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sadnymi · 22 days

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「 ✦ Fresh Out the slammer. ✦ 」

[Mattheo riddle × reader] [TTPD Masterlist]

Summary: Y/n made a decision she thought was right, but it ended up costing her the only real thing in her life. Now, instead of finding peace and stability, her life has turned into a nightmare a slammer. She ran away, only to realize her mistake and now she knows there's only one person she can turn to—the only person her heart truly loves.

Warnings: angst,fluff,smut,strong language.

Words:5k.

The dress shimmered like moonlight on water, a cascade of champagne silk that clung to my curves in all the right places. I stood frozen, a statue sculpted from fabric and societal expectation. Perfect. Flawless. Engaged.

Yet, the reflection staring back at me held no spark of joy, just a hollow echo of a smile. It wasn't sadness, not exactly. More like a numb acceptance of a life carefully mapped out, not by my own desires, but by the whispers and needs of my family.

Charles, my fiancé, was everything a respectable young woman could desire. Handsome, wealthy, with a lineage as distinguished as his manners. On paper, we were the perfect match – a union that would solidify our families' positions in high society.

The party buzzed around me, a symphony of congratulations and well wishes. I played my part, radiating a picture-perfect fiancée. Laughter bubbled on my lips, practiced and polite. This was the new normal, the life I'd been groomed for. A gilded cage.

Then, across the crowded room, my gaze locked with a pair of dark eyes. A jolt went through me, a spark that had nothing to do with champagne or diamonds. Mattheo. There, in the shadows by the doorway, stood the one man who disrupted all carefully laid plans. His lips were curved in a smirk, a knowing amusement that sent a shiver down my spine.

He wasn't celebrating. He was observing. Analyzing. Like some predatory toying with the carefully orchestrated scene before him.

Exhaustion, emotional and physical, washed over me. I needed a moment, a single breath outside the suffocating air of expectations. Slipping through the French doors, I stepped onto the cool balcony overlooking the city lights.

And then, there he was, leaning against the railing a few feet away. Mattheo, his gaze following mine as he took a long drag from a cigarette. I clutched the glass of juice in my hand tighter, the cold seeping through the crystal.

"Care to share the joke?" I finally managed, my voice low and laced with a touch of bitterness. He didn't turn towards me, but his voice, when he spoke, was a smooth caress in the night air.

"Just admiring the performance, love," he drawled. "You play the part beautifully. Almost makes you believe it yourself."

The words tumbled out of my mouth, a torrent of frustration and a desperate attempt to mask the truth even from myself. "What are you doing, Mattheo? Making fun of me?" My voice rose a notch, defensive and angry.

"He's a perfect man. His family and mine have been friends for decades! Don't go acting like you care about some fairytale love story." I knew I was overplaying it, the words spilling out too fast, a frantic attempt to convince someone – maybe myself – that Charles was the answer.

He didn't flinch at my outburst. "No, not that," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "It's just… I don't get it. Why settle for 'perfect' when you could have something real?" His gaze held mine, a challenge and a question all at once.

"Real?" I scoffed, the bitterness dripping from my voice. "What's real? This?" I gestured at the glittering party scene below, the forced smiles and hollow laughter. "Or a life filled with… with what? Uncertainty? Danger?" The words hung heavy in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the life I'd always secretly yearned for, a life that somehow always seemed to revolve around Mattheo.

"Maybe," he conceded, shrugging a shoulder.

My breath hitched. His words were a direct hit, piercing through the carefully constructed walls I'd built around my heart. "I…" I started, but the words wouldn't come.

Frustration bubbled over, a cocktail of anger and confusion. "This is for me to decide, Mattheo! I don't need him, I want him! He'll be a good husband, a good father, a good partner. " My voice grew louder, the carefully constructed facade crumbling with each word.

"Sure, love," he said, that infuriating smirk twisting his lips once more.

"Dammit, Mattheo!" I exploded, tears stinging my eyes. "Either be happy for me, at least pretend, or leave!" The words were out before I could stop them.

Regret washed over me as quickly as the anger had risen. The light in his eyes, playful just moments ago, vanished, replaced by a flicker of pain I couldn't decipher.

For the first time that night, he looked at me seriously. No smirk, no amusement, left me speechless. "I think I'll leave then “.

And then he was gone, disappearing back into the throng of partygoers. The air felt suddenly colder, the weight of his absence a physical blow. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs, a mix of anger, fear, and something far deeper twisting in my gut.

A desperate urge to chase after him, to call him back, flooded me. But pride, stubbornness, and the carefully constructed image I'd spent all night portraying held me frozen in place.

I watched him go, a lone figure swallowed by the crowd, and a single, tear finally escaped, tracing a glistening path down my cheek.

The engagement ring felt like a lead weight on my finger. It was supposed to be a symbol of happily ever after, but all it brought was a dull ache in my chest. Charles, my fiancé, had proposed on a gondola ride in Venice, a picture-perfect moment straight out of a romance novel. The only problem was, the picture was a lie, a carefully staged facade.

The cracks began to show soon after. Charles, always so attentive during our courtship, started developing a curious habit of "forgetting" dates and appointments. His phone, an ever-present extension of his hand, would suddenly become a mystery when important calls came in. Excuses piled up like unwashed dishes, each one chipping away at the foundation of trust.

One particularly galling instance involved a charity gala. Charles had promised to accompany me, a public show of unity for my family's foundation. As the guests arrived, resplendent in their evening wear, I stood alone, a nervous knot twisting in my stomach. An hour later, with half the night gone, he sauntered in, a sickeningly self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. His excuse? A "business meeting" that ran long. The lie was obvious, the scent of his cologne a dead giveaway – the same kind of perfume that clung to the woman flitting at his side the previous weekend.

One blustery Saturday, we planned a picnic by the lake. Charles, however, turned up two hours late, reeking of butterbeer and with a smear of lipstick on his collar. My accusations were met with a dismissive, "Oh, Y/N, you're being paranoid again."

Selfishness was another of Charles's defining traits. He saw everything in terms of "me" and "mine." My interests, my dreams, were relegated to mere footnotes in his grand narrative. One weekend getaway we'd planned, meticulously tailored to my love for hiking and stargazing, was abruptly rerouted to a luxurious spa resort "because stress relief is good for everyone, darling." My protests were met with feigned sympathy and a dismissive pat on the head.

The final straw came at a Ministry charity gala. All night, Charles was glued to a group of Aurors, completely ignoring me. I stood alone, clutching my champagne flute feeling like a pretty ornament on his arm. As I excused myself for a moment of fresh air, I rounded a corner and saw him, laughing carelessly, his hand resting on Astoria's waist. They were kissing, a passionate embrace that ripped the last shreds of hope from my heart.

Tears blurring my vision, I confronted him later that night. "How could you?" My voice trembled, the anger barely masking the deep well of hurt.

He sighed, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. "Y/N, darling, don't be dramatic. It was just a kiss. A silly little thing."

"Just a kiss?" I cried, the dam of my emotions finally bursting. "And all those lies? The neglect? Charles”

His face contorted in anger. "You," he snarled, "are supposed to be the perfect fiancée. All smiles and beauty. You're just a pretty face, Y/N, that's all. Your role is to stand there and look pretty."

“I deserve better than this!"

He grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him. "You deserve exactly what I'm giving you, Y/N," he said, his voice cold and hard. "A comfortable life, a prestigious name. Do you think your father will be thrilled if you call off the wedding? Think of the scandal, the gossip! That's all that matters, after all."

His words cut deeper than any wand. In that moment, I saw him for who he truly was – a self-serving, arrogant man who only valued me as a trophy, not a person. The anger surged through me, hot and cleansing.

"I don't care anymore about what any of you want!" I ripped his grip on my face, my voice a ragged scream. "This doesn't matter anymore!"

With that, I spun on my heel and fled, leaving him and the shattered remnants of our engagement party behind. Tears streamed down my face, a mixture of anger, sadness, and a newfound sense of freedom.

Escaping the suffocating confines of the argument felt like breaking free from a Dementor's grip. My phone buzzed incessantly, a frantic symphony of missed calls from Charles and my furious father. Ignoring them, I switched it off, the silence a balm to my raw nerves.

There was only one person I craved, the one face that flickered behind my tear-filled vision – Mattheo. He'd been a constant presence in my mind, a forbidden flame that refused to be extinguished.

With newfound resolve, I hailed a carriage, the rocking motion mirroring the turmoil within me. He might not want to see me, might not even care. But right now, there was nowhere else I'd rather be. Nobody else who understood the storm raging inside me the way he did.

Love. It was a terrifying, exhilarating word, a truth I could no longer deny. I loved him. We'd never spoken the words, not truly, but in stolen glances and secret smiles, a connection had bloomed, defying all societal expectations.

The ride seemed to stretch on forever, each passing minute mirroring the frantic beat of my heart. Finally, the carriage drew to a stop before the imposing gates of Mattheo's mansion. As I stepped out, a heavy rain began to fall, mirroring the tempest within.

The grand entrance, familiar yet intimidating, recognized me with a soft hum. It creaked open without a touch, a silent welcome that sent a tremor through me. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I approached the heavy oak door that separated me from him.

"Mattheo," I whispered, my voice barely above a choked sob. "It's Y/N. Please, I… I need you."

Silence. The only sound was the insistent drumming of the rain and the frantic pounding of my heart against my ribs. Doubt gnawed at me. Maybe he wasn't there. Maybe he didn't want to see me.

Tears welled up again, blurring my vision. Just as I turned to leave, defeated, the door creaked open. Light spilled out, illuminating Mattheo's tall figure framed against the warm glow.

Relief washed over me, so intense it took my breath away. His face was etched with surprise.

But before I could decipher it, his surprise melted into a mask of cool indifference. My tears, held at bay for a moment, finally spilled over, cascading down my cheeks in a torrent.

Ignoring the shocked silence, I threw myself into his arms, clinging to him as if he were a lifeline in a storm-tossed sea.He reacted instantly, his strong arms enveloping me, lifting me off the ground with surprising ease. His warmth seeped through my cloak, a familiar comfort amidst the chaos.

Buried in the crook of his neck, I poured out the events of the evening, the anger, the hurt, the suffocating realization of Charles' lies. He held me silently, his touch a silent reassurance. I clung to him, feeling a sense of safety I hadn't experienced in a very long time.

Finally, the sobs subsided, leaving behind a raw vulnerability. I pulled back slightly, wiping a tear from my cheek.

The room spun as he set me down on the plush couch, a soft cushion beneath my tear-streaked face. His strong arms cradled my shoulders, steadying me. Then, cupping my chin, he tilted my head up with a gentle yet firm touch.

"Y/N," he said, his voice a low rumble laced with concern. "What happened? Did someone hurt you?"

His worry, raw and unconcealed, was another dam breaking within me. Shaken sobs wracked my body again, each one a release of the pent-up emotions.

"I…" I choked out, voice thick with emotion. "I just… needed you."

He didn't pry, just nodded understandingly, a silent promise of safety washing over me. "Let's get you out of these wet clothes first, love," he murmured, his touch surprisingly gentle.

He helped me remove my soaked dress, the cold fabric clinging like a memory I desperately wanted to shed. A blush crept up my neck as he handed me one of his oversized shir. I slipped it on, the familiar scent of him – a mix of expensive cologne and something uniquely Mattheo – wrapping around me like a comforting embrace.

Settling back onto the couch, he cupped my face again, his thumbs brushing away stray tears and a lock of hair that clung to my damp cheek. "Now, tell me everything," he said, his voice low and steady.

Taking a shuddering breath, I spoke. Words tumbled out, a torrent of pent-up emotions finally finding release. I told him everything – Charles' lies, the crushing disappointment, the suffocating loneliness of a horrible engagement.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, clutching his hand like a lifeline. "I was so afraid. I thought feelings, love, they would make me weak. So I thought Charles, with his perfect reputation and his predictable life, was the safest option. I didn't want to end up like my parents, constantly fighting, their love a battlefield. But this... this is worse. An empty shell of a life. And the hardest part…" My voice hitched, threatening to break again. "I lost you in the way. And I missed you, Mattheo. I missed you almost all the time."

"You will never lose me," he said.

Surprise flickered across my face. Never lose you?

"I never wanted you to leave," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. "That night of the engagement, I… I wanted to run back to you. Run back home."

The tension in the room crackled as I stood, my body fueled by a newfound courage. My gaze swept across the opulent room, searching for escape, for a way to bridge the chasm that had grown between us.

Then, I met his eyes. A storm of emotions brewed within him – surprise, vulnerability, a flicker of something that made my heart skip a beat.

"I love you, Mattheo," I blurted out, the words tumbling forth with the weight of a thousand unspoken confessions.

He held my gaze for a long, agonizing moment, then looked away, a muscle clenching in his jaw. He turned towards the window, the rain now a gentle patter against the glass.

"You're not going to say something?" The silence stretched, threatening to suffocate me.

He finally turned back to me, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Well, I've spent my entire life only loving one thing, Y/N. Only one thing. And it was you. So yeah, I don't know what to say now."

My mouth opened, ready to respond, a million questions swirling in my head. Images of a younger us flooded back – a scraped knee, whispered secrets, and a childish declaration that love was a fool's game.

"No, no," I stammered. "I remember when we were kids, and I said I didn't believe in love, and you said you didn't too. You said—"

He cut me off, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, I lied."

My heart skipped a beat. "You lied?"

He walked towards me, his smile turning tender. "You were terrified of the idea, and I may not have believed in love then, but I believed in loving you, Y/N. So I would have done or said anything you wanted me to."

Shame clawed at me. How could I have been so blind, so wrapped up in my fear that I missed the love that had been right in front of me all along?

"I'm so sorry, Mattheo," I choked out. "I'm so sorry. I don't deserve your—"

He cut me off, pulling me into a tight embrace. "Stop being so harsh on yourself, love," he murmured, his hand stroking my hair gently. "Look at me."

I lifted my head, meeting his gaze. His eyes, usually filled with a mischievous glint, now held a tenderness that made my breath catch.

"You rest now," he said, his voice a soothing balm. "And if you're still in your word tomorrow…" He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.

"I love you, Mattheo," I repeated, my voice firm and unwavering. "And tomorrow, and the day after, and every day after that."

He smiled, a genuine, heart-melting smile that sent a warmth radiating through me. "Okay then," he said, his voice husky. "If you're still sure tomorrow, I'll be here. I'll always be here for you."

He leaned down and kissed my forehead, the soft touch sending shivers down my spine. As I burrowed into his oversized shirt, a new sense of comfort and belonging washed over me.

Holding the pillow to my chest, the scent of his cologne lingering on it, I drifted off to sleep. Two things were crystal clear in my mind. One, I loved Mattheo with a fierceness I never knew existed. And two, never again would I let fear or societal expectations dictate my heart. He was mine, and I was his. And nothing would ever tear us apart again.

The morning light streamed through the window, painting the room in a soft golden glow. Sunlight and the lingering scent of Mattheo's cologne pulled me from sleep. The events of yesterday flooded back – the storm of emotions, the confessions. Was it real? Had I imagined it all in the heat of the moment?

Uncertainty gnawed at me. Should I stay curled up in this bed, a safe haven from whatever awaited me downstairs? But the thought of not seeing Mattheo, was unbearable.

Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself, 'It's Mattheo. My Mattheo.' The fear ebbed slightly, replaced by a nervous flutter in my stomach. Ten minutes later, after a pep talk in the mirror and a failed attempt at straightening my sleep-tousled hair, I crept downstairs.

The kitchen was bathed in the warm glow of the morning sun. And there he was, leaning against the counter, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. Relief washed over me, as welcome as the familiar aroma of roasted beans.

His eyes lit up as he saw me. "There you are," he said, a smile playing on his lips. He crossed the room in two strides, handing me a steaming mug.

My heart did a little skip. It was my favorite blend, a subtle smoky aroma that always reminded me of cozy mornings at home. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. "Thank you," I murmured, accepting the mug. "That's perfect."

"I'm so sorry for showing up like that yesterday," I stammered, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I thought… well, I thought you'd be mad. That you wouldn't want to see me."

He chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Mad that you came to me? Y/N, I'd be mad if you didn't. I'm glad you're here."

The weight of anxiety that had been building in my chest began to loosen. But with the tension gone, my nerves started playing up. In a desperate attempt to fill the silence, I launched into a monologue about the weather, the latest Quidditch news (which I barely followed) and the peculiar new flavor of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans I'd tried the day before.

I could feel his eyes twinkling with amusement, but he didn't interrupt my rambling. Instead, he leaned against the counter, a smile playing on his lips. Finally, he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice sending shivers down my spine.

"Yes?" I squeaked, my eyes locked on his.

"Calm down, love," he murmured, his thumb brushing my cheek. "You're safe here. And you don't have to talk if you don't want to." He paused, his gaze holding mine. "Just stay. Just be with me."

My fingers traced the familiar lines of his face – the strong jawline, the slight furrow between his brows that always appeared when he was thinking, the little scar above his left eyebrow from that time we tried to ride a rogue Hippogriff in third year. I missed it all – the details, the imperfections, everything about him.

As I looked up to meet his eyes, a wave of emotion washed over me. It was a cocktail of relief, happiness, and a lingering nervousness that fluttered in my stomach. This was the same feeling I used to get whenever he was near, but this time, it wasn't laced with fear. It was pure, unadulterated excitement.

"Every time you look at me like that," he murmured, his voice husky, "I lose control."

My heart skipped a beat. "And is that a bad thing?" I leaned in closer, the space between us shrinking with each passing second.

He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. Our lips were a breath apart, the tension crackling in the air. Then, he closed the distance.

The kiss was electric, sending shivers down my spine. It was filled with a raw emotion that neither of us had dared to express before. But just as quickly as it began, he pulled away.

"We can't," he said, his voice strained. "You're still confused with what happened, and I can't take advantage of that."

A pang of disappointment shot through me. But then, a cold realization dawned on me. He thought my confession, my affection, was a way of coping, a distraction from the fallout of yesterday.

"Mattheo," I said, cupping his face in my hands, forcing him to meet my gaze. "You would be crazy if you thought I didn't mean what I said. I'm in my right mind. I meant every word. I love you. I have for a long time, even when I told myself I didn't."

And then, without further preamble, he closed the gap. His lips were on mine again, this time with a fierce intensity that left me breathless.

He picked me up, setting me on the kitchen table. The cool wood beneath me was a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body. He trailed kisses down my neck, making me shiver with pleasure.

“Your skin is so soft against mine. I could spend eternity just touching you."

I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. "Don't stop," I moaned, as he nibbled on my earlobe.

He chuckled, the sound sending vibrations through my body. "I have no intention of stopping," he said, his voice full of promise.

He continued his descent, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire on my skin. He reached the waistband of my pants, teasing me by hooking his fingers under the fabric but not pulling it down.

I squirmed under him, desperate for more. "Please," I begged, my voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up at me, his eyes full of desire. "Please what?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Please touch me," I said, my voice filled with need.

He didn't need any more encouragement. He pulled my pants down, exposing me to him. He leaned in, his breath hot against my skin. He kissed my inner thigh, teasing me even more.

I moaned, my hips bucking towards him. "Please, Mattheo," I said, my voice filled with desperation.

He finally gave in, his tongue darting out to taste me. I cried out, my fingers digging into the table. He licked and sucked, driving me wild with pleasure.

I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge. I wrapped my legs around his head, pulling him closer. "Don't stop," I begged, my voice barely above a whisper.

He picked up the pace, his tongue working its magic. I could feel myself tightening, my orgasm building inside me.

And then I was there, my body shaking with pleasure. I cried out, my fingers gripping the table even tighter.

He didn't stop, his tongue continuing to lap at me. I moaned, my hips still bucking towards him.

Finally, he pulled away, looking up at me with a satisfied smirk."You taste like heaven. I could spend hours between your legs." he said, his voice full of affection.

I smiled down at him, my heart filled with love. As I pulled him up for a kiss.He lifted me off the table, carrying me to the couch. laid me down, his body covering mine.

I could feel his hardness pressing against me, and I wrapped my legs around him. "I want to feel you inside me today and everyday I want all of you," I whispered, my voice filled with need.

He kissed me, his lips hot and demanding. He reached down, positioning himself at my entrance.

He looked at me, his eyes full of love and desire. "Do you want me to show you how much I've been thinking about you?" he said, his voice full of conviction and i nodded.

And then he thrust into me, filling me completely. I cried out, my fingers digging into his back."You're so big." I say and he shuts my cries with a kiss.

He started moving, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. I met him thrust for thrust, our bodies moving in perfect harmony.

“want to hear you say my name over and over. Let me know who's making you feel this good." He reached down, his fingers finding my clit. He rubbed in circles, sending waves of pleasure through my body.

"I want to mark you as mine, leaving my scent and my love all over you." He whispered in my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. He placed soft kisses on my neck, nibbling gently on the sensitive skin there.

"The way you look at me when I'm inside you drives me wild, love." He murmured, I could feel myself getting even wetter at his words if that was even possible.

His phone rang, interrupting the moment. He looked at the ID and smiled. "Turn around for me, my love." He said, his voice low and commanding. I did as he asked, turning around so he could take me from behind.

He put the phone on speaker and pulled my hair to the side, exposing my neck. He sucked and bit gently on the skin there, marking me as his. I moaned at the sensation, my body trembling with pleasure.

"She's with you right?" The sound from the phone was Charles, my ex-fiancé. I moaned at the thought of his call while we’re doing this, and Mattheo put his hand over my mouth to muffle the sound.

"Yes, she's very much with me, Charles." Mattheo said, his voice confident and sure. He thrust hard into me, making me scream into his hand.

"I don't want any rivalry, just stay away from my fiancé." Charles said, his voice filled with anger. The moment the word fiancé got out of his mouth, Mattheo thrust into me again, harder this time.

"I want that rivalry, it's fine with me. And she's your ex-fiancé, I can see no ring in her finger anymore."

"What was that? Was that Y/N? Can I talk to her?" Charles said.

"No, you can't. Not now, not ever “Mattheo said, He turned me around so I was looking at him. He pulled his hands away from my mouth and leaned down to kiss me.

"If I saw you near her, if I saw you in the same place as her, even by accident, if I saw you breathing the same air as her, you're a dead man, little Charles." Mattheo said, his lips touching mine. And then he ending the call.

He kept thrusting into me until I knew I was close. "I'm so close, Mattheo." I said, my voice breathless.

"You're such a good girl, taking me so well. Cum for me, baby." He said. I did, my body trembling with pleasure. He thrust into me a few more times, then cum. He pulled away, his cum on my stomach.

"One day, I'm gonna cum inside you." He said, his voice low and commanding. The thought turned me on so much, my face was red by now.

"Oh, you like that? Like the thought of me putting a baby inside you?"I nodded, unable to speak. He pulled me so I was on top of him, hugging me so tight.

He played with my hair as we lay there, our bodies still trembling with pleasure. "I love everything you say, I want everything if it will be with you." I said, my voice filled with emotion.

Now that I knew better, forever was no longer a scary word, but a beautiful vow. I would never lose him again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

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icarus-star · 3 months

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ARTIEEEE hiii i know this trope is sooo overdone but can i req mike rlly obsessed w like corrupting his inexperienced s/o, gender neutral reader pls!!

angelfuck. | mike ♥︎

a/n: i don't CARE if this trope is overplayed it's sooo. ×_× i luvvv it. but it's not really my strong suit writing-wise.

he always saw you as innocent and pure, he loved you for it. to him, you were the sweetest thing ever, and he wanted to ruin that.

there you sat, watching a movie with mike on his couch. you leaned against mike, his arm hooked around you waist as your eye's were paying close attention to the movie in front of you. all was going well until a detailed sex scene came on.

mike glanced at you, turning off the television with the remote. "i think it's time to go to bed," he says, looking at the clock on the wall. it was about 10:00pm.

"huh? why? it's not even late. :<" you pouted, looking at mike. he looked back at you, a little smile forming on his face. he thought you were the cutest thing ever, he wanted to tarnish your way of thinking.

mike sighed, patting your head. "how about we just get ready for bed, okay?" he bargained, rubbing your hip that his hand rested on. you nodded, agreeing with mike to get ready for bed.

♥︎

you sat on the bed, feeling fresh from brushing your teeth and changing into clean pajamas. mike walked into the room, hair still wet from taking a shower. he had no shirt on, just his grey sweatpants.

"mike, hii." you greet, even though you saw him right before he went in the shower. he sat by you on the bed. "so, that movie we were watching, why'd you turn it off?" you began to question, having wanted to finish the movie earlier.

"because you didn't need to see that." "i know what sex is, dummy."

that's how you ended up with his dick buried inside of you, his hand's on each side of your waist and him gently hushing your little whines. "never f--felt this before, hnng.." you whimpered out, the new sensation of him stuffed inside of your hole, it hurt.

"oh? i thought you knew what sex is." he teased, kissing your cheek. yeah, you had a basic understanding of sex. but you had never actually done anything before, you had rarely ever even touched yourself, you barely knew how.

he pulled out for a moment, pushing your legs up for your knees to nearly touch your shoulders. he got back on top with your legs over his own shoulders, pushing his cock back in. it felt so much deeper than before.

he moved down to kiss your mouth, his teeth biting down on your bottom lip. you squeaked having not expected that. "so cute," he chuckled, slowly starting to move in and out of you.

it was a sensation you had never felf before, you could barely comprehend anything or speak. you were already moaning by the time that he was whispering dirty nothings into your ear. "feel good, baby? wan'you to feel so fuckin' good." he grunted. you could barely understand, he was fucking you to hard.

he brought his hand down to rub your sex, causing you to whimper out louder. "s'too muuch. how's- hnggg, i didn,~ mphh!!" you babbled, now gripping onto anything you could. it was too much. you felt something else that you had never quite felt before. as if something were tightening inside of you, making the in between of your thighs to get even hotter.

"f--fuck!! wha's that? feel'so..~!" you stammered. mike grinned.

"mhm, finish. finish all over my dick, baby." he mumbled to you. you came, hard. it was all so much. :( but mike was proud, kissing your cheek as he slowed his thrusting. "good, maybe i can teach you how to give a blowjob next time."

#this was so rushed #i ❤ rory culkin #rory culkin #rory culkin x reader #rory culkin smut #5lbs of pressure #5 lbs of pressure

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minkkumaz · 9 months

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MY STUDY BUDDY

saying you were overwhelmed was a complete understatement, feeling as if the world around you was shutting. but he was always there, even if that meant cramming information into his head that he didn't even need.

PAIRING kim woonhak x fem!reader WC 1.0k TAGS best friends to lovers trope. tooth rotting fluff. stressed reader. OMI NOTE omg this is an idea my melon anon had, and honestly, we both needed some woonhak comfort and i know he'd just be the sweetest boy ever in this situation!

there were many ways woonhak tried to impress your heart. he’d devote so much time to little ol’ you, that his cheekbones would become numb from smiling, and his lungs worn out from laughing like an overplayed vinyl. the wrapper around his heart was bursting from the seams as it pulsated one - million times quicker when you were around him.

as bright as a sunny summer morning is what he’d say to describe you, even when all the clouds crowded your vision. that small piece of light always peaked through.

though, it became a mystery whether you knew his love or not. it gave him all the more reason to push himself past barriers he normally wouldn’t to show up for you. and if his devotion to you was brushed off with the idea that best friends always had each others backs, so be it.

but for you, days were strung out into long melodies; however you thought it sounded more like pots and pans clashing together, with the effect of nails on a chalkboard as the backup vocals. all you could eat, sleep, and breath was studying for your tests despite it being the beginning of the school year.

woonhak didn’t have enough fingers to count how many times he has caught you snoozing at your desk over a pile of papers, dark circles forming underneath your eyes. seeing you like this was beginning to physically pain him, and he felt like he needed to do something about it.

“don’t come in! i look gross after studying all day.” you whine from behind the door, pushing the entirety of your body weight against it.

“you– you always look pretty! just let me in, stupid!” woonhak is on the other side, trying to shove his way through.

when the heaviness became a little too much to bare, you finally let go, sending the poor boy stumbling into your room. woonhak’s holding a couple textbooks underneath one arm and a plastic convenience store bag in the other, wearing nothing but some comfy pajamas and a smile plastered on his face.

it doesn’t falter when he looks back to your pouty expression, but getting bigger. you were right in the sense that you looked like you were studying all day, yet far from disgusting in his eyes. your face was slightly puffy from being trapped in the confines of your room all day, and a loose tee - shirt clung to your skin. everything about you was cute.

“y/n, you don’t even look that bad. but you do look like you need a snack or some water.” he places down the books on your desk before rummaging into his bag, throwing a couple of your favorites on the desktop, “there. eat something, please?”

“ah– woonhak you didn’t have to get me all of this, there’s no special occasion.” you feel your face burning up, all of your emotions enhanced due to stress.

“the special occasion is making sure you aren’t going to explode from this dumb class. i’m here to help you!” he points at one of the things he brought, which you learned to be a psychology textbook upon closer inspection.

“woon, you don’t know a lick of psychology; but i do appreciate you coming to keep you company.” you give him a soft grin, sitting yourself down lazily on your desk chair.

“why would you insult my expertise like that?” he teases, “i atleast know that psychology is the scientific study of the human mind and behavior.”

“your google definition is very cute, but i’m taking an ap class, it’s a little harder. and on top of that, i haven’t been doing well anyways.” you look down at your lap, fiddling with your thumbs.

“hey, look at me.” he brings his hand up to your cheek, directing your head to face him, “you are like– really smart. the smartest person i know. the only stupid thing you’ve done is talk down to yourself as if you couldn’t do this. because i know you can.”

“thank you..” you mumble, “i just want to know that i’m doing a good job, and all this stupid work isn’t for nothing. i feel so burnt out.”

“you just need something to distract yourself! whenever my homework gets hard, i go play basketball. is there anything that helps you get your mind off of things?” he leans his face closer to yours, looking at you eye to eye.

“ahm– i guess being around my friends works? having somebody to talk to..”

“perfect, then i’m right here.” he pulls you into a hug, feeling as you melt into his arms.

“i have no idea where i’d be without you.” you sniffle, tears beginning to burn your eyes. woonhak pulls away from you to cup your face with his other free hand.

“maybe one assignment behind, because i’ve been doing my studying!” he removes his touch from you to open one of the textbooks, flipping through it so you could see.

there were numerous pages highlighted in pretty colors, assisted by somewhat messy handwriting in the margins where you assumed he wrote down notes. you were slightly taken aback, taking it upon yourself to look through all of the pages.

“woonhak, you did all of this– for me? oh my gosh how the hell did you go through the entire textbook?”

“i– i just wanted to make exams easier for you! so i studied a little bit, so that you could have another person to explain things to you that isn’t your stupid teacher!” he scratched the back of his neck nervously, “and maybe i like you just a little bit.”

“what?”

“oh my god that was so stupid– y/n i’m sorry, i didn’t want to ruin our friendship or anything i just felt like–”

“i like you too, woonhak. a lot.” you interrupted him, reaching over to one of his hands so he knew you were being genuine, “it would be a little creepy if anyone else did all of this for me, but it’s not anyone else. it’s you.”

“you don’t even understand how glad i am, holy fuck.” he laughed like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulder, squeezing your hand.

“i’m even more glad that now i have you here to write all my notes for me.” you cooed, leaning in to plant a delicate kiss on his blushed cheeks.

“hey, you can’t use me for notes!”

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#⋆｡˚ my works #woonhak x reader #kim woonhak x reader #woonhak fluff #kim woonhak fluff #woonhak boynextdoor #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor woonhak #boynextdoor fluff #boynextdoor fanfic #boynextdoor drabbles #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor #kim woonhak #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff

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juneknight · 1 month

Note

In the spirit of missing dorm room Marc: maybe something fun like them going to a costume party, maybe matching, maybe in a couples costume, with colossal tension because of the implications of going matching? Anything that’s fun for you and is written by you is fun to read tbh

The exact moment you realize you’ve fucked up is this one: the bathroom door opens (a rush of steam and humidity flooding out, scented softly of Marc’s shower gel the one you use every now and then just to have his scent on you) and Marc comes out dressed nearly in the full costume that you had thrust into his arms a half-hour ago. The look in his eyes lets you know right away; you’ve overplayed your hand.

Now he knows that you’re in love with him.

“We don’t have to do this,” you backpedal. “Actually, this was a bad idea—”

You bite off your own words, aware of how offensive they might seem, but Marc doesn’t look offended. He has paused to lean against the bathroom doorway—god he looks good, the holster sitting so low on his cocked hips, it’s enough to make you drool—and watch your frantic pacing, the white robe you’ve donned swishing around your ankles. You immediately sense that he’s doing That Thing, the one where he doesn’t speak and lets you dig yourself into a deeper hole.

Well two can play at that game. You flop down on your bed and bury your face in your hands. How’s that for silence. You can barely hear his slow, careful footsteps over the ruckus in your brain, all your internal voice telling you that you had dug your own grave, you had fucking coordinated these costumes and now your feelings for him—for your best, closest friend—were plainer than day.

The bed depresses as he sits down next to you.

“You okay?”

You shake your head.

“You ever coming out of there?”

You press your hands against your face tighter.

His breath brushes your fingertips, his forehead resting against your temple as he whispers: “Is there room for me in there too?”

“I didn’t even think when I bought the costumes, Marc, I swear.”

“You didn’t?”

“No!”

He hums.

“The couple’s costumes were buy-one-get-one-half-off, and so I spent most of time in that part of the shop anyway.” He hums again. “I saw mine first and I thought—wow, I’d look really good in that! Not that you don’t look really good in yours too—” He hums. Goddamnit, he’s doing The Thing again! “Marc, say something, you know I’m prone to nervous rambling, this isn’t fair—”

“I think…we’re going to be late for the party if we sit around much longer.”

You peek from your hands. “You still want to go? With me dressed like this? And you dressed like that? But people will think things. Most people who show up together and are dressed in couple’s costumes are…together.”

“We should get together soon, then,” he says mildly. “Like now. Or on the walk to the party. We could get together outside Harrow’s apartment while we wait for him to open the door, but that’d really be pushing it. I’m more of a safe-than-sorry kind of guy.”

You blink. “You. Say that again.”

“You say it, actually. I want to hear you say it.”

Your hands fall to your lap, tugging at the ends of your sleeves. You’ve always heard that the eyes are the windows to the soul, but you hadn’t really believed that until you met Marc. Sure his eyebrows are expressive, and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes let you know that he is happy, but there’s something about his eyes themselves—warm and dark and so fucking safe—that can look at you and see inside you and somehow love what they see.

“Marc, I really like you,” you murmur hesitantly.

He has the perfect opportunity to say it, to say the most notable Han Solo line in all of cinema. I know.

“I really like you too,” he says softly. “Let me get the vest on. Gotta complete the look.”

And when he does complete the look, it is a sinful one. Yes as a little girl you had had a huge crush on Han Solo (and Luke, Leia’s plight truly resonated with you). Seeing his image come to life over the blueprint of the man you are (swiftly) falling in love with is a recipe for a cocktail of feelings in your belly. Arousal. Fondness. Adoration. Desire.

“Ready, Leia?” he asks, holding out a hand to you.

You let out a breath you’d been holding since he opened the bathroom door. You take his hand. “Ready.”

#marc spector x reader #drm

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britany1997 · 1 year

Note

David, he gets jealous about a long time friend and ends marking you (hickies, bites, etc) before you go see the friend? GN reader please

Love Marks

(Ok just kidding guys I finished it tonight🤪)

Jealous David you say? Jealous TOXIC David? 😈 that’s right besties, he’s back

Jealous David x GN Reader

(Can be read on its own, but could also be read as a follow up to Male Manipulator.)

Warnings: SMUTish minors DNI, Manipulation, sort of dubcon, toxic David, blood, blood drinking, emotionally abusive behavior, unhealthy possessiveness, tiny bit of mind control, biting, handcuffs, I think that’s it.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

You stared at your reflection in the mirror as you combed through your mass of hair. David sat on your bed, teeth gritted as he watched you get ready to go out with your childhood friend.

“Sure you don’t wanna just stay in,” he asked coming up behind you. You felt his arms around your waist, but were only greeted with your own image as you faced the mirror.

You leaned into his touch and tilted your head up to look into his eyes. “I’ve cancelled on Kyle like five times in the last month,” you reminded him, “do you really want a partner who’s an awful friend?” You teased him, booping his nose.

He crinkled his nose, unamused.

“I don’t like him,” he informed you, “he just wants to get in your pants.”

You scoffed, a little offended, “you say that about everyone.” you told him, “everyone in the world isn’t lining up to try to screw me, you’re being paranoid!” You said exasperated, waving your comb at him.

David smirked, “but babyyy,” he spoke, pouting, “you’re just so perfect,” he stroked your cheek, “who wouldn’t want to be with you? If I were Kyle I’d wanna be in my position too.” You blushed at his words and nuzzled your cheek into his hand.

“Stoppp you’re too sweet,” you said.

He smiled. He had you. “So you can see where I’m coming from right babe? I can’t let you go.”

Your smile fell from your face immediately as you dropped his hand, “can’t let me?” You asked him, your tone full of malice.

Fuck. He’d overplayed his hand.

“Just kidding babe,” he purred, pulling the strings in your mind to prompt you to believe him, “you know I’d never keep you from doing anything. You’re your own person, that’s one of the things I love most about you,” he lied as he watched your face morph into a smile once more.

He returned your smile, his holding a sinister twinge, “but the vampire inside me,” he started cautiously, “it’s possessive of its mate,” he pouted, “I try to suppress it, but it comes with the teeth babe. I can’t turn it off, I wish I could.” He told you solemnly.

Your eyebrows furrowed together as you looked up into his eyes. You cupped his face in your hands, “I’m sorry baby,” you said, “I didn’t realize it was an instinct thing.”

“It’s uncontrollable,” he assured you quickly, taking your hands from his face and holding them in his, “the vampire inside me gets so restless whenever you’re out with someone else.” He pouted.

“Oh baby,” you said sympathetically, “what can I do to make it better?” you asked.

He fought to keep the smirk from spreading over his face. He knew he wasn’t convincing you to stay home, not after his little slip from earlier, but maybe there was another way.

“Baby,” he started, “you know how sometimes I like to bite you right here,” he said placing a finger on the pulse point on your neck, “doing that reassures me that you’re mine, that we belong together.” ‘That you belong to me.’ He thought.

“So you want to bite my neck again?” You asked him, “yeah you can do that if it’ll help baby! I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” You told him.

He sighed dramatically, “you know what would really help my vampire instincts?” He asked.

You furrowed your brow, looking at him expectantly.

He smirked, “why don’t you let me show you,” he said as he led you to the bed.

David slipped off his trench coat, jacket, and shirt before sitting down on the bed and pulling you into his lap.

You turned your head to look back into his eyes, “I have to leave in half an hour babe,” you told him.

“Don’t worry about it baby, this shouldn’t take long.” He promised while pulling your shirt over your head.

You settled back into his lap and leaned against his chest. He kissed your cheek softly before moving downward, kissing all over your neck.

He trailed kisses down to the familiar spot where your neck and shoulder met, licking and sucking. His teeth grazed the spot, silently asking permission. You breathed out as your eyes fluttered closed.

“Do whatever you want,” you told him.

He smirked before his fangs lengthened, that was exactly what he’d wanted to hear.

You hissed at the painful sensation of his teeth sinking into you but as the pain turned to pleasure, your hiss morphed into a moan.

He moaned with you as your blood flooded into his mouth. He was careful not to take as much as he usually would, he was far from done.

He withdrew his fangs from the crook of your neck and trailed then down the length of your arm. Leaving purple spots and teeth marks all over you.

Once he made it down to your hand, he turned your face towards his and took your fingers into his mouth, licking the end before sucking on each, one by one, while staring deeply into your eyes.

You stared back at him, mouth slightly agape as he toyed with you like he never had before. Your head felt cloudy, a mix of pleasure and blood loss as you allowed him to have his way with you.

“Be good for me ok?” He condescended.

You gulped and nodded.

He shifted you out of his lap until you were laying back on the bed. You turned to him confused. He smirked at you before rolling onto you and pinning your hands to the bed.

You gasped, filled with shock and excitement as he stared down at you.

He lowered his mouth to you chest, sucking and biting at the skin. Little pearls of blood appeared wherever he bit down into you.

After awhile, David released his grip on you to fish through your drawer.

“What are you doing babe?” You asked him.

“You’ll see baby,” he purred, “just stay real still for me.”

He pulled the handcuffs you thought you’d discarded long ago from your bedside drawer.

Your face flushed bright red immediately as you realized his intentions. “How did you know about those,” you asked mortified.

“Don’t worry about it babe,” he told you, “now you said you were gonna be good for me right?”

Your breath hitched, “yeah,” you said.

“Then hold still,” he whispered in your ear as he fastened your hands into the cuffs around the bed frame.

He placed a kiss on your lips, before sucking your bottom lip into his mouth and biting down. When he pulled back you could feel the blood trailing down your lips and falling onto your chest as he watched you, transfixed.

He moved down to your stomach, leaving small soft kisses and sucking gently, but never breaking the skin.

When he finished he made it down to your legs. Instead of his usually foreplay, he bit directly into your inner thigh prompting you to throw your head back and scream in a mix of agony and ecstasy.

He groaned as he fed from his other favorite spot, your moans and whimpers feeding his ego while your blood fed his appetite.

When he finally pulled away his eyes were yellow and his mouth was bright red. He kissed you once more smearing your own blood onto your lips.

He unlocked your handcuffs and rubbed your wrists gently as you fell back onto the pillows exhausted. Your eyes fluttering closed as you fought a losing battle to stay conscious.

“I’ll tell Kyle you’re not gonna make it,” David said smirking as he grabbed your phone.

You grunted in affirmation as you rolled over and drifted off to sleep, you body’s blood supply too depleted to do much else.

After sending Kyle a text from your phone letting him know you wouldn’t be meeting him for dinner tonight, and there would be no need to reschedule, David crawled into bed behind you and stroked your hair.

You shifted in your sleep exposing the column of your neck, which was covered in bites. You were all his.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

Taglist❤️ (comment to be added):

@ghoulgeousimmaculate @pixielostboy @misslavenderlady @6lostgirl6 @anna1306 @solobagginses @its-freaking-bats

#the lost boys #david lost boys #tlb #tlb 1987 #the lost boys 1987 #jealous David #the lost boys fic #lost boys fic #dark David #toxic David #toxic jealous David

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kaelio · 6 months

Text

DECEPTIVE MOVIE TRAILERS FOR DIFFERENT PARTS OF THE VAMPIRE CHRONICLES IF THEY WERE A CINEMATIC SERIES:

I love imagining misleading movie trailers, it's just a thing I do. If I had infinite money and time and a time machine and the rights to adapt the Anne Rice vampire novels, these are examples of extremely dishonest trailers for those movies I would enjoy:

Devil's Minion: Have it appear to be some kind of psychological thriller, either about a guy who is perceiving his stalker as a literal monster, or a guy who feels some Presence stalking him and envisions it as a mysterious, beautiful young man. He's not really my favorite but we need Christopher Nolan directing, like really hitting that Memento tone. What's real?? What's not real?? Daniel appears to be using drugs and the audience is like ohhh is this about addiction? And then it totally seems like a dark addiction metaphor, like Oscar bait maybe. Even when Daniel gets a handjob it isn't clear because Requiem for a Dream got a lot of awards.

(*Don't try to smoosh in with Queen of the Damned, you have enough going on here.)

Tale of The Body Thief: A romantic drama that doesn't seem to realize its intensely worrisome undercurrents (a la "Passengers"). We see a woman of the cloth ministering to a homeless man who, following a severe medical crisis that lands him in her care, seems to be having spiritual delusions. She connects with him over their shared faith... and their desire for meaningful intimacy. We get a swell of orchestral music... some sort of scene of them kissing in the rain... another scene from which we can infer they're in bed together, but the camera is centered on a crucifix on her wall. "I will find the power to come back to you..." he says.

Tale of The Body Thief (Part 2): Wham! Actually a lot of the audience doesn't realize that last trailer never gave you a title! Maybe they think it's a gimmick! It takes them a moment to realize this old man (Indiana Jones??) racing around the cruise ship is accompanied by the same actor as the homeless man described above. "GET THAT MAN!" David shouts as Raglan does some sort of parkour that isn't quite extreme enough to cue in the audience that he's supposed to be inhuman. We see Lestat-in-body pushing through people in a rave taking place on the cruise ship dance floor. It seems like a cynical tie-in because everyone is young and hot there (not really the primary demographic for cruises). Camera pans over some sort of jacuzzi tub with a bunch of women in bikinis in it. "Excuse me, ladies!" someone says as they jump over the tub and since he has a ripped shirt and he's hot the girls in the tub go "ooooooh!" And maybe they have cocktails so it's supposed to be funny. But really sell it as an action-comedy and then WHANG! "Tale of the Body Thief" appears in huge text onscreen like "COMING THIS SPRING" and Mojo's little head pops up from the bottom of the screen and barks.

The Vampire Lestat: Oh you just shoot it like The Favorite, like the exact same cinematography, or maybe Chevalier, but it's about a sensitive stage actor in pre-Revolutionary France, trying to focus on his art as the world becomes more fraught around him. It invites you into his sensitive artistic soul.... Is there time for gentleness, for optimism, for art, in an era of nascent conflict? What will social forces have in store for him, or for his troubled companion? And then maybe you do give away the game where at the last second you see the window explode and the big evil Nosferatu-Magnus bursts through the door with his big gummy mouth with the two fangs like "Rrrrraarrhg!!"

Memnoch the Devil: Starts with some overplayed song for 45-50 year old men in the background of a scene of Lestat and David stealing the artifacts from the dead Roger. Inter-cut with bits of Lestat dismembering Roger's body. They get into a car (no rooftops, Anne, it would look silly on screen! We can't!) and smirk at each other—apparent heist film. Lestat turns the knob for the radio and then another song for loser guys starts to play. "Dora's gonna get mad," David says, as if we're taking precious seconds of this trailer to no-homo the whole thing and establish regressive attitudes about women all at once. Lestat probably says something like "Chicks, man." The movie promises no actual content or any reason to be interested in it, as with most heist movies.

Memnoch the Devil: Hey? Is that the same guy? They're using the same guy for... what is this, a remake of It's A Wonderful Life? God this is worse than when Chris Pratt started voicing both Mario and Garfield. Find another actor!

Blood & Gold: We see a clawed hand sticking out of a glacier and suddenly... it moves!! Ice cracks around the hand! A huge, mysterious, looming figure bursts out of the ice, covered in rags and holding a giant battle axe!! Thunder and lightening appear in the background suddenly for no reason, and a song from Iron Maiden kicks in. Implies heavily that it's some sort of dark action film that may or may not be trying to lean on the popularity of Marvel's "Thor" movies. Like that Winnie the Pooh movie where he kills people. "THE OLDEST STORY..." the trailer narrator guy says, "... IS REVENGE"

The Vampire Armand: You start off with all of the boys sitting around, having a good time, talking about their futures, all the places they're planning to go, the things they want—like, highschool yearbook signing energy. And then there's this one kid who seems kind of smug and suddenly he's like, "pft, you guys, you think so small. You're focused about what the master can get you with his power... but I want the power 😏". And then you'd cut to him on his way up a big fancy marble staircase and you'd see him puffing himself up, excited, maybe even telling the narrator about the amazing situation he's in, but how since he's totally the favorite he's going to do what his peers are either too humble or doltish to consider: ask to learn the magic itself. And it's building tension and he's just-just-just about to ask and then you hear "No." Or "You're not ready. The magic isn't for you." Gives you this great set-up, like a Sorcerer's Apprentice thing. You're already in this kid's corner. How come he doesn't get the magic? Why would anyone try to keep someone from self-actualizing?? Not very cool. Anyway this would be almost exactly the same energy as the trailer for that new Disney movie Wish.

#the vampire chronicles #tvc #I can't explain why I love to do this but I do #plays on the back of my eyelids when I drive. cars in front of me as well.

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romanoffsbish · 2 years

Text

Ready to Run

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Carol Danvers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Breakups, Brief Heartbreak, Blasphemy 💋

It was a beautiful Summer's day, the kind that comes as the season begins its slow blend into Fall. Birds were singing songs of cheer, while children's laughter blended in to fill the streets of Manhattan, but Natasha was none the wiser. No—the redhead was currently lying face down on her couch with her face smushed against the cushions of the faux leather muffling her voice as she spoke to the black cat who was purring beneath her lazy hand., "Can you believe it Liho? She's actually doing it."

Liho tenses as her tone wasn't the usual soft one she took up with him., "I mean, what was so wrong with how we had things?," she scoffs., "Privacy is crucial.," she goes on halfheartedly as she tried to convince herself that your time together was fair as she only loved you behind closed doors., "She doesn't even love her...," her lip began to tremble, and the cat knew it was time to bolt before he became a tissue.

"Great, even you don't want me anymore...," she cries out pitifully., "You always liked her more, my rescue cat, but you love Y/N more..."

————————————

"We all do.," Yelena says as an announcement of her arrival, not that Natasha didn't already know she was here, she just didn't care at all., "Go away Yelena, you don't want to be late for the wedding of the season..."

Yelena rolled her eyes at her sisters pointless pity party, she's caused all of her own turmoil here, and as much as she wanted to relentlessly taunt her for that and the disarray of her apartment she knew she was on borrowed time here., "Yeah, the one you could've prevented.," Natasha looked backwards to glare up at her sister, but she was quickly squealing and looking instead at the ceiling of her apartment.

"Yelena! в чем, черт возьми, твоя проблема?" The blonde assassin laughed humorlessly, "прямо сейчас? Это был бы ты идиот!"

(What the fuck is your problem? / Right now? That would be you idiot)

Natasha was furious, partly because her sister just rolled her off of her own couch, but more so that she was right, and she always hated whenever that happened., "Fix this Natalia."

Natasha sighed, rubbing at her temples., "There's nothing to fix Lena, she's moved on, and you know, maybe she's better off for it.," Tears began to well up in the redheads eyes as she tried to come to terms with never having you again but she failed miserably. This last year and a half without you has been torture, but today marks a permanence that even she can't dismiss away, you were about to be irrevocably Carol's and it made her fucking sick to have inadvertently caused this.

You'd given her four of your best years to make her mind up, then another year before you even got with Carol for her to atone for her previous shortcomings. She'd always been too stubborn though, and you were simply tired of being her hideaway so you went on the date. Then the date turned plural, and before she knew it you were planning the wedding that should've always been hers to plan with you.

Natasha gasped when a harsh slap was delivered to her cheek., "Quit the pitying and do something about it Natalia.," she lifted her head to lock eyes with her sister, a subtle fury there but it was quickly masked by the hurt., "No, I can't... She's happy, and I can't give her what she wants."

Yelena was growing agitated the longer Natasha wasted the time her and Wanda have graciously created for her to fix things. The narrow window was only growing more so, and her stubbornness was becoming overplayed., "Natalia, you could easily give her what she wants, give up the need for control, and let her love you on a fucking beach or at the Denny's.." Yelena's fingers gripped the collar of Natasha's shirt to hold her in place while she scolded her.

The older widow was taken aback by the way her younger sister spoke to her, but she wasn't too shocked, Lena loved you tremendously, and she never shied away from reminding Natasha of the mistake losing you was., "Seriously Natasha, if I can let Kate Bishop take me to the carnival, and make me play those silly games that are rigged for a cheap stuffed animal then so can you with Y/N—the women of your heart deserves better, and quite frankly so do you."

Natasha sobbed as her sister's words echoed in her mind., "I-I'm scared.," Natasha finally quietly admits and the blondes resolve softens as she loosens her grip on her sisters collar and leans her forehead to hers., "Я знаю, ты должен быть, теперь иди, не дай ей уйти."

(I know, you're supposed to be, now go, don't let her get away.)

"It's probably too late, I'll never make it on time.," Natasha humorlessly chuckles while wiping her own tears from her cheeks, and her brows furrow at the sight of her sister's sudden smile., "Never say never.," the grin leaves the redhead unnerved but she wastes no time grabbing her helmet from her sister's hands followed up by her leather jacket and keys.

"Your mommy's such an idiot.," Yelena coos to the cat circling her legs in obvious thanks., "It's okay little one, soon you'll have Y/N back.," Liho purrs rather loudly in response as he burrows into the blondes arms.

Natasha paid no mind to the traffic laws as she made her way to the church—really, who's going to pull over an Avenger in a hurry? Only an idiotic rookie would do such a silly thing...

"License and registration ma'—.," the officer's words died on his tongue when the helmet was taken off to reveal the redhead Avenger with a scowl on her face that dared him to continue., "I-I'm terribly sorry ma'am. You're free to go.," she scoffed but chose to move on, his badge number will just have to come in handy for later she supposes as she races off, her speed now even faster than before as she did her best to beat the metaphorical clock that taunted her.

She skidded to a stop just outside of the church, nearly tripping over her own feet as she rushes up the stairs, yanking her helmet off just as she pushed through the wooden doors., "Stop the wedding! Please, don't do it Y/N.," the pit in her stomach only becomes heavier at the sounds of the unfamiliar gasping., "Mama, it's the Black Widow.," a teen shrieks, and it's then that the trained spy notices the all black attire fitted to the strangers bodies, then the blown up photos of an elderly couple up front.

"Иисус Христос, это не может происходить со мной." She grumbled under her breath before smiling painfully as the child lifted their phone up before her face., "I'm so sorry.," she mutters to the shocked family, running out as fast as she can with the knowledge that this will likely be in the news by tonight, but she can't bother to care as she runs across the street., "Why are there two churches here anyways?!," she grumbles to herself disbelievingly as she's hopefully entering the correct venue.

(Jesus Christ, this can not be happening to me.)

With a heavy heart you slid the ring onto the blonde's finger, sending a sad smile over to your best friend in thanks for at least trying. You'd really been holding out hope that the actual love of your life would take the bait, even Carol knew you were settling for her, and it would be a lie to say she wasn't doing the same.

You zoned out as the Priest read out the sermon., "Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.," and just as she went to make her final announcements a loud thudding was heard causing you to turn to face the doors., "Stop the wedding! Please, I fucking object.," you bit back a triumphant smile as her words ring within your mind like a forbidden prayer.

Natasha stumbled over her feet once more as she approached the altar, never in her life had she been more nervous for what's to come., "You know it wouldn't be right if you did!," you and Carol shared a knowing look—this was it., "I love you Y/N, and I know how late I am with my public proclamation but please don't get married to Carol to spite me.," she didn't even flinch when you glared at her in true offense., "I'm just being honest here Y/N..."

Your silence filled her with dread, maybe she read it all wrong, Lena and Wanda too, it's a genuine possibility that you've moved on., "Fine... Just say it then Y/N, tell me that you don't love me—set me free, I'll walk back out those doors...," she tries to keep it together, but tears befall her cheeks as she continues., "All I ever wanted is for you to be happy lyubov'.," she held her breath as she waited on your response., "Even if that's not with me."

"No.," your voice came out a bit hoarse, and it broke the redhead to know she'd had you on the verge of tears once again., "Don't go.," you looked over to her with a frown., "остаться.," the redhead nodded, the silent communication you shared with just a stare settling her.

(Stay)

You looked up to Carol who wore a smile, albeit sad, you could tell she was truly happy for you., "At least one of us gets to be with our person.," she acknowledges in a whisper against your cheek, her arms were tightly wrapped around you as you'd pulled her in for a bittersweet embrace, one that was always going to come with the message of goodbye., "I'm sorry.," she shook her head as she pulled back., "Don't be."

You shared one final smile with Carol as you were slipping the rings back into her hands. You nodded, then with a shaky hand you reached out for Natasha. The redhead kept her face stoic, not wanting to add insult to injury with the triumphant smile hiding beneath the surface as she intertwined her fingers with yours she she could pull you out of the church.

As soon as she pulled you through the door she spun you around, pulling you into her embrace, and her face immediately nuzzled into your neck., "God detka, I've missed you so much.," she whimpers, and you're absolutely stunned as tears get caught in the crook of your neck., "Promise I'm done running, I'm going to love you openly from this point on.," her arms tightening around you giving way to the truth in her choked out words.

"Natty, it's about damn time.," she chuckled against your chest., "Seriously, you waited until the nth hour to get me back, I'd started to wonder if you ever really loved me.," the sad tone you suddenly took up spurred more tears to leave her as she pulled back to look you in the eyes, her hands settling on your cheeks., "Don't be ridiculous Y/N, I have never loved anyone as much as I have been blessed to have loved you.," she sighed as she laid her forehead to yours., "and I promise to love you outwardly until the day I die, because you're everything I have ever wanted, I'm sorry that it took me so damn long to realize I can't live without you."

Without any warning you tilted your head, causing your lips to graze hers, and she wasted no time meeting your advances as she kissed you with intent, hands falling to your hips as she lightly pushed you into the churches pillar., "God, I've missed your lips so much Natty.," you whimpered and she smirked into the kiss., "The feelings mutual detka.," she whispered, her tone raspy and that alone made you dizzy.

"Let's go before I allow you to have your way with me outside of a church." You boldly instructed the far too eager woman., "I wouldn't have been mad, open loving and all." She teases while escorting you across the road to her bike where she places another kiss to your lips before settling her helmet over you., "Where to?," you smirked, and though she couldn't see it she could hear it., "Vegas."

——————————————————

2,098 Words

Motivation is at an all time low besties 🤪

❤️ Kaitlyn 💋

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #carol danvers #yelena belova #Spotify #black widow pov #black widow x female reader

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anonymoushouseplantfan · 1 year

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The world moves too fast now for anyone to get to the levels of Julia and George in the 90s/early 2000s....now you can literally be hot on Monday and not on Tuesday. The markets are oversaturated and social media has literally changed the world now people literally know every single thing there is to know about you within 30 minutes of you appearing in public and before people had years to get to know and love someone now everyone moves too fast to Carr and if they don't like you now then it's OK cos their is 30 other people exactly like you for them to choose from.

I also think Meghan has overplayed her hand too many times and she the fact she doesn't have a specific demographic to cater to either hurts her and any brand she's trying to build she's too old for the TikTok crowd she's too young and common for the NYC old money society crowds she's not talented or famous enough for Hollywood she literally doesn't have a single space she can occupy even the oh I'm famous cos I married someone famous club is ram packed and the only difference she had was she married royalty but now he's not even royalty he's 3rd row Harry on a commercial flight home and hour later.

She really put a lot into her "The Duchess/Duchess Meghan brand in the 2 or so years she was a royal and then spent the next 3 years completely smashing it to shreds....like why should we care that she's royal if being royal is as awful as she says it is?

Even the mom and baby club is full and it's full of people who actually show their kids 🙈 celebrity lifestyle and wellness?? Full and with people whi project an aspirational lifestyle....do you want to be like the 40 year old ex actress who spends her whole life fighting with her family and suing the press? Nope...me neither.

If she had spent the last 3 years building her own brand instead of trying to tear down the RFs she might be in better shape.

Even the divorce is gonna go against her IMO cos people genuinely just don't like her, she's not authentic and people can spot she's a fake a mile off, that's why the sugars and her PR attack Kate so much Kate is the real deal, anyone with half a brain cell can tell she was born to do this in fact she does it better than most of the people who were born to do this but Kate also knows this takes work she has honed her skills for over 2 decades..... Meghan is too petty, juvenile and lazy to do that or anything close to it.

I don't see WME being a game changer for her either, she loves attaching herself to big brands and names cos it makes her feel important but she doesn't have any follow through and nothing comes of it, have you ever heard of the sadim touch? It's the opposite to the midas touch and that's what she has. I know we all like to joke but she literally turned a prince into a pauper, he was the most popular royal (even more popular than the monarch) and now he's known as the frozen todger guy sitting in the nosebleeds at his fathers coronation 🙈

Sorry for the essay, if you made it this far congrats 🤣🤣

Great essay!!

I agree with you generally, but I think she a window. The royal connection (tenuous as it is right now) is valuable and it differentiates her. Also, the “feminist princess” brand the palace built for her is still compelling. They did a great job for her there. The “royal Rachel Zane” persona would still sell.

WME can’t do miracles, but they can get her a guest spot in The View. They can’t get her a job, but they can get her a guest spot, particularly if she delivers a second season of Archetypes that is not seven episodes of narcissism. She can go on Drew’s show. She can get the ghostwriter to write her a bestselling memoir that is not just cringe bitching about her family. She can get someone talented to write her a few good essays for Time. If she’s smart and she works hard she can do it. If she’s super smart and she divorces him, she has an even better chance of sound it.

But that’s the problem. She’s not smart and she doesn’t work hard. She’s going to buy herself some awards, do some random passive aggressive bitching, pose for a few paps, and call it a day. So, in the end, it’s not going to work out for her.

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rishiguro · 1 year

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24; DATE

“i can’t continue to have this conversations with you,” you sighed, shaking your head in disbelief. pulling your legs onto the bench the two of you were currently sitting on, you crossed them and rested your back on the wood.

iwaizumi raised his eyebrows at you, grinning widely. “are you giving up and admitting that salty popcorn is better?” he looked at you expectantly and put his hands behind his head.

“never!” you exclaimed loudly, only to immediately cough before you could continue. “sweet popcorn is the only right choice at the movies!” you further insisted.

he rolled his eyes at you, a mischievous twinkle in them. “sure. because eating a literal abomination is so delicious”

“as is high blood pressure”

“at least i’ll go out knowing i have better taste buds than a four year old”

“i don’t know if the ones of an eighty year old are so much better,” you shot back without much thought and immediately after the two of you started laughing.

“we can call it a truce,” iwaizumi offered, holding his hand out for a shake as he looked at you with a smile on his face. “the toddler and the grandpa. what a story”

you agreed, shaking his hand. the whole situation reminded you of a pact made between some rivals in old movies, the only thing missing would be the both of you having your fingers crossed behind your back. the thought made the corners of your lips twitch. “we can do that”

if someone told you just a couple months ago that you would’ve met someone in the hospital and be so comfortable around said person — and even develop feelings for them — you probably would’ve been more than confused.

and yet here you were, on a date with iwaizumi, sitting in a comfortable silence next to each other on a park bench after seeing some movie together.

you looked over, letting your eyes wander all over iwaizumi‘s figure.

you would never tell him, but you could see how much his cancer and also treatment were affecting him. he looked frail, the shirt that you know used to be tight (especially around his arms) looser around his torso already. his eye bags became more visible, slightly darker in color. the dark haired man looked tired, no matter how much he tried to overplay it.

your eyes wandered over to his hands. his skin was dry and while he had picked on his skin before — he told you that this was a habit he picked up in childhood — it seemed to heal slower than before, the skin around his nails an angry red.

and even though he looked different, he was still the same guy you talked to in front of the vending machine.

the guy with whom conversations felt so easy, with whom time seemed to pass way too fast and with whom you felt safe. the guy who loved to discuss so many things with you and the guy who wasn’t afraid to voice his mind and engage in a meaningful exchange with you right after. the guy who loved to just grab your hand when you were walking and the guy who gave you his jacket the second he noticed you we’re getting cold, acting like he was annoyed but unable to hide the twitch in his lips. the guy who brings you small gifts, like candy, flowers or the keychain that was decorating your lanyard the moment you received it. you smiled to yourself at the thought.

after a while you noticed iwaizumi’s leg bouncing, his fingers picking at the skin around his nails again.

“you look nervous,” you stated.

“i’m not,” he denied immediately, way too fast for your liking. “i’m not”

you raised your eyebrows at him in suspicion.

iwaizumi pressed his lips together and looked down at his hands, like he was a little boy that got caught throwing his parents’ belongings on the ground. “fine, i am,” he admitted and looked up at you, only to see you smile confidently at him, “don’t look at me so smug”

the smile was immediately wiped off your face but you still felt the urge to continue grinning at him. “i don’t look smug”

“you do,” he insisted, “it’s fine. i know i’m not a good liar”

you affirmed that thought with a slight nod, staying silent as you waited for him to talk.

he shot you a quick glance before completely turning towards you. “look, i need to tell you something,” he said.

“mh?”

iwaizumi took a deep breath before he reached over and took your hand into his, intertwining your fingers — something he had done countless times and always brought a small smile to your lips, accompanied by your heart racing in excitement. “i like what we have. but i don’t know if that’s enough for me anymore,” he confessed.

you blinked at him in confusion, a thousand thoughts running through your head, playing out various scenarios, each one leaving you more jittery and nervous than before.

“hajime?” you asked, squeezing his hand once to reassure him, tell him that he should countinue.

“i want us to be official”

evanescent

/ɛvəˈnɛs(ə)nt,iːvəˈnɛs(ə)nt/ — “soon passing out of sight, memory, or existence; quickly fading or disappearing.”

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pavardscherie · 1 year

Text

— if we ever meet again ;; part two

⤷ summary: you were a player on the female team of bayern münchen but transferred for a better chance. your relationship with benjamin ended because he couldn't handle the distance from munich to dortmund. once, you meet again, and you have a new partner, things get complicated again. ⤷ warnings: mature themes, angst, fluff, hurt & comfort, break-ups, a hint at depression, heartbreak, confused reader, cheating ⤷ izzy talks: the second part is finally here?? i mean, i took so long and I'm so freaking sorry or that but i just had those lovely writer blocks. like too many times :(

you knew you shouldn’t be here. but how was it possible to deny an injured lucas hernandez a wish?

tickets for a very much vip seat in the front of the stands, exactly what you imagined he would torture you with. if it wouldn’t be enough to see benjamin play today, you would have to witness the mood changes and how attractive he looked especially in the bright crimson-red for at least ninety minutes.

but it also happened to be the perfect timing to take out the dusty red jacket from the far right corner of your wardrobe. the emblem of bayern munich sewed on the front, left side and the initials of your name underneath it. the times were beautiful, welcomed by the entire team and loved by many. yet, your journey led you into the arms of the enemy club.

“there she is, our golden girl.” lucas’ french accent mixed with the german words caused a spark of amusement inside of you. it was always rather hilarious to listen to him, ranting about a match and mixing french with german. it almost reminded you of benjamin.

hands deeply in the pockets of the thick jacket, the cold weather made it difficult to stand still on the spot. you turned, opening the arms quickly to greet an injured lucas and the two men, which accompanied him. manuel neuer, hidden underneath a baseball cap and still in the healing process of broken bones, and behind him, strolled a carefree defender. benjamin pavard.

“what the hell?” you pointed at the number five of the bayern munich team, shocked about seeing him in the stands. “why are you here?”

“what a nice way to greet a friend.” benjamin retorted, rolling the eyes. a sarcastic smile tugged on the corners of his mouth, casually overplaying the surprise he felt. lucas didn’t mention your appearance with one word.

“no, i didn’t mean it like that. it’s like, well, shouldn’t you be on the field? like you know, playing with the team because you’re on the team?” you rambled on and on, gesturing wildly through the cold air with one hand.

the entire scene broke out in a wave of amusement. at least for lucas and manuel, who watched the awkwardness unfold.

“can’t.” ben shrugged the shoulders nonchalantly, tilting the head to the side to watch the warm up of the two teams. psg, the return match.

eyebrows raised, confusion twisted in your facial expression. there were multiple reasons why he could not be on the pitch tonight but benjamin didn’t give a reason to his statement. “he’s suspended. two yellow cards.” lucas explained with a chuckle, patting the shoulder of his best friend.

“a second bookable offense?” your brows furrowed, recalling the past matches of bayern munich you have seen. yet, you didn’t recall one where benjamin was sent off the pitch. “against who?”

“psg.” benjamin’s gaze drifted, landing on the gentle features of your face, twisted in a deep confusion. “made a very stupid pass and risked the leveler. had to stop the ball or messi, kind of ended with me completely slide-tackling him down and receiving the second card.”

“tackling lionel messi is something you can’t do every single day. and not many have the courage to even go against him like that. so, good job, benji.” showing him a thumbs up for the action, you smiled at him. but the way, his name sounded like a beautiful melody the moment you spoke it, made his heart skip a beat. it slipped past your lips nonchalantly, but had such an effect on him.

gulping down the mixture of spit and air in his tightened throat, benjamin tilted the head away from your angelic features. the smallest smile could be his downfall, and the painful memories would gnaw on his heart again. exactly what he didn’t need today. the upcoming game and it’s importance was already nerve wrecking enough for the suspended defender.

the shift in his behavior didn’t go unnoticed. but lucas promised himself to make it work between the two of you for a second time. stepping to the side, he sat down in one of the more comfortable seats, reserved for the vip guests while manuel settled down in the one on your left. leaving, much to benjamin’s demise, the two middle ones open for you and him.

while the referee, his assistants and the captain of each team met in the middle of the pitch, benjamin sat down and scooted closer to lucas’ side. unfortunately for him, you witnessed how he wiggled further away from you while sitting down. the emptiness in your stomach returned, and this time, it added a heavy feeling. you wanted to run away, forget about how he casually kept the conversation with you short, and would even rather sit in hernandez lap than close to you.

what you didn’t know was, that ben already reminisced. the scent of cherry blossom and a faint vanilla infiltrated his nostrils, your favorite perfume lingered in the air and it drove him crazy. he did not remember how often he bought a new bottle of it, just to exchange the empty one and surprise you with the thoughtful gesture.

both teams proved their value and excellence while the first half went on. manuel muttered multiple curse words when the ball flew past the goal, and another attempt of increasing the score of the first match failed. on your right side, lucas and benjamin engaged in a conversation mixed with german and french words. it was calm in the stands except the hardcore fans of bayern munich. they never stopped chanting their lyrics, clapping and playing the drum.

you were completely focused on the match, watching the players of bayern munich take control over the game. comfortably leaned back in the chair, legs crossed over one another, you pulled your hands out of the warm pockets of your jacket and placed them on the armrests.

manicured nails didn’t touch the soft material of the chair, instead your soft fingertips stroke over the veiny backhand of the one person sitting on your right. just a couple of seconds ago, benjamin retreated to a normal seating position and draped his arms over the rest. as soon as he felt the lingering touch of soft fingertips, he pulled his arm away.

the small touch, the seconds of being able to be close to benjamin again, created shivers up your arms. a feeling, you should not have anymore after finding another partner and slowly moving on from the past. exactly where the defender should belong.

benjamin sat straight in his seat. any thoughts about the game vanished and his mind went completely blank. he wanted to feel your warmth again after the long hug a couple of weeks ago. yet, he knew it was impossible after seeing the loving interactions between you and your new boyfriend for the rest of the night. the small glances in his direction were created by his imagination, at least it was what benjamin thought.

„aye manu, let’s get drinks for the group.“ lucas shouted past the pair of ex lovers towards the goalkeeper, waving his hand repeatedly. the breath you just inhaled, got stuck in your windpipe as your throat painfully tightened. the thought of being alone with benjamin in the middle of the arena made it extremely difficult to focus at all.

he clouded your mind, and easily erased any other thought. even the fact that your boyfriend was at work, and waited in dortmund for your return tomorrow. the two males disappeared faster than wanted at all, leaving you in an uncomfortable silence.

being around him was toxic for your relationship. the curve of his lips threatened the steady connection between you and your boyfriend. the way his scent infiltrated your nostrils and clouded your mind completely. the images of your boyfriend’s face vanished. a long gaze into his promising, hickory coloured eyes pulled you deeper under his spell again.

for a second time, you experienced the anxiety of being close to benjamin. small parts of him that twisted your mind until his name and his features were the last thought. there was no escape from falling madly, there never was for you after ben confessed, he never gave up the last spark of hope.

„you can avoid me but ignoring me is kind of harsh.“ you remarked about his behavior towards you while holding a conversation. without lucas‘ interference, you still would question why benjamin wasn’t present on the pitch. „looking at you makes me weak.“ he replied, keeping his gaze on the empty pitch after the referee ended the first half.

your stomach twisted around a feeling which was hard to define. discomfort about being his weakness, surprise about what you still did to him or even bashfulness about the sweet confession. it was indescribable and deep. „what do you mean?“ you needed an answer. a clear statement to identify what kind of feeling occupied your empty stomach.

„it doesn’t matter.“ benjamin shrugged his shoulder as if he attempted to brush off the topic of the conversation for a second time. he never gave a clear statement, or truly said the words that occupied his mind. the unbearable desire of kissing you deeply, losing himself once more to your soft touch, and giving up the control over his broken heart. you could mend the pieces, puzzle it back together but it would fall apart again, when you drove to your new home. the arms of your boyfriend.

grief dominated benjamin's broken self, the confidence he showed, only a cold mask to hide his emotions. you reached out for him, wanting to have the conversation badly and mend the pieces, he left destroyed. but when merely your fingertips grazed over the wrinkled fabric of his sweater, benjamin reacted way too quickly and scooted further towards lucas‘ empty seat. lips pulled into a frown, the distance made it difficult to believe that even the slightest spark was left. you should not feel defeated by a failed attempt after being the one that clearly moved on with someone new. yet, you could not get benjamin and his sweet attitude out of your mind. the minutes of the halftime break ticked away, the players already walked back onto the field, talking to each other and their coach about the tactics and techniques they planned.

"it was never meant to end like this, you know that, benjamin."

oh, how his name rolled so perfectly off the tip of your tongue. perfectly spoken, perfectly emphasized. so sweet, his heart wanted to jump out of his chest. fingertips dug into the soft, red leather of the seat, attempting to resist the desire to touch you, hug you, just feel you again in some way. the referee's whistle echoed through the allianz arena, announcing the second half of the important game against paris saint-germain. at the same time, manuel carefully walked through the row to reach his seat on your left, and handed you one of the cups filled with cola.

and while lucas returned, smiling widely at the two ex-lovers, benjamin muttered a french sentence and pushed his body up to leave the stands. a cup in each hand, lucas tilted the head to watch after his best friend, confusion twisted in his features. the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach reminded you of his words, the statement he made, and a confession about how much your attendance bothered him. fingers closed around the bridge of your nose, the pads massaged the skin slightly as you tried to make a decision. following benjamin could lead to another heated argument, another moment you wanted to prevent and ruin the last, little piece of friendship or admiration that was left like a thin line between the two of you.

on the other hand, you did feel responsible for the undeniable change in benjamin's mood over the past minutes. it was impossible to ignore the fact, that your surprising appearance caused shyness and nervousness to wash over him. not being his usual self, the cheerful lad with a mixture of languages while trying to express his opinion. the slight edge to his words because of his accent, and the cute smile plastered across his face because he never met a level of endless sadness; at least at the times before you left. "i think i should look after him." lucas interrupted the trail of your thoughts, trying to point a hand over his shoulder but immediately failing with the cups tightly in his grip. leaning down towards the seats to place them in the prepared holders on each side, you mirrored his action. "maybe, i should go." you suggested, ignoring the doubts of making things much more complicated than needed.

instead of protesting, hernandez nodded his head repeatedly. after all, it was all along his plan to bring back together what belonged to each other. distance was a strong reason for a break up, but it was also not enough to decline the happiness, he was able to witness over months. while leaving for dortmund was your journey, you’ve taken any inch of benjamin’s heart with you.

without you, he forgot what the word love meant. without you, the happiness stopped glistening in his beautiful chestnut eyes. without you, the curl of his mouth was merely real; forced to satisfy the people around him and avoid questions would be a better choice of description. lucas’ attempts of inviting benjamin to a night out, to a couple of drinks to drown his sorrows, were declined without overthinking. losing you, and in the end even to another man, removed the colors of benji’s world so easily.

pushing past the crowds that gathered on the stairs, you caught benjamin’s gaze on the top of the section. calloused palms firmly placed against the barricade, staring down at the pitch with a stern expression. except for the pushed together brows, not even a muscle twitched until his eyes landed on your moving figure. a simple glance at you, ended in a fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach. butterflies spread, wanting to be felt deeply. turning away, benjamin never missed a match of his team, no matter if he was suspended or injured but this time, he did not carry enough bravery to stay and have a decent conversation with you.

it pained him immensely to have you by his side, and knowing the fact that you truly were not by his side anymore. the pain was deeply anchored inside of benjamin. anchored to his heart, demanding to be felt when he forced himself to at least glance at you. walking through the almost empty corridors, the whispering of the fans and the sound of his name being shouted by some drowned out as he marched towards to the catacombs. the locker room were the only place where he could find a minute to himself.

what he did not expect was how easily the guards let you through as well. once a bayern munich player, the securities always remembered the faces. the desire to find his old self again followed with each step like a dangerous shadow, a darkness that reminded him he was missing a piece to ever become whole again.

running his sweaty palms over his face, benjamin inhaled deeply to calm down the pulsating veins. the sweet smell of your perfume, the one he loved way too much, lingered still in his nostrils. five minutes away from you wasn't enough to forget the tempting offer to ravish you, love you, feel you for a second time. it grew with any given second, the tips of his fingers tickled as the desire rose to new highs. levels, he has never been at before.

maybe, he could compare it to the same mixture of feelings he went through, the first night he had you sprawled out on his king-sized bed. naked, legs spread and the wetness glistening in the dim light of the lamps. better than he imagined, and pushing him further into a love-filled haze as his fingertips danced over your heated skin. but right now, when benjamin was trying to forget how much he still adored, admired, and loved you, those thoughts bothered his mind more than usual. rough pads against his temples, he started to massage the tensed skin; a headache announcing itself through the slight, piercing pain.

alone in the corridors between the pitch and the locker room, the place benjamin visited too often during a game when the referee booked him for the fifth time or twice on the same day. he's been here, multiple times, but the ghost of you, the sweet glances glistening with undeniable innocence, has never haunted him before. when lucas informed him, that he was slowly breaking away from reality, benjamin did not believe the words, chuckling about such foolish conclusions. but he has been right about it as his thoughts were occupied by your gentle face.

„benjamin.“ you spoke ever-so-gently, the thick walls of the corridor carried your sweet words towards his ear. another time, you said his full name, the way he adored the sound of the syllables way too much. the desire, he could not deny anymore as his stomach twisted and turned with admiration.

while you stood there so beautifully, innocent written over your posture, benjamin wanted to curse you for putting another spell on him. for making it so difficult to fall out of love with you. for never being able to truly despise you for choosing your career over a relationship with him, because somewhere, in the furthest corner of his heart, he understood the decision.

„leave please.“ benjamin begged, turning his attention away from you and examining the white wall with the bayern emblem painted across the stones. one glance, one too long look at your pretty face, and he would falter immediately. he would go too far, make another mistake or even ravish you in the middle of the corridor. a spell, he couldn’t run away from since the day he met you.

„no, we have to talk.“ you insisted, declining him the choice of being left alone. for once, you weren’t sharing the same opinion. taking a step closer to his trembling and tensed figure, benjamin didn’t realize the invasion of his personal space as his back was turned towards you.

all he knew, was when he turned around, the breath he wanted to inhale, got stuck in his dry throat. you were so close again, so close he could smell the sweet perfume lingering on the smooth skin around your collarbones. a scent, he could easily get addicted to again.

and suddenly, he could not fight it anymore. body moving on its own, a large hand caressed over the side of your throat until it reached your neck. calloused palm pressed against the soft skin and baby hairs, fingertips carefully digging into the side as he closed his tight grip on you. benjamin was holding you in place, and carefully tilted your head further back. nose held high, hooded eyes staring straight into the alluring hazelnut swirls around his dilated pupils.

if you wouldn’t have known him better than anybody else, and could read through each stone-cold expression on his face, the glimpse of undeniable lust would have passed without notice. yet, it ignited a small flame in your stomach, a feeling, you almost forgot. dominance written in the way, his calloused digits handled the movement of your body so easily, so carefully and still so eagerly. „god, you’re too beautiful to resist.“ benjamin muttered ever so quietly, more to himself than complimenting you. but the inches between your faces decreased with any given second.

and suddenly, as time ticked away and the game continued, it seemed like everything moved in slow motion until the world stopped turning. the moment, benjamin‘s chewed up lips, overthinking his decision over a hundred times and his teeth always assaulting the sensitive skin, brushed over yours. softly, but ever so eagerly to close the last gap and take what has always been his. and so, he reacted for the first time in months without letting his head decline what the pounding heart wanted. ignoring the undeniable fact that you had someone waiting at home, a boyfriend who loved you dearly but could never give you what benjamin offered.

relief washed over you, the tensed muscles relaxed under the soft pressing of his lips, flush against yours. guilt should have gnawed at your heart, but it never made an appearance. the thickness in your throat or the upset stomach never became a prominent feeling. slender arms, which turned to featherlight weight, raised, fingertips tingling with the need to touch his warm skin, ensuring yourself that the scene happened in reality and wasn’t a lustful creation of your mind.

because it didn’t matter how tightly your boyfriends arms were wrapped around you at night, you missed the ones you slept in so peacefully, so safely without a doubt.

delicate pads traced along the sharp line of his jaw towards his earlobe before finding a comfortable spot to place your soft palm against the side of his neck. fingertips immediately playing with the thin hairs, the small curls which slowly started to grow back. manicured nails carefully scratched over the smooth, sensitive spot, remembering how much he desired it when you left those long, crimson red marks over his beautiful, unblemished porcelain skin.

"i've missed how strawberries tasted on your lips." words blown into the gentle kiss, compliments and confessions about the way, he still remembered perfectly which kind of chapstick you preferred. reminding you, that the crimson-red fruit was delicious but tasted better spread out over your soft lips. easily, he had enough access to your unmoving body, sneaking his arm around your waist. calloused palm pressed firmly against the curve of your back, giving him enough freedom to push your chest closer to his aching body. the slightest touch would be enough to coax the sounds of his dry throat. he missed the lingering burns of your slender fingers, the tingles across his chest when they trailed over his defined stomach and towards the v-lines which disappeared underneath the hem of his loose jogging pants.

he should have never been so addictive, so desirable for you and yet, you were the one cheating and forgetting a man, who dearly tried to love every flaw and inch. the destroyed image of a woman, who never settled for less, who just moved cities, who carried a broken heart.

and you never felt bad in his embrace. the only thing that bothered you was the fact, that his arms never felt like benjamin’s. the bayern munich fans cheered loudly, the screams of joy echoed through the catacombs and forced the two of you apart. heads turned to the side, listening to the proud melodies, sung with their red and white hearts.

a second goal for the bundesliga team, a second goal that kicked out a fearful enemy like paris saint-germain and allowed bayern munich to move a step further towards the finals. “winning this match, and feeling your undeniable soft lips again. couldn’t be a better ending to such a horrendous week.” benjamin chuckled, so light hearted, so warm. so different to the sounds he made during the first half of the match, when he couldn’t even glance at her.

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vitalssigns · 3 months

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me being late to the party is actually method acting don't be fooled. anyway! hi i'm jade (she/her) bringing you park jeonghun, aka the guy whose twin died. info is all under the cut, no wanted plots we do chem out here, hit the like and i'll hit you up! discord heavily preferred and available on request.

stats / freeform

jeonghun and jeongbin grew up attached at the hip. for a good while they did everything together. shared birthday parties, shared wardrobe, shared favourite colour and animal and movie-- and there were definitely some things they disagreed on but because it didn't fit into their own narrative they just sorta ignored that. like yeah we love playing dragons! (jeonghun did not.) yes we like going to the beach after school! (not jeongbin.)

this didn't really last - they had a few different friends in school, different hobbies and interests. they still hung out all the time. if jeonghun was with friends chances were jeongbin would be there too, if jeongbin wanted to go out he'd bring jeonghun. jeonghun was the more approachable of the two back in school, a little more chilled out and less of a leading personality. basically jeongbin took point and jeonghun was happy to follow along and smoothe over his brother's rougher edges.

which isn't to say jeonghun didn't enjoy being part of the troublemaking. he did good in school but he wasn't a model student at all, people knew the park twins used to sneak out and get drunk in the woods and that they stole their dad's car that one time.

obviously all that comes crashing down on him when jeongbin dies. jeonghun spirals for a while after that - nobody can get through to him, he stops talking to people, he's a shell of himself. he also realises how much of his life was dictated for him by his brother and makes absolutely no effort to try and grow into his own person in his absence. to this day he has all these mannerisms and preferences that are just leftovers of the things jeongbin liked and he doesn't actually care for.

jeonghun leaves town right after school to go to uni for pharmacy. he drops back in for family events and holidays so he isn't absent by any means but he's not rlly hanging around either. he gets better! he starts going to therapy he starts taking meds for his depression and other issues and just generally is successful in what he's doing. does his military service (social work) & graduates his program with top marks. his social life is also flourishing at the time. he uses the dead twin card to get laid for a while (call that a masterclass in repression).

then he gets started on his phd... and gets stuck. i was thinking some combo of a crisis on his end and a family emergency, but he comes back to town in late 2021 and stays. right now he's running the pharmacy his dad owns and he wants to leave and get that program finished so bad but he can't get himself to go, so he's balancing in limbo.

personality tldr;

he's a pleasant guy to be around! friendly, relaxed, he can take a joke. it's just that everyone and their mum saw him right after his twin died when he was at his worst. also a pretty dependant character, he's willing to speak up for himself but ultimately is more of a follower than a leader. you can tell that he was a troublemaker as a teen but the family is trying very hard to overplay his past and have people focus more on his education. he's also very stuck on jeongbin still. when he's questioning his decisions he'll often go 'what would jeongbin say now', and the way he does it isn't healthy after all these years. doesn't help that his psychometry (much more of a curse than a gift) keeps dragging him back to the woods, which he's been steadily avoiding whenever he's able.

#eldrtch:int

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maryversusthemovies · 19 days

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Steve Albini

This is going in the Mary Vs. the Movies newsletter, but I wanted to post it here too:

Steve Albini passed away yesterday.

When I was young, I religiously read critics. I didn’t know most of their names, but I would read as many album and film reviews as I could, whether Rolling Stone and Spin or the Philadelphia Inquirer at my junior high library, or whatever magazines or alt weeklies I could get my hands on at Zerns’ Farmers’ Market. I saw critics as they wanted to be seen—as guides, as teachers who would tell me what was good and what should be avoided. (I avoided Teenage Fanclub’s Bandwagonesque for years because Rolling Stone only gave it two stars—this should’ve been my first clue, I get angry just thinking about it).

So when Nirvana’s In Utero came out, the critical response, as far as I experienced it at the time, was “this is unlistenable noise, and it’s all Steve Albini’s fault.” Now, I didn’t know who he was, but I loved Nirvana. In our review for Over the Edge I mention the “Smells Like Teen Spirit” video, and I don’t think I can overplay just what a liberation it was to see a band destroy a school when I was twelve. For this and other reasons, Nirvana was very important to me, and I was deliriously excited for a new Nirvana album. And here people were saying “this is garbage”. Well, I thought, how bad could it be? “Heart Shaped Box” sounds good, right?

I couldn’t understand what the critics were talking about—this sounded great. It didn’t have that shiny ‘90s Butch Vig sound, sure, but it wasn’t unlistenable. (By now I had found The Velvet Underground & Nico, so at least “European Son” had prepared me for what noise rock might be.) If anything, I realized I loved In Utero more than Nevermind because of the noise. It was an early lesson in not blindly listening to critics over my own gut.

Now, here I am, more than thirty years later, a (kind of) film critic. I’m not saying don’t listen to critics—I still read them, still look for insights. But I definitely don’t prioritize them over my own reaction to a work of art itself. And realizing that the critics can be wrong because they didn’t like how Albini recorded this album, it was a huge lesson for me, long before college or anything tried to teach me critical thinking.

Anyway, after that, I found out Albini had a hand in so much music that I loved—the Pixies and Breeders, Superchunk, P.J. Harvey. And that’s just when I was 14, I’d since gone on and gotten into everything from Silkworm to the Wedding Present to Joanna Newsom to Low. He was the first engineer—I won’t call him a producer, I promise—whose work I actually cared about. (Sure, later I would find out about Phil Spector, but my god if he isn’t the anti-Albini, so the less said the better.) And I know this isn’t even touching his own music with Big Black or Shellac.

When Dennis and I first started going out, he brought up Albini’s article “The Problem with Music”, specifically talking about how the industry squeezes and gaslights artists, waving thousands of dollars in front of them and whittling away at the pile until the band is left with essentially nothing. It informed the way we both kick against being tied down to any kind of boss, at least when it comes to any creative output we make. Even if someone came to us tomorrow and said they wanted to sign us to their podcast network (a thing that won’t happen anyway, given how the media bubble has burst), or sign Deth Elf, my gut reaction would be “no”—we’ll always be small, and we’ll never be professionals, but we’re doing what we do because we love it, and we want control over it. And maybe that’s shooting ourselves in the foot, but at least it has a kind of honesty.

I know people who knew him, and I can’t imagine the loss their feeling right now. I’m just someone who listens to the radio a lot. But my god, my life would be so much poorer if he hadn’t been there shaping music for the last forty years.

#steve albini #indie rock #music

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damn-stark · 1 year

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Chapter 5 Spider-boy

Chapter 5 of Moon Star

A/N- I hope you guys like this chapter!!!

Warning- Violence, blood and weapons, swearing, Angst, FLUFF.

Pairing- Marc Spector x daughter!reader, Spider-Man x Spector!fem-reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

Ding.

Metal scrapes against glass plates. The soft sound of rain drops thumps against the restaurant window at your side. Some overplayed pop song plays overhead. Different conversations fill the small diner. And silence fills the small space between Marc and you.

Ding.

Do your lives have to be in danger to repeat that ever so loving bond you shared that night?

Ding.

“These flapjacks are to die for,” Marc muffles with his mouth full of food.

You glance up at him and hum in agreement.

Ding.

Fucking jeez…

You turn the ringer off on your phone and place the screen down against the table's surface, causing your father to look at your phone out of curiosity as to why it’s been going off since you got to the restaurant. Yet he doesn’t dare ask, he just continues eating in the awkward silence that was blanketed over the both of you.

Maybe Steven could be better at this whole, rebuilding relationships? Perhaps he could emerge, Marc thought to himself as he ate the pancakes on his plate.

“So,” you break the silence and set your fork down to grab your milkshake. “It’s been a while since Khonshu left you to your lonesome, how does it feel? I mean you guys were together for quite some time.” You begin to smirk as you catch the sound of your own comment.

Your dad sighs and finally sets his silverware down. “Well…I don’t miss it. I finally feel free, you know?” He says, whilst you begin to sip on your milkshake. “I felt stuck for years. Now I feel like I’m getting my shit together again.”

You offer him a faint smile and put your drink down to reply once you swallow your milkshake down. “That’s good. I'm glad. What about Steven?”

Marc scoffs and lowers his gaze to slowly begin picking up his silverware. “Eh, he wasn’t aware of Khonshu until the very end, he won’t miss him.”

You begin to smile wider and lean in closer. “Is there a chance—” yet before you can finish what you planned to say, your phone begins to vibrate now, causing you to pick it up to check who’s annoying you.

“Busy?” Marc asks.

As you check who it is you see that it’s your local contact who wants to know if you’re interested in doing a small job.

“Eh, no, just…work,” you partially lie and just answer yes without giving it too much thought. “Just my tasks for next week,” you reassure your father and offer him a tight lipped smile before you put your phone in your bag.

Marc hums and then puts his things down to pull out something hidden under his shirt. You grow extremely curious but just before you can see what he took from his neck a flier is placed on your table, as you look up to see who it is, you see some random middle aged bald man.

“Join the cause,” he mutters before he walks away.

“Join the cause,” you mock and pick up the flier. However as you read what it says in big black letters, your smile falls and your amusement dies, and anger and sadness take its place.

“What does it say?” Your dad asks before he takes the flier from your hands to read it out loud. “Thanos was right, let’s put everything back as it was…” he trails off and slams the flier down on the table before he instantly gets up on his feet to look for the bald man.

“Pa,” you whisper and grab his hand to pull him back down. “Drop it. Just leave it alone.”

“No,” Marc retorts sharply. “No, why should I? What the hell was that purple fuck right about? Are these people listening to themselves?”

“No,” you interject and pull his sleeve down. “No they’re not, but I’m used to it.”

Marc slowly begins to sit back down, and slowly his anger begins to turn to disbelief.

“That’s all people have been saying since half of the population came back,” you continue. “It’s messed up, but we can’t do anything about it, just let them talk.” You sigh, and let his hand go to raise yours and ask for the bill.

Marc looks back and catches the bald man leaving the restaurant. You can tellhe wants to go after him, but you just insist for him to stay put.

“Maybe it was easy for some people,” you mumble as you wait for the waiter to come back with the check. “We can’t take that freedom of—”

“But it wasn’t easy,” your dad cuts you off. “For no one. People disappeared….you did,” he mumbles. “I thought it would stay that way for the rest of my life. A lot of us did.” He reaches for your hand and leans in closer. “It wasn’t easy. Don’t let these people guilt trip you into thinking so.”

You lower your gaze and remember the moment you came back, the need to see him in that moment, and the pain when he didn’t come see you, no matter how long you waited for him. So you quickly pull your hand back and turn your head away to hide the tears that form in your eyes.

“Here,” Marc whispers and hands you your crescent moon necklace back after you had given it to him when you thought you’d never see him again. “It’s yours.”

You look down at the necklace, and then look back at him with a faint scowl he doesn’t see since the waiter comes with the check.

“Here it is….”

You tune out the waiter as you look down at the necklace in your palm—You know the reason your father kept his distance, now you do, but why can’t it stop hurting? Why doesn’t this anger leave?

“Where to next?” Marc cuts you from your train of thought.

You fist your hand over your necklace and pull your hand down to your lap. “Uh,” you sigh. “Work. You wanted to see it, yeah? I can bring you in for a tour.”

——

“Building for a better tomorrow.”

“Oh wow,” you hear your father gasp as he begins to fall behind you.

“…look at Wakanda, all their technology is due to vibranium. Now that half of the population returned we are working towards matching their advancements without it.”

“Hi Bob,” you greet the recipionst as you prop your arms on the table.

“I thought you were off for the week, Spector,” he retorts as he rolls around on his chair to grab your ID card.

You nod slowly in agreement. “I am, but my dad is in town, I wanted to show him the place.” You knock your knuckles on the surface and peer back, seeing your dad—or correction Steven messing with the hologram on display in the middle of the wide large glass lobby.

“Here,” Bob breaks you away from Steven and pulls you back to him so you can grab your ID from his hand—“here’s your guest pass. Bosses are out, knock yourself out.”

You shoot him a half smile and then pull away from the desk to walk towards Steven still putting his hand through the hologram.

“Hello!” The hologram suddenly spoke before an animation of a lightening bolt appears, causing Steven to jump back.

“Oh. Jeez…hi,” he mumbles.

“Steven?” You ask slowly since it could actually be Marc.

Yet as he turns he confirms your suspicion. “Yes. That’s me. I’m here. I just wanted to check out this lobby. It’s very cool,” he begins to grin and looks back at the lightning bolt animation.

“Welcome to your future…” the animation speaks in a cartoonish voice so as to grab the attention of the public. Which is working since Steven is entertained by it

“Come on,” you tell him and hand him the guest pass.

Steven takes the plastic card from you as he keeps looking around in awe—“Steven,” you urge him and begin to walk through the hologram to head towards the elevators. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Steven slowly follows you whilst he slowly turns around and looks up at the tall ceiling that looked like the sky since it was so high up. “It’s so impressive here,” he says.

You nod, and when you reach the elevators you hit the up button. “Right,” you agree. “I was taken back when I first came here too.” You begin to smirk. “The reason the building is so big is because there’s also science labs here. Owned by the same people.”

Steven looks away from the ceiling and finally looks back at you to probe. “You work for the big man?”

You shake your head. “I work for a doctor that works for him, but I don’t work for him directly.” You walk on the glass tube elevator and click the number of the floor you work on. When Steven walks in, the elevator closes shut and then moves up swiftly, it almost felt like it wasn't moving.

“But soon,” you continue with a hopeful smile. “I will hopefully work for the big man like you call him.” You grin. “If all goes well and I don’t fuck up I might even become his youngest senior reseacher.” You let out a deep sigh and can’t help but grin.

Steven looks away from the sight of the city that was beginning to look smaller and smaller the higher you went up, and meets your gaze. “I’m sure you will. I mean your gadget stuff is already so impressive.”

You offer him a soft smile. “Thank you,” you say in return and look to the doors as the elevator comes to a stop.

“So what is it you’re working on?” You hear Marc ask now that he emerges again.

You step out and he follows. “Well,” you sigh and take a left to head down to your area. “Right now since I am an intern, I just do a lot of watching, I take notes, fetch stuff for my boss, you know all that stuff,” you let him know and turn right in the hall, seeing and hearing people working in their labs and offices. “But next week I will get some lab hours.” You share and turn another right to now head towards the lab your boss works at.

Yet before you can open the door you pull your ID towards the scanner so the door can unlock once the machine recognizes that it’s just you.

“Just don’t touch anything, okay?” You add and walk in as the door automatically slides open.

“Yeah,” your dad scoffs. “I’m not Steven.”

You laugh softly and roll your eyes.

Once you’re inside the organized and empty lab a silence follows you in as your dad takes in every machine, every robotic arm turned off since no one’s working in your lab right now. He then walks over to the lab coats hung by the door and grabs the sleeve to pull it towards him before he looks back and shoots you a smirk.

“You wear one of these?” He asks out if genuine curiosity.

You nod. “Yeah. I do.”

Mac begins to grin and nods before he lets the coat go, and continues to wander.

“You know,” he begins to say. “I always imagined you’d be working at a big place like this….”

You stop walking around yourself and watch him with a soft look on your face.

“I just, I don’t know…I always knew you were so freakin’ smart,” he continues and stops to crouch down slowly and look through a glass container that currently holds different gadgets and stuff the doctor was working on. “Everytime I thought about your future something like this always came to mind.”

You scoff softly and smile down at the floor, and begin gnawing on the inside of your cheek.

“You’re doing great, kid,” he compliments and turns around to face you. “Definitely better than me.”

You slowly meet his gaze and begin to smile shyly. “Trust me,” you redirect. “If I could be out there traveling the world in search of stolen artifacts I would.”

Your dad begins to make his way to the table you’re by and shakes his head. “Nah, nah. It might be fun, but that provides no future. Not like this,” he clicks his teeth and points around. “This…this is where you need to stay, Wolfie. Become a science doctor or what not. Make your own stuff, and make money the right way. Carve your own path.” He stops and leans over the table to keep holding your gaze. “That’s why I didn't want Khonshu messing with you. That type of work has the potential to ruin your life.”

You sigh and step back. “Layla is doing good,” you mention.

Marc nods. “She’s been lucky. But it’s a risk. Everyday. I..I don’t want you to run that.”

You drop your gaze and hum. How could—no. Just do it.

“Well, I think you’re very cool,” you admit in a quiet voice. “That’s never something that’s gone away.”

Marc slowly begins to stand up straight and slowly narrows his gaze as he also begins to smile.

“While Juniors dad brought to class his dads metal name card from his office, I would bring pictures you took at all the different cities, and the trinkets you had gotten me from Japan, or Mexico.” You begin to grin. “I was always the cool kid.”

Your dad chuckles and shakes his head. “Well,” he interjects. “Maybe Junior shoulda tried harder.”

You shrug and continue to tell him the truth. “Nah, no one could outdo you in any of my classes. Not even Melissa with the firefighter dad.”

Marc smiles widely and averts his gaze as he seems flustered. He doesn’t say anything on the regard, he just pulls away from the table and continues to wander. You step away from your spot by the table and try to show him something you’ve been brainstorming about, and hopefully try to push yourself to tell him about the successful nano-tech you’ve been working on.

However, before you can your phone begins to ring. And when you check who it is you see that it's your contact for your job later tonight.

“It’s school,” you lie and head towards the door. “I’m going to step out for a minute. Don’t,” You point at him. “Touch anything.”

Before your dad can say anything in response you walk out and make sure the door is closed before you answer your phone.

“Hello,” you say and begin to wander away from the door.

“Spector,” your contact says in his usual mischievous tone of voice. “It’s a lowkey grab today. 10pm at station 47 en route to Rockefeller.”

You groan and roll your eyes since it’s such a public grab.

“Man in his late 40s. Red hair. Green eyes. Carrying for one of his own contacts. Mike is his name. And the artifact should be in a black satchel.”

You stop and glance back to make sure the lab door isn’t opening. “What is it?” You ask.

There's a short silence before your contact responds. “Old, ancient gold statute from the late 14 century. So be careful. I’ll meet you tomorrow at our usual place.” He then hangs up, letting you let out a deep frustrated sigh as you turn your phone off before trying to head back to your dad.

Yet just as you do turn you bump into another body you didn’t catch approaching since they were in a hurry, and drop your phone.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” they quickly apologize in a very familiar voice. They then quickly bend down at the same time you do and picks up your phone before you can.

As they quickly shoot back up at the same time you do, they almost hit your chin with they’re head but they then swing their head to the side and quickly throw their hands out. When you look up you see that it’s a young white guy you haven’t seen working here. He also can’t look older than you are, but you haven’t seen him amongst any of the new interns.

“Here,” he says and meets you gaze, making you swallow thickly as you lock your eyes with his dark yet sweetest brown eyes—“Oh,” he gasps suddenly and pushes your phone towards you with more haste.

You furrow your eyebrows at his response and slowly take your phone from his hand, accidentally managing to brush your fingers against his.

“Sorry,” you mumble almost breathlessly and can’t tear your eyes away from the guy before you. “Uh…” you wait for him to say his name.

He right away catches what you were looking for and fumbles to pull out his ID card to point to the name.

“Anton Gutierrez,” you repeat and furrow your eyebrows deeper as you recognize something the moment his pale face, his dimpled chin, brown hair, and thin pink lips don’t match with the person that that ID belongs to.

“Yep.” The suspicious guy nods and keeps holding your gaze without saying anything; his jaw is slightly slack, and his gaze is mixed between fear and soft curiosity.

“Sorry, Anton,” you repeat slowly, and take note of his eyebrows now as you can’t help but study his face even if he isn’t who says he is; and notice that one eyebrow is partially brushed up, whilst the other one is just naturally shaped. It looks good on him.

“I-it’s okay,” he stammers and turns to begin speeding away. “Bye!” He interjects as he peers back.

You throw him a partial wave and a feigned smile as you stay in your spot, until the moment he turns the hall and isn’t visible anymore. After that you make sure the lab door is still closed before you storm after him, and end up circling around him.

And luckily just as predicted you cut him off before he can reach the elevators and run into him again.

“Oh,” he gasps from surprise and comes to a sudden halt. “Hello. Again.” He chuckles nervously.

You scoff and snatch the ID that was poking out of his coat pocket. “Give it up man. Your plan didn’t work. I work with Anton. You are not him.”

The guys eyes go wide as he sucks in air through his teeth. “No, I just—I—” he shakes his head and rubs his eyebrows before he points at you. “I’m friends with Anton! We work at the same place and he’s busy,” he rambles and keeps waving his hands around. “So he told me to come get his…this,” he says and pulls out a black leather wallet. “This is his. And I was on my way home so he might as well just sent me so I could—”

You hardly believe him, but he is rambling so you just cut him off to bring the both of you ease. “Alright, alright. I get it. It’s okay, calm down.”

The guy lets out a relieved sigh and drops his hands at his side. “Oh, god thank you I was just scared you’d report me.”

Your dad was here, waiting for you so you don’t really have time, so whatever this very cute guy was really here for you let it slide.

“Nah,” you assure him. “Not this time. But if I see you here again I will, considering Anton is in class right now not at work because his work is, this place.” You scoff and shoot him a smirk.

The guys jaw drops and he begins to shake his head and hyperventilate.

“Don’t,” you keep assuring him. “I don’t care right now. You did all the effort, who would I be if I foiled your well thought of plan.” You laugh softly, and he scoffs softly—“Uh, whatever your name is.”

The guy swallows thickly and his eyes soften, whilst he looks almost surprised. “Peter.” He says with a genuine soft smile on his lips whilst he puts his hand out. “Parker. Peter Parker.”

You glance down at his hand and giggle before you take it just as he was going to pull it away as he realizes what he did. “You didn’t ask but I’m y/n.”

Peter’s smile turns to a smirk and he keeps his hand around yours as he counters. “Just y/n? I mean I went through all the trouble of giving you my last name.”

You slowly grin in amusement. “Spector,” you share. “Y/N Spector.”

Peter pulls his hand away and nods as his smile widens. “Well, y/n I hope we can maybe run into each other again. Maybe under better circumstances.”

You scoff. “It would be a shame if I was the one that sent you to jail.”

Peter begins to walk back and rebuttals. “Yeah, I’d like to see you try.”

“Is that a bet?” You queire.

“Maybe.” Peter shrugs and turns around to head to the elevators.

Once you don’t see him anymore your dad finally comes out to find you. “Y/N,” he calls out. “Everything okay?”

You turn and face him with a faint smile. “Yeah.” You nod. “Yeah. Everything is fine.”

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

The music in your ears gets louder as the doors to the subway slide open.

A soft groan escapes past your lips as you tighten your grip around the burning coffee cup in your hand.

A variety of different scents dances in your nose as you step in the subway. And a variety of different people come into your pherial view as you look from side to side; one red-headed person especially stands out to you, so you turn to walk to the right and scratch the itchy wig on your head as you bop your head to the music.

As you begin to approach the red-headed man with the black satchel discarded on the side of his feet you pretend to look for a seat, but pretend you don’t see his feet out in the pathway and trip and “accidentally” drop your hot coffee on his lap.

“Watch where you’re going!” The man exclaims and jumps off his seat with his hands out to look down at his coffee stained pants.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry sir,” you say in a sweet voice and shift to his right to block his vision, so Marvin can take the seat next to the man, and then quickly switch the satchels.

Rather than bringing attention to himself by standing up and moving, Marvin moves the satchel you came here for and rests it at his side and pretends to be busy on his phone as he stays where he sat.

Meanwhile, you keep trying to apologize to the man using the best you have; the fact that you’re a young woman.

“I have,” you mumble and slip a backpack strap off your shoulder to look for a napkin. “I have something for you. I’m so sorry man. I’m such a klutz.”

The man takes one look at you and sighs before he shakes his head and lets out a deep and annoyed sigh. “I should be more careful. My feet were in the aisle, sorry sweetheart,” he says in a Boston accent before he sits back down. “It’s okay. It’s just coffee.”

You let your backpack swing back and meet the man’s gaze with a feigned apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry once again. I’ll be more careful.” You offer him one last sweet smile before you walk away and stay standing by the subway door. You proceed to go on your phone and pretend to be busy on it, which in reality you were distracted by it, mostly by the message your father sent you.

Dad:

Steven wants to go to Coney Island tomorrow. That okay?

You smile faintly at your phone and immediately respond.

You:

Yeah. Sounds fun :)

The subway begins to roll to a slow stop thereafter so you put your phone in your jacket pocket and wait. Once the doors open you make sure to get lost in the crowd. You then peer back and make sure the red-headed man isn’t close.

When you don’t see him nearby you pull off the backpack you had bought at some thrift store, and place it down by a homeless man’s makeshift music stand.

“Thank you,” he salutes you.

You offer him a partial smile, and as you climb up the steps of the subway station and begin to see the dark polluted sky over the Rockefeller center you pull your headphones off and tuck them in your pocket. You then follow to put your hood on and slip off the red cheap wig off your head and throw it to the nearest trash can.

After all, they say that the most subtle changes are the best kind.

Nevertheless, once you begin to walk past the Rockefeller Center to head towards your bike you left behind earlier, someone bumps into your arm, as you look over you catch Marvin walking at your side. He then meets your gaze and hands you the satchel before breaking away and going home his separate way so you wouldn’t be suspicious.

However, once you turn into the street you left your bike at, it’s of course gone. Your fault for not hiding it well enough.

Damn.

You sigh and have no choice but to walk home now. At least it isn’t far from here.

You grip onto the satchel and pull out your phone first to text your contact whilst you slowly turn to face the sidewalk.

You:

I have it.

You put your phone away, and as you look up you see the red-headed man from the subway, and two other men with black hoods over their heads.

“You really thought you would get away with it that easily?” The redhead asks with a scowl on his light brown face.

You stay where you are and shrug nonchalantly. “It was easy to take it.” You smirk, and the man scoffs whilst the other two snicker at him.

The redhead pierces his glare in you, and without warning he reaches back to pull out a handgun hidden behind his jacket.

You catch him point at your chest right away, so without letting go of the satchel, and as the man doesn’t hesitate whatsoever to hit the trigger, you cross your wrists over one another and stop the bullet with the bangles that are hidden under your jacket sleeves.

There’s a sharp pain you feel on your arms, before you also feel a burning spot on your skin, on the spot where the bullet hit the bangles. Yet the good thing is that there’s no feeling of blood trickling down your arms, there's no other intense pain. It…

It worked.

THE FUCKING NANOTECH WORKED!

You blink and look at your wrists in disbelief and pride, whilst the men blink rapidly in shock.

“Wh…” the red-head gasps and slowly lowers his gun to look at you.

“She’s a freak!” His friend on his right side proclaims before he also reaches back.

You blink and snap your eyes over to him before uncrossing your arms, and proceeding to lift up your left sleeve to change the bangles to claws on your Apple Watch; just like the claws Khonshu had provided for you in the short time you wore his ceremonial armor.

The man on the right then pulls the trigger, but before he can shoot, you lunge forward and swing your arm to gash his arm and make him drop his gun. You then swiftly twist around hastily to face the red-head and proceed to swing your arm again, managing to gash his face before he can shoot again.

Yet, as you’re distracted with those two, before you can hit the guy on the left, he gets to you first and bashes something hard and cold on the bridge of your nose.

You keep a hold on the satchel, but immediately lift your hand to cup your wounded nose, and groan as a sharp pain radiates throughout your offended area.

“Fucking…DICKHEAD,” you curse the man and stumble back. “Ah.” Thick warm liquid begins to trickle down through the gaps of your fingers, and drips down your face. “<Son of a bitch>, dickhead.”

Before you can let go of your nose you suddenly feel a tug on your satchel. You drop your hand to look down and catch the man’s hand on the satchel, so you pull right back, and then slowly glower at him before you kick the red-head in the crotch without shifting your gaze his way.

“Stupid little—” he groans and stumbles back.

The man on the right picks his gun off the ground and points at you, yet just as you snap your eyes towards him a fourth voice suddenly cuts in. “Above you!”

You try to look up, but before you can suddenly a flash of red swings past you and the man with the gun is gone from his spot.

“What the—” you gasp and snap your head to the other side and see the man webbed to the hood of a car. The man on the left also looks over and then begins to pant before looking over at you and pointing his knife at you.

“You—”

“Up here!” A familiar young voice shouts from your left, causing you to look over, and catching Spider-Man balancing himself on the railing of a fire escape. “Sorry did I scare you?” He asks and touches his chest as he begins to walk forward.

You slowly begin to smile up at the man in the red and blue tights.

“Stay back!” The man bellows and points his knife at Spider-Man.

“Oh,” Spidey gasps in feigned panic. “Oh no. Do you see that, Wolf?”

He remembers.

You look down at the man and nod. “A knife,” you say and step towards him. “Isn’t—oh no, your weakness its knives,” you play along.

Spidey jumps down and lifts his arms. “Please sir, whatever you do dont use it.”

The man slowly begins to step back and points his knife between you and Spidey as you both begin to corner him.

“Stay back!” The man yells out shakily and comes to a sudden halt as the heel of his shoe hits the red-heads gun.

He glances down and quickly bends down to reach it, but Spidey then shoots his web out and sticks his hand to the ground.

“You know it’s very rude to pick on defenseless girls,” Spidey remarks, making you scoff and side eye him.

“I’d hardly call myself defenseless,” you quip and prop one hand on your hip.

Spidey looks over at you and counters. “You did need my help.”

You furrow your eyebrows together and tilt your head. “Did I?” You retort. “I totally had that handled.”

“Hardly,” Spidey argues. “You were about to get shot.” He points.

“Meh.” You shrug again.

Spidey chuckles. “Meh?” He mocks you. “You were—”

Yet just before he can finish his comment he cuts himself off as an arm wraps around your throat.

“Gimme the satchel,” the red-head demands and grabs your wrists.

Spidey turns and gets ready to attack, but you then throw your head back on the man’s face, making him stumble back and letting you then spin around to swing your leg around and kick him back.

The red-head groans, and you proceed to punch him in the throat before pulling out one of your paralyzing gadgets, and activating it just as you slap it on his face.

He then falls stiffly to the ground thanks to you, letting you let out a frustrated breath of air before you turn and catch the other man webbed to the ground, while Spider-Man stands before you with his white bug eyes wider than usual.

“That was…that was co-awesome.” He compliments you.

You smile and scoff softly as you drop your gaze. “Thanks.” You slowly look up at him again and sigh. “Thank you for helping me. It seems you always find me at the right time. Should I be scared because you’re possibly stalking me? Or should I be forever grateful?”

“Stalking you?” Spidey quips in amusement and props his hands on his hips as he slowly walks towards you. “Do I need to remind you that you’re in my neighborhood? And it’s not my fault you always need my help.”

You giggle and shrug in defeat. “Okay, sure the first time, but this time I did have it handled.”

“Sure you did.”

You roll your eyes and then point back. “I’m sure you have a busy night so I’m going to head home before I get jumped again.” You turn and walk away from the alleyway, you then hesitate to put your music back on to wait if you’d hear him swinging away, but you actually catch fast approaching footsteps before you hear his voice.

“Do you want me to walk you home? I’m sure I can spare a few minutes just to make sure you get home okay.”

You turn around and face him as you continue to walk back, and he continues to walk after you.

“Are you sure?” You probe. “Hate to take you from your work.”

Spidey shrugs. “I’m sure, besides I think you need my help more with that bleeding nose. It looks broken.”

It definitely feels like it.

Regardless, your heart begins to pound at his offer, and you’re only hesitant because you genuinely are concerned, otherwise you would have accepted his offer right away.

“Fine,” you sigh and pretend to give in in defeat when in reality you’re excited and equally as nervous; it feels like you’re going to actually puke. But that might be the blood you taste from your bleeding nose.

Nevertheless, Spidey runs over to catch up to you. When he’s at your side you turn around on your heels and lead him towards your dorm.

“Okay I have one important question,” Spidey interjects right away.

You glance over at him and nod. “Shoot.”

“How are you so good at fighting?” He asks. “Like you’re very good.”

You scoff softly and drift your gaze away as you begin to smirk cockily. “Well one reason,” and the most important. “My mom taught me. And two,” you sigh. “I’m trying to prove something to my dad.” You begin to grin now. “If he wasn’t going to teach me I was going to find my own way.”

The bottom half of Spidey’s mask just slightly shifts as you assume he purses his lips together as he nods in comprehension. “Those are very good reasons,” he says.

“I know,” you quip with the same cocky attitude.

“By the way I should actually thank you,” he continues to say, making you knit your eyebrows together and smile nervously out of confusion—“you managed to fry my web cartridges so I went back and completely updated them thanks to you.”

You chuckle and glance at the street ahead as you turn the corner. “You are very welcome,” you snap. “Let me know if I can help again. I’ll be more than happy to.”

You begin to cross the street after checking that it was clear, and he continues to ask questions once you jog over to the other side.

“So you’re not going to tell me what’s in that bag are you?”

You glance over at him and simply shake your head.

Spidey sighs in defeat. “Just as I was going to tell you who I really was.” He mutters, making you snort.

“You were not,” you quip.

Spidey nods. “I was,” he says in a teasing tone.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Don’t tease me like that man.” You nudge him with your shoulder, and he nudges you right back. Yet even if it’s meant to be something lighthearted, some fun taunting, you suddenly go serious as you really just take this in, take in that Spider-Man is taking time out of his day to walk you home. To talk to you.

“Why,” you mutter now in that serious manner, “why are you doing it?”

Spidey tilts his head and probes. “Doing what?”

You stop and make him do the same so he can turn and face you. “Talking to me. Helping me. Like if we’re friends.”

Spidey shuffles back and moves his hands around nervously. He then scratches the back of his head and looks down to answer. “I-isn’t that what you wanted?” He asks and looks up at you again. “When you gave me your number?”

You blink and scoff. “I mean yeah…I was sort of testing myself. But I didn’t think you’d do it. I mean…” you swallow thickly. “Why?”

Spidey stays quiet and shrugs. “I don’t know,” he reveals after a moment. He then lets his big white bug eyes linger on you before he sighs and points his head forward. “Let’s go get you clean.”

The answer wasn’t really satisfying but it was one nonetheless, so for now you take it and continue to lead him to your apartment.

Once you reach it, you turn the lights on to your one room small apartment and welcome him inside.

“I’m sorry,” you excuse yourself and wait for him to walk in before you close the white wooden door behind him. “If it’s a mess. I just had stuff shipped from overseas.”

Spidey slowly makes himself inside your square apartment and looks around at the one single purple lounging couch in front of a small flat screen tv, he looks at the very tiny kitchen that probably only had room for one person to be inside, and then he looks at the boxes you tried to organize as best as you could by the wall beside your tv.

“I’ll bring the stuff so you can help me,” you mumble and walk over to your room to lock the satchel in a box under your bed before you go to the bathroom.

“Are these your parents?” You hear Spidey ask loudly so you can hear him from where you are.

You grab a first-aid kit, a splint, and a bandage from the bathroom counter under your sink. You don’t even dare look at yourself in the mirror, you’re too afraid to see the bloody aftermath, so you just quickly turn the lights off and stride out to join Spidey in the living room as he’s looking at the picture of you and your grandparents, hung over a wall by your door.

“No, they’re my grandparents,” you share, and step forward to point at an actual recent picture of you and your dad—well really it was one of you and Steven in front of an old Pyramid he was geeking over, but it’s the same body and face so it counts. “That’s my dad.”

“He seems nice,” he comments and then looks away to keep studying your wall picture.

You scoff at his comment out of genuine amusement. Steven was nice, he managed to make your fathers face look like he was nice, but Marc wasn’t that nice to people who he thought were threats, which as per usual included mostly guy friends you had.

“Here,” you interject and turn to put the things down on the very small circle table behind your couch. “Please be gentle, okay?”

“Gentle?” Spidey repeats with amusement and turns around to walk over to the small table. “Okay.”

You quirk your brow and counter. “What’s so funny about that?”

Spidey shrugs and opens the first-aid kit to take out the alcohol wipe packets. “You were kicking ass not so gently.”

You laugh and shake your head as you take a seat on a stool. “That doesn’t matter. I mean I can take a punch, but I'm sucker at actually tolerating the pain afterwards. No matter how tough I act.”

Spidey scoffs and gently pulls out a wipe after he tears the packet open. “Yeah, it sucks. I’m not so good at it either.” He leans down and carefully begins to pull the wipe up to the bridge of your nose where you can feel a small cut. “Especially when I’m upset.”

You smile faintly and meet his big white eyes not knowing if he’s actually even looking at you or not behind that mask.

“This is going to sting,” he warns before gently dabbing the wipe on your nose, making you wince and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Damn,” you hiss under your breath and grip onto the stool.

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers and pulls the wipe away to grab another so he can clean the moist blood that was stained on your upper lip. “It’s…I’m just cleaning,” he explains nervously. “Just…cleaning. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” When he’s done he pulls his hand away again and grabs something else. As you slowly peel your eyes open you see him grabbing the splint off the surface.

“So,” he continues to add and looks back up at you. “Now that you asked me a question. I get to ask you one. That’s how this is gonna work. Okay? Is that okay?”

You nod without hesitation. “Okay. Sure. Shoot then.”

Spidey sighs and just before he can say anything he presses his hands against the bridge of your nose and cracks the bone back in place, causing you to instantly yelp and throw your head down as blinding obilirating pain shoots out.

“<Son of a bitch,” you swear in Spanish. “Son of a bitch. Ah—>”

“I’m sorry,” Spidey exclaims out and throws his hands out to try and comfort you. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t tell you what I was going to do because you’d only get scared, and you said you didn’t do good at tolerating pain so I didn’t want you to freak out. I’m sorry! Please y/n I’m sorry.”

In that moment of you suffering in pain you didn’t catch it. The moment he uttered your name when it’s been clear you were only using each other's nicknames and aliases.

“Fuck, it’s fine,” you murmur and grab his wrist to lift yourself back up. “You’re good.” You let out a shaky sigh and drop your hand back at your side. “Okay, go on.”

“You sure?” he asks.

You nod.

Spidey sighs and finally begins to put on the splint. “Okay,” he continues. “Now my question. Why are you doing it? Taking stuff. Risking your life for the work you do?”

You lower your gaze and shrug gently. “I guess because It’s something my family is into. My dad, my mom…I’ve always liked what they do.” You begin to smirk. “It’s fun to me. And well it also falls under the same category of me trying to prove something to my dad.”

“So you’re doing it to get back at him,” he guesses right.

You nod. “Yeah. I was. Now…well…I’m in it too deep. I can’t stop.”

Spidey hums and reaches for the bandage strip to carefully place it over your splint. “I get what you mean,” he mumbles, and due to his mask his voice is barely audible. “I can’t stop doing what I do either. I’ve tried…I’ve tried to stop but…I can’t, it’s my responsibility.”

You let the silence linger before you begin to frown and then rebuttal. “The difference is you do good. I steal stuff, I beat people up and I like it….” You avert your gaze and think back to those damn scales. “I’m not a good person, you are.”

Spidey puts down the wrapper and stays close. “Says who?” He retorts.

You feign a laugh and roll your head up. “Would you believe it if I said scales by an Egyptian goddess?”

Spidey’s white eyes widen before they quickly narrow. “I would,” he assures you. “I definitely would considering, well…everything.”

You scoff softly and smile down at your hands. “Well…a few months ago. Shit went down…and someone read my scales…which to explain it so you’ll understand, they were judging me.”

“Judging you based on what?” He asks.

“My heart…it was impure I guess…she was judging me based on thoughts, things I might do in the future,” you share in a whisper. “I don’t quite understand myself…it was a very long week, but it basically told me I wasn’t good.”

Spidey hums, he doesn’t laugh at all at what you just said which should sound ridiculous to anyone who didn’t witness or, to anyone who isn’t involved, but he doesn’t, he steps closer and comforts you.

“I don’t think that makes you a bad person, it’s just thoughts. I mean I think of punching customers all the time at work, do I? No.”

You smile sadly and mumble, “Steven would like you.”

“I mean what did you do that week? Did you-”

“With the help of my family we stopped that same goddess from devouring the souls of the world,” you deadpan and snap your eyes up to meet his gaze. “That’s what I did.”

“Oh,” he says and steps back as he nods in comprehension. “Oh. That’s, hm, you know I am not that surprised as I should be. I actually have so many questions now.”

You shoot him a partial smile. “Well it’ll have to wait won’t it?” You retort sassily.

Spidey props his hands on his hips and shakes before he sighs and continues with what he was saying. “I don’t think you’re a bad person. I know I barely know you, but I want to believe you’re not a bad person.” He step forward to get closer to you. Your smile softness, and your heart begins to pound in your chest.

“Thank you,” you whisper and hold his gaze.

Spidey keeps getting close until he’s only inches from you. He stays quiet, but a tension begins to grow in its stead. A tension that lets you hear only your soft breaths, and the neighbors muffled conversation. He then tries to reach for his mask, but you slowly put your hands out and grab the bottom of his mask. He puts his hands over yours and slowly begins to pull it up with you until you just stop on the tip of his nose. He tries to pull it up more, but you just slide your hands up to his cheeks and study what is revealed of him instead, taking note of his pale neck that clues you in more of who he might be. You also notice he has a dimple on his chin…

Just like the cute guy from earlier.

Regardless, Spidey also has thin pink lips.

He then leans in and you part your lips just partially. Yet just before you could close the gap a knock raps on your door, making Spidey and you gasp and jump.

The knock raps again before suddenly a voice echoes out. “Love, it’s me. It’s Steven,” he laughs softly. “I know I know I should’ve called or texted, but would you guess what? My phone died.”

“Fuck,” you whisper and quickly get to your feet and grab Spidey’s arm to pull him towards your room. “Stay. It’s my dad, he can’t know you’re here. He’ll get nervous and tell my dad.” You don’t catch what you say and just begin to close the door.

“Wait I thought that was your dad—”

You cut him off as you shut the door and run over to open the front door, and greet Steven as he stands just outside your door. “Steven,” you grin and pant. “Hey, man, what’s up. Come in.” You step aside and let Steven walk in before shutting the door and slowly stepping over to have your back blocking your room's door.

“We were in the neighborhood,” Steven begins to say and puts down a paper sack on your table. “So I thought I’d come and drop off our favorite…” he turns and shoots you a sweet smile. “Donuts. There was this neat vegan…” Steven trails off and his smile fades as worry sets in rather quickly. “Hey,” he says and begins to point at his own nose. “What happened, love?”

You lift your hand over your nose and quickly make something up. “Boxing,” you blurt. “I had boxing class today. My partner missed the swing,” you laugh breathlessly. “I’m all good though Steven, don’t worry.”

Steven hesitates but slowly nods as he puts his hands back down at his side. “Well if you say so.” He sighs and begins to smile again. “I brought you a chocolate donut and a glazed one, so enjoy. That’s all I came here for. Oh! And to wish you a goodnight.”

You smile softly and stay where you’re at as he walks over to the front door. “Thank you, Steven, that’s very sweet of you. Goodnight.”

Just as he has his hand over the knob he then looks back and interjects. “Oh! And tomorrow, I hope you don’t mind that it’s just a me and you day. Marc can’t hog up all our time with you.”

You grin and nod. “That sounds like a plan. And I bought us matching shirts that say I Love New York, so,” you giggle. “Tell Marc to get ready for that.”

Steven grins. “Really? That’s rad.” He opens the door and pushes it open. “Thank you, love. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Steven. I’ll text Marc in a bit.”

Steven nods and waves at you before he closes your door, and lets you breathe out in relief.

Once you don’t hear his footsteps out in the hall you run back to open your door and let Spidey out. “Okay, He’s gone. Sorry about that. I just…” you explain and walk back out with him in tow. “I just couldn’t let him see you.”

“Uh, question, earlier you referred to your dad—”

“Oh,” you cut him off and realize only now what you said. “Steven is my dad's….alter. He has a condition,” you say without shame.

Spidey’s eyes widen as he nods slowly in comprehension. “Oh, okay.”

You hum and then lift the brown sack. “Vegan Donut?” You ask.

Spidey looks at your bag and then at you and nods. “Sure!”

You put the bag down and open it to let him pick it out as you go and wash your hands.

When you’re done you walk to your room and change out of your bloody shirt and into a random hoodie you find on your bed. Once you walk out and rejoin Spidey you catch him with his head tilted towards the window as distant sirens begin to cry.

Meaning one thing.

“You can take it,” you assure him. “My treat for helping me.”

Spidey bites down on the chocolate donut and begins to walk towards your window. “Thank you. And I—I'll text you. Later.” He says as he opens your window with the pad of his fingers.

You follow him to the window and nod. “Alright,” you say and watch him as he begins to climb out with the donut in his mouth. “Be careful!”

Spidey looks over at you as he has one hand on your window sill, and his other hand and his feet stuck to the brick wall. “I always am,” he says softly. “Goodnight y/n.”

You offer him a soft sweet smile and redirect it back at him. “Good night, Spidey.”

After one last lingering look he throws a web out and swings away.

And it’s only once you don’t see him anymore that you realize he said your name. You’re actual name when you haven’t given it to him yet. When Steven didn't say it when he came just now. When there was nothing out in your house that said your name; sure he might’ve snooped in your room. But…now you realize that he said your name before too.

He apologized earlier and said your name. Before he went in your room.

How does he know your name?

Wait. His thin lips and dimpled chin. His voice. It…

Holy.

It matched exactly with the guy you met earlier, and it might be coincidence sure but his voice isn’t. It’s the same voice.

Oh my fucking—

Spider-man is the guy you met earlier. His name is Peter Parker.

Holy shit!

Tagged: @broadwaytraaaaash @jasminemohmed

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