furrowed. Damn it. 

He watched as you snatched the bag of money the woman slowly slid over, and hightailed out of the bank with the gun still gripped tightly in your hand. You ran the opposite way, before disappearing down another block. Glancing over at Khonshu, only to see that he was nowhere in sight, Marc huffed out a sigh and began sprinting after you.

One downside of Oslo was that their buildings weren’t exactly the easiest to climb—which meant that you had to stick to the ground and trust your speed. 

Marc wasn’t as fast as you without his suit, that was for certain. But with his suit—he could glide. 

And so that’s how the white-caped figure dropped straight down in front of you out of seemingly nowhere, which elicited a shriek of surprise from you, nearly dropping the bag out of shock. You had pulled your mask off long ago, shoving it into the knapsack shrugged over your shoulders, along with the gun. 

This clearly wasn’t your first time doing this.

“You,” was what you incredulously breathed out, eyes wide. “You must be obsessed with me or something.”

Not in the mood to play around, Marc growled out, “Why are you doing this? Give the money back. It’s not yours.”

“Who said it was for me?” you countered, upper lip curled in contempt. You tilted your head at him, eyeing his suit with interest, before returning back to your scathing disposition. “Not that it’s any of your business, but this money’s for the small orphanage a couple miles from here. They’re barely getting by with the money the government gives them. I have a kid there I know.”

With bated breath, Marc willed the suit away, leaving him in a dark sweatshirt and a pair of woolen pants. He eyed you suspiciously, still not too sure if he should trust you.

Sensing this, you rolled your eyes and unzipped your bag. “If you don’t believe me—check my gun. It’s blank.” You fished out the small weapon and handed it over to him with the end pointed towards you so he wouldn’t think you were going to shoot him. “No bullets.”

Marc didn’t need to check it—by now he knew you were telling the truth. But he looked into the chamber anyway, finding it void of any ammunition. 

“Can I go now? We both know you’re not going to kill me. The cops will be looking,” you said, voice a bit more gentle than before. He noticed that the anger on your face had melted away, leaving only urgency and another tumultuous emotion that he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

When he offered you no response, finally relenting, you nodded once to him, a glimmer of gratitude behind your irises. And with that, you began running again, effortlessly disappearing into the shadows.

“Fool,” thundered a rumbling growl from somewhere above him. Marc looked up, but the bird-skulled God was nowhere to be found.

COLUMBUS, OHIO.

Damn. Nothing hit harder than classic, greasy, American cheeseburgers with a side of curly fries and a milkshake. You shifted eagerly on the sticky red leather of the booths, shooting the waitress who’d handed you your food a flirtatious smirk and a ten dollar bill, which she took with an equally salacious wink.

You grinned down at your food before taking the first bite into the burger, a muffled noise of content falling from your throat.

“Am I interrupting something?” said a frustratingly familiar voice, the man sliding into the seat across from you. “It sounds like you were just about to have the greatest sex of your life—with a cheeseburger.”

You pointedly glared at him, though it lacked any true heat. After about a dozen deliberately slow chews, you finally swallowed down the food. Marc looked like he wanted to say something else, but you merely held up a finger, slurping on the paper straw of your milkshake. He pursed his lips with a mildly aggrieved look.

Finally, you tilted your head at him. 

“Is there something you want from me?” you asked him casually, reaching to the end of the table to grab a napkin and wipe at the corner of your lips. “Because I’m not in the drug business anymore, if that’s what you’re looking for. Or is it something else, hm?”

It seemed that Marc hadn’t completely thought this through. Sure, he’d planned out what he roughly wanted to say to you, but now that you were right in front of him, he found his tongue running dry. He fumbled for words, fists clenching and unclenching by his knees. 

“I don’t want to kill you. Or hurt you at all, for that matter.”

You scoffed, remembering the instances in which he’d hurt you plenty.

“I just… I want to know your side of the story. I want to know why you do what you do,” he said, a bit quieter. 

For a moment, Marc thought you’d just tell him to piss off. But there was a gradual shift to your features, going from obvious irritation to gentle curiosity. 

“Alright. I’ll cut you a deal,” you said, popping a curly fry into your mouth. “I tell you about my tragic backstory, and you tell me all about this… thing that’s been wanting to kill me. And before I start—I’m gonna need your name. I can’t keep mentally cataloging you as the toilet paper man.”

And for the first time since you met him all those months ago—Marc laughed. It was deep and gratingly genuine, coming from the very bottom of his chest.

“Well, first of all, it’s not toilet paper. It’s the ceremonial armor of Khonshu’s temple. And second, it’s Marc. Marc Spector.”

“Ceremonial armor of whose what now?” you balked. 

A hint of a smile graced the corner of Marc’s lips. “Khonshu—Egyptian God of the moon. I’m his avatar. He’s the one that wanted me to kill you. He called you a disruption to nature—said that you were wrongfully taking justice into your own hands.” As he spoke, the smile began to wane away, and he regarded you in a more serious light. “I want to know why he thinks that.”

You stared down at your plate of fries, stunned. An Egyptian God wanted you dead? You knew you pissed people off, but Gods too?

“And if you don’t like what you hear?” you quietly asked, lifting your gaze to meet his. “Will you drag me out of the diner and strangle me to death?”

Though you could tell he didn’t like saying it, Marc’s face was set in stone when he leveled with you. “I’ll give you a head’s start.”

Another beat of silence. You picked up another fry and popped it into your mouth. The plate slid across the table as you nudged it towards him. 

“Alright, Marc. Settle in, have some fries, order a milkshake—it’s a long story.”

And you told him everything. You told him about your childhood—rumbling stomachs, nimble thieving hands, falling off of buildings when running away from cops. You told him about your teenage years—pulling off heists, brokering deals with gangs, breaking nearly every bone in your body being reckless. You told him about your early adult years—falling in love with Elena, getting more comfortable as a vigilante, as you liked to call yourself, meeting other superheroes and helping out on occasion. Marc seemed to recognize Spider-Man and Daredevil’s names when you mentioned them in passing, his eyebrows arching up closer to his hairline. 

You told him that you now spend your days traveling around the globe helping people. 

By the time you were done spilling your entire life story, your fries and burger were cleanly polished off. 

Marc was silent for a long time, as if unsure what to say. 

“I was in love once, too,” he said in a tentative manner, gaze trained on the table. “Her name was Layla.”

“Oh, yeah?” you curiously said, sipping on the last frothy remnants of your milkshake at the bottom of the glass. “And how’d that work out for you?”

There was a sad glint to his eyes. “Not so good. We’re divorced now.” He cleared his throat before you could press him about it. “What happened with you and Elena?”

It was now your turn to stare out the window in a despondent manner. “Same as you. Except we were never married. My lifestyle was… too much for her.”

Marc nodded in understanding. “Yeah, me too.”

The two of you stared at the glossy table in silence.

“You still in love with her?”

You lifted your gaze to meet his. “I love her, yeah—I always will. I’m just not in love with her anymore.”

The man across from you hummed. There was a newfound understanding between you two—unspoken, but the both of you could feel it. 

“Do you still love Layla?”

A ghost of a smile graced his features, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. “Not in the same way I used to. But I do.”

With a final slurp of your straw, your drink glass was emptied. “Seems like we’re a lot more similar than first meets the eye, huh?” 

Marc fixed you with a loose, awkward smile. Without another word, he pulled the bill of his cap lower down his face, and slid out of the booth. It seemed that he wasn’t going to be strangling you tonight. 

You didn’t look back when he walked out of the diner, the bell hooked by the doortop tolling with his departure.

YEKATERINBURG, RUSSIA.

The bird skull was saying something. His bony beak was moving. You could feel the vibrations of his thundering voice beneath your feet. And yet—you had no fucking clue what he was talking about.

You blinked up at the God with wide eyes. 

“Could you repeat that?” you winced out, having not picked up a single word Khonshu had said in the past three minutes. The God grumbled, and somehow glared at you despite having no eyes within his bony skull. Beside you, Marc let out a muffled snort.

“You insolent buffoon,” the bony figure snarled. “Have you not been listening?”

Despite the bristling God in front of you, you found the entire situation to be amusing. “Sorry, it’s just… your head’s really big. It’s kinda distracting. Just paraphrase yourself—I don’t need all the terms and conditions.”

Marc’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, but he immediately sobered up when Khonshu rounded his pointed beak to him, back straightening. 

“This is a gravely serious matter—!”

“You know what else is serious?” you snapped, pulling your thick woolen coat closer to your quivering body. “Catching hypothermia! Did you really have to pick Russia of all places? We couldn’t have met on a warm beach in the Caribbeans, or something?”

If Khonshu had eyelids, you were sure they would’ve been twitching with repressed agitation by now.

A deep baritone of a sigh fell from the lanky God. He leaned his weight against his crescent-tipped staff, as if willing his own patience to hold steadfast. 

“I said—” he started again, watching you cautiously, “—that I will be letting go of your past sins. But only because my avatar is so keen on you, and because you show a consistent effort to rid the world of evil. However, if you slip up so much as once, I will personally see that to an unkind descent into the afterlife. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal!” you harrumphed, tucking your frigid nose into the collar of your fur coat. “And I did those things to people who deserved it—which is exactly the same as what you do, you bony hypocrite! Can we go inside now?”

The God grumbled something unintelligible, though you suspected it had something to do with your impertinence, and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“You’ll get used to him,” assured Marc, placing a hand on your back to lead you back inside. “He doesn’t get any better but—you’ll get used to it.”

“That’s reassuring,” you dryly responded, teeth beginning to chatter. As soon as the two of you started to walk back to the small little city hotel, you elbowed his side with a playful grin. “So… you’re keen on me, huh?”

Marc gave you an unimpressed look. Snowflakes danced with the wind and landed in his neatly-combed curls. “Khonshu had to believe that I liked you—the last thing he’d want is a sloppy, grieving avatar.”

“Mmh, I don’t know…” you said, tapping your finger against your chin in thought. “He’d probably like that, considering he’s one manipulative son of a bitch. Maybe he just secretly likes me and wants to keep me around.”

“Yeah,” snorted Marc. He halted in his tracks, forcing down a smile. “That, or I blackmailed him.”

Your eyes widened, frost clinging to your lashes and brows. “You blackmailed an Egyptian God?”

“Let’s just say that he’s had a sticky romance with the Egyptian Goddess of love—ironically, she’s one of the few beings that he’s genuinely terrified of. I threatened to get in contact with her avatar if he didn’t absolve you.”

You kicked at a small build-up of snow by the sidewalk, an excited gleam to your irises. “Crazy how even the Gods have petty dating drama to gossip about,” you commented, turning to him. His nose was tinted a faint shade of red from the cold, bits of white frost freckling his hair and his clothes. “Thanks for not killing me, by the way,” you added as an afterthought, fixing him with a warm smile. 

“Just keep out of trouble,” he gently reminded, mirroring your soft grin. The two of you were now standing in front of your dingy little motel—and Marc apparently had something to attend to halfway across the world in Cuba. 

So this was goodbye. 

For now, at least.

Without thinking, you leaned forward to press your cold lips against the warmth of his cheek, the tip of your nose grazing his cheekbone as you laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“Thanks,” you whispered when you pulled away slightly, breath misting into an opaque fog. Marc was regarding you with an expression that bordered on fondness, which was certainly a new look that you found yourself craving for more. “I haven’t really properly talked to anybody in ages so… this was nice. Goodbye, Marc.”

With that, you turned on your heel and headed into the hotel, grateful for the blast of warmth from the overhead heater, though you could still feel Marc’s burning stare bore holes into your back, even as you turned the corner and disappeared from his sight.

ADDIS ABABA, ETHIOPIA.

Blood, everywhere.

Gunshots in the distance.

Snarling men rounding the corner—human traffickers.

Your dagger glinting beneath the hot Ethiopian sun.

A man screaming as you sliced his throat. 

Gurgling.

Red on your hands. On your clothes. On your shoes. 

Two successive punches—one to your stomach, and the other to your face.

Pain blooming beneath your skin.

A fist around your throat.

Squeezing. 

Choking.

Dark spots dancing about your vision.

Your nails clawing into their eyes. 

Air.

Gasping for breath. 

Wheezing.

You desperately parried away another assailant’s knife.

A song of steel against steel.

More gunshots flying every which way.

You dove behind large metal crates. 

Sand in your shoes.

Copper on your tongue.

Crashing. Yelling. Cursing.

Your fingers flexing around the hilt of your dagger.

Bated breath.

You looked around the crate.

Marc fucking Spector.

A ghost of a smile on your lips.

Your name being called out—surprise in his tone.

“Fancy seeing you here!” you shouted.

Marc’s fist curled into one of the traffickers’ collars.

“It’s been a while!” came his mildly amused reply.

A grunt. A punch. A groan of pain.

His white cape fluttered with the wind. 

“You down for a burger or something later?”

You spoke calmly, as if you weren’t currently strangling someone with a long power cord. 

The man fell limp in your hold. 

“Sure—I could go for a burger,” he called out, 

Blood trickled down your nose and grazed your lip. 

You wiped it away with the back of your hand.

The last of the traffickers was struck down with Marc’s crescent boomerang. 

A breath of relief. 

Drenched in blood (most of which was not yours), you made your way to Marc.

“You clean up nice,” he joked.

A roll of your eyes.

“Oh, shucks, Marc,” you simpered with a mischievous grin, dragging a bloody hand down his face once he retracted his mask. 

He grimaced in disgust, but didn’t push you away. 

A laugh fell from your throat, hoarse and echoing.

You looped your aching, bleeding arms with his. 

“Let’s go get that burger.”

LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND.

“Ow—ugh, Marc, could you go any faster?” you barked through the dirty cloth wedged between your teeth, glaring up at him with watering eyes. You’d endured pain far worse than this, sure, but Marc was taking twice as long stitching you up than when you’d do it yourself. Though, admittedly, whenever you had to patch yourself up, it was a rather shoddy job and often left a much larger, gnarled scar than it would’ve, had you properly taken care of it. 

The man above you shook his head, dark curls hanging loosely over his forehead. “Stop moving and maybe it’ll hurt less,” he replied, the tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he worked on your stitches. “You know, just because we work together now and I heal quickly doesn’t mean you do, too.”

With a grimace, you tore the cloth from your mouth, chucking it somewhere across the small motel room to freely speak to him. “It was just a mistake,” you replied, nearly doubling over with a strained groan when he punctured the skin of your abdomen with a small needle, where the deep gash resided, one last time. “I timed myself wrong. Happens sometimes.”

Marc let his eyes roam over your exposed skin, brows divoting ever so slightly upon seeing the multiple other scars littering your body. They were memories of your past, and you weren’t ashamed of them. 

“Doesn’t look like it only happens sometimes,” he murmured, tying off his sutures and cleaning off the last bits of flaking, dried blood on your stomach before binding the open wound with thin bandages. 

“You worried about me?”

Marc didn’t spare you a response. He busied himself by putting away the medkit and tossing the discarded, bloodied clothes into the bathroom sink. When he came back to sit on the bed beside you, you had gingerly moved positions so that you were propped up against the creaking bed’s headboard. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Shitty,” you whispered. “England fucking stinks.”

Marc chuckled, a small smile curling his lips upwards, though you noticed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

The two of you sat in silence for a while. 

“Thanks for stitching me up,” you told him.

“Thanks for not dying on me,” he replied. His hand sought yours and your fingers laced with his. “I know we’ve only been working together for a month by now, but I’m starting to really like you.”

With one last painful shift, you moved so that your faces were only inches away. You paused when your lips were just a hairsbreadth from his, giving him time to yank you away if need be. 

But he didn’t. 

His lips met yours with a tender sort of sadness, pouring months of frustration and anger into the embrace. A warm hand came up to cradle the back of your head, angling you closer, wary of your newly-stitched wound. 

Forehead resting against his, you gently pulled away, finding solace in the fact that he chased after your lips just a bit, before cracking his dark eyes open. 

“We shouldn’t do this,” he mumbled, gaze darting back down to your parted mouth. 

“Okay,” came your broken reply.

And despite it all, he threw all caution to the wind and kissed you again. Again, and again, and again—far into the night, until the two of you passed out on the stained sheets of the motel bed, limbs intertwined and your nose pressed against his throat, where you could hear the soft thrumming of his heartbeat. 

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Khonshu was hovering on the rooftop, finding himself rather glad that his avatar had finally found someone he could trust—even if that someone was the very bane of his existence. 

“I need a new avatar,” the God harrumphed to nobody but himself, knowing full and well that he wasn’t letting go of Marc Spector and his… counterparts any time soon. 

#marc spector x reader #marc spector fanfiction #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector angst #marc spector fluff #marc spector imagines #marc spector drabbles #marc spector fanfic #marc spector x you #moon knight fluff #moon knight angst #moon knight fanfic #moon knight x you #moon knight drabbles #moon knight imagines #moon knight oneshot #steven grant x reader #steven grant fanfiction

[neonbrutalism]

(this is not an AU i'm really actively working on, i just had this idea strike while i was at work and it's a fun little exploration.)

Spider-Gabe, Spider-Gabe, Extremely depressed Spider-Gabe.

And Prowler!Miguel.

(AU where Gabriel is bitten by a good old fashion radioactive spider and Spider-Mans around Nueva York. Miguel, unaware his brother is Spider-Man, continues to work for Alchemax until he gets genetically spliced with a spider when a coworker sabotages him.

Attempted Suicide mention below the cut.

After Aaron Delgado falls, Miguel realizes what's happened to him and jumps. He doesn't catch himself. He somehow survives thanks to his increased strength, durability and healing factor but is disgusted to find he's been reborn as an abomination. He abandons his life and stays Downtown, waging war on Alchemax and the other corps. The people of Downtown call him The Prowler. It's one of the nicer names they give him, so he goes with it. He and Spider-Man clash a few times, but never hang around each other long enough to figure out the other's identity.

Meanwhile, Gabriel moves into Miguel's old apartment so he can keep LYLA and continues to Spider-Man and mourn his brother. He eventually forms the Spider-Society with the goal of protecting the Multiverse.

#across the spider-verse #miguel o'hara #gabriel o'hara #Spider-Gabriel

[ivystoryweaver]

Decadent chapter 5

prev || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist || next

Summary: This week at work isn't turning out how you hoped. Miguel hasn't touched you and you're determined to change his mind.

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara from the film Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse x female reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Notables: NSFW. AU story. 18+, cursing, smut. Reader is kinda bratty, Miguel is a bad boy as usual. Consensual but reader is incapacitated at points. p in v, bondage, blood, biting. not beta'd.

PREVIOUSLY on Decadent...

So you were going to help him. Even if you could never be with him, and even if you never felt him claim your body again, you weren't going to quit your job. This was all too monumental, and Miguel needed you.

Your first day back in the lab with Miguel was a revelation. The knowledge of who he was and what your actual research goal was going to be opened the door of possibility for you both.

Miguel was as professional as ever, even when you returned to his office near the end of the day. You started to wonder if he would completely ignore what had taken place in his home.

Just before you decided to leave for the day, he called your name and asked you to come over to his desk. Bouncing on your toes a bit, you set your bag down and compliantly scurried over to your boss.

Gazing up at you from his chair, he granted you a soft smile.

"How are you feeling? Your neck okay?"

Your fingers automatically reached for the faded wound on your neck, mostly covered by a clever application of makeup. "I'm okay," you neutrally replied. "Covered it up a bit - but it's a lot better."

Rising to tower over you, Miguel leaned in to scrutinize the damage. "Fuck - I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

His close proximity made you swallow hard. "It-it's okay," you whispered as his scarlet eyes landed on yours.

"It's not fucking okay," he refuted, his eyebrows pinched in concern and in disgust with himself.

Blowing out a sigh of frustration, Miguel pushed his long fingers through his hair, leaving one stubborn strand to fall across his eye.

"It's you," he tried to explain. "It's not okay. It's fucked up." His hands landed on his hips as he turned to stare out the window behind his desk. "I'm fucked up."

"Well, that's for damn sure," you laughed, attempting to lighten the mood, "But you're not alone in it."

"Oh? Enlighten me." He glanced back at you, narrowing his crimson eyes. "You're not half spider, are you?"

"Funny," you shot back.

A slightly uneasy silence descended over the two of you.

"Well...goodnight," Miguel concluded.

Okay then.

The rest of the week passed in this fashion. The work was professional and brilliant - the rest was...small talk. Not exactly awkward, but apparently, you had been dethroned as Miguel's flavor of the month.

Despite the thrill and challenge your work brought to you, you found yourself a little bitter. At first you tried to shake things off - after all, you and Miguel never established any kind of relationship. You hadn't even known him that long.

It's not like you were weeping away on your fainting couch like a damsel. No, the frustration came from two sources: 1 - pure, raw, good, old-fashioned sexual frustration. Miguel was tall and muscular and beautiful and you just wanted to climb him daily.

And 2 - he fucking bit you. He drank your blood. He told you he liked you being afraid, underneath him. That was probably red flag predatory behavior of some sort, but just the thought of your blood on his fangs, or the memory of going limp in his arms made you soaked.

And now he was barely making small talk?

If he wanted to move on, fine. You would have to accept that, but you were going to explode if the two of you didn't clear the air. It would probably be bad for your career to force him into a personal conversation he so clearly didn't want, but you figured the worst that could happen (or maybe the best?) would be that you argued and then had really angry sex.

After which, it would be unsettling. Maybe even awkward. Which was no different than how it was right now! But at least you would have gotten a hate fuck out of it.

"Uggghh," you groaned in frustration, not realizing you internal war had bubbled to the surface.

Miguel glanced up from his desk. "Still working on that problem from earlier?"

His voice electrified you - startled you...made you boil with resentment. And hunger. This was happening.

"No. It's not work," you neutrally replied. "It's personal."

"Oh? You okay?"

Your eyes narrowed at his innocent expression. "Like you give a shit."

Miguel seemed a little taken aback. "Ouch. Someone's in a mood."

"At least I have feelings," you retorted, beginning to gather up your things to leave for the day. It was Friday and you needed the weekend away from this asshole. "You've been a fucking robot all week."

Leaning back in his chair, Miguel stopped the task he was working on. "That's quite a remark. A robot?"

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your bag and said nothing.

"Hey, come on," he attempted, used to you coming to his desk when he beckoned. Realizing you were truly about to leave, he stood up, rushing around his desk to where you stood. "You're pissed at me. What did I do?"

You groaned. As if he didn't know. (He didn't know.)

"I-is it because of last weekend?" He asked, with more tenderness than you were frankly interested in. He clearly wasn't going to ever have any real feelings for you. So where was your hate sex?

"I told you I'm sorry. I know it wasn't right to hurt you - "

"Oh that?" You scoffed. "No. We talked about that. It's fine. It's how you've acted since Monday."

Taking a minute to actually think about what you were implying, he started to slowly nod. "You mean...things are different now...between us." His scarlet irises twinkled with a taunting glimmer of understanding. "You're pissed that we aren't fucking every day."

You glowered at him, attempting to side-step your way out of the office.

"Wait just a minute," he ordered, taking hold of your arm. Without permission, he took your bag out of your hand and set it down. "You don't get to start shit and then just walk out."

"Oh I don't?" You snapped, your skin heating up now that he was manhandling you. "You're the boss of my personal time now too?"

"Sounds like you want me to be the boss of you, sweetheart."

"Fuck you."

"Believe me, I want you to," he growled, using his grip on your arm to drag you over to his desk and sit you roughly down on top of it. "I don't know if you noticed, but my teeth tore holes in your fucking throat."

"So?" You retorted, the ache between your legs pulsing and wet.

"So," he leaned in closely, eyes boring into yours, "I drank your blood. I paralyzed you. Scared you. You can't want that."

Shoving his chest, you growled, "Don't tell me what I want! You have no idea how I think about that night every second of every day! And now you will barely look at me."

"I'm trying to stop looking at you!" He barked, trapping your wrists with one strong hand. "You're important to me - to our research. Believe me when I say that you do not want this to go any further than it has."

One talon scraped against your wrist, where he was still gripping you. He didn't break the skin, but it still stung.

Jerking away from his grasp, you inadvertently caused the offending talon to tear at your flesh. You swore you saw Miguel's eyes flash bright red as a few droplets of blood sprang free. Horrified, he released your hands, shoving you away.

"Get out," he lowly growled, turning his back on you. His massive shoulders heaved as his head bowed.

Reaching up to tentatively touch his shoulder, you started to call his name when he whirled around, catching your hand in his and pushing your roughly back toward his desk. Shoving you down, he bound your hands with a red-orange webbing and forced them over your head.

Sharp talons shredded your blouse and bra, although he avoided piercing any more of your skin. Then you felt webbing bind your torso to the desk - the slightly warm strands winding around your abdomen and between your breasts.

Shoving your skirt up around your hips, Miguel sliced off your panties and shoved his knuckles into your cunt.

"Fucking soaked," he growled, pushing down his pants to free his cock.

A little whine escaped your throat as his thick length slapped gently against your thigh.

"You're going to be late getting home tonight, muñeca," he warned, sliding his hands under your ass and thrusting his cock deep into your wet, waiting cunt without any other warning. "I'm going to fuck you until you beg me to stop."

The moan rumbling out of your body might have been embarrassing, but you didn't care because Miguel lifted your legs - one over each shoulder, bent his knees and slammed into you.

"Fuck! Miguel..."

He was in no fucking mood. The next laser webs went right over your open mouth, silencing you.

"You think you want this," he panted, ramming into your cunt wildly. "But you don't know what the fuck you're asking for. I'll ruin you."

Running his hand over your calf, he rubbed your leg against his cheek - made easier by its scandalous position on his shoulder. Then he licked your skin.

Your back arched violently against your restraints - the pressure against your breasts making you wild with desire.

"You're going to come for me first. I want to feel it," he commanded, sliding his hands down to your thighs, which he used as leverage to hit a spot devastatingly deep inside you.

Your muffled scream of pleasure almost made him lose it.

Using his enhanced speed, he vibrated inside you until he felt that familiar squeeze around his dick. "Good girl," he growled, and without further warning, he sank his teeth into your leg - more than once. He gnawed a few times before sucking hard.

The mind-numbing, time-stopping euphoria burning through your body started to cool as numbness invaded your limbs. The piercing fang pricks stopped hurting, and all you could feel was Miguel's hot tongue, sucking and sucking and licking each wound as he emptied himself inside you.

Thinking he would stop, and that you would float away on a cloud to recover, you were stunned, but unable to respond, when he dropped your legs and leaned down over you, blood dripping down his chin, ruining his expensive dress shirt.

"This better be what you want because I'm not done with you," he warned. The look in his blood red eyes should have frightened you, but you never wanted to stop seeing him feral like this for you.

Without asking, he roughly turned you over, ripping the rest of your clothes off your body and re-binding your torso to the desk. This left your bare ass on display for him, your cunt dripping - not that you could really feel it.

Leaning back down, his now-bare chest pressed against your back, his heated breath on your ear.

"Gonna mark you up pretty for me, baby. But don't worry, I'll make sure you don't feel a thing. Just lie there and be good for me. I'm not done fucking you."

You weren't sure what he did after that. You could feel a little pressure here and there. You thought maybe he slapped your ass a few times, but you couldn't be certain.

Your body jerked - tits mashed hard against the desk, but you still couldn't feel. Turning your head as far as you could to see behind you, you whined at the sight of Miguel fucking into you like an animal.

From the first time you fucked, you thought Miguel was the type who would destroy you - fuck you hard and fast and make you see stars. But he was controlled, working you up slowly. It was sexy as hell and you'd never been with a man like him, nor come so hard for anyone.

But seeing him completely wild for you - whatever this was - you were living for it. You continued to whine and whimper against the webbing over your mouth.

You could only tell when he finished by the strangled groans he made...and by the fact that he leaned down over you again, sinking his teeth into the back of your neck. You didn't feel any pain but you had already learned the sound of him sucking you.

After drinking his fill, you noticed that you were starting to feel a little lightheaded - a distinctly different feeling that the paralytic. Blood loss.

The tiniest sliver of fear wound itself around your heart.

Finally freeing you from your restraints, Miguel turned you over, tore the webs from your lips and plunged his blood-coated tongue into your mouth.

Lifting you up, he carried you to the couch in his office and laid you down before climbing on top of you, caging you in with his arms, like he had done last weekend in his bed.

"Look what you made me do," he panted, sliding inside you. "Marking you up. Making you bleed. And I'm not done."

You whimpered, a little afraid of him feeding on your further. But as your body began bucking underneath his, you realized he was fucking you again.

Apparently he wasn't kidding when he said he would fuck you until you begged him to stop.

"You're going to be sore this weekend," he taunted. "But this is what you wanted, so lie there for me like my good girl."

A gentle sob worked its way out of your throat.

"You're scared, baby? You think you've lost too much blood? Good," he hissed. "You should be afraid." Unable to look at you any longer, Miguel buried his head in your neck. He didn't draw anymore blood, but he did lick at the weeping wound he'd just created.

By the time he finished, you could feel the heat of him inside you. Still unable to move, you wondered what he would do with you.

Your clothes were shredded - ruined. How would you even get home?

Miguel produced one of his extra shirts and carefully dressed you as best he could. Gathering all your belongings, he carried you to a car, where the two of you were driven to his home.

next->

#miguel o'hara #decadent fic #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #sm: atsv #sm: atsv fic #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #au spiderverse #spiderverse #miguel o'hara fanfiction

[bittenbyyou]

Inferior Flames (3)

MCU!AU | MCU!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader | MCU!Spider-Man x Stark!Reader

genre: enemies to lovers, angst, slow burn, some comedy

description: Now it was Peter’s turn to keep an eye on you, much to your dismay. 

word count: 6.8k

warnings: betrayal, cussing, arguing, lil bit of fake dating, OC’s background story, spying, fight scene

a/n: Yes, there will be a part 4, darlings! Please reblog and lemme know what you think. It’s highly motivating to all writers and I do read every comment. :)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Hey kiddo, F.R.I.D.A.Y tells me you missed school. Are you okay?”

“Dad, are you in the middle of a battle?”

The hologram projection glitched when sounds of explosions and distant chaos filled the air. Your father’s face remained focused on you rather than whatever was going on, his armor glinting in the background. 

“It’s fine, I called a timeout,” he said, looking around and assessing the situation. “Why aren’t you at school, Firefly?”

I don’t want to see Peter and a three-headed dragon wants to eat me. 

“I’m overwhelmed with this test coming up. Wanted extra time to study.”

“You sure? You sound a bit off.”

You smiled weakly. “I’m sure, Dad. Focus on the battle.” 

He blasted an enemy beyond the confines of the screen, and the screech sound it let out was dreadful. 

“Alright, kiddo. If you need anything, Happy is around if I'm not available. Don't hesitate to reach out."

“I know, I know. Love you.”

“Love you too. Oh! Has the Spider-ling done anything I should know about?”

“Nope, not at all. I got to study. Bye!”

You ended the call on the control panel, blowing a raspberry to release some tension. Keeping secrets from your father was not on your to-do list, but divulging the truth would unleash a Pandora's box of complications you weren’t quite prepared to face. If Tony Stark couldn’t know, then it was a definite no-go for your mother and Happy.

This was a task that weighed solely on your shoulders, one you couldn’t rely on anyone else to complete. Deep down, you recognized the cliche and absurdity of the situation, the immense pressure you were putting on yourself. But this villain was anything but ordinary. Only you could vanquish it, but that meant risking the only tangible connection to your birth mother—the pearl. 

Rather than studying, you used today to research leads on the three-headed dragon man known as Triroth. This power-hungry demon hailed from your village and had an insatiable appetite for devouring others. The enhancers were nothing more than a cunning ploy to attract formidable challengers, a way to entertain and satiate himself, absorbing their strength and amplifying his own power. 

You were almost certain he had died. But here he was, back from the abyss in some inexplicable fashion. Determination fueled your every step as you mapped out a plan to shake up an old contact who might just hold the key to uncovering the truth.

Meanwhile, Peter’s mind was in a frenzy, unable to focus on anything at school. His gaze was fixated on your empty chair every class, his mind racing a mile a minute at the possibilities. What if you decided to take on the dragon by yourself? What if he captured you? What if, heaven forbid, he already ate you? It was driving him nuts. 

“Peter? Peter. Peter!”

The boy looked up from his lunch tray to see a concerned Ned and MJ. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Are you good?” Ned asked. 

“Yeah, you’ve been a little off,” MJ pointed out. 

“Sorry, I was wondering where [Y/N] was.”

“Ah yeah… choir was a disaster without her.” She looked around the cafeteria as if someone could potentially be eavesdropping before adding on, “The girls can’t sing.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she’s sick?” Ned said. 

“I hope so. Maybe I’ll swing by and see how she’s doing.”

MJ had an amused expression on her face. “You know where she lives?”

“Ooh, we should all go together!” Ned suggested. Peter’s eyes widened as he shook his hands in refusal. It’s not like he could take them to the Avengers Compound and reveal that you’re one (or not one). 

“No! Th-That’s not a good idea.”

“Why not? Since when have you and her gotten that close? I don’t even know where she lives,” MJ said, narrowing her eyes in suspicion at Peter. 

“I meant I’ll swing by the internship and see if she’s there.”

“Ah, their little Stark ‘internship~’,” MJ said in a sing-songy voice, air quoting the word “internship” with her fingers. Ned did the same voice and copied her fingers, the two of them laughing at themselves.

“Guys, come on,” Peter said, chuckling at their silly behavior. “It’s a serious internship. Hopefully it’ll soon lead to a real job with them.”

“Oh yeah. Sure,” MJ suddenly drops her smile, staring at him, eyes filled with suspicion. “What are you hiding, Peter?”

He forced a nervous laugh, attempting to mask his anxiety, but it came out slightly strained. “What are you—what are you talking about?”

“She’s been absent for one day,” Ned lifted up 1 finger like he was her partner for a class presentation. “And you’re worried about her. If I didn’t know any better… I’d say you care about her.”

Peter was speechless until Ned interjected with, “No. They’re rivals. Peter just wants to keep tabs on her.”

“Yeah, she told me about that. What, you can’t stand that a girl has a higher position than you in the internship?”

Again, Peter’s lips opened but no sound came out. Suddenly, MJ’s face broke out into a grin. 

“I’m just kidding, I don’t care. I just like seeing you sit there like a gaping fish. Later losers, I gotta go to the restroom.”

As soon as MJ was gone, Ned immediately started rapid-firing questions at Peter. “Dude, did something happen? Did [Y/N] get hurt? Is she captured? She’s captured, isn’t she? I thought you said the mission went well!”

“Stop, stop, she’s fine. But… I upsetted her and I need to apologize for it.”

“What did you do?”

“I’ll tell you later. Lunch is over.”

Once Peter got home, he nonchalantly hung his backpack over the back of a chair. A cloud of smoke greeted him, launching a surprise attack on both his lungs and Aunt May’s, whose culinary experiment failed yet again.

“Hey Peter,” she said from the kitchen. He went over to her to ensure he didn’t need to grab a fire extinguisher. “Meatloaf’s a little…”—she coughed—“burnt. Do you want Thai again?”

Peter chuckled through his cough and nodded. “Yeah, May. Sounds great.”

Aunt May knew her nephew was Spider-Man, their special bond based on a foundation of trust and openness. Peter had confided in her about many aspects of his life as the friendly neighborhood hero—which recently involved you. However, he had kept his most recent mission under wraps, for obvious reasons. 

As soon as she returned with the take-out, her keen intuition immediately picked up that something was wrong.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Aunt May said, setting her chopsticks down. “What’s going on?”

Peter poked at his food mindlessly, racking his brain on the best way to communicate his feelings without giving too much away. “Um… do you remember me telling you about [Y/N]?”

Her eyes lit up with excitement. “Oh yeah. The girl who can breathe fire and took your spot on the Avengers team!” Peter gave her a look. “Sorry. Sore spot, huh? You know, I haven’t met her yet.”

“Well yeah, she’s upset at me right now.”

She leaned back in her dining chair, crossing her arms over another. “Uh huh. Why?”

He set down his chopsticks. “I… made an assumption about her and I was wrong. Completely wrong. And it upset her and I wanted to apologize, but she told me to leave her alone.”

“Was it your jealousy? Did you say something petty? Because I know I taught you better than th—”

“No, May. It was something else. I’m worried about her. I think she’s going to do something dangerous by herself.”

She leaned forward, her elbows finding a cozy spot on the table. “You know, when you became Spider-Man, I worried about you facing danger everyday. But it made me feel better knowing that Mr. Stark was looking out for you. He’s out of town, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then maybe you can be her person. The one that looks out for her. If it’s as dangerous as you say, then she needs help. And who knows? She might forgive you.”

“Thanks May.” He quickly slurped his food, causing him to momentarily choke. May rushed over and started patting his back, trying to dislodge the stubborn bite. He thanked her between coughs, then planted a swift peck on her cheek. With a playful grin, he darted off towards his room where his suit and mask awaited him. 

“Hey Karen.”

“Hi Peter,” the AI replied.

“I need you to track someone. Her name is [Y/N].”

“I’m sorry, Peter. I am unable to process that request.”

“What, why?”

“It is against my protocol.”

Peter’s hands flew to his head, alarmed and bewildered. “Can you give me any information about her?”

“It depends. You do not have authorization for certain information.”

His hands dropped back down to his sides. “Don’t have authorization? Why can’t you… wait a second. Whose authorization do I need?”

“You would need Tony Stark’s authorization.”

“Karen please, I need to find her. She could be in danger. Can you give me her phone number at least?”

“That is one thing I can do. Shall I call her for you?”

“Yes, please!”

He waited patiently for you to pick up but after the second ring, it went straight to voicemail. “It appears she is unable to take your call. Would you like to leave her a message?”

“Yes!” He heard a beep. “Hey, Ember, it’s your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man here. So, uh, listen, if you’re going after dragon man, you gotta let me help you. Please.” There was a moment of silence before he continued, a touch of vulnerability creeping in his voice. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Stay safe.”

“That was very sweet, Peter.”

“Thanks Karen.”

“Is there anything else I can assist you with?”

“Yes. Call Ned.”

“Peter Parker is calling you.”

“Thanks D.A.W.N. Ignore it.”

“Got it.”

“Is there a chance he can locate me?”

“The chances are low. Your father put strict protocols on anything that would invade your privacy. However, having your phone on means he could potentially track it.”

“Turn it off for now.”

“Got it.”

You had tracked down an old contact at an enormous animal shelter on the east side of town, determined to find some answers. As you approached the facility, the darkened surroundings and the faint glow of the moon added an air of mystery to the scene. Searching for a way in, you scoured the perimeter of the building, checking doors and windows. Eventually, you discovered a slightly ajar maintenance entrance, providing an opportunity to slip inside unnoticed. Carefully, you crept through the narrow opening, ensuring not to disturb anything or set off any alarms.

Once inside, the shelter appeared deserted, its corridors dimly lit by sporadic emergency lights. The smell of animals lingered in the air, making your nose scrunch at the unfamiliarity. As you navigated the hallways, the soft sounds of animals rustling in their enclosures reached your ears. The glow of the overhead lights illuminated the rows of cages that lined the walls. Dogs barked softly, and cats meowed curiously, their presence creating an atmosphere of both serenity and longing.

Continuing your search, you followed the distant sound of feline purring and came upon a room filled with cats of various breeds and sizes. The woman you were seeking was standing before one of the cages, affectionately talking to a small tabby cat and stroking its fur.

“I need information on Triroth,” you said, pointing your spear at the back of her head. The woman’s lips curled into a subtle smile, having not heard her native language in years. 

“Please. Not in front of my kittens. They’re innocent.” 

Only after you lowered your spear and secured it on your back did she bother to turn around. 

“Very well.”

You trailed behind her, weaving through the winding corridors of the building. The array of cats and playful puppies greeted you with excitement as you passed, their wagging tails and joyful barks exuding an air of anticipation. 

Yet, as you left the company of the animals, there was a subtle shift in their behavior. The once-friendly chorus of barks and meows gradually morphed into an unsettling cacophony of growls and hisses. As if they sensed something unbeknownst to you—an unseen presence. 

Your guide was unfazed by the animals’ hostile display, guiding you forward with an unwavering calmness. Finally, you arrived at the grand entrance of the main lobby.

“It’s been years, Ember. You certainly have grown up,” she said, her voice carrying a slight accent. With a dramatic turn, she faced you, a forced smile gracing her lips. “Are you here to kill me?”

“No, Kura. I need to know what Triroth is doing here and where to find him.”

“And if I don’t tell you?”

“I have ways of persuading you,” you said, getting into a fighting stance.

“Tsk. You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Just taking extra precautions. Tell me where he is.”

She scoffed, her lips curling with a mix of disbelief and amusement, yet her eyes portrayed sadness. “That maniac killed my sister. I have no interest in suffering the same fate.”

You snapped your fingers, your helmet vanishing on command to reveal your shocked expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t. After he tossed me aside, he went after my sister who foolishly fell in love with him. The bastard then sacrificed her life to regain his powers.”

“What the fuck…”

“Believe me when I say I want nothing to do with him. Now please leave.” With those words, she averted her gaze, indicating her desire for you to depart.

“No please,” you begged, rushing over and placing a hand on her shoulder. She went on the defensive, the air crackling with tension as your actions triggered a fierce hand-to-hand combat. With a blend of grace and determination, you dodged her attacks and striked back with precision and agility. 

Yet Kura’s eyes gleamed with a twisted delight, relishing the challenge that was you, her thirst for battle having not been satiated for a long time. Her every movement exuded a dark elegance, as if she danced with the shadows themselves. Her strikes were ruthless, each blow infused with a raw power that threatened to overwhelm your defenses. 

The clash intensified, the echoes of grunts and exertion reverberating through the room. Kura wasn’t backing down, seeming invigorated by the fierce resistance. As the battle reached its climax, you seized an opportunity and skillfully maneuvered her, pinning Kura against the wall. 

You pressed your spear against her throat, the cold metal creating a stark contrast against the skin. 

“Please,” you whispered, a flicker of sorrow in your voice. “All I want is to stop Triroth and I know you were close to him once before. Anything would help.”

She hesitated as you pressed the tip of the spear closer, grazing the delicate skin of her throat. 

“I spared your life once. You owe me,” you reminded her.

“Fine. But you already know what he wants.”

“The pearl.”

“Precisely. All he’s ever wanted is power and who better to drain the life force of than humans? They’re stupid and in abundance. He won’t stop until you hand the pearl over.”

“Where is he staying?”

“I already said I don’t know!” She mustered all her remaining power and unleashed a desperate counterattack, launching a powerful energy blast that sent you flying backwards. You lifted your body off the ground, letting out a faint “ow” before chasing after Kura, who was trying to escape. It was then you saw a web had been casted around her body, immobilizing her in an intricate pattern of sticky strands. She fell down like a log, wiggling around like a fish out of water. “Get me out of this!”

“Hey Ember.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and you whipped around quickly, spear ready for battle only to see the sight of the iconic red and blue hero, gracefully suspended upside down.

“What the heck, don’t do that!” you yelled, lowering your weapon. 

Peter detached himself from his web and landed on his feet. “Sorry, but I—”

“You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Well I was in the neighborhood—”

“I don’t want to hear it. “

“And you weren’t at school so—”

“And now I gotta hear it.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Peering over your shoulder, he caught a glimpse of Kura, seeing the fear in her eyes. “And you’re kinda scaring her…”

With a mischievous grin, you confidently brandished your weapon, savoring the momentary flicker of fear that danced across the arachnid superhero's eyes. However, you decided to lower the spear, loving how easy it was to tease him.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were so great at interrogation. Please, by all means. Go ahead.” You gestured your arms over to Kura, challenging the hero.

“Okay. Should be easy.” He jogged right over and crouched down to her eye level. “Hi, I’m Spider-Man,” he held his hand out for her to shake, only for her to look up at him with a judgemental gaze. “Oh, my bad. You’re webbed up. Sorry about that, but my friend needs information.” 

“We’re not friends,” you corrected. 

Peter pressed a hand against his mouth, mimicking a makeshift wall to shield his voice from you. 

“I guess I’ll have to return the matching best friend bracelets,” he whispered, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Kura let out a chuckle in response before saying something in her native language, smiling brightly at Peter. 

“Hey, I think I’m getting somewhere!” Peter exclaimed. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, placing one hand on your hip.

“She says she’s curious to see how delicious spider flesh is,” you translated. 

The white of Peter’s mask where the eyes were widened significantly as he backed away nervously. You laughed, bending down to Kura’s level. Peter watched as you said some things to her in a foreign language, unable to decipher any part of the conversation. Kura seemed unsure at first, but eventually, she uttered something that brought a grin to your face. In that moment, you and her wore matching smirks and glanced at Spider-Man.

“Ember…?” he stammered, taking cautious steps backward with his hands raised in surrender. You swiftly rose to your feet, wielding your spear with determination. In a swift, controlled motion, you tore through the intricate webs that bound Kura, setting her free. 

“Thanks for the intel, Kura. Have fun.”

With another snap of your fingers, your helmet appeared on your head and you flew out of the shelter at the speed of light. Peter stared at Kura, letting out a nervous laugh to quell the tension he sensed in the air. 

“Hate to leave a lady hanging, it was nice to meet you!” Peter shot a web and attempted to swing his way out when a long, bushy fox tail snaked around his foot. “What the…?!”

Another tail wrapped around Peter’s torso, yanking him to the ground with an earth-shaking crash. Struggling to free himself, he glanced back in astonishment, his eyes widening at the sight before him. Kura had not one, not two, but nine tails fanned around her like a peacock spreading its feathers. 

“Well, well, looks like we've got a real 'fox'-y situation here,” Peter quipped. Kura smirked, clearly enjoying her little game. She launched another tail at his free leg, deftly pulling him closer with a sly grin. “Oh my god! Ember! EMBER YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME, SHE HAS SO MANY TAILS, WHAT THE FUCK, AHHH!”

You were outside the shelter on the rooftop, peering in through the glass ceiling. 

“He’ll be fine,” you told yourself, chuckling afterwards before heading home.

The next morning at school…

“Can we talk?”

“I would rather do literally anything else,” you said, closing your locker shut after pulling out the textbooks you needed for class. You began striding down the bustling hallway at a brisk pace with Peter trailing close by your side.

“You left me with a nine-tailed fox demon!” he hissed, the sound of students chattering providing a convenient cover for your conversation.

“You survived. Kura isn’t a threat. She just likes to play with her food,” you taunted.

“She had nine tails. Nine. All on me. I’m pretty sure I still have fur on my…” He shuddered at the memory. 

“Ew, ew, ew, shut up.”

“I ran out of webs just to tie her up! How could you leave me?”

“Well, she thought you were cute.”

“She did?” A faint blush crept onto his cheeks, and you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. 

“Stop following me.”

“I was worried about you.”

“Yeah, no. That needs to stop. Go back to hating me.” Peter stole your textbooks from you, effectively stopping you from going further. “Hey!”

He slyly concealed the books behind his back, leaning against a locker to sandwich them and making it even more challenging to reclaim your possessions. When one of your hands got too close, he snatched your wrist with his free hand and pulled you close. Your eyes locked in an intense gaze as you found yourself face to face with him.

"I don't hate you," he whispered gently, his words hanging in the air. You stood there, frozen in place, caught off guard by the unexpected sincerity that resonated in his voice.

“... Maybe you should start.”

“Is there a problem here?” As your gazes shifted, you caught sight of Flash glaring at Peter. “Is Parker bothering you? Dude, let go of her hand.”

With his quick thinking, Peter blurted out, “Why should I? She’s my girlfriend.”

“I’m your what now?”

He went from holding your wrist to enveloping your hand with his own. “Girlfriend. She’s my girlfriend. You got a problem with that?”

Flash responded with a dismissive 'pshhhh' sound, clearly not convinced by Peter's bluff. In that moment, you were left speechless, unable to find the right words to respond. Sensing the tension, Peter quickly sprang into action, guiding you away from Flash with a victorious grin stretching across his face.

“With us dating, it won’t be weird if I’m always around you,” Peter said with a certain gleam in his eyes.

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s not creepy. I swear I’m going to kill you,” you muttered, trying to shake off his grip, but he wouldn’t let up.

“Not before we hunt down that dragon, babe.”

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, sending a wave of butterflies through you. Against all reason, you found yourself allowing him to keep hold of your hand as you walked together, all the way until you reached your classroom. 

“Man, I knew you were hiding something from me. I was going to ask you to be my wingman and it turns out you were your own wingman and now I’m wingless!”

“What?” Peter asked, laughing at his friend’s rambling. Ned slammed his lunch tray down, the milk carton almost toppling over, and took a seat.

“You’re dating [Y/N]!”

“Oh… Oh! Oh, that. Come closer,” Ned leaned in from across the table. “There’s a mission that she’s keeping from me and I need an excuse to be close to her so she’ll let me come,” Peter whispered. 

“Oh~!” Ned said, relieved as he sat back down in his own seat. “I see you, Peter. Nice.”

“I knew you had a thing for him,” a female voice said in the distance. Ned and Peter followed the sound to see you and MJ heading their way. 

“MJ, we’re not dating.”

“That’s not what it looked like. He held your hand to every class, I think that counts as dating~.”

“The boy is obsessed with me, I don’t have the heart to reject him.”

“Oh honey, don’t go down that path. I’ll reject him for you.”

MJ and you sat down, but once she saw you were sitting next to Peter, she raised an eyebrow. “Peter…”

“Yeah?” he said, sipping his chocolate milk. 

“[Y/N]’s not interested in dating you. She’s too nice to say no, so I’m doing it for her.”

“God, MJ,” you covered your face, mortified at her brutally honest nature. Peter draped his arm over your shoulder, pulling you close. He smelled pleasant, like a mixture of calming eucalyptus and gentle florals. 

“Did she tell you that? The truth is she’s too shy to admit she has feelings for me. She was following me at one point.”

“Peter!” you exclaimed, pushing him off you. “Will you shut up?”

He pointed his thumb at you like he was doing the “get a load of this guy” meme.

“Yeah and why wouldn’t she like Peter? He can recite the entire periodic table backwards. What a guy.”

All three of you took a look at Ned, confused as hell. “Thanks Ned.”

He gave him a thumbs up, oblivious to the weird dynamic he created. 

“Okay, you two aren’t telling us something,” MJ deduced. “Come on, Ned. Let’s let the two love birds figure their stuff out.”

The look you gave MJ screamed for her not to leave, but she only smirked in response as Ned got up and followed her, making sure to give Peter another thumbs up. As soon as they were out of earshot, Peter slid his lunch tray out of the way and faced you. 

“What did Kura tell you?” 

“Like I’d tell you,” you said, stabbing your food with your fork aggressively. “I’m imagining this as your face by the way.”

“Yikes. I’m the first victim of the Fork Assassin.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Tell me.”

You set your utensils down and faced him, wearing an expression of exasperation. “You’re really not going to stop, are you?”

“I want to help you.”

“I don’t want your help.”

“Fine. I’ll just call Mr. Stark and tell him what you’ve been up to.” Your instincts betrayed you, your eyes widening more than you wanted him to see. You tried your best to keep your composure, but he saw right through you. 

“Don’t. He can’t know.”

“Then are you going to tell me?”

You reluctantly nodded. “Fine. But not here. Meet me at the school’s rooftop around midnight. Now, will you stop with the whole fake boyfriend thing and tell MJ and Ned to come back?”

“Sure thing, darling.”

“That’s it!”

You grabbed your fork and Peter shielded his body with hands. “Not the face, not the face!”

You arrived at Midtown High earlier than midnight, wondering if this was a good idea. 

“Hey Early Bird. Or should I say Ember Bird?” a friendly voice said from above. You noticed Spider-Man at the top of the school’s tower, jumping down to get to your level. You got comfortable and sat criss-cross, patting the spot next to you.

“Hi Spidey Bird,” you said, mirroring his lame joke. “Join me.”

Spider-Man took the seat beside you before taking off his mask and revealing his warm smile. He noticed the package of colorful treats in your lap, pointing to them. 

“Are those gummy worms?”

“Yeah. Want some?” you asked, offering him the bag after tearing it open. 

“Sure, thanks,” He popped one in his mouth, chewing with a giddy smile. You threw one up in the air and caught it in your mouth, earning an eye roll from him. “Showoff.”

Once he finished swallowing the sweet gummy, he blew a small raspberry with his lips. “So… are you going to tell me what you know?”

“Yeah, I suppose I have to. Kura told me my pearl can track Triroth’s mystical energy.”

“That’s great! Let’s come up with a plan and take him down.”

“It’s not that simple, Peter. If the pearl ends up in his hands, the consequences could be catastrophic. And… it’s the only memory I have left of my birth mother.”

You hugged your knees tightly, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. Peter noticed your distress, shifting out of his criss-cross position. With one knee bent, he leaned back and used his hands to support his body, creating a relaxed yet attentive posture. 

“Do you want to tell me about her and your family?”

“Well, my background is… complicated.”

“I’m willing to listen.” You gave him a grateful smile. “For the whole package of gummy worms.” 

“Ugh.” You threw it at his face and, to your surprise, it actually hit him. 

“Hey!”

“Sorry!” you said, unable to contain your laughter. “I thought your Spidey Sense worked.”

“It does. But not for gummy worms!” He held the treats hostage. “They’re definitely mine now. Now talk.”

You delved into the story of your origins, telling him about how you had come from a tiny village a long ways away from New York. Your parents were remarkable beings bestowed with extraordinary powers. They spoiled you rotten, believing you could do no wrong and letting you get away with just about anything.

However, your mischievous tendencies took a wild turn once you reached ten years old. You couldn’t resist using your powers to play pranks and torment others for your own amusement. Little did you know, your misbehavior caught the attention of the Goddess of Mercy herself. She revoked your powers until you learned how to behave. 

That’s when you learned the hard way about how actions had consequences. With the tables turned, you found yourself defenseless, becoming the target of others teasing and bullying. You suffered a great deal, learning about doing what was right and how to treat others kindly. 

It was during this difficult time in your life that you first encountered Triroth. He stormed into your village, seizing control with an iron grip. Your righteous nature couldn’t stand idly as innocent townsfolk faced his wrath. In a valiant attempt to protect them, you found yourself kidnapped by the wicked demon. He held you hostage, demanding that your mother surrender her precious pearl—a source of great power that fueled her formidable weapon. 

The Goddess of Mercy, ever watchful, returned your powers when least expected, but it was too late. When your parents came to your rescue, they instructed you to save yourself, but you ignored them. If only you had listened to their words and escaped, perhaps they could have emerged victorious instead of worrying about your safety.

Triroth killed your mother, who shielded your body when you decided to fight back. Your father, filled with unwavering bravery, confronted the demon and dragged him to an endless abyss. Yet, in a cruel twist of fate, Triroth pulled your father down along with him, their fates seemingly sealed. 

Both of them died, or so you thought, until now. Triroth had returned and was still fixated on obtaining your mother’s pearl—a relic that could be catastrophic in the wrong hands.

“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have assumed you two were related.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

“No, it’s not okay. He’s a monster, he took away your parents and killed innocent people. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through.”

“I’ll be okay once he’s been defeated.”

“I agree. And we can do it together.”

“No, Peter. I have to do this myself.”

“What? That’s stupid.”

“So… I’m stupid?”

“What?” You swore you could actually see the gears in his head turning. “No, not you, um. You’re not stupid, fighting alone is stupid because… it’s not smart…”

“Nice save.”

“It sounded better in my head.” You bumped your shoulder into his in a playful manner, letting him know you weren’t upset.

“Peter, do you know why I’m not an Avenger?” He didn’t say anything and waited for you to continue. “Because I’m scared.”

“What? What do you have to be scared of? You’re powerful. You can defeat him, I know it.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I’m scared… of dying.”

“Well, that’s normal.”

“No. I’m so terrified of dying that I will choose to save myself over anyone else.”

“What? That’s not true.”

“It is. Why do you think I was so upset that night at the club?”

“Because you didn’t want me to get hurt?”

You shook your head. “Because if it comes down to saving either you or me, I will choose me.”

Peter was rendered speechless at your blunt words. “Whoa, hold on. It doesn’t have to come down to that. We’re in this together.”

His insistent need to do this with you was tiresome, so you got up and walked over to the ledge of the rooftop overlooking the city.

“You don’t get it. I’m not the self-sacrificing type, Peter. I fight for myself. Not for you. Not for the people in this city. I don’t care for anyone but myself.”

Peter rose to his feet and stood near you, casually resting his forearms on the ledge as he stared at your side profile. “You say that, but who would risk their own life to battle a demon?”

“I’m avenging my parents.”

“But if you were scared of dying, you wouldn’t battle Triroth in the first place.”

“I can if I knew I was alone. My parents died because I didn’t save myself, so from now on, that’s what I’m going to do.” You slowly turned to face him, a fierce intensity burning in your gaze. “So don’t get in my way. You’ll just be a burden.”

Despite Peter's patience and understanding of your pain stemming from past mistakes, your words pierced deep, leaving him feeling as though all his efforts on your behalf had been invalidated. 

“You think I’m a burden?” He nodded silently, his lips pursed, and took a few steps back, his hands raised as if he were saying, “Okay, I got the message.”

A wave of guilt washed over you, but instead of speaking up, you remained silent. 

“You wanna know why I saved you at the club?” He clenched his jaw, trying his best to remain composed. With his hands firmly planted on his hips, he bowed his head, contemplating the perfect choice of words.

“I never asked you to,” you remarked. He snapped his head up to stare straight into your soul, eyes ablaze with anger. 

“Because that’s what being Spider-Man is all about. I saved you because I won’t stand by and allow someone to suffer by doing nothing. You’re wanting to go into battle against a demon with no backup.” Frustration washed over him, evident as he ran his hand through his hair, massaging the back of his head with a hint of exasperation. “For someone who’s scared of death, that honestly sounds pretty stupid.”

“So you’re definitely calling me stupid now.”

“Yes! Because you won’t let me help!”

“I don’t need your help!” you exclaimed, placing a hand on your chest. “I never did!”

He took a sharp inhale and closed his eyes to find his happy place, briefly resting his forehead on his hand to collect himself before speaking again. “You’re being so annoying right now.”

“Good, I love being annoying.”

Peter let out a “gah!” sound, holding his face in frustration before walking back towards you. “You’re so stubborn.”

“Another thing we can agree on,” Your heart pounded in your chest, and a cold sweat coated your palms when you realized he wasn’t stopping. You stepped backwards to distance yourself until your back met the unyielding surface of a wall, leaving you with no escape route.

“And you want to know the worst part of all this?” he asked, not breaking eye contact. 

“Do enlighten me.”

“You’re selfish.”

“Yup, sure. Love that for me.” You tried to leave when he extended his arm out, effectively blocking your way. “You know, girls don’t find this as attractive as movies make it out to be. It’s kinda cliche.”

“Will you shut up for one second?��

“You gonna make me?”

“And you wanna talk about cliches.” Unexpectedly, he shot a web at your wrist and you freaked out.

“What the hell, Peter?!”

“What, you expecting a kiss?”

“You wish, webhead. You seriously have a thing for tying up women. Is it your kink or something?”

A flush of pink dashed across his cheek. “S-Say what you want, but you’re going to stand here and listen to me.”

You attempted to pull your wrist free when he added on, “And if you don’t, I’m telling your dad.”

That ceased your attempts of escaping. “... My dad…?”

“Mr. Stark adopted you. Didn’t he?”

“How’d you—”

“Karen told me.” Your perplexed face made him quickly realize he needed to elaborate. “The suit lady.”

“Your AI?”

“Well, she didn’t really tell me, I figured it out.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“When I asked her to find you, she said I didn’t have the authorization to track you. That I needed authorization from Mr. Stark. The only reason she would say that is if he wanted to keep your privacy, well, private. And with what you told me today, everything lines up.”

“Fuck…” you breathed. “Please don’t tell him. I don’t want my dad to worry.”

"You know," Peter remarked, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, "I have to admit, you're really not in the best position to ask for favors. I mean, let's recap, shall we? You pretended to be an Avenger, completely humiliated me in front of everyone, and oh, did I mention you're Iron Man's daughter? Yeah, it's quite the resume you've got there." He crossed his arms, unable to suppress a chuckle as he savored the moment.

“Peter, I swear… if you tell him, I will never forgive you.”

“Tell me why I shouldn’t.”

“I lost one father. I can’t lose another.”

“There. That’s the real you. So selfish.”

“What?”

“You talk about the possibility of losing others. But have you not once considered how he might feel? You’re actively putting yourself in danger behind his back. He wouldn’t want to lose you.” His gaze softened, his voice sincere. “I… wouldn’t want to lose you.”

Your breath caught in your throat as Peter's words washed over you. The anger that had consumed you moments ago dissolved into a bittersweet realization. His concern, his unwavering support, it was all driven by a genuine fear of losing you.

No. You couldn't allow yourself to be vulnerable, to let him see the turmoil brewing within you. It was easier to bury your feelings, to push him away, even if it tore you apart inside.

“You’re a liability.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Stay away from all this. Stay away from me.”

He leaned in closer, gently pressing his forehead against yours. His voice was so broken, barely audible, as he pleaded, “Please don’t push me away.” 

You closed your eyes, fighting back the tears, the ache in your chest matching the ache in your soul. Your mind raced, torn between your desire to protect Peter and the overwhelming weight of your own fears and doubts. You had convinced yourself that pushing him away was the only way to keep him safe, but now, faced with his vulnerability and plea, your resolve wavered.

A tremor passed through your voice as you tried to steady yourself, to keep your emotions in check.

"I have to, Peter," you whispered, your words laced with a mixture of sorrow and determination. He intertwined his fingers with your own, shaking his head. 

“Please don’t go.”

Taking a deep breath, you released his hand, your resolve hardening within you. The weight of your decision hung heavily in the air as you prepared yourself for what had to be done. It pained you to hurt him, but you knew it was the only way to keep him safe.

With a sudden swiftness, you struck at the precise pressure points on his body, rendering him temporarily paralyzed. His eyes widened in shock, a silent plea for understanding and answers. Before he could utter a word, you swiftly pressed another pressure point on his neck, muffling his voice and preventing him from moving.

Guilt flooded your senses, but you knew this was necessary. You had to go alone, to face the danger that lay ahead without burdening him with your choices and risks. It was a sacrifice you were making to protect him, even if it meant breaking his trust.

As Peter's eyes conveyed a mix of pain and betrayal, you couldn't help but offer a heartfelt apology. "I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice heavy with remorse.

With a practiced touch, you ignited a tiny flame on your index finger, using it to burn through the webs that bound your other hand. The strands disintegrated, freeing you from their constraints. Peter's eyes followed the flickering flame, pain etched across his face.

"I have to do this on my own," you explained, your voice tinged with determination. "You'll regain control of your body in a few hours. It's for your own safety."

Before leaving, you carefully donned Peter's mask, shielding his identity from prying eyes. With a heavy heart, you carried him back to his apartment, gently laying him on his bed.

“I can’t lose you too.”

Tagging: @elicheel | @ifilwtmfc​ | 

Thank you for reading and loving my ideas! I really do appreciate every reblog and every hashtag. Feel free to send me an ask if you’d like!

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #mcu peter parker #mcu spiderman #peter parker mcu #peter parker x you #peter parker e2l #peter parker x oc #spiderman x reader #stark!reader #avenger!reader #tom holland peter parker #inferior flames #my writing

[echoing-gravity]

MLB X MCU AU in which Marinette gets revealed as Multimouse to the entire world

Because Alya cant be trusted to be responsible with a camera.

Every-fucking-one knows now. hawkmoth. her PARENTS. Hell even TONY fucking STARK knows she was a hero.

and then her parents make/force her to take Style queens offer to intern in NYC, because, from their perspective she is not safe in paris. and like- the AVENGERS are in new york so surely it must be safe there. so they pack up and move their entire bakery business.

and she ends up going to midtown high-school, where not to her knowledge, fellow teenage superhero Peter parker aka "Your friendly neighborhood SPIDER-MAN" goes to school.

Cute adorable shipping commences.

peter is all like "omg another teenage super hero???!!! like me???? i thought i was the only one???? transferring to MY school?!!! SO COOL!!"

"marinette is super smart, marinette is pretty, she was one of THE Miraculous Ladybug's sidekicks how cool is that??!, marinette is COOL!! maybe we can be friends? how am i gonna talk to someone that cool though?? i cant tell her my secret identity!!!"

insta-crush. peter is a marinette SIMP

(and yo, dont get on my case about marinette being super fucking smart, this is the girl who figured out she was getting a birthday party from just seeing one of her friends holding a bike pump. that girl is a tactical genius! she just has self esteem issues. they are both nerd, their just nerds about differnt things, let the nerds date!!!!)

of course Marinette still has the ladybug miraculous -even tho everyone thinks she doesn't have the rat miraculous anymore- and the miracle box. so she can still fight hawkmoth because the horse is basically fast travel irl, Space miraculous super conveintent.

(also concerning the mirsacle box, im going with my headcanon/Unlucky 13 AU on what that looks like post "ladybug becomes guardain" because that egg thing from canon? fucking lame

These ones^^^)

It would be canon compliant till season 2 and most? of season 3? but like fuck miracle queen, season3 finale + truth made me stop watching the show. so like in this au, lets just assume Fu is dead, and ladybug has had the miracle box for some time now. and that they got the miraculous when they were 13, and are currently 15? yeah? okay.

(also prolly chat salt, it doesn't HAVE to be chat salt, but like- He. Keeps. Trying. To. Quit. And leave all the work to marinette!!!! its happened like 3?? times now? Marinette CANT quit!!! its literally "do this or lose all your memories!!!" she is being held hostage by a fucking magic box full of responsibilities no 15 year old should have to deal with.)

I headcanon that marinette stress-bakes, so like cute scene number #1 after peter and marinette become friends, could be something like "marientte stresses for a test, and then bakes to much food so her parents make her take it to school to share with her peers, and she ends up giving like- 1/2 of them to parker, becuz of his super high metabolism.

and how marinettes got her whole "i'm RESPONISBLE!!! for the whole fucking universe now, omfg i'm the reason fu is basically dead" angsty shit going on which kinda parallels peters whole "i have super powers, and if i dont do something to help then its my fault if someone gets hurt, like how my uncle died. With great power, comes great RESPONSIBLITY!!!" angst. maybe they could trauma bond. who doesn't like a good hurt comfort trauma bond fic?

marinette likes designing fashionable but also functional clothes.

peter likes designing gadgets and techy things. let them be nerds together!!! in love!!

i feel like they would be the kind of couple/friends to just ramble on about their passions and they would listen to each other even tho they dont know much about each others interests yet. (also hey what if marinette and peter co designed one of peters early suits pre-stark suit??? the fucking writing potential this ship has omfg c'mon ppl!!! why are we sleeping on this??)

oh! and maybe peter figures out that marinette is also ladybug -but later on- cuz like, he has superhearing? and tikki isn't as subtle as she thinks she is.

and then he's all in awe like "Wow holy shit!!! she made her ladybug secret identity FOOLPROOF!!!! no one would ever fucking suspect!! maybe she can help me with mine???"

Fox miraculous shenanaigans insue????? The daily Bugles next headline be like: "SPIDER-MAN SAVES SI INTERN PETER PARKER FROM ETC ETC"

( the media thinks Ladybug and Chat are 1000+ years old due to that thing alya found in that museum that one time. and the fact that people know that Thor and Loki are super old.

Ladybug's excuse to the public for letting a teenager, Nay! for letting a THIRTEEN YEAR OLD CHILD use an extremly dangerous magical artifact for a little over 2 years, goes something like this: "Marinette was the ONLY person in france- maybe in the whole world! that was compatible with the Rat miraculous, it takes a very smart person to be able to multitask like that, and marinette has a photographic/phonetic memory."

i headcannon that marinette photographic/phonetic memory, and that the Rat Miraculous is the math miraculous that was mentioned in the comics that one time, and that if an incompatible person were to try and use it they would at BEST develop a severe case of split personality disorder/ or schizophrenia, and at WORST their brain would- just- melt out of their ears. )

Also he calls her "Spots" or "LuckyBug" when shes in hero mode.

(i cant think of cute nicknames for peter, ugh "web head" is just something i cant picture marinette saying. what's the french word for spider? what's the french word for cobwebs??)

She prolly just calls him "Webs" or "Spidey"

#miraculous ladybug #spider man #marinette dupain cheng #peter parker #MLB X MCU #if i ever write a fic about this its gonna be called #spectacular miracular #SpideyBug #the ship name is SpideyBug im deciding this now. #there are only like 30 fics on A03 about this ship and we dont have a name for it yet. #me over here trying to convince the maribat fandom to write mcu crossovers #gonna start a fucking renaissance #Ladybug x Spider-man #Unlucky 13 Au #mlb #rat miraculous #mullo #multimouse #bamf marinette

[silent-raven13]

Mysterious Black Cat

(Hobie is Spider-man in 2023 and Miles is Black Cat AU 🤭)

Hobie jumps on a building with his Spider-man mask on, a very high tech Spider-man suit with colors of Red and dark Navy blue ripple web designs, even his Spider logo was more dynamic. The suit isn't as important, it's what's on top of it.

The punker had thick heavy combat boots on, black cargo pants that had paint and random patches with accessories chains. He wore two belts as a fashion stable to his look. All tied up into his black leather jacket with stubs, designs with paint, and forced stitches of patches. He had on bracelets and black motorcycle gloves on.

It is a bold statement instead of basic suit. No, he loves being himself. Anyway, he stood above the building to check on the location of his main mission.

It's a Saturday night, the club he's staring with his dark eyes he could see his main targets. A group of thugs that were selling dangerous drugs from the Oscorp from that damn dictator Osborn. That baster had created an underground drug cartel to sell off drugs that makes people like zombies, and obeying the tyrant!

The Spider-Man clutched his hand into a fist spotting one of the main drug dealers bringing into a couple of girls, that baster! The asshole had spread those nasty drugs into his neighborhood affecting adults and children- many innocent lives were lost because of that drug. His team tries to help as much as they can with the orphans. So many adults that were parents in the Projects were victims of this drug.

The drug starts off like meth, then it starts to make a person feel brain dead to the point they would stay in place for hours. Then they would scream or shout, "Hail Osborn!" That some fucked up drugs.

No, Hobie Brown were murder the fuckers. Cops are all pigs being paid to look the other way. Fuck Them! He took off his mask revealing his handsome face; with piercings on his lip, and eyebrow. He smirks getting down to the club, they won't pay attention to his suit, since it's the club and he's wearing so much on top of it.

The club is pumping and booming with loud music as the Spider-man casually stroll inside without being noticed. The club is like a futuristic theme with bright colors, so many half naked dancers, and people in costumes. All sorts of diverse people are here in this popular club, good thing too. He blends so well, he thought his wicks would stick him out and his fashion.

The crowd were drinking and dancing without a care in the world. The tall slim punker went by the bar to order a beer, he sat being aware of his surroundings. There was a couple fighting on his right side, a group of friend taking shots behind, and his main target on his left side.

The drug dealer sat in the VIP lounge with a group of girls- Well, a mix of women and femboys. Who knew the drug dealer was into that stuff?

Not that he cares, labels are whatever to him. "The Bloke enjoys a good cock, who knew!" He thought to himself before taking a sip of his beer. His dark eyes glanced over finding a bottle waitress in a bunny outfit handing the VIP guest a very expensive bottle. The femboys in skippy outfits flirted with the drug dealer as they get their own glass filled with champagne.

"That baster!" He scowls thinking about the money this dealer is spending on stupid shit. That same money that came from the poor people from his neighborhood! "I'll teach that twat a lesson."

Unaware of someone behind him passing by, his Spider Senses went off. "What? Who was that?" He quickly turns to check behind him to find a sea of people dancing, his Spider Senses still going off. "Who was that?"

The twenty three year old got off from his stool leaving his finished beer on the counter. He went through the dance floor trying to find the person that set off his Spider Senses, he bite his bottom painted black lip out of habit. He's not one to be worried about unforeseen circumstances, Spider-man always find a way to solve any troubling issues.

He walk through the dance floor, until he stop in his tracks finding someone- Someone irresistible! His dark eyes widen like to white sauce dishes, his jaw slightly dropped a bit without opening his mouth. The song plays in the background.

"I stare at your soul (stare at your soul)," A dark skinned person wearing tight pink crop top with long sleeves showing off their naked shoulders, a very pink short mini skirt and high platform boots with white fishnets leggings. The person sway their hips into the music.

Hobie felt his mouth dry to the point he couldn't swallow his own salvia. This person had cute long twists (with some dye pink) hairstyle with butterfly clips, he wasn't sure if this was a man or a woman. He didn't care, but he was speechless by this unknown person. "I'm facing temptations (temptations)"

This mysterious person had an amazing body, beautiful lean muscle, tall about six foot two inches, and beautiful legs... Hobie's eyes checks out their air. When the person finally turns around still dancing to the music.

The Spider-man seems like he had seen an Angel. It's a beautiful black young man; probably around his age range like twenty three or twenty two. This lad had light makeup on to match the pink outfit, with soft blush and lip gloss. Oh, his lips are so plump filled with volume, a beautiful round wide nose, and those big heavenly Honey brown doe eyes.

"I wanna do right, we both want the sensation"

The person finally noticed Hobie staring at him, then smirks at him. "Hola, papí! Me estas mirando?" His voice pinched up a bit to sound a bit feminine.

No doubt, this was a man with a beautiful fit figure; with lean muscle, and such soft glitter glistening skin.

For the first time, Spider-man had shut up, never in his life he sees someone so extremely unique and attractive to him. This young man surely caught his eye, seeing his face reminded him of sunshine.

Then he came over towards him, Hobie stood as if he was frozen in place. If he could pink like a cartoon, he would. He gulps when the young man went up to him all seductive those doe eyes totally fooled him. They were so innocent, compare to the way he twirl and sway to the music.

"So, can we? Play with the stars tonight?"

"Que pasa, papí?"

Ah, the language barrier... damn if only he knew how to speak Spanish. He only knows a few words like that will help him flirt. The beautiful Sunflower, yes he decided to call him that. Once he got a whiff of a light scented of floral and sweet vanilla. Hobie gulps again as the young man giggles, "Ohh, not a Spanish speaker?"

"Can we make them all align?"

"You know English?" Hobie finally asked.

The mysterious minx could only smirk at him, "Your British?" The accent sort of threw him off.

Hobie chuckles in amusement, "Yeah, from good ole' London, darling."

"Well, Welcome to the States, man." He spoke in his normal voice.

The Spider-man grins widely, "Thanks, mate. I was wondering if you wanna dance."

"Sure. I never met a British guy like you before," He went up to the tall male, his bum grinding against Hobie's crotch. Then, his left hand got a hold of the punker's jaw with his plump lips moving, "I kinda wanna try it."

"You wanna try a good Brit, huh luv?" Hobie finally got the confidence, once he saw this person is into him.

"Hehehe," He chuckles, "Maybe." The group shakes as more people dance on the dance floor.

"Mmm, what's your name, luv?" This time the punker's hand got ahold of the young man's waist such soft meaty hips.

"Miles."

"So what's it gonna be? Yeah"

"Miles..." Hobie repeated the named, it sounds heavenly to him. "Last name?"

"Hold on, handsome. We still haven't dance." He giggles, "Your in a hurry."

"You're beautiful." The punker lower his head to whisper in Miles' ear.

"Heh, I know." Mies humms as he whine his hips against Hobie's crotch. Being busy with the sound, he let the punker's hands rest on his waist.

'"Cause tonight's the night, so, baby..."

Hobie grind against Miles' rear as his hands slowly rubs against his side hip to his thigh, "What's your name, hm?" Miles finally asked as his hand gently placed on the punk's cheek.

"Hobie."

"Hobie?"

"Actually it's Hobart... Hobie for short." He didn't know why he gave his real name.

"I never heard such a name." Miles pulls away to twirl and dance with his hands slid down to his chest all the way to his waist as he sway his hips. He's like an exotic dancer with his body moving like a snake. It's pretty enchanting.

"It's an old English name... Named after me grandad." His eyes glance over to his enemy finding the drug dealer been staring at Miles for a bit. Then his hand pulls Miles' hand to get him close so he can grind against him.

"It's a cute name, Hobie. I like it. It rolls off the tongue." His arms wrapped around the punker's neck, then his lips slowly move almost sexual, "HO-BIE."

Oh merciful heavens, he never felt his knees so weak and his heart beating so fast. "Are you flirting with me, darling?" He asked with his voice deep.

"Mmm, maybe." The mysterious young man playfully stick out his tongue, "I like to play."

"Play?"

"Mmhhmm, you can be my new toy."

Hobie was about to answer until his spider senses went off. His dark eyes glanced over at the drug dealer saying something to one of his men in the ear. The next thing he knows, the same bodyguard went through the crowd heading towards them. "Papí? Are you okay?" Miles' voice brought his focus onto him.

"Huh, oh- um yeah, what was that, darling?" He saw the cute Sunflower didn't like being ignore.

"Nothing. I guess- Oh!" Miles felt a tapped on his shoulder turning around, "Hm?"

The same bodyguard, "Hey, boss wants to talk to ya." He pointed at the man in the VIP.

"Me?" Miles looks confused.

"Yeah." He let Miles walk ahead, then he stop Hobie, "Not you! Go find yourself another trick."

Miles hears this with a scowl on his face. A trick? Hobie glares at the bodyguard, then the man noticed, "Do we have a problem?" He reveals his gun.

The pink dressed young man's eyes widen, "Hey, man. There's no need for that."

"Nah, mate. I don't want problems..." Yet. Hobie snorts, taking his leave. "See ya, Sunflower."

"Sunflower?" Miles smirks at this nickname, he likes it. It's cute. "Heh, see you later, Moonflower."

Hobie's faces felt as if he was turning into a dark warm berry color. That's cute, he likes it. As much as he likes the name papí.

As the two separate ways, Hobie sneakily went into a dark corner where he put on his Spider-man mask and climb up on the high ceiling with metal beams with bright flashing lights. Luckily, the club is built like an urban warehouse, so he stay hidden up top.

His eyes scan the room to noticed there's about twenty bodyguards, five men with big guns, and one drug dealer. His eyes focus on Miles heading to the VIP.

The young man stood with his hands on his hips, "I heard you want to see me?"

The drug dealer inhale his long joint with a grin on his face, he had one girl on his left and a femboy on his right. They were kissing his necks and rubbing his chest. "Yeah," The drug dealer's name Slick had his full eyes on Miles' body. Nice body, beautiful legs and pretty face, "How much for a dance, doll face?" His voice deep.

Miles arched his eyebrow, "Huh? Sorry, man. I'm not a stripper."

"So? I'm not asking ya if you're a stripper. I'm asking how much or..." He lift his chin slightly giving his men a sign to show their guns at Miles, "do I have to force ya?"

The young man stood being confused, "I'm just a normal dude wanting to club. Do you really have to show off like that?"

"It seems you haven't heard of me, trick! I'm a powerful guy," Slick finally sat up making his groupies look uncomfortable almost afraid by his voice, "if I tell you to get on your knees and suck my dick. You do it, bitch! Now, I'm not asking again."

Slick got up to grab Miles' hands, "Hey man, don't fucking touch me!" Miles struggles to break free.

"Bitch, I'll make you learn!" He was about to smack the pink haired male.

Hobie was ready to drop down to save Miles, until all the lights turned off causing everyone in the club to scream.

(Part 2)

#punkflower #spiderman #miles morales #hobie brown #across the spider verse #spider verse #fanfic #flowerpunk

[mielkexnn-miraculous]

A. Agreste (aka Chat Noir) Headcanons <3

Kind of a lot tbh—just headcanons that I like to apply in my AUs when they don’t clash with their particular premises. It’s just a hot mess under the cut yeah? Cool.

He was actually in ballet classes as a kid—the same ones as Chloé.

What’s funny is that Marinette was there too. However, boys and girls were kept separate and so he only really knew Chloé.

He only found out when he was going through his closet and found a shoe box with his old shoes and a bunch of class photos; he noticed Marinette in the corner of one.

He’s still really flexible though.

He actually used to go to see a live rendition of The Nutcracker each Christmas.

He wanted to play the Rat King rlly badly.

He’s got a killer steady hand that makes for rlly good cursive.

He has the neatest handwriting in the class, and takes rlly good notes too—particularly in physics.

He’s also got terrible sense in fashion. He knows good stuff when he sees it, but doesn’t know bad stuff is bad at all.

He really likes milk; in some horrible twist of fate, he’s also lactose intolerant.

He’s totally touch starved and rlly touchy feely w/ certain people.

He refuses to kill bugs. He once screamed and lifted Alya up off her feet for trying to squash a spider in the middle of science class.

He put it in a cup before disappearing for a good five minutes so he could walk all the way over to the park to release it where it would be safe.

He’s English and French.

He really likes gelato—specifically passionfruit; peach is a close second tho.

He knows how to run in heels; has a subtly burning hatred for them.

He really likes light up sneakers though and always wanted a pair.

He knows Morse code.

Rlly ticklish.

Sneezes super loudly.

Really crappy immune system thanks to never being allowed outside his castle walls; he got sick like three times within the first two months of school.

He really likes Piano Man by Billy Joel and can sing and play the whole thing.

Honestly his music taste consists of five types of music: Heavy/classic rock, classical/classical-style music (In The Hall of The Mountain King slaps ok), Billy Joel, chill-somber-sad-theatric-feels-y, and whatever the heck that migraine-inducing bs he’s got stashed in the back is.

His Spotify is a hot mess tbch; lots of spontaneous playlists depending on how he felt at the moment. The titles are usually smth along the lines of “ifykyk”, “vibe”, or “yeah”; either that or just the playlist #.

He has like five that are nice enough to send ppl, and those are the only ones he’s listened to more than twice. They’re called “Classical Vibes”, “Cheese Demon”, “Billy Joel Aesthetic”, “sad”, and “Spontaneous 2am Dance Party OST”.

He’ll literally save recommended playlists and never listen to them.

He never bothers to clean it up though, and has 600+ playlists sitting around.

Also he used to drink a ton of pediasures as a kid and his father doesn’t let him drink them anymore bc he’s not a little kid anymore obviously but he would kill for a muscle milk.

He’ll throw up if he ever tries to eat kale again; it’s a trauma response ok.

Emotion smart but social dumb.

Honestly kinda yandere ngl.

I mean have you seen this man?? Cheez-its man, chill.

He resists when in civilian form but once he’s transformed it’s Full Gremlin Mode activated.

He’s not good at drawing but he does try; he does a lot of blob style digital and is slowly getting better.

He overcomes his feelings of being stuck and not knowing what to do in life as seen in wish maker when he spends time with the Dupain-Chengs and realizes that that is what he wants. He then dreams of working in the bakery one day.

Cannot for the life of him resist eating the batter, ok. He needs it. He’s gonna get heckin’ salmonella one of these days and it’s going to have been worth it.

He gets really good at frosting “flower” cupcakes. He switches to succulents pretty easily after learning how to airbrush. They’re adorable.

Also really good at modeling lil fondant animals and things.

He’s developed separation anxiety surrounding both ladybug and Marinette—he rlly just wants to have both of them in one place at once and he’s rlly sad that it somehow never seems to happen; he’s rlly happy post-reveal.

He rlly loves babysitting; like honestly he loves kids, so so so much; if he weren’t thinking of taking over the bakery (and/or tied down as Chat Noir), he’d probably become a pediatric nurse or a daycare attendant or smth bc 💞💞💞

He’ll leave the press to Ladybug so he can talk w/ the akuma victims and make sure they’re okay.

He’ll escape out his window and climb to high places when stressed to pace.

Once lost a Chat Noir look alike contest.

Has referred to his civilian self as, and I quote, a “dipshit boytoy” whilst en costume.

He became a total night owl thanks to his miraculous but he’s just rlly good at pretending to not be tired.

He’s more cat than he’d like to admit:

He’ll react to catnip when transformed;

He’ll also chase laser pointers;

He subconsciously stares at birds;

Once a bird got stuck in the classroom and everyone was freaking out trying to catch it in a wire trash bin and stuff but it kept evading them so Adrien looked up and pulled out his music, watched it for a second, and then caught it by the feet mid-flight;

He brought it closer to himself and calmed it down as best he could, petting it as he walked over to the window to let it out;

Everyone was flabbergasted but no one said anything as he went back to working and by the time anyone could speak it was kinda late for questions;

He gets the zoomies at the most inconvenient times;

He’s made incredibly uneasy by dogs despite actually being more of a dog person.

Also more destruction powers seeping in alongside the cat attributes:

When he’s is in a funk, there’s crappy cell service, lights flicker, machines go haywire and burn out;

If he’s REALLY upset, drinking glasses and crystal can spontaneously combust;

His powers trickle over into when he’s a civilian;

He just keeps getting more and more frustrated with his computer as it begins to function less and less and keeps giving increasingly worse error codes;

He’s in a funk for the first half the day at school and for some reason the wifi is down;

His mood is lifted after a good lunch break and all of a sudden the computers are working super fast;

Though it frustrates him at first, Adrien learns to hone his powers and either repress or, if needed, direct them.

That’s all I have for now! Feel free to adopt/modify any of these as you please :)

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #mlb #adrien agreste #chat noir #headcanon #adrien agreste headcanons #chat noir headcanons #he’s just such a sweetheart and rlly deserves better than Gabriel >:( #like ugly witch frfr #hands off the boy #oh and also naturally wavy/frizzy/messy hair adrien is to die for #but for someone who should avoid getting akumatized at all costs he listens to a shit ton of sad music huh #like honestly #also chat noir is a mirror kisser ok bye <3

[princesssarisa]

Sleeping Beauty Spring: "La Belle au Bois Dormant" ("The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood") (1908 French silent short)

This 14-minute silent film was produced by the most famous French film studio of the silent era, Pathé. Directed by Albert Capellani and Lucien Nonguet, with an uncredited cast, it was filmed partly at the Pathé studio, and partly at the Château de Pierrefonds, an authentic medieval castle in Hauts-de-France that had recently been restored. Like many other French films of the era, it also serves as an early, primitive example of color film, via the process of stenciling. As a result, it has the look of an old-fashioned illustration – slightly crude, yet richly detailed and pretty all the same – come to life.

The story is told in a straightforward manner, easy to follow despite a lack of intertitles. The Princess, her royal parents, and their court wear medieval dress, while a hundred years later, the Prince and his companions wear clothes of the Cavalier era. The six good fairies are beautiful young women in slender, sleeveless gowns, and in a detail that seems inspired by Tchaikovsky's ballet, the fairy who softens the Princess's curse from death to sleep is portrayed as their leader and dressed in lilac. Meanwhile, the Evil Fairy is old and hunched yet still slightly glamorous, in a rich, pale blue gown and a tall witch-like hat. At the christening party, the Evil Fairy shows the court a vision of the Princess pricking her finger on a spindle and dying – a more effective choice in silent film than if she had just spoken the curse. Sixteen years later, we meet a bored and restless Princess confined to her bedroom by her protective parents, with guards at every door and only a devoted nurse for company. But when her nurse falls asleep, the Princess steals the key from her, evades the guards, and sets out to explore the castle... soon finding her way to a tower where an old women sits at a spinning wheel. As in most retellings, the old woman is the Evil Fairy in disguise.

While it's not emphasized, this seems to be a rare Sleeping Beauty that follows Perrault's version regarding the King and Queen's sad fate, where they don't join their daughter in sleep, but continue ruling the kingdom and eventually die before she wakes. They're last seen leaving the Princess's bedside after the Lilac Fairy puts the rest of the castle to sleep, and they don't appear in the finale. A hundred years later, on a hunt, the Prince learns of the sleeping Princess from an old man, and then finds that the forest of hedges surrounding the castle – the work of the Lilac Fairy – miraculously open to let him in. After wandering through the castle and seeing various members of the sleeping court, he finds the Princess and wakes her with a modest, gallant kiss on the hand. The Lilac Fairy then appears to bless their union, and the film ends abruptly with the newly awakened court and the other good fairies greeting the young couple.

Is this a definitive Sleeping Beauty? Far from it. The storytelling is basic and the filming techniques and special effects are primitive. But all the same, it's an intriguing and charming early example of an early cinematic fairy tale. The scenery and costumes are luxuriant, and even without sophisticated effects, some of the filmmakers' stylistic choices do enhance the fantastical atmosphere. For example, the superimposed image of a spider's web over the sleeping Princess's bed, indicating the long passage of time, which finally vanishes when the Prince enters the room.

This film can be viewed in several uploads on YouTube, most without music, but at least one set to the music of Tchaikovsky's ballet.

If you're eager to see what the earliest screen versions of classic fairy tales were like, then this short Sleeping Beauty is definitely worth your time.

@ariel-seagull-wings, @thealmightyemprex, @faintingheroine, @thatscarletflycatcher, @reds-revenge, @the-blue-fairie, @autistic-prince-cinderella, @paexgo-rosa, @comma-after-dearest

#sleeping beauty spring #sleeping beauty #fairy tale #la belle au bois dormant #france #1908 #pathé #silent film #short film

[dotster001]

So, you've already done platonic match-up for me (twst), so I think its time for romantic 😏

(BTW I just copy pasted the thing-)

Nickname: ash/lala

Pronouns: he/they

Personality type: ENTP and extrovert

Kinnie: Osamu dazai (more the writer than the character, I read the book and I loved it)

Favorite color: blue

Likings: Books, art, history (of art), writing, drawing, kids , rain, basketball, making friends, hoodies, my job (I'm the head manager in a skate shop), my siblings, my fiance (of course), the music band GORILLAZ, memes, my cat, my siblings (I'm closer to my twin) going to amusement park, playing guitar, snowboard, skate, surfing, old school music (mostly rap)

Dislike: spiders. (These things are horrible), loud noises, summer (more pools than summer in general), homeworks

Aesthetic: chaotic academia/grunge/skate ( I couldn't find the right name for my aesthetic so I hope you understand)

Appearance: black hairs (natural brown hairs but I prefer them in black) , 174cm, blue eyes, chubby, curly hairs to my shoulders, semicolon tattoo on my left wrist, a earing of a smiley face (right ear), glasses, freckles, pinkish skin, the hairs on my neck are cut

I'm also Italian-French and I take a lot of pride in my Italian blood

Hobbies: skate/surf/snowboard, basketball, drawing, just hanging out with my friends

(I hope you like this!...but does your fiance know you are cheating on him with fictional men 🤔 😂)

I match you with Cater Diamond.

When I do a platonic/romantic match, and then do the opposite, I like to make it an au. So in this au, we'll say Lilia invited you to his concert, and that's how you met Cay Cay. Cater was immediately enthralled by your fashion, and the fact that you didn't immediately lose your hearing when Lilia played a solo. After some pushing from Lilia, Cater asked you out, and it's been pretty happy ever since.

Music is how you two bond the most. He picks up music writing for you, and plays them for you. You play/sing Gorillaz for him. It's just overall a fun time, and you two have lots of play arguments over various songs.

ce n'est pas un point, j'ai juste choisi la violence aujourd'hui. 😊

Mans is excited you're a skater. There is no way he isn't one. Like, have you seen him? He absolutely skates. He tries to do cool tricks to show off for you. Some of them are good, others not so much…but it doesn't matter. He feels safe to make mistakes around you. You can laugh at him though, he doesn't mind! In fact, he likes to make you laugh almost as much as he likes to impress you.

He's probably not a huge fan of basketball, but he will 100% come to watch you play. He is your biggest supporter. He will even dress up as a cheerleader if you ask him to. You just need to agree to pose for a photo with him after the game. His magicam followers will LOVE IT!

you could literally say anything to him in french, and he'll think it's the hottest thing he's ever heard. You could literally say, "I have to take out the trash." And he'd be like, "babe, that's so fucking hot. 😍" All his pictures of you have french captions (don't worry his translations came from Rook)

You hadn't noticed it until today.

Cater often had you record his music club performances so he could post them on Magicam later. So you were able to just stare at your boyfriend without him teasing you, since you could say it was so that you were getting a good angle.

That's when you noticed it. His nail polish and beanie were both blue.

You had started stealing one of his silver hoops a couple months ago so that you could "be together" even when you were apart, but you hadn't noticed him wearing your favorite color.

You peaked out from behind the camera, made eye contact, and mouthed, "blue?" At him.

He winked, and gave you a roguish smile, before wagging his blue nails at the camera, then going into a guitar solo.

You rolled your eyes, but still felt yourself getting flustered. 

When the song finished, Cater looked directly into the camera, and began his outro speech he always gave. Except it ended differently this time.

"Also, my beautiful magicam fam, guess who just noticed I decided to wear his color? Took him long enough, #obliviousbutloveable, am I right?"

You decided to cut the video short. His viewers could figure out the rest from there.

#1.5k followers #twisted wonderland #matchups #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader

[not-delicious-milk]

is it poison or venom (1/?)

(time-sensitive question, i might be dying) | jjk spider-man au

His hand is absolutely not fine, upon closer look. The entire thing is blistering and peeling, with a hard lump in the middle where the puncture marks are.

Just what I needed, on top of everything — getting bit by some weird jacked-up spider. I bet it was genetically modified to give people cancer.

No way is he missing any more school, though, so he just puts on his biggest hoodie and pulls the sleeves over his hands.

chapter title | latrodectus    

word count | 3.1k

originally posted | 16 May 2021

ao3 link

#is it poison or venom #my writing #it has itafushi enemies to lovers!! #or at least it WILL have that #and you know what #good old fashioned spider-man au #can't go wrong with that #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fic

[tempural]

I really love your Spider-Man genderbend au! I’d honestly pay actual money if you made it a full series!

Thank you~ I'd love to do something with it! All I have in my head rn are vague vignettes and lil moments :p And!! I still have to refine Harriet's design and character. She's not always dead!!!

Thinking about that line when Harry insists MJ should wear black cuz "my dad loves black". Of course Harriet would wanna wear black for momma too. Copied this current dress from MJ in the Thanksgiving scene. I imagine her fashion sense is a bit conservative to impress Norma, but she has a slight alt vibe cuz she's an edgy college kid with a Mao cup lol.

In the comics/cartoons, Harry has nearly the same 360 waves as Norman, but Norman has a neat lil part in the center. So I'd translate that to Harriet having the same haircut as Norma (old hollywood glamour look that lana del rey would copy), just parted a different way so she's has plausible deniability.

I base my Norman off Dafoe (A SHORT KING!!!), and Harry's a good bit taller than Norman in the 2002 movie. So I'd like Harriet to be much taller than her momma, and a lil on the skinnier side too cuz of how thin Harry's face in the comics/cartoons is.

Lots of brainstorming for Harriet... in the timelines where she's alive, she can be girl-best-friends with Piper :)

#norman osborn #harry osborn #peter parker #genderbend #yuri #draws #headcanons #asks #spider gorls

[tokoyamisstuff]

Meant To Be - Loki x Fem! Reader

Summary: Much to your displeasure, your parents have promised you away to the God of Mischief of all people.

Tags: Arranged Marriage AU, Light Elf! Reader

Warnings: Aside from Loki hating himself, nothing.

Words: 2878

I Masterlist I

A/N: Some good old-fashioned, ‘redeemed after The Avengers and the other movies didn’t happen’ Loki. Like, really cheesy, self-indulgent 2012 stuff. I just want to ignore all misery that happens in the series okay?

“Ew! Stop it!”

You were eight at the time when you and Loki first met, by means of negotiation between both your parents.

If only you knew that this encounter should be the first impression of what should be your husband in the near future...

Frigga and Odin could only plead for their son to be on his best behavior - but well, it’s the God of Mischief we’re talking about. Must be hard to inherit such a title from your very birth.

Just when you put the little bonquet of flowers he had picked up for you towards your face to admire it, several little spiders emerged from the blossoms.

“You’re no fun.” The raven-haired boy stood a safe distance away from you, arms crossed as his gleeful laughter turned into a broad sulk. "And your ears are weird.”

“I hate you!” you screeched in your childish rage, throwing the flowers to the ground and trampling onto them. “Where’s your brother? Thor is way nicer than you!”

“Well, why don’t you marry him then?!” he mocked to cover up his hurt pride, picking up a handful of dirt and throwing it in your direction. 

“I don’t need any friends anyway...” the little boy whispered to himself, running away from the scene with tears filling the corner of his eyes. 

“I don’t need anyone. I’m way better than all of them!”

Not even Frigga was fast enough to catch up with him, while Odin uttered some fake apologies to your parents, promising them that everything will go as planned.

You on the other hand were running towards your mother, tightly grabbing onto her dress. “He’s mean! I wanna go home!”

As Queen of the Light Elves, your mother was a being full of grace and composure - and you were hoping to one day become such a formidable person as well.

She bowed down to your height, petting your hair as you rubbed the mixture of tears and dirt from your cheeks. Just her bright smile alone would sometimes be enough to make you forget about your worries - but not today.

“My sweet child” she cooed, cradling you in her arms. “One day you’ll understand.”

However, this would be the last time you paid Asgard a visit - at least until now. Because no matter how deeply you wished to never meet him again, the words your mother spoke on that day haunted you all those years:

“For this is your duty as a princess.”

[Present Day - Asgard]

It felt so unreal when you stuck your head outside of the wooden carriage, the wind playing with your hair as your glare wandered over the rainbow bridge you were crossing.

Silence strained the air, your parents unable to do even so much as look into your eyes. Hel, how you wished this was only a dream.

Behind you was a whole company of Light Elves, transporting all of your belongings to what should be your homecountry from now on.

Now there was no way back, that much was sure.

You were supposed to meet your soon-to-be husband on that very same day, one day before your wedding to be precize.

One could only guess why you weren’t allowed to visit Asgard again for all those years, even though you were practically born just for this reason - for this person.

To become Loki’s bride was your involuntary purpose, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be truly free.

Maybe your parents thought the God of Mischief to have a bad influence on their growing daughter, pulling you into his harmless yet dishonorable schemes. Or they simply feared you to refuse marrying said man if you got to know him better, finding out just what kind of person you were promised to.

Not that your parents were pleased either...everyone in the Nine Realms knew the stories.

To Odin, there was no point in hiding the disgrace his adoptive son had brought over Asgard. Not only was he responsible for an attack on Midgard, sacrificing thousands of lives for his own sake, drunken by greed for power.

But all of you were shocked to hear that Loki Odinson - or rather Laufeyson - was never Asgardian to begin with.

A Frost Giant.

Among your kind, they were known to be one of the most terrible abominations in the nine realms, and murderer of countless of your kind - and this should be the father to your future children?

Only thinking about this cruel twist of fate made you want to vomit...

So why did you agree to proceed with the preparations as if nothing had happened? How in Alfheim’s name could you reject their offer to wed you to Thor instead of that lunatic?

Was it that through your upbringing and royal duties, you had lost your own free will? Or simply fear of stepping aside the path that everyone had prepared for you?

It was probably the fact that you didn’t want to get into true love’s way...you and Thor stayed in brief contact through Heimdall, and you just knew how much that human girl meant to him.

You were kinda jealous, though...the concept of being in love was foreign to you, having a vague idea of it from novels only. But real life just wasn’t meant to be that was, was it?

You couldn’t escape your fate, that was what it was - for this treaty would unite both kingdoms, bringing peace and wealth for all of their inhabitants.

No way you could be so selfish as to decline...even if it meant you had to suffer for the rest of your life.

“My Ladyship, we have arrived!” a guard spoke as he knocked on the carriage door, with your parents hinting that you needed to step out first.

The very same guard now yelled from the pit of his lungs, making you feel the whole Kingdom of Asgard could hear. “Now arriving: Lady Y/N Y/L/N, eldest Princess of Alfheim and heir to the throne.”

You heared the people whispering as you took your first, insecure steps, blinded by the bright daylight.

“She’s so pale, like ice” or “Why are her ears like that?” were rather nice comments compared to others plainly calling you ugly, scary or a ‘disgrace’.

Of course your Kingdoms had been in a war for several decades, but this was long in the past - before your very birth, even. So what’s the reason you should bear with such hostility in the place everyone expected you to call ‘home’ from now on?

One thing was clear from the very beginning: You would never belong here.

“May I?” a dark, husky voice interrupted your self-pitying. You blinked heavily, still trying to adjust to all those golden surroundings, until your blurry vision finally cleared up.

“C’mon.” The voice belonged to the man in front of you, looking gravely nervous with sweat dripping from his forehead. He was reaching out a hand for you to take, and you gladly accepted since you didn’t want to embarass yourself further by falling out of the carriage.

And still, you managed to somehow miss a step and fall right into his arms. “Oh my, so clumsy” the man snickered as he catched you, clearing his throat as you grabbed onto his chest to regain balance. "Not very graceful for someone of your status.”

“And you are-” The words got stuck in your throat when you stared back into those eyes, their emerald green awaking memories you’d rather forgotten entirely. “L-Loki!”

“Exactly, my dear. The one and only.” Smooth and calm, he  pecked a kiss on the back of your hand, andyou couldn’t help but admire just how well he had aged: His wild locks were combed back, sharp features complimenting his face as he tried his best to give you his most innocent smile.

Yet you kept your guard up, always expecting him to somehow embarass you just for the fun of it. “When it comes to him, always expect the unexpected” Thor once warned you, and you won’t forget about it that easily.

“It’s a pleasure finally meeting you” was your firm declaration, only to be rewarded with a scoff. “You are speaking to the God of Lies, Lady Y/N - there is no use in trying to deceive me” he whispered into your ear, making you shiver in unpleasant anticipation.

“Carry her belongings to my rooms” he dismissed the servants with a simple gesture of his hand, offering his other arm for you to cling on as he escorted you through the palace.

The giant halls were almost empty, nothing like back on Alfheim where you and your brethren would enjoy each other’s company in midst of nature. A sole tear escaped your eye when you thought back to those carefree days, which are now over.

“Are you alright, m’lady?” Much to your surprise, your fiancé sounded honestly concerned about your well-being. “If you are tired, we can postpone our tour of the palace until you’ve rested.”

 “May I speak from the heart?” You gulped after finishing that sentence, scaring yourself with all the stories you’ve heared about this mad troublemaker.

Somehow you had the feeling that if you were to overstep your boundaries with that brute, it would have consequences beyond your imagination. He might seem generous and polite right this moment, but what would someone like him do if you enrage him? Countless images were circling in your head, one worse than the other.

Loki furrowed his brows, exhalinge deeply. For him, your expression was an open book to what you were thinking right now.

“Y/N, my dear Lady, if you want it or not: Starting tomorrow, we share a bond. I am deeply sorry that a veritable flower as you are had to end up with someone like me, but I promise to treat you as well as possible.”

Turning around so you’d not detect how it hurt him to speak from the heart, he added with a shaky voice “Yet there is no reason for you to hold back your hatred for me. No harm will come your way, I swear upon the little honor I have left.”

Even though his words made you feel a deep sympathy with the god, you weren’t quite sure if you could decipher truth or deceit in them. Maybe he just wanted to lure you into saying what you truly thought of him?

He’s right - you will have to spend the rest of your life with him, so don’t mess this up from the very start!

“I-I don’t hate you!” was the first thing you blurted out, grabbing onto his cloak. Loki turned around, rising his eyebrow as he scanned your face for any hint of a lie.

Althrough it was the truth, at least to a certain extend. You’ve seen each other only once, when you were still little. The rest is all tales and rumours, but you personally don’t have a reason to despise him.

There was no way you could promise to accept his past or heritage, let alone forgive him - yet as long as he’d treat you with respect, you’d return the favour.

“T-There’s just a question on my mind this whole time...aren’t you mad? I-I mean someone like- well...like you...” you gestured around awkardly, almost making him crack a smile. “I mean...I thought you wouldn’t let your parents dictate your life.”

Another deep sigh escaping his mouth, this times with his eyes closed. “This isn’t about Asgard or my adoptive parents. I choose my own path.”

Suddenly, Loki wrapped one arm around you, flicking his fingers with the free one.

“Hold onto me” he ordered indifferent as he casted his spell, teleporting both of you away before you could even comprehend, let alone ask him what he was doing.

It happened in the fraction of a second, yet felt like hovering through an empty space for an eternity.

“Now open your eyes.” You hadn’t even realized that you squeezed them shut during the shift, slowly opening them while Loki lifted your chin with his index finger.

The environment was magnificent. Had you ever seen something this beautiful in your whole life?

Obviously you had no clue where you were, but this was the first time seeing so much untouched nature on Asgard. There were flowers blooming in all colours imagineable, clear rivers crossing the lands in between grassy hills, and animals nearby a small forrest.

“It’s not like I didn’t educate myself about the Light Elves and their way of living” Loki stammered, unconsciously intertwining your fingers with yours as he watched you admiring the view. “So I could make you comfortable here, I mean.”

He plummeted down on the grass, still a little wet from the morning dew, and gestured for you to do the same. It was weird, actually, but also somehow adorable - how the infamous ‘Silver Tongue’ had lost his ability with words. “I’ve done very little right in my life full of wrongs. Hurt a lot of people.��

“Mmmhh” you hummed approvingly, not knowing what else to say - yet for some reason, you didn’t let go off of his hand, squeezing it ever so slightly.

“And even though I can’t possibly redeem myself, I wish to change for the better.” he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. “I just never knew how to start.”

Loki Odinson really was full of surprises. He was nothing like the child you’ve met long ago, and the complete opposite of what you imagined the ‘God of Mischief’ to be.

You had expected a power-hungry, selfish and cruel man to wed you - and yet there he was: Insecure and broken, only a shell of the person he once was.

Just what had you missed all those years? What things happened to break someone’s will like this?

And was he truly beyond repair?

“Those past weeks, I have visited Alfheim more times than you could comprehend” he giggled nervously, avoiding your eyes. “Concealed, of course.”

Well, that sounded kind of weird, but you knew better than to talk someone down who was just opening up to you. So your sole answer was “What for?”

“There was no way a criminal like me would still be seemed fit for this ceremony - and yet I was given this chance anyway. My mother told me that it was you who insisted on carrying on the arrangement, so...I just wanted to know what person would be willingly ruin their life.”

Something different was shining through the god’s orbs, and you couldn’t quite decipher it. Was it hope? Hope, that if you had given him a chance, his life could lead into a different direction? To change himself from the burden that was his birth title?

“I-I guess I don’t want to mess this up like I always do” he whimpered barely audible, before staring at you in shock and embarassment. Until now, he hadn’t realized just how vulnerable he made himself.

Just what the hell would you think about him now? You probably had lost any respect, or thought himself to be crazy. How weak...

So he was quick to put on the confident facade again, wearing his smug grin as if that all was just part of a big joke only he’d understand. But even though you barely knew him, he couldn’t fool you.

“Sometimes it’s enough just to try.” Your head turned from the sight of nature to your fiancé and back several times, before you brought up the courage and put a hand on his shoulder, whispering “So you can’t really mess this up.”

“Gladly you don’t seem to know yet just how much misery I cause.” He kept that thought to himself, to not scare you away.

“I am aware that you could never love someone like me, Y/N. But I can provide for you, dedicate myself to making you content with being my wife. My newfound purpose.”

The purpose of a war criminal - that sure put yourself under a lot of pressure. And still, it made you somewhat proud, and grateful as well. Because it was the first time someone valued you as a person, and not the princess of Alfheim.

Unaware of how much time had passed, both of you would get used to each other’s presence in silence, enjoying the nature while you processed this eventful day.

Exhausted from the long travel and all that rollercoaster of emotion, you soon found yourself dazzling into sleep onto Loki’s shoulder. If only you could see him adore you, staring in awe that someone could actually feel so safe in his presence.

Carefully, the god picked you up, gently lifting you on his arms to make your way back to the palace, where everyone was frantically searching for both of you. Well, Loki was used to trouble -  but right now, it was worth it.

May it be right or wrong, and even though you couldn’t explain this sentiment, you had a good feeling when it came to the things that were just about to come.

“You won’t regret your decision, Y/N Y/L/N. On my side, I assure you a bright future.”

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki Odinson #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Friggason #Loki/Reader #Loki/You #Self Insert #Fanfiction #Arranged Marriage #Writing #Marvel #Asgard

[femmeparker]

Okay okay okay

Jewelry au where peters single but wears his mother’s stuff. He works in Tony’s lab and has a ton of bruises from spider-man-ing and it gets to the point where Tony’s actively trying to show off what a good alpha he would be without directly saying “your alpha mistreats you and I would do so much better”

omg yes like he can see Peter’s jewelry is old fashioned and some of it is tarnished with age and he only seems to wear small pieces and Tony would get him something that actually befitted the gorgeous omega and of course the bruises concern him because who is hurting Peter, the sweetest omega Tony has ever met

#omegaverse #jewelry au

[marshmallow-phd]

Heart of Thorns

Genre: Beauty and the Beast!AU, Romace, Angst

Paring: Tao x Reader

Inspired by: These moodboards created by @xui-n-soowillbethedeathofme (x) (x) and my absolute obsession with Beauty and the Beast

Summary: Lost in a forest during a storm, you find shelter in a crumbling castle that had been hidden away for years. The master of the house shut himself away, refusing to engage with the world. Too intrigued and running away from your own fears, you refuse to leave no matter how much he tells you to, wanting to try and find the heart within the beast.

Part One I Part Two I Part Three

**

Everyone knew the story of the man in the forest mansion. He’d once been the son of a prominent and just lord. The people of the land praised the lord’s name as he was always fair and practiced justice amongst all his subjects. It was a month of mourning when he passed away from sickness, but there were high hopes for his son to carry on his legacy. And at first, all was well.

But something happened that changed his heart.

A woman appeared; beautiful, alluring, and sweet. She captured his heart and they say he adored her, showering her in gifts of gold, jewels, and fine cloth. No one knows what happened for sure, only that the lord’s son went mad. There was a fire and the woman died. Most say that he started it with the intent of killing her.  

Soon after, the son turned out all the servants and secluded himself from the rest of the world. Whispers popped up that the woman he killed was a fairy or a nymph and for killing her he was cursed. Some say that he was now a beast, sporting fangs and claws where his human teeth and fingers once were. Others say he was now a creature of the night and stalked the forest when the moon is high for wandering prey.

No had seen the son or the castle where he supposedly lived in years. The excuse that the grandmothers gave was that the forest had grown too thick from the trees and vines for the castle to be found. Since the son had turned out all the servants and land workers after the fire and there was no one to keep the paths clear.

You didn’t believe a word of it. A man with fangs and claws hiding up in a castle to terrorize anyone who came too close was utter nonsense; a fairytale to scare the children and keep them within the town walls. Even if there were such a man, you hardly considered the possibility that he was cursed.

“It's only because you moved here a few months ago,” Mrs. Mooney crooned. As the wife of the town butcher, she was privy to all the gossip that passed by the family shop. She often stood outside, keeping the stall for the smaller scraps or animals they hadn’t managed to sell to the more prestigious customers. “But we older folk remember the little boy who used to run around here while his father conducted business. Spoiled little thing. Always had a pretty pony and the finest clothes. Stuck his nose up at playing with the other children just because they had dirt on their sleeves. Serves him right, what he got.”

“You don’t know what he deserved and what he didn’t,” another graying woman chimed in haughtily. Her dress, though still rough like a peasant’s, was much nicer than the other villagers. Silver curls spilled out from under a white bonnet. Her hands looked coarse from hard labor and her skin kissed for years under the sun. Crinkles stayed permanently in the corners of her eyes, letting you know that she did smile on occasion. You’d never seen her before when you came to the market, but Mrs. Mooney seemed to know her well.

“You would know better than anyone, Feifei,” Mrs. Mooney sneered.

Though now you were intrigued, Mrs. Mooney did not elaborate how the other woman would know anything about this make-believe man.

“That tongue will get you into trouble someday, Johanna.” Adjusting the basket hanging from the crook of her arm, the old woman spared no glance at the meat as she walked away.

Mrs. Mooney clicked her tongue. With a shake of her head, she turned back to you. “So, milady, do plan on any wares today?”

“No, my father already sent Claudette earlier this week,” you said. The smell of the meat was starting to get to you, but you tried your best to keep it off your face. “I simply came down to escape the confinements of home.”

A huff pushed past her lips. “Oh, yes. I’m sure that large stone house must be suffocating.”

Though lashing out would have been easy, you bit your tongue. This butcher’s wife didn’t know your history. She didn’t know that compared to your previous home in the city, this new place was a shack.

It was your mother’s inheritance that kept you, your siblings, and your father afloat. The home, bought long ago by your grandfather who was now passed, was a honeymoon paradise for your parents. After your mother died giving birth to you, the house was locked up to be a refuge only to spiders and rodents since your father couldn’t bear visiting the place alone. He’d poured himself into his work, curating business as he brought investors and merchants together. When a major client lost his ships at sea, one of his managers took off with most of the assets and funds, leaving debts and loans in their place. To pay off the leeches, most of your possessions had to be auctioned off and the home that had sheltered you since childhood was sold to a new family.

Life away from the bustling city wasn’t too awful. You didn’t have to worry about being run over by a carriage since most of the residents here couldn’t afford one. Everyone seemed to know everyone, which was both intriguing to you while also a little bothersome. At first your family, being new, was the center of all the gossip. Rumors of your father or brother gambling the fortune away or you and your sister having scandalized the family and caused you all to hide away ran rampant. Eventually, the mill settled down and you were left in peace. Some of the villagers still gave side eyed glances, but you’d learned to brush them off.

Thinking it was time to head back home, you said goodbye to the butcher’s wife and followed the brown dirt street beyond the wall that surrounded the town until the scenery turned to fields of wildflowers and small farms. You took a right at the fork, already seeing the two-story country home come into view. The tan brick was a bit faded from the sun and thick vines grew up the sides and around the windows. A small garden grew out in front. There was a fairytale essence to the home that made you love it more. In the back, Claudette would be hanging the laundry to dry in the subtle breeze. Father was most likely in his study, shuffling through papers and letters to find a way out of this place. Cosette was probably lying on the old couch in the front parlor, constantly fanning herself as she whined of the woes she was forced to live through. Your brother, Lu, would be sitting on a log, writing in his journal when he was supposed to be chopping wood.

Cosette was right where you had guessed she was. As soon as you walked through the door, she jumped up and hurried to you with her skirt crumbled in her hand.

“Where have you been?” she screeched, her dark hair pulled back into an intricately braided bun. You tried not to be annoyed. She must have had Claudette do her hair when both of them were supposed to be helping with the washing. “Father has news that he’s been dying to share with us, but he refused to divulge what it is until you were here.”

You rolled your eyes at your sister’s impatience. “Surely, you must have known I would have been home eventually.”

She “hmphed” at you before whirling dramatically and stomping off towards your father’s study. You followed her slowly, your stomach swishing with nerves.

Truth be told, you didn’t mind it out here. The country was a great deal quieter than the city, the air cleaner too. The greatest unexpected gift, however, was how often you saw your dear father. As a child, you had to savor every dinner, every private concert in your living room, and the short moments you were able to spend with him in between his travels or meetings. Claudette never carried as she was more invested in the connections she was making with the other well-to-do families and Lu was often tagging along with your father as the eldest and heir apparent. Now the four of you felt more like a family. If you were, by some miracle or fashion, to go back to the city, routine would fall back into its previous structure and you would be alone again.

Lu surprised you by already being in the room when you entered, seated in a corner with a hardened look on his face. It was strangely out of place given his boyish looks often kept his expression soft. Your father looked up from the papers that were neatly piled up on the desk. “Aw, (y/n)! You’re back from town. Did you have a nice walk?”

“Yes, I did,” you aswered cautiously. “The market was full today.” Your eyes flicked towards Cosette, who had taken the only other chair, continuing to fan herself even though the temperature wasn’t anywhere near that drastic. “I heard you wanted to see us all together?”

“Yes! Yes! Um.” Your father looked around, perhaps to see if there was another place for you to sit. As there was none, he went on. “I received a letter from Lu’s old friend, Lin Gao.” Lu perked up at the mention of Gao. None of you had seen him since you came here, thinking that he, like the others, had abandoned you all when the money was lost. Now, that didn’t seem to be the case. “He has worked with several connections and can bring us back into good standing with society. He’s even convinced a few merchants and investors to allow me to broker deals again.” Your father cleared his throat. “There is, however, one condition.”

“What is that, Father?” Lu asked.

“He asked for (y/n)’s hand in marriage.”

The quietest gasp escaped your lips. Gao wanted… to marry you?

As the baby sister, you tended to follow your brother and his friends around, begging for attention and often they obliged you, as long as the setting was appropriate for a child. All of his friends had treated you as their own sister, equally protecting and caring. You’d never suspected them to have thoughts that led into the contrary as you’d grown up.

Lu’s eyes landed on you for a split second, studying your face enough. “Did he say (y/n) specifically?”

“Yes, why (y/n)?” Cosette scoffed. “I would be more than willing.”

“He specifically asked for (y/n)’s hand.”

Cosette closed her fan with a snap. “Well, then. Arrange the wedding so we can get out of this dumpy town.”

But wait. Did you not get a say in this?

Your father leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “The help from Gao would be tremendous. But I will not force anything on to any of you. (Y/n),” he looked at you with conflict in his eyes, “if you do not wish to marry Gao, I will send him a letter politely declining the offer. I can find other means on my own.”

He was giving you a way out, if you so wished. But you couldn’t deny the help this would bring for all of you.

“Can I think about it?” you asked in a quiet voice.

“Yes, of course.”

“What do you mean, think about it?” Cosette nearly flew out of her seat. “What is there to think about? If we are to get our fortune back, then (y/n) must marry him. I would in a heartbeat if he had asked for me.”

“But he didn’t ask for you,” Lu said.

Your father insisted. “Let your sister think about it. To force this upon her would break my heart. I will not have her live unhappily.”

“And what about me! Why should I live unhappily?”

“Enough!” Your father stood to his feet and he slammed his fist down on the desk. You flinched at the noise the collision created. Rare was it for your father to get upset like this. He was usually very levelheaded. “I am still head of this household and you will accept my decision. Now, go!”

With a stomp of her foot, Cosette stormed out of the room like a spoiled child told that she couldn't have a piece of candy. Eyes trained down on the floor, you quietly excused yourself and went upstairs to your room.

Your favorite place in the house was your room, the smallest besides Claudine’s on the first floor. But the trade for it was the reading crook by the window, overlooking the garden. You liked the isolation you could feel when you sat on the bench, knees pulled up close to your chest as your skirts fell over the side. The window was cold as you laid your forehead against the glass. A breeze was moving through, swaying the leaves in the trees and rattling the vines against the stone walls of the house.

What would living with Gao be like? You had never thought of your brother’s friend in a romantic light. Would there be any romance between the two of you? Or would you be condemned to a loveless marriage like so many other girls? Could you live like that?

You had no answers at the moment. You weren’t sure if you would ever have an answer. But a compromise was coming to the forefront of your mind. You didn’t have to say yes right away. Maybe you could meet with Gao, get to know him more, in a different way that how you knew him before. And, if you decided that he was not the kind of man you wanted to spend your life with, if there was no possibility of love between the two of you, perhaps you could convince him to help your father anyway, for sake of his friendship with Lu.

You pictured Gao’s face in your mind, willing yourself to love it. But all that did was churn your stomach.

**

Your father had sent the letter asking if a visit to the city would be possible for you. Gao’s reply came back quicker than expected: yes. He made all the arrangements; he hired the carriage, sent money so you could rest in an inn for a night before arriving in town the next day. Barely a week had gone by since you were first told of this offer and now you were traveling by yourself for the first time in your life.

Cloak wrapped tightly over your shoulders, you kissed your father goodbye on the cheek. Tears were swelling behind your eyes, but you refused to let him see them.

“Be on your best behavior,” he teased. You were the last out of the three to get into trouble. “Write to me as soon as you arrive. Alright?”

“Of course,” you smiled.

Lu patted your shoulder. When you were a child, he showed you affection freely, but now that you were grown, he’d become a bit awkward when other people were watching. Cosette didn’t say a word. She simply fanned herself at a quick rate as smirk rested on her lips. All she carried about was getting back to high society, to the parties and the searching for a husband who possessed a fortune large enough to keep her satisfied.

Your father glanced up at the sky. “Better go now, my dear. The clouds are growing darker. I want you at that inn before the storm comes through.”

“The only way to do that is to go through the forest,” the driver commented from atop the carriage.

Your father seemed unnerved by that observation but gave no protest. “I will wait to hear from you.”

You gave one last kiss to his stubbled cheek. “Goodbye, father. Take care of him, Lu. Will you?”

“Naturally,” Lu said with a chuckle.

You merely nodded to Cosette before stepping into the carriage. The cabby lurched forward and you allowed the small smile that had been straining on your lips to fall away. Anxiety settled in your stomach. You wanted to have a positive outlook on this whole thing. It was better to possibly marry a friend of the family rather than a complete stranger twenty years your senior.

Unclasping the hook that held your cloak together, you let the soft fabric fall behind you on the seat. The literal weight off your shoulders helped you to breathe easier. You closed your eyes and leaned back. There was still a long journey until you would arrive back in a city that you hadn’t seen in months, although it felt more like years. That was another life to you, a past self. One you had been okay with letting go. And now you were uneasily walking back into its arms.

The ground shook, rattling the walls of the carriage. You pushed the curtain out of the way and peaked out the window. Flashes of lightning so bright that not even the thick trees of the forest could keep them back splintered across the sky. The storm had come quicker than anticipated. Raindrops splattered against the dirt floor, starting out slow then growing in pace. Soon it was impossible to see more than five steps in front of you.

The wind grew untamable. The carriage rocked from side to side, the thin wheels ricketing against the strain. A bolt of lightning screamed too close for comfort. The horse reared back in fright as the carriage passed by a ravine. It was all too much. The carriage toppled over, falling down the side of the ravine. You were tossed around the cabby like a rock between a group of children. When the falling finally stopped, you let out a cry of relief. A second cry left your lips, this time for the driver. But no reply came.

The carriage had landed on its side, but thankfully, it had another door to escape through. You clasped the cloak around your shoulders once more and pulled up the hood before pushing the door open and climbing out.

You were soaked as soon as you stepped out of the carriage. The driver was gone. You didn’t know if he was dead or if he had ran away. The horse, the poor thing, didn’t move or whine. Water was slowly rising in the creek from the rushing rain. You had to get out of here. With what little strength you had, you managed to climb back up the side of the hill. A chill froze your fingers and chattered your teeth. You walked in the opposite way that you thought the carriage was heading. Getting back to your home was your only hope. You had never been in these woods and the sky was too dark to tell directions from the sun. The rain was pouring down harder. Each step you took grew weaker. An unseen tree root stuck out of the ground, catching your foot. Shock ran up your arms as you tried to catch yourself when you fell. You couldn’t go anymore. You were too cold, too tired. So you lied there in the mud, wishing for a miracle. The rain soon came to a stop, but you were still too exhausted to push yourself up. Your eyes grew tired. Finally, the lids closed. The sound of horse hooves against the mud grew near, but you couldn't be sure if it was real or simply your imagination clinging to hope.

“We can’t just leave her here, Xao.”

“But what would the master think if we showed up with her?”

“So, you would leave her to die?”

“No, of course not!”

“Then we take her with us! The castle is big enough that he would never even have to know.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Someone lifted you up from the ground, but before you could discover who it was, you lost consciousness completely.

**

You weren’t sure what woke you up. It could have been the splitting headache that pounded at your skull. Or it could have been the shouting coming from the other side of the door.

“Get her OUT of here!”

“My lord, please, see reason. The poor child was dying in that storm.”

“I don’t care. She’s alive now, so get her out!”

“But she’s still sick. The poor thing has a fever. She’s been sweating all night.”

“I do not want her here. No one is to come here, you know that!”

“Let me take care of her. Once she’s on her feet again, I’ll take her back into town.”

“Fine!”

Heavy foot stomps echoed off the floor. One side of the double doors opened and inside stepped the old woman from the market.

You?

“You’re awake,” she sighed. “I can only imagine what had woken you up.” In her hands was a silver tray of different morsels and a tea kettle slowly letting out a flow of steam. Seeing you struggle to sit up, she hurried to set the tray down on the nightstand and help you. “Don’t overexert yourself, miss. You’re not fully recovered from that awful storm yet. You’ve been asleep for two days now.”

Two days! Your father must have been losing his mind when he never received word that you had arrived in town. A coughing fit of your own started up. The old woman gave you a glass of water to calm your throat before adjusting the pillows behind your head. You took in the bedroom that you were housed in. The light gray drapes that hung from the bedposts were old and a little faded but still made from an expensive velvet fabric. The blanket that covered you was soft and warm and smelled of lavender. Cosette would squeal at the size of this place. It was even bigger than her room at the old house in the city.

“Where am I?”

The old woman’s hands stopped before she could pull out the warming pan from the foot of the bed. “You're at the lord’s estate.”

You frowned. “What lord?” As far as you were aware, the closet lord was at least several days ride from town. And you doubted he would have allowed a room to go untouched like this one obviously was.

Sadness fell upon the old woman’s face. “He’s a good man. A good man with a tragic past.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, the old woman folded her hands and laid them in her lap. “Do you remember the story Mrs. Mooney was telling you at the market?” You nodded. “This is his home.”

“He… exists?”

“Yes. Though the awful rumors….” She shook her head. “Anyway, yes. But his lordship isn’t accustomed to visitors. I apologize for what you might have heard.”

Perhaps it was the fever, but your curiosity was now out of your control. “Why doesn’t he want anyone here?”

The old woman stood up. “Never you mind. We’ll get you back on your feet and then Mr. Chan will take you back into town.” She poured a fresh cup of tea, handing it to you carefully.

“Do I have to go back to town?”

“We don’t really have a choice, dear. You heard the master.” She eyed you as you sipped on the warm, caramel colored tea. “What is it? Why don’t you want to go back to town?”

You finished off the tea before explaining. “My family wants me to get married, to help the financial situation. At first, I thought I was willing to at least try, to see that man again and find out if I could love him. But… now I’m grateful for the storm.”

“If you don’t wish to marry him, why not say so?”

“Because if my father never restores his reputation and our family falls further into ruin, it will be all my fault.”

The old woman shook her head. “You poor thing. That’s too much weight to bear.” She let out a long sigh. “Try to eat and then get more rest. Your eyes look heavy. We’ll see if we can’t delay your being cured by a few more days.” She headed for the door. After opening on side, she halfway turned back around. “I’m Mrs. Chan, by the way. If you need anything, pull on the cord by the bed. I’ll hear the bell and come to you. Now, rest.”

As soon as the door closed and you were alone again, you felt the weight of your lids growing. Reaching over to the tray, you tore off a piece of the bun and chewed on it slowly. Eventually, you nodded off into a dreamless sleep.

**

Over the next several days, you passed between peaceful sleeps and uncomfortable awareness. Your fever broke on day two, but you still felt weak. Mrs. Chan checked up on you often, keeping you well fed and making sure there was a fresh pitcher of water or tea for you to drink. When you stopped sleeping as much, she brought you a book to occupy your time. But you read through the comedic romance quickly. A tingling was coursing up and down your legs. They needed to move, to be used. You’d been lying in bed for so long you weren’t sure if they even worked properly anymore.

Earlier, Mrs. Chan had stopped by to say she was going into town to pick a few things up at the market. Mr. Chan was to be out on the grounds so if you needed anything it would have to wait for her return.

Curiosity was a dangerous thing. On one hand, you could find nothing of interest in this ancient castle. On the other hand, you could find yourself in the absolute wrong place and have yourself thrown out into the cold before Mrs. Chan could come back and rescue you.

Silly. All of it was. A little walk wouldn’t do any harm. You would make sure to stay near your room and if you heard footsteps, you would run back here in an instant.

With your feet bare and the nightgown Mrs. Chan had given you made of a thinner material, you were a bit cold as you left the comfort of the blankets. But you pushed forth with your curiosity. This grand room was all you had seen of your haven. You wanted to know more about the home of the lord whose memory haunted the village. You stuck your head out first, looking down the hall from either side. It was empty save for the polished suits of armor that lined the sides, sitting between old portraits previous tenants. As quietly as you could, you closed the bedroom door behind you and softly stepped further into the hall. Through the long space you made your way, glancing at every painting as you passed. Some had chipped paint while others’ frames had dulled over the years, but each one was still magnificent, the subject stunningly beautiful in their own unique ways. You weren’t sure if it was the magic of the artist or if the family was truly blessed in that manner.

Every so often you would peer into a room when the door was unlocked. Most of them were bedrooms or small studies. By the collection of dust gathered on most of the furniture, they hadn’t been used in quiet a while. Soon, the hall took a turn, spilling out into the Grand Hall where the other hallways met. You started to go right when a set of double doors down a shorter hallway in the other direction caught your eye. They were bigger than any of the other doors you had seen so far. You hurried to that one instead, intrigued by what might be behind it. Barely able to get it open with your weak arms, you squeezed through the space and stumbled inside. Then you gasped.

When Mrs. Chan had described the library to you, she had said that the family had a fair collection of books. You might have to clarify with her what a “fair amount” really meant.

The library was housed in the back most tower, the shelves built into the walls and going higher than your eyes could see. Ladders made of wood and metal were attached to the spaces between the shelves. They moved freely from side to side to put any book within reach. As a child, you thought your father had the biggest collection of books by any one person in the world. How silly you were. This place could hold twenty of your father’s old library. You whirled around and around, taking in every detail. It was like a fairy tale.

You stepped closer to the wall and ran your hand over the leather bindings. It had been so long since you’d been able to take in the smell of old books. You had only been able to save two of your favorite novels from the auction. They were currently hidden under your bed. If Cosette ever got a whiff of them, she’d sell them to pay for a new dress. As you made your way around the library, you spotted another door, one that nearly blended in with the shelves. Feeling brave from your latest discovery, you tried the handle. It turned with ease. You pulled the door towards you. Sunlight spilled into the library. The secondary room was mostly empty – save for one object. A piano.

Bang!

The door shut in your face, startling you backwards. You stumbled into something hard. Turning to see what it was, you gasped in fright

A tall, dark hair man with the left half of his face covered in a white mask glared at you.

“What are you doing in here!” he shouted, face glowing red with fury.

“I-I-I’m sor-sorry,” you stutter as you scurried back. The door to the room stopped you from going any further. You were trapped with no way to escape. “I didn’t mean to-”

“You were supposed to say in your room,” he continued to bellow, not concerned at all with your fear. “Stay away from this room! Go!”

That last command was enough to send you running, passing the man and leaving the library. You hurried to the Great Hall, to get back to your room as quickly as possible. Looking back over your shoulder, you checked to see if he was coming after you. The hallway was empty behind you. Once safely back in your room, you scurried under your covers as if they would protect you from the masked man.

**

Mrs. Chan gave no indication that she was aware of your little adventure. If the masked man – the lord of this castle, you presumed – had told her, surely you would have been thrown out by now. She did, however, seem upset about something.

“Is everything alright?” you asked before she could leave the room with your empty food tray.

“Oh, it’s nothing I want to trouble you with, dear,” Mrs. Chan said.

You smiled at her. “I’ve been told I’m a very good listener.”

A second went by and then Mrs. Chan sighed. “It’s just the master. He wasn’t been sleeping well. He’s been wondering through the west wing lately and I’m worried about him.”

The west wing? That was where you were headed before the library stole your attention. “What’s in the west wing?”

“Nothing of importance,” Mrs. Chan snapped. It was a harsher tone that you were used to. You lowered your gaze remorsefully. “Oh, dear. I’ve upset you. Don’t worry about and try to get more rest. You need color back in your cheeks.” She left the room, blowing out the lamp before shutting the door and leaving you in darkness.

You woke a few hours later to a loud bang. At first you thought of ignoring it. Then the thought of something happening to Mrs. Chan came into your mind.

Throwing a blanket around your shoulders, you carefully relit the lamp and stepped out into the hallway.

“Hello?” you called out softly. Another bang answered you. It was faint, not coming from this hallway. You followed it, occasionally calling out again. No human ever replied.

You passed through the Great Hall and into the west wing. You should learned, really, from your earlier excursion. But the thought of someone being trouble refused to let you turn back. Now that you were closer to the source, a soft moaning could be heard among the silence. You pressed your ear from door to door, trying to see if it was coming from behind one of them. It was the door on the very end that held back the sound. With enough moonlight coming from the wide window at the end of the hall to see by, you put the oil lamp down on the floor out of the way and went inside.

Even in the darkness, you could see the smoke and soot stained walls. The remnants of a bed stood in the middle of the wood. Hanging behind it was a portrait of a beautiful woman with golden hair and rich brown eyes that stuck out even with half of the painting burned and curled.  

“What are you doing in here!”

You gasped as the lord of the castle stepped out of the shadows. His mask was gone, but he kept the left side of his face covered with his hand. In his other hand was a small torch. With its light you could see the scars on the back of his hand, the tight and lifted skin usually caused by fire. You said nothing, too stunned to find words.

Dropping his left hand, he reached out and grabbed you by the wrist. The scars on his face were now partially visible, but still mostly hidden in shadow and by the locks of hair that had fallen. From what you could see, they matched the scars visible on his hand. “I asked you why you are here!”

“I’m sorry!” Your voice came out in squeaks, fear running you cold despite the proximity of the flame. “I heard noises. I thought someone might be in trouble.”

He sneered at your answer. “If you’re well enough to walk around then GET. OUT!” He practically threw you out of the room.

You landed on your knees but didn’t stay there for long. You scrambled up to your feet and took off down the hall, leaving the oil lamp behind. The nightgown caught on your foot in your haste as you passed the staircase. You went tumbling down the marble stairs, a scream piercing your throat. You couldn’t stop no matter how you tried. When the bottom of the staircase finally came, you were out cold.

#exo #exo beauty and the beast au #exo beauty and the beast!au #tao x reader #zitao x reader #exo x fem!reader #huang zitao #z.tao #tao #exo fantasy au #exo fantasy!au #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #cpop #kpop #romance #angst #fairytal au #fairytale!au #Heart of Thorns

[theinkquiry]

old  masterlist (marvel, star wars, HP)

a collection of my old writing for the Star Wars, Marvel, and Harry Potter fandoms. contains mostly reader inserts.

Marvel

Multiship/No Ship

Avengers Halloween Headcanons

Time Will Tell

Christmas at the Tower

Bucky Barnes

Popular Masterlist **COMPLETED**

New Rules

The Debate

Leap of Faith

What He Left Behind

Peter Parker

Spooky Scary

Not Quite Avengers

Intergalactic Teenage Space Romance | Sequel

Smol Spider-man Drabble 1

Steve Rogers

Wishes for Cap

Thor

Two Asgardians Ram Into a Spaceship

Dr. Strange

I Need A Hero

Drabbles

“Please don’t walk out of that door.” (Tony X Reader)

“Don’t lie to me.“ and “It’s not that easy.“ and “I fell in love with you, not them.”(Peter Parker X Reader)

“You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?“ and “Excuse me?” (Tony X Reader)

“Step away from the cookies.” (Bucky X Reader)

“If I hear one more Mariah Carey song I will riot.“ and “My house, my rules. The Christmas music stays on.” (Steve X Reader)

“Oi! That’s my hot chocolate!“ and "I don’t care about tradition, you try and get me to kiss you under the mistletoe and I will punch you.” (Steve X Reader)

“I don’t care what you say, The Nightmare Before Christmas works for Christmas and Halloween!” (Peter Parker X Reader)

Marvel as Vines

"Can I Please Get a Waffle?” (Peter-centric, Implied Steve X Tony)

Star Wars

Poe Dameron

Graceless (Royalty!AU)

Situational Irony

Rey

Desert Calling

Harry Potter

Harry Potter

Pick On Me

The Case With Class

First Move

Realism

In-scent-ive

Ultimatum

Who I Really Am

Where’s Harry?

Forget Yourself

Draco Malfoy

Angles Series: A New Angle | The Assumed Angle | A Hidden Angle

Backup Series: Backup | Up Front

Puppies!

Do Witches Dream of Magic Sheep?

Impressed?

When Half the School is Failing

Yes Means No

A Very Potter-Weasley-Malfoy Christmas

Kindness and Promises

Cheers to Nightmares

Spectaculars

Blinded By Love

Friends in the Now

Future Coincidences

Dozing Days

Roses and Bluebells

A Lovely Swim

A Deal Made

Ah, Young Love!

Light and Dark Inside

Silence Is All It Takes

Status Quo

Enlightenment

Once Before

What Goes Around (Draco X Hermione)

Let It Out

These Games

His Better Judgement

Lions VS Snakes

Remember Me

Smile!

What He Doesn’t Know Pt 2

Funny Story

Mean to You

Party Tricks

Snowed In

Make Like A Muggle

Just Kiss Her

Fred Weasley

At Dawn

If I Like It Then I’ll Put a Ring on It

Like At First Sight

Thinking Aloud

Our Dreams

In A Flash

Summers in Sparklers

Good Out of Bad

Outside Aid

Double Victory

Galas and Gallant Boys

The Crack of Thunder

Bursts

No Sick Days

Your Business Man

Eye of the Hurricane

George Weasley

The Good Snow Days

Stampedes and Stars

Shouting From Stages

Forgetting Love

We Have Potions

Short and Sour

That Much, I Can Say

Apple of the Eye

Twists

Holidays at Home

Simplicity of Jokes

Present Pandemonium

Missing

Interesting People

Mistletoe Managed

Meddling

Fred and George

A Little Smile

Swept On Your Feet

Big, Stupid, Things

Ron Weasley

…Come Again?

I’m Not the Cute One

Completely Mad

Thing of the Past

The Winner’s Prize

None Shall Fail on Christmas

Waltzing Wizards

Eek! A Spider!

Checkmate

Blaise Zabini

To Ask or Not to Ask Isn’t the Question

Oliver Wood

False Wrongs Make a Right

From Bad to Better

Not In Love

Trip Down Lovers’ Lane

Misconceptions

Keeping Time

So We Meet Again

Oh Captain My Co-Captain

Nerds

Being in love with a Slytherin (Headcanon)

“I won’t let you.”

Neville Longbottom

Flustered Feelings

Gossip Material

From Afar

Thinking the Impossible

Just the Two

Under Lock & Key

To Be Here With You

Dean Thomas

Details

Cedric Diggory

Baby, It’s Really Cold Outside

Lee Jordan

Foiled

Sirius Black

Insulted

Someday

Sneak Attack

Intentionally

Wasted

Out of Fashion

Dinner and a Wedding (Featuring Jily)

Right At Home

Here, Always

It’s Just a Prank

Remus Lupin

Don’t Help

The Wolf

Healing Wounds

The Dare

When the Moon Rises

Tea Time

The Best Prank (Halloween Special)

Halloween Pranks with Remus (Headcanon)

Holding On

James Potter

In Between Fire

Shake It

Cocoa Fixes Everything

Regulus Black

Meet Me in the Moonlight

Ginny Weasley

Trapped Under

Hermione Granger

Alone Together

Platonic

A Day in the Life

All The Single Ladies

Home at Last

Assistance

Each Summer

Name Calling

#marvel imagine #marvel oneshot #bucky barnes x reader #peter parker x reader #steve rogers x reader #thor x reader #dr. strange x reader #poe dameron x reader #rey x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy x reader #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #ron weasley x reader #blaise zabini x reader #oliver x reader #neville longbottom x reader #dean thomas x reader #cedric diggory x reader #lee jordan x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader #regulus black x reader #ginny weasley x reader #hermione granger x reader #star wars imagine #star wars oneshot

[silent-raven13]

A new take on Sunflowers!

(AU: No Spider-man powers. Hobie is a famous Punk Star/model/celebrity. He happens to go to an art opening and fell in love with the works and the artist)

"Ehhh!" Miles look at the bouquet of flowers and boxes of expensive gifts. He didn't even settle in his new studio apartment, he saw so many gifts being delivered to him. It was already the next day after the crazy party. Checking on the message card, "To my Sunflower, XOXOXOX, Hobie. 💜🌻🤘🏿"

He felt so flustered that he took the bouquets of flowers in his arms taking a big sniff. "They smell so good." He hums feeling his cheeks warm. The art opening did filled him with surprises, he didn't think he would catch a certain celebrity eyes.

-Last Night-

"Yes. Yes. We're heading there, now." The twenty seven year old punker slouches in the limo being bored by his assistant making calls to their manager. He rolled his eyes, so this is what being famous is like. The constant meet and greets, events, and talkshows. Ugh, the popularity didn't seem to stop because of his own Controversy nature, being chaotic to break anything.

The fans love that from him. His bandmates are meeting him at this art opening he so badly wanted to go. It was a refresher to find something that's his interest, but his agency being on his ass was pissing him off. He wanted freedom! To enjoy his time with his friends.

Now, his assistant is here being observant because the last time he was left alone, he had brawl with some jackass at a bar.

Figures...

He lit up his cigarette being annoyed, a good burn of nicotine will help him. "You're supposed to quit smoking." His assistant said being on her laptop.

"Come on, Mindy. I've been stressed all the damn time. I need this." He inhale being annoyed. "Fuck quitting."

"Then you have to deal with Bruce."

"Fuck him, too."

Mindy sighs before the limo stopped at the gallery called, "New Verse!" It's own by a famous man, who believes in contemporary arts for the diversity artists. Right now, there's three arts presenting their worsts that are upcoming to the art field.

Young BIPOC artists that were born and bred in New York City. Hobie honestly saw one painting on the pamphlet from invite from his good friend, Pavtri. A funny actor that changed the game by his bubbly adorable personality, his girlfriend is one of the artists. Yet, the punker wasn't focus on her inspirational Indian American women with abstract strokes and figures.

Oh no, he's eyes was curious when he saw a powerful, very old school graffiti style with a modern take of using media with bright bold colors and insane texts. The handwritten calligraphy had rough ink with profound words like slurs, then a beautiful black man figure crying. Tears all colorful with small texts inside. So many going all at once that he wanted to see in person. The piece had the sizes about 300 inches by four hundred inches on canvas mounted on wall. He had to see it.

When the limo parked, "We're here." His assistant said.

Hobie got out of the car seeing paparazzis already there to take photos of him.

Great, these fucking leeches

He wore his latest high end outfit; ripped tight black skinny jeans with patches by Farfetched brand, accessories like chains dripping to the side of hips. He wore expensive Prada Monolith and re-nylon black boots, and red laces. A Sex Pistol t-shirt personally shredded, Two belts around his waist, one he's actually wearing on his jeans but the other more for fashion that is slanted to the side. Then his Celine black leather jacket with his own custom touches having spikes and paint on it. His own rebellious style. Then tons of jewelry on him; bracelets from his wrists, necklaces, and diamonds piercings. All top with a very masculine cologne by Tom Ford.

His wicks bounces by every step of his heavy boots as he got out already having his black shades on to cover his eyes. He saw some of the fans waiting for him. "OH MY GAWD, IT'S HIM! HOBIE! HOBIE! WE LOVE YOU!"

"HEY, HOBIE COME LOOK OVER HERE!"

Hobie quickly walks away with a scowl, he tries hard not to ruin his black lipstick by Fenty. All this work to look good and these paparazzis never leave him alone!

Life as a Star

When he finally enters the gallery, he saw a group of body guards being there. It seems there was a lot of famous celebrities around, too.

Great...

He should've known Pavtri would invite more people for his girlfriend. His assistant said, "Oh wow, you can network with these other celebrities. There's Peni Parks, I heard she is famous for her robotics in Japan. Her company release the latest Androids."

"Huh, so we're about to get controlled by the government." Hobie snorted.

"Come on, Hobie. Not this again."

"It's true." He took off his shades to find other familiar faces like Miguel O'Hara, the CEO of Alchemax with a teenage girl wearing a black dress having to look at a painting. A famous man like that likes art? Huh, who knew.

Then Jess Drew, a popular lawyer never losing a case and a very expensive one at that. Hobie had follow her cases, seeing how she went to trial about defamation of character to a famous celebrity.

Petra, a famous three gold Olympic Athlete, she had one her titanium prosthetic leg wearing ankle pants with loafers and tight beige sweater. Her brown pixie hair cut had a shave to the left side showing off her pierced ears.

Then Ben Riley, a famous skater. Noir-

Aye, no way he's here!

Noir is a very popular contemporary artist that causes many controversy on society's politics. One of the most respected activists, too. He would shred his own work in front of auction if he doesn't like the buyer. The man stays hidden with his black mask. Hobie respected that man, too bad his works are out of his price range, if he could get his hands on it.

One popular piece was a Rubik's cube that he presented in a gallery then mix it all up. Then place it on a white pedestal. The price of that work started off two billion.

Bonkers, Hobie knows. But that piece started a massive wave for the hidden artists. Noir seems to know Petra and Ben.

Interesting...

He noticed a popular street artist, activist, and poet name Zero. Kaine, a famous game streamer on Twitch. Kitty, a popular influencer. Peter Parker, a famous American Actor.

So many blokes here!

"Oh, look there's Gwen!" She spotted a familiar Pop Punk singer standing with her own female band, which is her girlfriend drummer, Margo and Silk, a girl who plays the guitar.

"Aye," Hobie was about to go over until, he stops when his eyes caught the art piece he been yearning to see. When he enters the room to find more works.

His eyes on the large piece, he took in every single detailed. "Mindy, luv. Can you please give me wine?"

"Sure thing, Hobie." She went out of the room to leave him to admire the works.

Hobie saw the artists name and description, "A cry for Help! By Miles G. Morales..." He read seeing the materials being made by spray paint, acrylic paint and other stuff. He didn't want to read anymore, so he can try to figure out the meaning of the work.

Taking a closer look, he saw details of Brooklyn, police brutality, drugs, and struggle. Then a light white out line of a man and woman with child that is very hard to see. If you're not paying attention, a person would think it's a decorative add-on.. Then more Corporate brands, then drug names, and money prices. The background of blue shading with imagery of activism. So many things going on that represented the struggle for black people, it touched Hobie. Especially the image of the black man crying.

What surprised him is the soft touch up to imply make up, the figure had a smudge light lip gloss and glittery eyes, his skin cover with light newspaper textures with to-day's and past events of black trans struggles, and racism.

Bloody beautiful...

Mindy came by to hand him his glass a wine, she hums, "Your eyeliner is smudging."

"Thanks, darling." Hobie wipe the tear off his eye, "It's a fantastic piece, innit?"

"It's really sad..." Mindy frowns at the painting, "Crazy how colorful it is. Like they want you to be happy but when you look at it longer... you see the true ugliness of America."

Hobie sips his wine with a nod, "Exactly. It's perfect. How much is it?"

"300k."

"What? So little?"

"He's a new artist in the field. He's been popular through social media, but not in galleries. It's a different wave." She explained.

"Pfft, and he's black?"

"Yeah."

"Figures. Always the black man getting the short end of the stick." Hobie took out his black card, "I'll double the price."

"Are you sure?" Her eyes widen.

"Yes, I'm sure. I got payed from that stupid Pepsi commercial so I'm winning to buy this at a reasonable price." He said.

"I'll look for the seller. Stay here." She said before going to find them.

Hobie had no problem staying when he can admire this painting. Unaware of a black hooded man standing next to him. "You been looking at this piece for a while, huh?"

"It's a powerful piece." Hobie glanced over to find the person wearing a black hoodie.

"Meh, it's ight." He casually said.

"Are you bloody mad? This is one of the best works I've seen and trust me, I've seen bullshit artists from France, Japan, even the MET." He snorted.

"Gayatri's work is amazing. Zero's installation is freakin' cool." He added, "They are actually showing real struggles as women of color."

"I'll see for myself, but this right here! This is where it's at." Hobie said proudly.

The Hooded man chuckles, "Alright, but take your time looking at the other works." He left with that.

Hobie rolled his eyes but his nose tickle of scents of Sunflowers and tropical shea butter. "Who was he?" He mutter to himself, before going to the next work. The artist made five pieces. In the room there was only four massive works.

It seems Hobie fell in love with the artist, because the second work he loves it even more. It was a massive photo of a black male punker with tattoos, so much piercing on his face and had this scary look with so much spikes and ripples on his clothing. He had intense makeup, but the photo is only black and white.

The figure had a charming smile with his tongue out and wink while he holds a bouquet of sunflowers. The Sunflowers were painted in cartoon like, and there was other paintings of feminine and cutesy imagery. Stickers, and spray painted text. Hobie quickly read the name of the work, "A New Take on Sunflowers: Triptych Part 1 by Miles G. Morales."

Hobie went back to look at the piece, the Sunflowers were brighter almost glowing with youth. "A New Take on Sunflowers... By old Vinny?" He did love this work. He saw how the Punker represented gender fluidity, to embrace their culture yet love the things that aren't represented in their lifestyle. It could also show how someone 'scary' looking have a softer side by holding the flower with care and love.

"Hobie, your bandmates are here." Mindy came back to tell him.

"Be there." Hobie didn't wanna see them when he had these works to admire. The next painting was next to the punker photo. This time the second painting is a photo in black and white of two black women kissing being in the Ghetto of New York. They hold their Sunflowers. They had on weave, bright gold jewelry, tight clothing being so happy to be together.

Now that's love.

His eyes saw the color of the jewelry being the same yellow as the Sunflowers, and more happier texts and doodles around the two. The women had on wedding rings on, celebrating their marriage.

Hobie chuckles, "Cute." He saw the third part of this work. This one is a Puerto Rican mother, how did he know she's Puerto Rican? The massive flag in the background, and the woman sitting while braiding her daughter's hair with a soft gentle smile. The little Afro-Latina smiling at her big Sunflower as it aims at the two. It's a beautiful piece of mother and child.

Shit, why these works are affecting me so much

Hobie felt tears coming down his cheek, he never felt like this before. It's so beautiful and powerful. He needs them. He wants them in his penthouse!

"Hobie?" Mindy asked.

He quickly turns to her with his eyeliner already smudge, "I want all of these. Go buy them!"

"What? Hobie, you can't be-" Hobie glares at her. "Alright. Alright, I'll let the seller know!" She sighs, "Also, Karl and the rest of the band is here. Go say hi!"

"Ugh, fine." Hobie went to find his friends while his assistant went off to find the seller, again. His goal is to find the fifth work.

"Hey Hobs! What up, man?" His best friend, Karl high five him, he's the bass player of the band.

Riri chuckles, "Hey, share the love, bro!" She grins widely being the guitarist.

Mattea nodded, "Hey, Hobie." The drummer of the band.

Hobie gave them a hug, "Aye, mates. How's it going?"

"Great. With all these talkshows and trying to make our own shit, ugh we're exhausted." Riri said.

"Yeah, I released my own beer brand. Crazy, huh?" Karl chuckles.

"My own shirts." Mattea nodded, "We need to be smart because who knows what will happen with this band."

"What do you mean?" Hobie frowns.

"You know, we're all so busy trying to get our name out. It'll be better just in case if our band fall apart since you're busy with movies. Me with modeling." Riri added.

"And life." Mattea nodded.

"That's true. Ugh, we need to support each other. We still need to make our new album too." Hobie groans by this constant work load. "Fucking Bruce."

The rest groan. "Hobie! Hobie! I'm so happy you made it!" The group turns to find Pavtri holding his girlfriend's hand having to pull her with him. She giggles seeing how happy her boyfriend is.

"Hey, bruv. Been awhile." Hobie greeted him, "Luv. Nice to meet you." He holds Gayatri's hand and kissed it being a gentlemen when he wants to.

"Hahaha, nice to meet you, Hobie! I'm a big fan of Spider-Band!" She said.

"Have you seen, my sweet Gayatri's work!" Pavtri asked the punker with stars in his eyes. "Huh! HUH?"

"Oh honey," The female artist giggles, "He's been in Miles' room the whole time. I won't lie, his work is so good." She holds her side shoulder bag, "He even customized my bag. See!"

Hobie's eyes widen at the bag seeing the painting with Sunflowers and cute characters. "What? How? Can he do custom works?"

"Yeah, he does. I gave him one of my fabric works." She giggles, "You really like it, huh? It's moving, right?"

"I need to check it out." Riri said, "First some wine!"

"Same!" Mattea nodded.

"More like a crush." Karl knows when his best friend has a crush, it's very rare but it's obvious to see.

Gayatri giggles, "Really! Awe, you know he's single and ready to mingle." She loves playing match maker, with stars in her eyes being excited. "Zero, can tell you, he's so ready for a new man in his life!"

Pavtri pouted at the punker with fake tears, "Hobie, you promised you would admire my darling flower! My Gayatri's beautiful work! She took these beautiful hands," he holds her dainty hands, "and created this!" He jumps over to an installation of a blue cut out thick papers handing by a thread to show an abstract figure in blue. "All the dates we had to miss!"

"I will we have all the time." Hobie tries to explained then he was yank by Pavtri being forced to look at all of Gayatri's work. He even explain each one of them in great detailed.

Hobie spotted the last work of Miles G. Morales, it's at the end of the gallery on its own with nothing else around. He wanted to go see it, but he had to make his way through Zero's work, too. He didn't mind Gayatri's and Zero's work, they are amazing artist, but something about Miles' work. It got him, he needs to see the last painting.

After going through all his well known friends and admiring Zero's work. He found Miguel O'Hara's daughter gasping at Miles' painting, "Papá! Did you see that painting with the mother and daughter! It's so cute! Does he do custom work?" She asked, "I want one of me and mamá!"

"Alright. Let's see if we can book one." Miguel happily said to his daughter, his whole grumpy mood toward Peter changed when it was his daughter.

Jess giggles, "That Miles Morales is making waves with his work, being new to this game. I'm impressed."

"Yeah, the kid is freakin' good. He actually got some peeps from LA looking at his work. That kid is going to places."

The owner of the gallery is a tall thing black man, "Alright, gather around." Everyone went to see the speech which Hobie cursed himself, he was so close to see the final painting.

He smiles happily, "I like to thank my wife, Jess for support. My good friend Aaron for helping pitch in. This beautiful gallery is meant to bring all young diverse artists to the art game. I hope you enjoyed Gayatri's amazing works focusing on the hardship of Indian American women identity and gender roles. Zero's beautiful installations on her poems and politics of today." The two women artists came up with a smiling widely. "Sadly Miles couldn't make it today but his work focus on the struggles of Black and Brown acceptance in America."

Hobie frowns, he was hoping to meet the artist. Gayatri made it seem he was around. How odd?

"They are the future for young Contemporary artists, we know the field mostly represents a certain group, so I hope to help them achieve their careers with this gallery." He holds his glass of champagne being happy.

Then, a man in black hood came walking past the group surrounding the artists and owner of the gallery. Jess' husband finished, "I hope you enjoy the rest of the opening."

Hobie spotted the black hoodie male carries a bucket of paint, then when the artists and owner moved away. "Hey, what is he doing?" Karl asked out loud spotting the figure.

The figure throws black paint on the final painting by Miles. Everyone gasps even the security was about to go over. "Oh my god! Why would he do that?"

Hobie's mouth dropped in shock, "What the fuck, bruv!" He shouted out loud in anger.

The figure grins widely seeing the security guards being stopped by the owner, he took out his bright yellow Spray paint, and wrote in messy dripping text, "Miles wazz here!" He put down his hoodie revealing his face.

Hobie's eyes widen at such a handsome young man; big honey brown doe eyes, wearing earrings, septum nose piercing, and a bright glowing face. His hair a tapered Afro with a fade. Wait, this is Miles? Miles G. Morales?

"Easy. Easy. He's an artist. This is his installation piece." The owner explained.

Miles let the painting dripped showing how the painting still revealed a bit. "I call this, 'I'ma do my own thing.'" He grins widely at the crowd.

Noir nodded giving a loud clap in approval. The rest of the crowd awed, by the piece looking beautiful with the add on drips and markings. Gwen shouted, "Holy shit, Miles!"

"Wow, amazing!" Pavtri claps like crazy being so excited, "I was filled with so many emotions!" Everyone went back to looking at other works.

Hobie finally got the chance took a look at the painting, "Ruining it, eh?" He saw Miles finished talking to Pavtri, who hugs him before leaving them.

"Is it ruin to you?" Miles stood with a grin, he wore an oversize black hoodie, some tight jeans and black and yellow Jordans.

"Nah, it's perfect. I believe chaos, luv." Hobie grins at him.

Miles giggles, "I bet, you known for that."

"So you heard of me?"

"I mean, who doesn't know Hobie Brown? The lead singer of Spider band." He giggles in amusement, "So, I heard you're gonna buy my works. I'm surprised. I thought my shit would be too much for a celebrity."

"Pfft, I'm a different kind, Sunflower." He sips his wine, "I always love works about black empowerment and to support a fellow one at that."

"Aye, gracias papí." Miles spoke Spanish.

"Ah, so you're Puerto Rican?"

"I'm half black and half Puerto Rican, my parents are over there." He chuckles seeing the punker looking over to find the same woman from the painting and a little girl.

"Ahh, inspiration?"

"They were the reason for my Sunflower series." The artist explained, "Honestly, I was so nervous for tonight because I'm a new comer and being with these amazing artists of New York- Ugh, I can't believe I'm here."

"That's why you doubted your work?"

"Pretty much." Miles admitted, "Funny, you're easy to talk to."

"I'm always listening, Sunflower." He leans over to get a closer look at the artist, "And I listen to the person I like."

Miles felt flustered then giggles, "Haha, funny."

"Oh yea? Gimme your number and let see if I'm playin?" He flirted with a deep voice. Miles didn't know what possess him to hand him his smartphone but he did. The Punker happily type his number into the phone and put his private social media too.

"Text me, Sunflower." He winks at the artist as he handed back his phone.

"Okay." Miles did the basic hey.

Hobie chuckles, "So soon? You really want me."

"No-no, I mean- awe man! I suck at this stuff." Miles pouts.

"Oh yeah? So you want me to be forward," The punker lift his chin up about to lean in, their lips close to almost touching, "Because I can."

"Eh?" MIles' honey brown eyes widen, he didn't think the punker would be this bold!

"NO! My big bro!" A little girl ruffling shoves Hobie away from her brother.

"Billie!" Miles saw his seven year old sister, "Awe, come here." Thank god, because he wasn't ready for a kiss like that. His face felt so warm.

Billie happily hugs her brother being picked up, "Yeah! Only I give kisses to mi hermano!" She kisses her brother's cheek. "Your painting of me and mamí esta may bueno, hermano!"

"Awe, thank you, Billie-boo."

Hobie only rub his nose then sniff. Damn, he almost got to taste him. Shame, but he does like it when they play hard to get. Licking his lips, his eyes yearn for the artist. Something in him wants him. Putting on his charming smiles, "So this is your little sister?"

"Yeah, I am Billie!" The little girl stated, "Who you are? You don't kiss my brother!"

"Sorry, she loves me too much." Miles giggles. "Billie, this is Hobie. He's a popular singer. Hobie this is Billie."

"Hmph," Billie pouted giving a look at the punker.

"She is small. What is she? four?"

"I'm seven years old!" Billie huffs, "I am a BIG GURL!" She hugs her brother around his neck.

"Eck, Billie. Not too tight." Miles almost choked. "Sorry, she was like this with my friends."

"No problem. I love lil sprogs." He chuckles lowly, "Also, how do I book for a custom painting?"

"Oh, on my social I have a link to my studio website and there's a form for custom orders. You really gonna buy another painting from me?"

"Of course." He saw his assistant near him, "Mindy, darling. Have you met the seller?"

"Yes, sir. They are willing to sell all five works." She said.

"Alright, add another one. A custom on from Miles' website." Hobie smirks widen when he saw how Miles' eyes widen.

"Alright, if you wish to purchase it now, we need to go to the owner and have it ready for shipping." Mindy hums.

"Very well."

"Also, we should be leaving soon. You have a recording session tomorrow." She hums.

"Alright. Alright." He winks at Miles being a show off, he lifts Miles' hands up to kiss it, "It was wonderful seeing you. I hope we can meet again... without me buying paintings- perhaps a date?"

Miles' face went super flustered by the punker. He never thought this famous singer would be so sweet, so charming, so damn cute! "Huh uh." That's all came out of his mouth.

Billie side eye at her brother seeing how shy he became. "Lil one, I hope you will protect your brother from untamed men." Hobie smiles at her before handing her a crumble hundred dollar bill.

"Aye, Ayi! Cap'n!" Billie nodded at the tip.

Miles said, "Wait, you don't have to-" Hobie shrugs, "She can buy whatever she wants with it. Anyway, I'll see you later."

"Oh... Okay. Bye Hobie." Miles hugs his baby sister tightly feeling so bashful, his heart fluttering.

The punker left with a large receipt of five expensive paintings. He wave his fellow friends goodbye.

In the limo, he had a big smile on his face thinking about his Sunflower. "Never see you this happy? You really like the artist, huh?"

He sighs lovingly, "Yeah... do you know where he lives? I want to send him some flower." He breath exhale on the cold window letting it fog up, then he drew a crappy sunflower.

"On it." She nodded.

-Present Day-

Hobie chilling outside enjoying his pool after his record session. His Smartphone vibrating, he looks to find Miles calling him. "Sunflower! Surprised you called, miss me?" He flirted removing his dark shades.

"Hobie, I think you send me too many flowers...." He said.

"Oh? Fifty bouquets didn't come to you?"

"Fifty? There's like one, two, three.... forty nine-" Miles stops hearing the door bell, "Never mind, fifty."

"Then you got them all. How about the gifts?"

"Hobie, you shouldn't have sent this- I- It's nice of you for-" Hobie waves it off, "Nah, it's fine. I got money and wanted to spend it on you, Sunflower. Now, that you called- How about a lunch date?"

"Huh? A date?"

"Yup." Hobie sips on his sparkling water.

"Ummm," Miles felt bashful again, "Sure... where-where?"

"I'll pick you up. I know a great place. Also, I might bring another bouquet for you." Hobie happily said.

Miles nodded, "Okay. Do i need to wear anything?"

"I prefer lingerie."

"Huh!"

"Joking. I'm joking, luv. Something you want to wear. Don't worry it's a chill spot."

"Alright, man." The artist bite his bottom lip, "I... I don't do sex on the first date, by the way...."

"Oh? I'm surprised you expected me too." The singer chuckles.

"No, I mean- I'm so sorry that's rude. I just have to always-" Hobie chuckles, "It's okay, luv. I promise I'll give you a kiss on the cheek."

"Just a kiss on the cheek." Now he sounded disappointed.

"Or you want on the mouth with tongue?"

Miles never felt so embarrassed, "Your a jerk, Hobie Brown."

"You seem to like it." He laughs.

"I do actually." His pouty lip more enhance as he listens to Hobie's voice. Something about this punker got him thinking about him. He had a beautiful dream with him and it feels like he known him. Its weird.

"Then, I'll pick you up soon. See you later, Sunflower."

"See you, Hobie." Miles hears him hung up, then he hung up. The artist never felt like this. Touching his lips feeling the cracks of his dry skin, "I need to moisturized! Lip scrub! Look good for him!" He rushes over to the bathroom to get ready.

A special bond formed between the artist and the singer.

#punkflower #hobie brown #miles morales #spiderman #across the spider verse #spider verse #spiderverse