#they would hop off the hay bed

[kaaaaaaarf]

So I watched that episode of Our Flag Means Death where Ed finds the bunny and thinks it's a wolf and thought, what if Remus was a wererabbit and Sirius had no idea? Anyways, have a drabble.

Here I Am (a rabbit-hearted boy)

Hogwarts Era. 654 words. Wererabbit Remus. G.

Remus' floppy ears twitch unhappily. He had been so careful—so careful not to let his friends see the monster he becomes every full moon. He thought he was sneaky, when he made his way out of the castle before dinner—after the other boys had already left for the Great Hall, but here is Sirius, standing above him with wide eyes. He'd seen the whole thing, the whole transformation—running into the clearing before Remus could even shout at him to stop. Before his body bent and twisted violently into a monster.  Remus' tiny body shakes in fear. Finally, after an impossibly long moment, Sirius seems to come back to himself. "R—Remus? Are you—you're a werewolf?"  …I'm a what now? 

"I thought maybe you were upset about Snape ruining your Potions final when you didn’t follow us down to dinner, so I came back to find you and saw you sneak out of the castle. I decided to  follow you, but I didn't think...Oh my God. You're so...so...cute."  Remus' nose twitches in a way that he thinks sufficiently expresses his shock and distaste. He’s not cute. He’s fearsome! An abomination! Sirius, unafraid, crouches down and strokes a gentle hand over the tawny fur on his back.  Okay, well Remus doesn't hate that.  Sirius scratches behind one floppy ear, and it makes Remus’ back foot twitch. Sirius smiles. "Are you a friend, wolf? Merlin, wait til I tell James about this! Our Moony—a real bloody werewolf!" and then as quickly as he’d appeared, he's gone, running off back toward the castle. It's just as well, Remus is dangerous like this. As much as he would love some company on the moons, one bite is all it would take and he could turn Sirius, too. He couldn't live with himself. Remus has just finished snacking on some grass, and is just about to hop into the underbrush to play chase with the rabbits of the Forest, when Sirius comes running back, this time with James in tow. Great. "See James! That's Remus, he's a werewolf!"  James, who is bent over trying to catch his breath, looks up at him like he's stupid. "That's a rabbit, Sirius." "No...I saw him transform—that’s Remus. He's a werewolf." "At best that's a wererabbit." He looks down at Remus, his face twisted in thought. "Sorry Remus, just a sec. Sirius—" he looks back up at the other boy, pinching the bridge of his nose. “—have you ever actually seen a rabbit before?" "Well, not precisely...Grimmauld is in the middle of London, not exactly teeming with rabbits and the like." "Babbity Rabbity? Surely you've read Babbity Rabbity at least." "I'm pretty sure Babbity Rabbity would never make it into the Black family library. Not macabre enough." James sighs. "Okay well, I’m telling you that's a rabbit." James points down at him, and Remus twitches his nose, hoping it conveys how tired he is.  Sirius stomps his feet, insistent. “But his last name is Lupin, not Lapin! He's Wolfie McWolf, not Bunny McRabbit!” “I’m pretty sure his name has nothing to do with which were-animal decided to take a chunk out of him, Sirius!” Remus tries to hop away while they’re fighting, but Sirius spots him and scoops him up into his arms. “Oh no you don’t! Come on Remus, I’ll sneak you back into the castle—get you something to munch on. What do rabbits eat, anyway? Hay? Flowers?”  Human flesh.  “They eat grass and, like, carrots. Good call though, better get him inside before an actual wolf spots him. Come on, Remus.” And that’s how Remus finds himself, a few hours later, in a soft bed, snuggled under the covers with Sirius’ hand gently resting on his furry back. He supposes being found out isn’t so bad, and if he wakes up in the morning—human again, Sirius spooning against his back, he thinks that might actually be even better.

#wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #marauders #remus is a wererabbit #wolfstar microfic #fic: Here I Am (a rabbit-hearted boy) #hogwarts era

[luveline]

Spencer coming home from a long case only to find reader has unexpectedly adopted a bunny? ("Look Spence!! This is Doctor Bunny Reid :)")

thank u for ur request ♡ gn!reader

Your apartment smells strangely like straw. 

Spencer creeps inside quietly. It's five AM, too early for him to feel good about waking you up, but he hasn't seen you in eight long days, so he had to come over. He's hoping he can dump his stuff and slide into bed beside you without waking you, content to be close to you, assured that you're alright. 

He shucks off his jacket and his bag of dirty clothes by the door and unlaces his shoes. Hand pressed to the wall, Spencer walks down the short hall, past your living room and kitchen, to your bedroom door. 

"No, Doctor!" you say in a hushed shout from behind the door. "You can't eat that, that's one of his favourites. Woah, that tickles." 

Honestly, the first thing Spencer thinks is that you've gotten so bored you've found yourself enacting odd role play. The second thing he thinks is that you've found someone to do it with, and he quickly backtracks the first thing. He doesn't like the sounds of it, but he can be into it if you're into it. Probably. 

"Y/N?" he asks, pulling down the handle and opening the door.

You're sitting on the floor by your bed in strange attire. His t-shirt (that, while he appreciates the sentiment, does not fit you even slightly) under an old soft sweater with a huge hole in the collar. Black sweatpants, one sock, and a pair of white bunny ears perched in your hair. 

"You're not supposed to be back until seven," you say, shocked.

"That was my seven, not your seven… Surprise?" 

"Spence, I'd totally run at you right now, but," —you point at your lap— "I'm occupied." 

Spencer is disappointed, doubly confused by what you're pointing at. The soft lump at your abdomen isn't your tummy after all, but a moving grey creature of the same colour. 

"A rabbit?" he asks, eyes widening as the bunny in question nuzzles your sweater for petting. 

"Doctor Bunny Reid," you say, avoiding Spencer's eyes, a sheepish tinge to your admission. "To be precise."

"Your sock?" he asks, moving down onto his knees adjacent to your own. 

"He took it. I don't know where it went." 

Spencer quirks a smile. "He's cute. I don't think I can compete, really." 

You put your hand on the bunny's back and lean forward. "You compete," you say, pouting gently, "you're adorable." 

His smile turns to pleased surprise as you kiss him. Twice in quick succession, before you arm curls behind his back for a loose hug over your new pet.

Spencer breathes in your smell. Or, attempts to. "The hay and ammonia is a lot." 

"I know. I'll figure it out, I promise… I missed you, Spence." 

"I can sort of tell." Spencer isn't sure he needs to be a profiler to realise that adopting a bunny and naming it after him while he was gone is the sort of thing only a very lonely person would do. "How's he so calm?" 

"He's, um, four years old, he's used to handling. I got him at the pound. His owner died last week." 

"You have all the stuff for him?" 

"Of course I do," you say, leaning back to meet his eyes. "I didn't mean to get him just 'cos I was lonely, I promise I actually read up on it before I decided. He's handsome, isn't he? You wanna feel how silky his ears are?" 

Spencer doesn't doubt you care, or that you're responsible, he's just surprised. You hadn't mentioned wanting a rabbit before. Petting the rabbits ears softly, he asks, "You know they live for eight to twelve years? Sometimes longer? The oldest rabbit ever documented was eighteen years old." 

You frown. "I know, Spence, it's a commitment. I should've asked you first, but I–" 

"No, I mean. It's not about that, I hope we get longer than eighteen years together. But are you sure Doctor Bunny Reid is the name you want to choose?" 

Your face floods with relief. "Well, his real name was Mr. Patterson. Which one do you like better?" 

The bunny has enough of your lap, hopping down onto the floor and bolting for what appears to be a big wooden house you've set up for him. There are black partitions for an enclosure leaned up against the wall. Spencer can guess exactly how he'll be spending the day, and it involves less cuddling than he thought. 

Spencer takes your empty lap as an opportunity to hug you again, a protective hand cupped behind your head. "Definitely Mr. Patterson," he says, resting his nose against your cheek. 

You laugh infectiously, leaning back under his weight.

"I missed you. I'm glad to be home," he murmurs. 

You hug him tighter. "I missed you, too." 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[thefunkfactory]

Gassy Gymnast

Feeling like he had admired himself in the mirror long enough, Trevor went back to changing out of his sweat stained gym clothes in the gymnasium’s locker room when he saw, sitting on a bench, a pair of boxer briefs. He knew that they were expensive and someone probably will come looking for them but the voice in the back of his head just told him to take them before anyone sees, so that's exactly what he did. Trevor grabbed them and hastily walked back to his locker, then the voice told him to do a sniff check to see how badly they needed the attention of a washing machine. The crotch smelled like it had never been worn, or at least not been worn to the gym, but the back of the briefs smelled absolutely rancid. Trevor quickly shoved them in his gym bag, noting that he needed to get these in the wash before they made his gym clothes smell like someone just spent their entire gym session passing gas, and made his way back to his place. On the drive back to his place he could smell the air wafting out of the gym bag, he normally didn’t mind the smell, being a semi-unhygienic eighteen year old afterall, but the air wafting out today was absolutely awful. Instead of the normal smell of his teenage boy funk unable to be contained by his deodorant, all he could smell was the intense funk of a stale fart, even after rolling the windows down it didn’t help. Pulling into his parking spot at his apartment he just needed a breath of fresh air. Hopping out of the car but leaving the bag on the passenger seat, did a lap around the parking lot and refilled his lungs with fresh air, uncontaminated fresh air. Getting his fix of clean, healthy oxygen he opened his passenger side door and leaned it to get the bag, somehow in the five minutes he had been away the stench was no longer the smell of a old fart lingering in the air but had intensified into what made him feel like he had caught a fresh fart right in the face. Gagging as he swiftly snatched the smelly gym bag up he rushed into his apartment to throw everything into the washer unit in his apartment. Dumping more laundry detergent in than he normally would for a full load, he started up the washer with only the few things his gym bag contained spinning inside of it. As the funky gym clothes and the rank boxer briefs spun he used the time to wash his own foul funk off of him.

Jumping out of the shower smelling fresh and squeaky clean he was ready to completely be rid of the worst smell he had inhaled all week. At the end of the washers cycle the washer beeped and he fished out all the clothes hanging them on his balcony to dry. His apartment luckily came with a washer but the landlord skipped over the dryer, so Trevor always had a myriad of gym clothes airing out on the balcony. With the sun going down Trevor got ready for bed and hit the hay soon after hanging up his clean gym clothes and new addition to his underwear collection. Waking up the next morning he was in the midst of getting ready when he went to bring the clothes back inside from the little clothesline he had outside, grabbing all his gym clothes first. He left the boxer briefs last hoping that the extra minute it would take for him to come and get them would let them air out just a little longer. Picking them up off the line Trevor went inside through his sliding glass door and took a sniff of them again praying that he wouldn’t be subjected to another nasal assault. Luckily he was in the clear, the boxer briefs had been de-funkified, so having a nice new pair of fresh smelling undies, Trevor slipped them on.

Finishing getting ready the eighteen year old gymnast headed back to the gymnasium to teach a class to some younger kids. While he was teaching the class Trevor overheard some of the young teen boys he was training whispering to each other that “It smells like someone just ripped ass in here man it reeks”. Trevor thought nothing of the comments given that he didn’t smell anything and that when he was training at their age he and his friends used to pull gross pranks like crop dusting each other, ya know dumb stuff preteens do. Working up a sweat after the class he went back to the locker room to grab his stuff, he didn’t bother to bring a change of clothes since he was going straight home after he taught the class.

On the way home one of his homeboys texting him to see if he wanted to go study at the community college library. “Yeah totally Brad but I won't have time to go home and shower if I do…and I kinda smell”, “Dude I’ve probably reeked worse than you do right now” responded Brad. Knowing that Brad probably has worked up a better funk in his life, probably in this week alone, Trevor headed home to grab his laptop and school bag and quickly headed over to meet up with Brad. Getting to the library he checked his phone and saw that Brad texted “Yo bro I scored a study room for us! Come find me”, doing a lap around the library to find the room Trevor bumped into a guy built like a nerd. “I'm so sorry man! Let me help you with that!”, Trevor quickly said after knocking the stack of book out of the nerds hands. Covering his nose with his shirt the nerd sputtered out “No it’s okay man I got it don't worry” the nerd said in a tone that was attempting to shoo off Trevor. “Uhhh okay dude if you say so”, Trevor walked away wondering to himself why the nerd covered his nose. Finding Brad, Trevor burst into the study room, “Hey bro!” Brad proclaimed. “Yo man what's up!” Trevor responded. After having a quick conversation to catch up and talk about how hard their stupid math class is they broke open their laptops and began working silently, only talking every so often. After about ten minutes of studying Brad piped up and said “Trevor, man I know we are friends and I told you you could come smelly or not but can you go outside to rip ass it’s really starting to reek”, Trevor not thinking he was being serious said “Hawhaw dude, what are you talking about? It doesn’t even smell bad in here”. Brad rolled his eyes and remarked “Whatever dude, just go to the bathroom or something next time you need to fart”, Trevor feeling a little embarrassed that his friend thought that he would just rudely let it rip like he was a brainless Neanderthal just softly told him he would and they went back to studying. Not even five minutes later Brad, with annoyance and a twinge of agitation in his voice, said “Dude I just told you not to funk up the room with your ass! I don't know what you ate earlier but whatever it is, it’s making you into a gassy mess!”, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t know it was me!” Trevor said incredibly embarrassed as he stepped out to got to the bathroom. “Leave the door open man, the room’s gotta air out now” Brad sternly asked as Trevor walked out.

In the bathroom Trevor was just looking at his phone in front of the mirror searching up what could make someone so gassy so suddenly. He still didn’t really think it was him who was letting out the butt funk but he couldn’t be sure after Brad’s outburst. After a few minutes of thinking over what it could be a thought came to him, what if the boxers were still wafting off the same air and he just was accustomed to it now. As this thought crossed his mind, as if in response to it, he felt a rumbling in his stomach and then… PPPPFFFBBBTTTT a blundering fart shot out of his ass echoing off the bathroom walls. Trevor, not knowing what to do, tried to put his hand over his ass as the blast of rancid air forced its way out not caring that some hand was trying to stop it’s escape. Pulling his right hand back from his ass he instinctively covered his mouth out of shock and embarrassment with the same hand, if he wasn’t holding his phone with his left hand he would’ve covered his mouth with that one. With his hand that just caught the latter half of a funk filled fart right under his nostrils he accidentally breathed in the funk. Going straight to his brain, the funky fart smell started to affect his thinking. Normally he would have ripped his hand away from his face if it smelled like straight ass, but for reasons he couldn’t understand he started feeling pure bliss coming from the fact that he was huffing in his funk. For a second he thought to himself that “This is what real men should do, they should relish their own stink…I mean stink like this is natural and manly”. Realizing how gross that sounded Trevor wiped the thought from his head and thought to himself that “No no no this can't just be a coincidence, something is wrong with these underwear!”, finally removing his fart contaminated hand from over his mouth he reached down to try and strip off his pants and boxers. As if the pair of boxer briefs itself was attempting to stop this as Trevor grabbed the elastic of his sweatpants and briefs with both hands, he felt the need to squat a little. Now squatting he was about to pull down his briefs when a hissing noise began to escape out of his posterior. The smell of pure teenage fart funk filling up the bathroom made Trevor pull the boxers and sweatpants down only off of his inflating butt as the hissing stopped. Trevor, unable to think for himself without influence from his own farts, stuck his right hand inches away from his asshole and held up his pants with his left and then just like before, the rumble started and he let it rip,

PPPPPPPFFFFFFFFBBBBBBBTTTTTTTTT

His face contorted as he let out the longest fart he has ever heard, lifting his hand out of the blast zone he raised the tips of his fingers right below his nose. At this point there was no stopping it, Trevor was barely in control of his thoughts, he took a deep breath in and the worst scent he had ever smelt flooded up his nose and into his brain.” Trevor began to have his own thoughts mixed in with the fart influenced thoughts race across his mind in a matter of milliseconds. Thoughts like “What am I gonna do!? I’m turning into some dumb gassy imbecile!” “This is so gross…No this is normal all men should be like me…All men should smell like me.” “What is Brad gonna do when he sees me like this!?” and the last thought Trevor had was… “My gut feels weird…”.

PPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFBBBBBBBBBTTTTTTTTTTTT

One last thunderous blast of fetid…no…one last blast of Trev’s delicious smelling ass air came roaring out, filling the bathroom with noxious fumes that could be considered a chemical weapon, but to Trev it smelled like heaven. Pulling up his pants and then inspecting his body in the mirror Trev thought to himself “I'm so lucky I found those underwear huhuhuh…” His thought trailed off as a little final toot squeaked out of his ass.

Trev opened the bathroom door and the young guy standing outside the door saw as Trev stepped out a green cloud of stupefying farts reached out towards him. The stranger tried covering his nose but to no avail, as the fart cloud infiltrated his nostrils he had the thought “I should go add to the funk in there” entering the bathroom the young stranger would become just like Trev. As Trev made his way back to the study room those who were in near proximity to Trev and caught a whiff of the fog surrounding him, their thoughts began to slow and they began to enjoy the stench lingering after Trev passed. As Trev reached the study room he looked back to see a room full of young college aged boys dumbing down and creating a hefty cloud of funky flatulence.

Proud that he unknowingly helped all these guys be one with their stink, Trev entered the room. Immediately upon entering Brad caught a whiff of Trevs contaminated gas and covered his nose “WHAT THE FUCK MAN YOU SMELL ABSOLUTELY RANCID!” Without saying a word the lithe gymnast somersaulted to Brad, pulled down his pants to reveal his ass, and helped Brad realize how good it feels to smell like a real man.

#dumber #farts #stink #musk

[naffeclipse]

Have you considered writing a cowboy DCA au? Or a vampire AU?

I have ideas for both! I mention my Vampire AU in my Laundry List of AUs Post, but I haven't talked about a Cowboy AU yet!

For my cowboy AU, Y/N owns a prairie house and a small patch of land out in the wild west. You work hard and make do even though you're falling behind on payments and falling deeper into debt and danger of the bank taking your property back. It's a tough life. You know that.

Nothing exciting happens around here until one day you see a figure riding in from the distance. An animatronic on a horse. You're a bit weary of strangers, especially out here, where cattle rustlers and outlaws are aplenty, so you greet the rider with a shotgun. He's all smiles and hand waves, his sun rays partly hidden underneath his hat. There's a shiny pistol in the holster on his belt and a rifle hanging off his back. A large bag is strapped to the saddle. He's careful to not reach for something he shouldn't, and you let him dismount to talk to you, lowering your weapon.

He reassures you he means no trouble and that he just needs shelter for the night, if you don't mind. He's more than willing to offer a helping hand in exchange. He's a talker, sweet and charming, and you're not in a position to refuse extra farm help. You put him to work. He does it all without complaint which you appreciate.

There's a moment when you take a break from the back-breaking work to lie down in the field, staring up at the sky. Your eyes end up closing. You feel a gentle shadow over you. When you look up, Sun is there, casting blissfully cool shade and asking if it's alright for him to stand here. You tell him it's just fine. You ask him if there's any worry of him overheating. He says no, but thank you kindly for the concern.

Later, when you check in the barn, you notice that the large bag that was on his horse is now gone.

You don't want any trouble.

At sundown, when you call for him to come inside, you're greeted with a different animatronic, still smiling and soothing and promising that it's the same cowboy, please put the shotgun down. You've never met an animatronic like him. Sun. Moon. You let him come inside.

You spend a quiet night with the cowboy. He helps you clean up your dishes even though he had no part in the mess-making. There's little talk of where he came from or where he's going, but he mentions lying low for a while. You don't want to know. You don't ask. He asks if he might touch the guitar you have there in the corner. You tell him that's fine. You haven't played it in a long time. He serenades the night with plucked chords and twaining strings, and somehow, you fall asleep listening to the gentle strums and wake up the next morning in your bed.

Sun greets you all cheerful. You don't know what to feel about having another around to talk to... but you're adjusting. He asks for another day's work for another night's lodging. You agree. He smiles so big you're afraid he'll burst.

You get a visit from a fellow farmer (Sun makes himself scarce on the rare chance a visitor comes) who talks about the news, the gangs rolling through the valley, the cattle missing, and a distant bank just recently robbed. You shake your head.

Later, in the barn, you're shifting hay on the hayloft when you step back and expect to find solid flooring but there's nothing but air and you're falling—then caught in solid arms. Sun exclaims how you have to be careful! You would have gotten hurt. You wish he would put you down already, holding you like this turns you all red and embarrassed. Even when he sets you on your feet, Sun insists he finishes with the hay up top. Your pride is awfully stung but the ghost of his arms around you chases you outside and it's only there that you can finally think clearly after all the excitement.

When night falls, Moon helps you deal with a fox in the chicken pen but in chasing off the fiend, something snaps along his arm when he hops a fence and you know that ugly sound means something's broken. Wires spark in the dark. You rush to his side faster than you've ever run. You gingerly hold his arm and guide him back home to fix the damage done even though you're only a support to his injury, and he, thankfully, can tend to himself. He says he's learned how to take care of little problems like these since he's been running by himself for a while. You almost ask what he did before he came here but you don't dare. You told yourself you didn't want trouble. Getting attached will do nothing but stir up your feelings. There will be no one else to blame if your heart gets broken.

He picks at the guitar strings to test his repair and sings a little song that you swear you won't fall asleep to but, again, you wake up in your bed when you know you didn't tuck yourself in. Sun is already outside, getting a jumpstart on the day's chores.

The cowboy stays another night, then another, and then a few weeks have flown by. You get a visitor from the bank asking for payment or else they're taking your land and everything on it. You chase off the man, spitting mad, but you're still in troubled waters. You're going to lose all you have. Sun witnesses the encounter from a distance but you don't speak of it all day. Then, Sun finds you when the sun burns red across the sky.

He talks softly to you and before you know it, he's leading you by the hand and spinning you in a little dance you've never danced before. Sun leads, and you follow because he's the last light you have, and when he dips you low, you rise with the Moon in the near darkness, dancing and dancing on dirt. You've never held a hand that felt so right with his arms twirling you around and around—you almost forget you're going to lose it all.

Besides the crackle of the fire in your hearth that night, Moon coaxes you to talk about the money you owe and your pride almost bites your tongue off but you do it anyway. Moon asks when the bank man is going to come again. You tell him in the morning but you don't want charity. You don't need it. You owe enough debts as it is. He gives you a grin that is too mischievous for his own good.

That night, you lean against his shoulder when he plays a gentle song, a ballad about lovers falling and magnolias blooming. You wake up in your bed but it's still dark out and Moon is gone. You get up to find him but he's already at the door, holding a large bag—the one that was missing from his saddle. He tells you to pay the bank when they come and get a receipt. You ask him what in blue blazes he's doing with a bag full of money but he shoves it in your hands. Morning spills across the land. Then it's Sun winking at you. The bank is coming. He tells you he needs to go now, but he promises to come back for you.

You tell him you can't owe him like this—you'll never be able to repay it. Sun promises that you won't owe him anything, he'll get the money back.

You can hardly be angry before he's on his horse and taking off into the distance. You curse yourself out for being a fool and having a heart that wants to stick roots into anything that lingers longer for a day and for having this bag of money that isn't yours and for letting that cowboy dance and serenade you, but when the bank sends another man to collect, you pay it all. You get that receipt. The man accepts the payment and goes on his merry way, back to the bank that can no longer hound you. All of your debts are erased, thanks to the cowboy.

You don't know where he was hiding the money. You remember the news of a distant bank that was robbed.

It's only a few days later that you learn from a fellow farmer that the man carrying back your money to the bank was ambushed. An animatronic outlaw caught him alone. He stole the entire bag of cash. The farmer laughs when he says the bank man was madder than a wet hen. He also remarks that he's surprised they didn't come after you for more money, but you had a receipt. They can't touch you.

After the farmer leaves, you sit in a daze and then curse the cowboy out again. You still owe him.

You didn't want trouble, yet here you are, all twitterpated and waiting for when he comes down from the horizon.

#okay that's like the beginning but there's a very dangerous gang and sun/moon weren't always running on his own #and of course he comes back #but he accidentally brings the very thing he was running from back to you oops #turns out he's a slippery fellow and well someone wants him #and you're the sweetest honey to use to catch their fly #cowboy au #cowboy!sun #cowboy!moon #magnolias blooming #i didn't mean to write this much but uhhh here we are

[thesassypadawan]

Broke The Internet...Again *part 1* (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: Just a silly, little drabble about the whole Empire photos being released. Just thought it would be fun to share.

Warnings: None, really. Just some playful banter and cuteness.

Notes: Hope you lovelies enjoy part 2! 😘

- “I’ll help dry in a minute. I’m checking something real quick.” You just finished with dinner and were finally able to look at your phone. It had been going off like crazy during the whole meal. Well, at least it did until you muted Lord Vader’s breathing.

- You hop up on the island, next to the sink. Thinking it was going to only be a bunch of spam emails or score updates for the hockey game or both.

- At first, you’re mildly surprised to see it was all notifications from your various social media apps. Then extremely surprised when you open one and begin to scroll. “Oh…ohh…OhHH?! What do we have here?!”

- “What is it, angel? Your team actually winning?” Hayden jokes; elbow deep in soapy water, a playful smirk on his face.

- “First off…rude,” you pout. Getting a hand full of the bubbles and throwing them at him. “Second…you remember that shoot you did for Empire? The one where you wore that really sexy black outfit I liked?”

- Returning the favor, he places a big glob on the tip of your nose. “I remember VERY well; we didn’t leave the bed for a whole day,” he says smugly, flashing you that damn panty dropping smiles. “So what about it?”

- You grin at him mischievously, legs swinging all giddily. “Weelll, apparently the pics were released today and…” You show him your screen. “Congrats, Hay, you went and broke the internet…again.”

- The look on his face as he sees all the posts, absolutely priceless. He’s always so cute and yummy when he’s embarrassed. “I…um…sorry?”

- “Don’t be! Proud of you, you big dork!” Leaning over, you place a kiss on his very red cheek and whisper in his ear. “In fact, why don’t you let me show you how much I am.”

- His eyes widen slightly, and he cocks an eyebrow at you. “Right now?”

- Biting your lip, you give him a small nod. “I’ll even put on my really sexy black outfit you like… You know, the lacey one.”

- That did it. Dropping the sponge into the water, he doesn’t even bother to dry his hands. Just scoops you up and starts to make a b-line for the bedroom.

- Letting out a small, excited squeak, you wrap your arms around his neck. “What about the dishes?”

- "They’ll still be there in the morning or afternoon,” Hay chuckles. “Or maybe even tomorrow night.”

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen fanfiction #hayden christensen fluff #anakin skywalker #anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars anakin #sw anakin #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin fanfiction #anakin fluff #star wars #star wars prequels #star wars fanfiction #star wars fluff #fluff #fluffy fanfic

[slutforsnow]

billy with sassy!reader?

reader always talks back to ppl and accidentally does it to billy and he's not to found of it.

Watch Your Mouth, Darlin'

Tw/CW: will get suggestive!!

A/N: Ofc!! I'm not good with sass so this may end up being a bratty!reader instead of sassy!reader so apologies if it comes off as that 🥲 she/her reader :]

"What? I'm just saying,' if a man can't bring a woman pleasure, then he can't call himself a man until he does!" She exclaimed to Jease, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

"Oh yeah? What would you know about pleasure then, darlin' cause I reckon you've never had a taste," Jesse retorted jokingly as he loaded his rifle.

"And I bet you've never had a woman to pleasure, Evans," She sassed back, crossing her arms over her chest with a triumphant smirk on her face.

Billy simply shook his head, chuckling to himself. He enjoyed listening to Jesse argue with his girl because no matter what he said, she'd always find a way to sass him back and shut him up. He found it funny at times, but at others, Billy had to teach his girl how to behave when she stepped outta line.

"Alright, settle down, princess, he gets it," Billy called, chuckling as she opened her mouth to continue.

"Mmmmmm..." She hummed, letting an evil grin grow onto her features, stealing his hat off his head. "Why don't you come and make me, cowboy?"

The gang let out a couple of snickers as she teased her lover, knowing this could go one of two ways. Either you gave in willingly or Billy would fuck the sass out of her and they'd have another sleepless night due to her moans, mewls, and screams of pleasure.

"Princess, you know the rule. Dont make me have to fuck that attitude outta ya," Billy warned as she teasingly put the old worn and torn hat on her head.

"So? I can do whenever I want," She retorted, smirking and hopping up onto a hay bale only to regret it moments later. Billy had stood up quickly, scooping her up onto his shoulder. One arm around her legs and his hat in the other as he carried her in her into the large house they were staying in to lay low for a while.

'Shit.' She thought, realizing he was being serious and she attempted to try and wiggle free. "Billy, I'm sorry-"

"Too late, now you gotta learn to watch your pretty little mouth, darlin," He told her, laying her onto the bed and setting his hat on the nightstand. She was in for a long night.

Tags: @hearts4court @snows-wife @delusionalbunni @kiraflowersworld @victory-scream0462 @curled-hair-red-lips @morallygrayboys @phoward89 @etfrin @xoxo-eyeballs @acidaciruela @thereeallink @graciouslyc @wanda-maximoff-enthusiast @firstworldproblemthings

#billy the kid #billy the kid smut #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #billy the kid x sassy!reader #afab reader #fem reader #billy the kid gif #billy mccarty #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid icons #billy the kid imagine #billy the kid fluff #billy the kid suggestive #william h bonney x reader #kid antrim #kid antrim x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coryo smut #coryo snow #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x reader smut #tom blyth x oc #tom blyth x you #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth #coryo x reader smut #coryo x reader

[fruity-mercenary]

Hey!! Trying something New! :D i wanna get back into writing so ima do some reader and characters, oc and canon, and canon and canon writings whenever i get bored! I’m currently on a waiting list on A03 so i’ll post it here for now! I would deeply appreciate feed back and suggestions! (Especially since I struggle with character Dialogue and Comedy even though its my favorite genre 😅) i do hope you enjoy however! <3

This is the first one! Its Earthspark Bumblebee and Reader (you) You wake up sick and he does everything he can to make sure your comfortable and cozy.

The first thing you see when you wake up is big, blue, worried eyes staring down at you. At first it’s a little confusing, but as you come to you realize it’s Bumblebee.

You smile weakly and stifle a small cough that turns into a larger one. You shift and pull the blanket closer as you shiver. It fits just right, its soft and gray, with little white dots that turn into stars.

“Are you okay? Can i get you anything? Soup? Water?” Bumblebee bombards with questions. Hes gentle as adjusts your pillows. You take a moment to comprehend what he just said.. “tissues… maybe a cough drop..?” You Sniffle and cough but not has harshly as before.

“Yes! Will do!” he hops up quickly, rushing off to find said things, the ground shakes softly as he walks to cabinet to cabinet in the base under the barn. Your thankful the hay hasn’t followed into the cozy space.

You feel kinda drowsy and start to close your eyes. You wonder whats taking bumblebee so long. It isn’t long till he comes over and hands you glass “hehe..so there really isn’t any human things down here! But i’m sure Dorothy can make some soup and get you those tissues and cough drops! Would you like that?” He asks politely as he nervously rubs his neck

You laugh softly as bumblebees awkwardness, it’s obvious he cares about you and wants to make sure you feel better. You cough into your hand, not wanting to get your germs on him even if he can’t get sick. “That would be nice…” you say in soft, hoarse voice

He smiles and jumps up with a little hop in his step. “Cool! Cool cool! I’ll go get that!” He points to the door and rushes to go, stopping when you call out his name. “Yeah!?” He becomes calmer, frowning, he wishes you well.

“Thank you…” you curl up closer to yourself, coughing hard. You hope to feel better soon..you like the though of fresh air and to play tag with the terrans. Maybe a walk in the woods to clear your mind.

Bumblebee smiles softly, tilting his head at the gratitude. “Anytime, get some rest” he says in that warm like honey voice he uses when hes appreciative.

You feel your eyes start to close.. you watch him leave.. a part of you doesn’t want him to go, you feel like crap, your shivering, coughing and sniffling. You want to curl up next to him to feel the warm of the engines. You know hes gone to take care of you and he’ll be back. But theres always the anxiety that maybe he’ll get caught up on a mission or its all a dream and you’ll wake up in your room you had before you met bumblebee.. but as you think all this you breathe out your mouth and drift off to sleep.

***

When you wake up again you still feel sick, but you’re awake now, still wrapped up in a blanket and in the cozy nook area. You smell the wonderful soup, surprisingly its still hot too. Though now your head is propped up and instead of a head rest, your head is in bumblebees leg. Is oddly soft even if its still metal. You smile but still feel bad you are getting your germs all over him.

He seems to be sleeping. Or maybe meditating? Its hard to tell but you like it all the same. You grab a tissues that was on the bed side table, along with a few cough drops, the un-drunk glass of water, and the soup with a spoon. It makes you happy that you have so many people (and bots) who want to nurse you back to health. Especially bumblebee.

He looks down on you as you grab the bowl of soup, he smiles and uses his index finger to rub your hair. You two dont need to speak to know how much you care for each other. Bumblebee will be patient as he helps you get over you illness. He’d love for you to be smiling and running around, tracking his speed record and practicing basketball.

Bumblebee isn’t too familiar with human sickness but he definitely knows you dont feel good, just by the way you sound when you cough is telling enough. And though hes a little grossed out by the too-late-uncovered-sneezing he cant seem to care that much.

Bumblebee notices the small frown on your lips, even if you seem to be enjoying the soup. he grabs the remote and puts a show on. He skips threw a few channels, he cant seem to find something until you sit up.

“Stop!” You cough out

He stops switching channels

“Go back.. back further.. keep going…… stop! Forward” you whisper, though the soup is soothing it still hurts to talk. “There..” you smile when you slump back down and curl up closer to bumblebees engines, they feel warm on your shivering arms, exactly what you needed to keep cozy to the max.

You look back at the tv when bumblebee turns the volume up. You told him to stop and go back because the channel had your favorite movie on. You could recognize it form any part, especially since the movie was already 30 minutes in.

“You like this movie?” Bumblebee wondered, since being a scout he didn’t really get to just sit down and enjoy many earth films. He saw bits and pieces when the terrans decided to watch something but it wasn’t really his speed.

“Duh!” You cough and blow your nose. “Sh sh.. the best part is coming up!” You smile as you make bumblebee watch. His reaction is what you’d expect. Your glad hes into your favorite movie, cause then he couldn’t stay your friend.

You were kidding, you didnt know what you’d do without bumblebee. Hes sweet, a bit silly even if it doesnt mean it. And a bit oblivious to some of the jokes you made. But its what made bumblebee, bumblebee and thats what you loved about him. You may there watching the movie. You’d make some comments if you were feeling better, but you wanted to finish your soup and down your water.

You weren’t tired but weren’t quite awake either. You just lay there, content as you could be in that moment. Bumblebee puts his hand in your back and you feel soothed. If you could you’d bask in the moment forever.. minus being sick. You got comfortable agains bumblebee oddly soft metal and focused on the movie.

Especially since bumblebee liked it too… it made you happy and safe. You already had a list of movies in your mind of what you think bumblebee might like.. once your feeling better a slumber party was just the perfect thing for the both of you.

#writing prompt #creative writing #writing inspiration #writing #fanfics #earthspark #bumblebee fanfic #bumblebee earthspark #x reader #reader (you) #comfort #sfw interaction only #sfw #transformers fanfiction #transformers bumblebee #transformers earthspark #small art account #small writing #small account #enjoy <3 #silly little fella

[wheels-of-despair]

Easter Bunday Pairing: Billy Knight x You Summary: Billy and Bunny-Mama sit back and watch their bunnies enjoy a Birthday / Gotcha Day / Easter surprise. Contains: Bunny-related activities, Billy-related reflection, just a cute and fluffy little Easter fic. Words: 900ish

"Ready?"

Billy scans the living room floor one last time, making sure everything is where it's supposed to be. You smile as you watch his eyes dart from place to place in the obstacle course you've created together.

You'd realized a month ago, when Easter decorations flooded every store, that you were approaching a year of being Bunny Parents. You weren't exactly sure when Cookie and Cream were born, but since you'd acquired them soon after Easter - The Designated Bunny Holiday - you'd decided to combine it all and have a party. For your rabbits. A Birthday/Gotcha Day/Easter Party. Or, to make it a little easier… Easter Bunday.

You'd been planning for weeks, and saving all your paper and cardboard to make things out of. Your living room floor looked like a tiny cardboard village. Holes had been cut into boxes for them to play in, a mock-clothesline holding leaves of lettuce had been set up for them to snack on, and Billy had crafted all kinds of new toys for them. Instead of hiding Easter eggs, you'd planted treats in paper tubes and little tufts of hay for them to dig out. It was a Bun-stravaganza!

Billy finally nods in approval and says, "Release the buns."

You chuckle and open the door of their cage. You scurry to the couch to join Billy, and wait for the bunnies' curiosity to get the better of them. It didn't take long; Cookie and Cream hop out shortly and begin exploring their obstacle course.

You and Billy watch with amusement, quietly encouraging them on occasion. "Keep digging, Cookie!" "Your other left, Cream!" The rabbits explore and munch and destroy like it's the best day of their lives. When the bunnies get distracted by the lettuce line, Billy opens a box of chocolate you'd put in his Easter basket and offers it to you. You reach for a piece, kiss him on the cheek as thanks, and pop it in your mouth. Billy never takes his eyes off the rabbits, but you find it difficult to take your eyes off of him.

Billy had only vague memories of Easter with his Mum. You'd tried going the traditional route once, in a bid to help him reclaim his childhood, but it just didn't feel right. And so your Easter traditions became sleeping late, cooking a big breakfast together, and exchanging Easter baskets… in a very loose sense of the word. Your small offerings of candy and sometimes a trinket had come in grocery store bags, they'd been presented in empty tissue boxes, they'd been arranged neatly on the kitchen table. This morning, they'd been in paper bags that were soon repurposed for the rabbits.

This was definitely going to become a new tradition. The smile never left Billy's face, the entire time he watched the rabbits play. His eyes would light up when one of them would discover a treat he'd hidden particularly well, and he'd laugh proudly when they teamed up to destroy a piece of cardboard. He sat on the edge of his seat when they burrowed into a box full of crumpled newspaper and disappeared from sight. The sound of ripping paper and Billy's quiet chuckles filled the room.

After a while, the ripping and the tearing begin to die down, and the rabbits start getting sluggish. Cookie finds a nice resting spot and flops over for a nap, and Cream soon follows.

"Guess the buns have decided it's naptime," Billy smiles sleepily.

"I think they're right," you yawn. He nods in agreement. "You wanna go back to bed or stay here?"

He answers by leaning back against the arm of the couch and holding out his arms. You move so he can stretch out his legs, then crawl onto him and settle into his side. You rest your head on his chest and drape an arm across his stomach. Billy reaches for the blanket on the back of the couch and flips it over you both.

"I think this might be the best Easter ever," he says.

"I think you're right," you agree, drawing little hearts on his chest with your fingertips.

"Think the rabbits had a good time?"

"Baby, we are never going to get them back in their cage," you laugh. "This was the happiest I've ever seen them."

"Cookie is so quick to find her treats," he admires. "Like a bloodhound. Er… treat-hound, I guess? And Cream just rips through cardboard like it's nothing. I love how they work together."

"My sweet Billiam… I do believe we've raised an amazing pair of buns."

"We did, didn't we?" You can hear the smile in his voice.

"Mhm," you hum. "And their amazing dad made them the best Easter Bunday gift ever."

"Their wonderful mum helped," he protests.

"You were the mastermind," you argue. "And it was perfect. So much more entertaining than watching a bunch of kids hunt for plastic eggs. Quieter, too."

"How long d'you think it'll take them to find the rest of the treats?" Billy wonders.

"Oh, I think two or three more nap breaks should do it."

Billy shakes with a quiet laugh and kisses the top of your head.

"Happy Easter Bunday," you whisper, nuzzling your cheek into his chest affectionately.

"Happy Easter Bunday," he mumbles, already losing consciousness.

#writings of despair #billy knight x you #billy knight x reader #billy knight x easter

[khwxbeeda]

yk that prank where girls ask their bf/husband when they return from work that "dinner, shower or... me?" Fbxhskhhxakueudbdjs imagine raghav doing that and Ranveer just throws raghav over his shoulder and says "you as my dinner in the shower" dnbfjsowurydhdbdhfhksskdjdhbd

THIS IS A BRILLIANT IDEA AKDGDKDGSNSGJSVSJSKDBSV

----

The video begins with a close-up view of large brown eyes, scrunched up in an obvious smile and gleaming bright with mischief. Avid fans would immediately recognise Raghav Patil— world famous hip hop dancer and fiancé of Ranveer Kashyap— lying on a soft hotel bed with his cheek pillowed on his arms folded under his head, fluffy hair spilled out over his elbows.

"Okay so," he whispers, and there is an obvious under-current of excitement in his voice, "Ranveer's gonna take two minutes to get here. He's in the lift, the doorbell will ring in about—"

The loud sound of the suite's buzzer sounds from somewhere off the screen, and Raghav lets out a giggle filled with mischief. There is a rustle as he pushes himself upright, and the phone shakes a little as he walks out of the bedroom and to the door, a soft laugh stifled by his own palm.

The camera pans down to show his slender fingers wrapping around the handle and pushing it down.

A tall man stands in the doorway, long damp hair pulled back in a messy half up half down style, a pair of gym shoes held in one hand. The black tank top he is wearing is soaked through with sweat, and does nothing to hide the bulge of his biceps or the broadness of his shoulders where he has a duffel bag thrown over his shoulder, and his grey sweatpants stretch obscenely over his thighs.

Off camera, the sound of Raghav gulping is very audible.

"Hi, jaan," Ranveer says, full lips curling up into a small smile as he glances at the camera before looking at something— or rather, someone— behind it. "Did you have a good nap?"

The camera moves as Raghav steps aside to let Ranveer through, and follows him as he walks into the living room, back muscles flexing as he drops the shoes by the little cupboard and the duffel bag on the sofa.

"Yeah," Raghav's voice says off camera, "I did. Woulda been better if you were there."

Ranveer chuckles and turns around, grinning at Raghav as he strides into the bedroom.

"What's with the camera, then?" He throws over his shoulder as he opens the closet and pulls out a towel and clothes that do not look like he spent three hours out in the rain.

Raghav's little giggle is perfectly audible.

"You must be tired," he says impishly, and the camera follows Ranveer, who is busy pulling his tank over his shoulder. "Spent two hours in the gym, didn't you? Exhausting. Dunno how you do it, really."

Ranveer raises an eyebrow, the camera focusing on the droplets of sweat that drip down his pecs and abs and cling to his deep brown skin. "Where are you going with this, Patil?"

Raghav giggles again.

"You must be tired," he says again, and mischief drips from his words. "So I was wondering— dinner, shower, or..."

He trails away, and Ranveer's other eyebrow rises up. "Or?" He asks, egging Raghav on.

"Or... well, me."

Ranveer blinks, almost like he's surprised. His eyes flick down to the camera before rising up again to the person who's recording.

A second later, a devilish smirk turns the corners of his lips up.

He stalks forward, reaching Raghav in three quick strides, and the camera goes out of focus as he grabs him around the hips. A shriek of Ranveer's name erupts from somewhere as the camera shakes violently, and then there is a glorious view of a round ass covered in soft grey material. The camera zooms in for a second before zooming back out, and it becomes clear that Ranveer has thrown Raghav over his shoulder.

"You," Ranveer's deep, smug voice rumbles, "as my dinner, in the shower."

The video cuts off, but not before a resounding smack, followed by a squeak that is very obviously Raghav's.

-----

Taglist: @orgasming-caterpillar @musaafir-hun-yaaron @shanti-ashant-hai @girlatreus @yehsahihai @4uru @h0bg0blin-meat

#doyh fanfic #doyh #dancing on your heartstrings #ranveer kashyap #raghav patil #ranveer x raghav #raghav x ranveer #raghveer #raghveer fanfic

[metalmonki]

I Want To Ruin Our Friendship pt2

eddie munson x fem!reader

1.6k word count

summary you've been friends with Eddie since you were 5 but discovered it was the love of your life. You want more with Eddie but don't know if he feels the same. Will you ruin the friendship to find out?

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Note still not edited. I don't like editing.

Part 1!

The only place I knew Eddie would never find me was the abandoned cabin in the woods. The only person I've ever brought here was Steve. Steve and I usually hang out here just to get away from Hawkins and relax. He said the cabin belonged to Hopper before he moved in with Joyce. Now it was merely a shell broken down by nature. I curled up in a corner bringing my knees to my chest, trying to keep warm. How could I have been so stupid? Leaving my lyric book on my bed for Eddie to see. He'll probably never want to talk to me again. His face is forever burned in my memory. That look of confusion, of what the hell. I was dragged from the thoughts by the sound of footsteps coming into the cabin. I began to panic. Had Eddie found me? Had Steve told me where I was? What was I supposed to tell Eddie if it was him?

"y/n, are you in here?"

"Steve?" I looked up

"Oh, thank god we've been looking for you for 4 hours, woman!" Steve jogged with concern on his face

"We?" I sobbed

"Yeah, me, Robin, Eddie, Dustin, Nancy, Will, Mike, Lucas, Max, El, Gareth, Jonathan, Argyle, like everyone" Steve dropped next to me. "Actually, I'm pretty sure Nace has gone to get Hop."

"Eddie has been looking for me," I asked, ignoring the rest

"Of course, he literally broke my front door trying to get our attention after you took off" Steve threw his hands in the air. "What happened anyway?"

"Eddie didn't tell you?" I looked at Steve with big eyes

"No, he just came running in screaming that you had taken off and he couldn't find you."

"Let's just say you and Rob aren't the only ones who know about my crush on Eddie", I sighed

"Wait, you told him?" Steve jumped to his feet, running a hand through his hair

"Not intentionally, I was working on a song, and Eddie came over, and I left the songbook on my bed" I started crying again

"Oh y/n" Steve sat back down next to me.

He pulled me into his side, rubbing a hand on my arm, allowing me to cry into his shoulder. Steve sat in silence with me until I started shaking. We were on the edge of winter, so the weather had been getting quite cold lately.

"Come on, we should get you back. I'm sure everyone has been sufficiently scared by now" Steve gave me a small smile

"I don't think I can face Eddie" I looked at Steve, panicked

"y/n, just take a deep breath. It will be fine, trust me" Steve held a hand out to me.

I took his hand and allowed him to pull me up from my place on the ground. We strolled out of the cabin into the woods. Once my feet made contact with the dirt path leading out of the woods, I let out a slight squeal.

"Are you okay?" Steve spun to face me

"Yeah, apparently, running through the woods without shoes isn't a great idea", I tried to laugh

"Do you want me to carry you?" Steve asked, concern on his face

"Please, if it's not too much to ask" I looked down at the ground

Steve gave me a small smile motioning for me to hop onto his back. Steve carried me all the way to his house, making small talk and throwing out the occasional joke to make me smile. I would be lying if I said I wasn't nervous about getting to Steves, and I knew Eddie would likely still be there. Just the thought of Eddie was enough to bring me to tears, and I buried my face into Steve's shoulder and sobbed.

"Hay, y/n still thinking about Eddie?" Steve asked softly

I nodded into his shoulder.

"y/n, you should have seen how panicked he was when he couldn't find you. I think his beating himself up over everything. I can tell you for certain that, regardless, Eddie is still your friend."

We soon left the woods and were back in the familiar streets of Hawkins. It was only 3 streets across and 2 up from where we left the woods to Steves. I wasn't sure I was ready to face everyone, but at the same time, I was cold and tired and just glad to be inside. I think Steve much have sensed this as he placed me down, wrapped his jacket around me and picked me up bridal style, holding me to his warm chest. I sighed, taking comfort in his warmth. I loved Steve when we were together, but I loved Eddie more. Steve had never done one wrong thing during our relationship, so the day I broke it off with him, I spent hours sobbing to Eddie curled on his couch in his trailer watching movies. Eddie had been there every time I ended a relationship. He'd helped put me back together. He didn't know why I'd ended all the relationships, at least not until now. As we grew closer to Steve, I could hear the voices of my friends and Hopper yelling at each other over me. I felt terrible putting them into a panic like this, but flight wins for me every time when it comes to fight or flight.

"Are you lot certain you've searched absolutely everywhere she could have gone?" Hopper asked gruffly

"Yes, Hopper, we've looked everywhere", Dustin yelled. "Even the unlikely place of Eddie's trailer" "If she's still in town, then she's somewhere we don't know about," Robin said

"Jesus H. Christ" Eddie screamed

"Uh, guys", Mike spoke up

"Y/N", Eddie called, running towards us

I instinctively curled further into Steve, wanting to disappear. I heard Eddie stop before us, and I buried my face into Steve's chest.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Eddie asked. I could hear the pain in his voice

"Eddie", I whispered, every fibre of my being wanting to jump into his arms yet at the same time too scared to move

I'm here, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere"" Eddie spoke gently

"y/n, is it okay for me to hand you over to Eddie? I want to make things more private for you two," Steve asked. I nodded into his chest.

Steve handed me off to Eddie, telling him to take me inside while he dealt with everyone in the front yard. I felt relaxed and safe when I was in Eddie's arms. I could smell Eddies cheap dollar store cologne and cigarettes on his clothes. Eddies arms held me tightly against his chest, almost as if he was scared to let go. Eddie carried me up the front steps of Steve's house and into his lounge room. Eddie sat on the lounge, still keeping me in his arms. He wrapped his arms around my waist and placed his chin on my head. I could feel the tears running down his cheeks. I pulled away just far enough to be able to see Eddies face. I placed my hands on either side of his face and wiped away his tears.

""I'm sorry I made you run away. Please don't run away again. I love you, I need you in my life, you are my life, I'm sorry it took me so long to see it, just please…."

I cut Eddie off with a soft kiss. Eddies hands found their way to either side of my face deepening the kiss. It was a kiss filled with emotion. Everything we never said was conveyed in that kiss. I could have stayed in that moment forever. Safe with Eddie, the man I love, have always loved and will always love.

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson the love of my life

[shelbgrey]

Suspicious minds(Sodapop Curtis)

Chapter 1: good morning Tulsa Oklahoma

I woke up to the brightness of the sun leaking through the window blinds above my bed. I let out a groan and stretched out my stiff limbs. As I proceeded to try and get some more sleep before work my door was pushed open a little more aggressive than it should. Out of instinct I grabbed my switchblade from under my pillow and sat up quickly.

"woah kid it's only us" my brother Two-bit said with a smirk ans his hands up. I let out a sigh in relief glad it was only my siblings and not our step dad.

My little sister Danneel or Diggs as we call her jump on my bed. "come on get up! Me and pony are supposed go to the library today" she said tugging on my arm. Diggs is the youngest out of the three of us and She's only 13. She's technically our half sister due to the fact when out mom remarried she got pregnant with Diggs before she died. We don't care though she's our sister and we try our hardest to protect each other from our step dad.

When my brother and sister left I quickly changed for work. I slipped on a faded Elvis shirt and slid my DX shirt over it leaving the buttons open. Before I left my room a shoved my switchblade into my ripped jeans. I looked in the mirror and pulled my brown hair into a high ponytail. I grumbled hating how much it's grown out. To be honest I didn't care how I looked I just made sure I was clean and presentable. I also didn't look like my brother, I was shorter than him and my eyes our brown while his pure blue. Diggs is the only one in our family that really has any resemblance to me.

When I was done I jogged down the stairs to see my step father passed out drunk in his chair and my siblings setting outside on the porch.

"you guys ready?" I asked locking the front door. They both nodded and we started to walk down the street. Our house was close the Curits house so we always walked. It wasn't the safest choice for us greaser but for some reason we didn't care but Diggs hasn't walked by herself since Jonny was jumped. She would always get picked up by Darry or walk in between me and Two-bit on the street.

When we turned down the street were the curits house was Diggs sprinted ahead of us when she saw Pony by the gate. She wrapped her arms around him as Pony picked her up playfully.

Everyone except those two knew they like each other. "break it up love birds" I chuckled which earned me a kick in the but by her.

"real mature" I teased and opened the front door to the house. Everyone except Dally was here today. Steve and Jonny were watching Mickey mouse, which of course Two-bit pushed his way through to get to the TV. Darry was in the kitchen and Soda was out of sight.

"morning y/n" Darry said as I walked into the kitchen. "hay Darry"

I hopped into the counter as Darry continued to move around the kitchen. Me and him were pretty close. He was protective of me, hell all of them were just the perk of being the only girl in the gang. Me and Darry were basically the parents of the group so we always worked together to keep everyone in one piece.

"have you eaten anything yet?" Darry asked shouting the stove off. "no didn't have time, I over slept" Darry then proceeded to hand me a plate of eggs and bacon. "well eat something before work"

"thanks dar" I smiled and sat the table as Darry called out to Diggs and told her the same thing. She walked into the kitchen with Jonny and sat down with me. As I was eating my eyes were suddenly covered.

"good morning Birdie" it was soda. He was the only one who uses that nickname other than Darry. I guess everyone uses it but most of the time it's y/n or little bird. If your wondering how my name came to be just talk to my brother. Aprently when I was a baby I'd make bird noises, then because I'm small for my age I earned the name "little bird"

"hay Soda" I smiled then immediately slapped his chest playfully as he stole a piece of bacon off my plate.

"hay" he laughed and ran off. I chased him around his small house in till he eventually wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to the ground of the living room. As my back was pushed to the ground he started tickling me.

"soda s-stop!" I laughed and squirmed around trying to get away. I eventually grabbed his wrists and pushed him to his back stealing his DX hat in the process. "quit flerting with my sister will ya" Two-bit said not taking his eyes of the TV.

"shut up Keith" I said using his real name. He didn't like it but me and Diggs got away with it. I looked over to soda and his goofy smiled made me crack into laughter.

"guys we gotta go" Steve said making us break eye contact and look over to our best friend. Me, soda, and Steve were definitely the three amigos.

Steve was the only one who i told about my crush on soda. I knew he would keep the secret because he cared about our friendship just as much as I did. I told him I wouldn't tell soda how I felt because if he didn't feel the same it would be weird between us or possibly breaking our friendship and Steve would be in the middle. I didn't tell Two-bit because he would tell him by accident.

When we made it the DX station our boss was at the register ready to assign our jobs for the day. "Steve, soda your in the garage, and y/n your at the register" I sighed walking to my spot. I was always stuck here and I hated it. I knew everything about cars, maybe even more than Steve but it was very rare out boss let me in the garage.

Hours went by and nothing happened it was a very slow day which was nice. We had about an hour or less before we closed up for today so was setting on a stole behind the counter counting money. The peace was shattered by a certain blond crashing her way through the front entrance of the station.

"where's soda?" she snapped. I slowly looked up not in the mood for her crap.

"he's busy Sandy" I said with the same snappy attitude she gave me.

"that doesn't answer my question" she said walking closer the counter with her arms crossed. I sighed and slammed the money drawer closed. "where he always is, in the garage" she rolled her eyes and stomped into the garage. Before the door to the garage closed it was immediately pushed open by an oil covered Steve. He looked a little frustrated as he opened the cooler and pulled out a coke.

"I really hate that girl" he sighed chugging have of his drink. "your not the only one" I sighed rubbing my face.

"you know that bitch Is just using him" he grumbled glaring at the door Sandy used to get into the garage. "yeah and if we talk to soda about him he'll get upset or get mad at us for accusing her" I explained to him.

"I wish he would have had the guts to go after you" Steve whispered. My head shot up and raised an eyebrow. "ummm never mind."

"no, what are you talking about" I said to Steve. He sighed. "he used to have a crush on you but he thought you wouldn't go for him because he thought you just saw him as a brother, then he got in his head you like Dally so he gave up and went for the first girl that he saw"

I sighed and rubbed my face in frustration. I really didn't want to believe him. "Steve just stop" I sighed. Steve looked down the looked back at the sadness in my eyes. "I'm sorry I said anything y/n" he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to his chest. He smelled like cheep cologne and oil but I didn't care I returned his hug glade I was getting a little bit of comfort.

The sound of the door opening broke us apart and we turned to see soda and Sandy. "time to close up guys" he said. I thought I saw a hint of jealously in his eyes but it was probably just my imagination. I rolled my eyes at Sandy's smug smile.

"hay why don't the four of us head to the movie theater tonight?" Soda asked with his movie star smile. I quickly turned him down not wanting to deal with Sandy or watch her try to get into his pants the whole night.

"sorry Pepsi, not tonight" his disappointment broke me but I would get backlash from his bitch of a girlfriend if I hung out with them. Steve would probably get his girl Evie and the four would double date.

"I'm gonna head to the house bye boys" I said leaving. I sighed when I was finally along. When I walked out of the building I saw Sandy's car. It was nice showing she's was a Soc. It took a lot of self restraint to not pull out my switchblade and stab her tires.

<Next chapter >

#sodapop x reader #Sodapop Curtis #Sodapop Curtis imagines #Ponyboy Curtis #ponyboy curtis x reader #Darry Curtis X reader #Darry Curtis #The Outsiders #Dally Winston #Dallas Winston #Dally Winston x reader #johnny cade #johnny cade x reader #two bit mathews #two bit matthews x reader #Steve Randle #Steve Randle x reader #s. e. hinton

[blueroan-equestrian]

Long Day

Smut Darry x reader

I finished work at the daycare and begin to walk down the road to the bus stop to make my way home. I got the job right out of school and it’s where I want to be. My boyfriend got another one right out of school to save up for college. I planned on helping out with paying to send him and keep him out of debt. He’s really smart and kind. Today he would be taking me out for dinner so I really needed the bus to be on time.

I get home and hop into the shower but half way through my mom knocked and told me that Darrel was on the phone. I quickly wrapped myself up in a towel and skipped to the phone. “Hay baby…”

Darry voice came shakily through the phone, “They…they’re gone.”

“Who’s gone baby?” I asked gripping the phone tightly.

Darry sobs rang through the phone, “My parents…they’re dead…”

“Oh Darrel, I’m so sorry. Where are you? I’ll come over as fast as I can.”

“Home… we just got back home. I can’t believe they’re gone.”

“Okay baby I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just wait there.”  I quickly get dressed and grabbed my bike to make my way over to the Curtis house. I was greeted by a distraught Darrel at the door. He brought me into a bone crushing hug as he sobbed into my hair. “Where are your brothers? How are they taking it?”

He straightened up still holding onto me, “Their um…. Taking it as well as they can I suppose… they were both exhausted by the time we got home… they are in their rooms sleeping. I don’t know what I’m going to do… what do I do?”

“Take care of your brothers. I’ll make arrangements for your parents funeral. You don’t need to worry about it alright. I will take care of it alright? It’s late, there’s nothing we can do now. Let me put you to bed and I’ll make you breakfast in the morning. Let me take care of you…”

One year later

I now live with the Curtis brothers to help out. Darry now drops me off for work and I ride the bus back home. My lunch lines up with Ponyboys so often I will grab us something for lunch and we’ll eat together.

“I got detention and they said I needed to get someone to sign this slip if I wanted to serve it during lunch tomorrow instead of after school and well… I would prefer not to get yelled at for something so stupid.”

“Pony… he just worries. It’s not easy to be responsible for your kid brother and not to mention Darry only turned twenty last week.”

“Will you sign it or not?” He whined.

I rolled my eyes, “Ok but you need to lighten up on Darry ok? He’s trying. Try not to be so argumentative.” I asked giving him a side hug and then taking the paper and signing it.

“Thanks… and… I’ll try but only because you asked. I got to get back to school. See you at home.”

…

At home I was making dinner and Pony sat at the dinner table doing his homework when Darry got home after working overtime. He was sweaty and you could tell how tired by how he walked. He draped himself around me from behind, “What are you making here love?”

“Lasagna from scratch. About to pop it in the oven. Do you want me to start you a shower?”

He kisses my neck, “No thanks I got it. But it would be nice if we could get to bed early tonight.”

I smirked and turned my head enough to receive a kiss, “Oh? Alright I suppose that’s fair. Go get clean and then get comfortable in your chair, I’ll bring you your dinner”

Darry kissed me and gave me a squeeze before headed off. Soda was watching tv on the couch with Steve and Johnny and I could hear the teasing but only smiled affectionately. Once dinner was finished I cut myself and Darrel a piece and called the others to dinner. I sat on Darrel’s lap as we both ate. He talked with the boys and I just listened. When Darry was ready he stacked our plates together, threw me over his shoulder earning him some hoots from the boys and tossed our dishes in the sink before taking me to bed.

He tossed me onto the bed and quickly stripped off his shirt before gazing down at me before ripping off my bottoms. He divided in between my legs, devouring my most intimate place. I gasped loudly, “Oh! Darrel! What’s gotten into you?”

Still buried in my pussy, he responded, “Nothing, just enjoying the taste of my woman.”

“You’ve been working all day, don’t you want to be taken care of?” I asked forcing myself to focus on him and his needs.

“I will but right now this is what I need… if that’s alright.” He whispered softly as he raised his head to look at me.

I breathed heavily, “If that’s your honest wish then who am I to deny you?”

He smiled and dived back down into my pussy. His tongue was a true artist and I was a withering mess. I came all over his tongue. I laid limp as he stripped the rest of the way down and the rest of my close off. He climbed up my body kissing his way up, “My love, may I take you? I know you’re spent but I need a release. Can I have my release.” I nodded and he gently pushed his way in. He kissed me deeply and began to thrust in and out of me making me ramp back up quickly. “Shhh darling, you don’t want to have the others hear you.”

I bit down in his collar bone to silence me and he let his head drop with his eyes screwed shut until hot spurts filled me up. Darry collapsed on top of me and snuggled into me. “Feeling better?” I hummed as I gently rubbed his back.

“Much thank you.” He sighed happily. He eventually pulled out and rolled off me, pulling me into his arms.

…

I laid on the bathroom floor groaning in the middle of the night. I hadn’t noticed Pony come in until he was practically looming over me, “Are you sick?” He asked.

“I feel like shit so probably.” I groaned. “Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“No, just wanted to make sure that you were okay. Do you want want some water or something?”

I nodded, “Yeah some water would be nice…”

…

“Doll, you need to eat, you haven’t eaten all day.” Darry urged me.

I was curled up on the couch after working all day but refusing to eat so that I don’t puke. “I don’t want to, I can’t keep it down.”

“Well then your going to have to go and see the doctor. You can’t go on like this.”

I groaned but agreed.

…

I came back from the doctor in a complete daze.

I walked in and everyone’s attention was on me, “I’m pregnant not sick.”

Silence, followed by chatter about congratulating Darry for knocking me up and so on. I rolled my eyes but ultimately was glad to have such a good response. Darry will make a good dad.

#darry curtis smut #darrel curtis smut #darry curtis #the outsiders

[littlelovelyspiderling]

Meeting The Real You (Chapter 7)

Chapter 1 -- Chapter 2 -- Chapter 3 -- Chapter 4 -- Chapter 5 -- Chapter 6 -- Chapter 7 -- Chapter 8

word count: 15,303

___________________________

The two heroes stopped for snacks, parted ways to run some errands—Johnny heading to PetSmart to grab some crickets and Spidey swinging by Marshmallow’s apartment to fill her food bowl—then reconvened for more snacks and a bit of strategizing. Sue always came by before bed to say goodnight to him—a tradition as embarrassing as it was touching—so Johnny would claim he was hitting the hay early, bid her goodnight, then sneak upstairs to meet Spidey on the penthouse floor balcony.

Unbeknownst to the webhead, he did so by yelling at her through her bedroom door and running away the moment her grunt of acknowledgment came from the other side. Johnny was compartmentalizing Sue’s warning from earlier fairly well, too distracted and excited by the rebellious thrills that lay ahead. But one more steely look from her could send him reeling down another heartsick spiral he had no desire to excavate. Soaring above the city and knocking a few heads sounded a lot more fun. 

They found each other on the Quinjet launching pad, bellies filled with double stuffed Oreos and excitement buzzing beneath their skin. Spider-Man claimed he always left the tower this way, but Johnny insisted they be extra stealthy. They were only a few stories above his teammates’ rooms, and the last thing Johnny needed was another run-in with his sister with the masked vigilante by his side. 

“I never thought between the two of us, I’d be considered the bad boy rebel type,” Spider-Man giggled, leaning over the railing. It was the only thing between them and the 98-story drop to the city below.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Johnny asked. Warm wind whipped at his hair. The drone of traffic hummed from the glittering, distant streets. “You don’t think I’m a bad boy?”

“You’re America’s favorite golden child who wears Versace sneakers and only drinks bubbly water,” Spider-Man laughed, turning towards him daringly. “Plus, you made us tip-toe around the place like a couple of kids up past their bedtime instead of two superheroes fighting crime. Of course you’re not a bad boy.”

Johnny scoffed, raising his hand in front of his eyes, flames dancing between his fingers. “I’m a teenager who can light his entire body on fire at will. That makes me hot, combustible, and deliciously dangerous. What’s more bad boy than that, Spider-Man? Or should I say, Afraid-of-Spiders-Man.”

“How about a masked menace with a secret identity and a shady reputation who scours the streets of the city in the night, angsty and alone?” 

The young hero poised the question in a deep, sultry voice, only to bubble with laughter a second later. Johnny rolled his eyes.

“All that mysteriousness disappears the moment anyone actually meets you. In reality, you’re a goofy little science nerd who laughs at his own jokes and wears Hello Kitty pajamas to bed. And I’ve got the photo to prove it.”

Spider-Man pouted. “You’re gonna be holding that one over my head for the rest of time, aren’t you?”

Johnny stood up tall to emphasize their height difference and leaned in close with a smirk on his face. “Just until you admit I’m more of a rebellious bad boy than you are.”

The young hero gazed up at him, the lights of the city twinkling in his eye lenses. Realizing what he was doing—again—Johnny backed off a bit, cursing himself in his head. Spider-Man stared across the skyline, then hopped on top of the railing. 

“Race yah to the Williamsburg Bridge. First one there wins the title of King Bad Boy.”

Johnny snickered. “You know, the more we say the phrase ‘bad boy’ out loud, the less cool it sounds.”

“Famous last words of a 2nd place un-bad boyish loser,” Spidey taunted him, making an ‘L’ with his fingers and holding it against his forehead. Then he backflipped off the balcony and dove towards the distant pavement, hollering like a howler monkey as he fired webbing from his wrists.

The Human Torch chuckled softly to himself. He watched the masked vigilante swing between buildings—a speck of red in an ocean of sparkling gray. He stepped up onto the railing but hesitated, fresh uncertainty gnawing at his gut. Johnny Storm liked to flirt; the world knew this, especially his fans. Nobody was safe from his suave compliments and teasing smooth-talk. It was a way to win others over, assert his dominance, and showcase his charm; it didn’t insinuate he intended to pursue anything with those subjected to it. He simply enjoyed flaunting his ability to flatter and fluster people.

In that case, he shouldn’t feel weird about flirting with Spider-Man. Right?

Spider-Man knew his rep. He’d seen him interact with his friends and fans before. Flirting was part of his personality. There was no reason for either of them to read anything into it, including Johnny himself. 

The problem was, when Johnny flirted with others, they were the only ones who got bashful and coy, not the other way around. But every time he caught himself playing his usual tricks on the masked hero, a nervousness he rarely experienced found its way into his throat. It was as frustrating as it was telling.

But like Sue said, nothing was going to happen. So what did it matter? As long as he didn’t push it too far, Johnny could mess with Spider-Man as much as he wanted without any repercussions. Altering his behavior to act less like himself around him would only further confirm his affection for him. And if the webhead hadn’t caught on by now, Johnny doubted he ever would. 

“Come on, slow poke!” Spidey shouted from below, cupping his hands around his mouth at the peak of his swing. “Whatcha waiting for?” 

Johnny breathed deep, exhuming the unnecessary anxieties from his lungs, then grinned. Absolutely nothing to worry about, he told himself. He could get over these ridiculous emotions for the sake of their friendship. Easy-peasy.

He stepped off the ledge, letting himself drop for a few terrifying, thrilling seconds, then went up in a roar of flames. With a cheer, he blazed forward, rocketing past the masked hero in seconds, making him jolt in surprise mid-swing.

“I figured I’d give you a head start,” Johnny countered smoothly, circling back to hover in front of him, “seeing how I could fly to the bridge and back before you even left this block.”

Spider-Man twirled and spun between each “thwip” of his webs, swooping low to then launch himself skyward. “Probably,” he admitted, somersaulting into his next swing. “But I’d look cooler getting there.”

Johnny shot a puff of flame from his fingers right as Spidey fired his next web-line, slicing the silk in half and making him tumble through the air with a yelp, limbs flailing. The Human Torch cackled as the young vigilante caught himself on a second strand of webbing, his typically graceful movements turned clumsy and frantic.

“Dude!” Spider-Man scoffed, nervous laughter lacing his voice. “Not cool!”

“I’ll say!” Johnny wheezed. “You looked like a frog falling out of a tree!” 

In retaliation, Spidey fired a glob of webbing at his face, rendering the teen celebrity spitting and sputtering as he tried to wipe it away while the masked hero giggled boisterously. Spider webs plus fire evidently led to sticky melted goop that smelled like burnt popcorn. 

“Ugh! This stuff is like glue!”

“Thank you,” Spider-Man stated proudly. “Engineered it myself.”

Johnny cleared the rest of the webbing by flaring the flames surrounding his body, slowing to a glide at the masked hero’s side. “Oh, your enemies must love you—getting caked in this shit all the time.” 

“You know what? They should be grateful when I use it on them. Do you have any idea how long it took me to perfect this formula? Finding the right tools and materials was not easy! Not to mention, testing how much of each compound to add and what temperature to heat it to and for how long and—”

“Jesus Christ,” Johnny laughed. “You’re worse than Sue and Reed combined. You’re like my sister’s nerdy little mini me—swooning over science experiments and chemistry shit like there’s nothing more exciting in the world. You should talk shop around her more often; maybe her love of science could eventually supersede her hatred of you.”

Spider-Man pirouetted out his swing and landed atop a giant digital billboard. Johnny swerved to hover in front of him, flames gilding the edges of his vision. 

“Unfortunately, once somebody decides they hate me, it’s really hard to change their mind.” He gestured to the screen beneath him. “Exhibit A.”

The image switched from an iPhone ad to a photo of Spider-Man overlaid with flashing red text. Hear It Here First! The Latest Atrocities Committed By The Scourge of New York City! Find Out Why YOU Should Despise The Masked Menace Spider-Man! Only On The Daily Bugle.

Johnny winced. This Jameson dick really had it out for him. “Well, you changed my mind,” the Human Torch pointed out. “Maybe, with the right approach, you can change Sue’s mind, too. Hell, even Jonah’s!”

Spider-Man threw his head back and laughed brightly. “I think you’re becoming even more sunny side-up than me.”

The image on the board shifted again, now to a Gucci ad of Johnny Storm wearing baggy pants, a giant belt, and a black crop top. His hands were tangled in his hair, which was lit ablaze, and his face was tilted towards the heavens, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. Normally, Johnny loved seeing his face splashed across screens and TVs and billboards for the whole world to worship. But right now, the Human Torch found himself blushing.

Spidey chuckled again. “Oh, the duality of superheroes,” he lamented. He pointed between the giant Johnny’s eyes in disbelief. “Oh my god. Did you used to have a nose ring?”

Johnny camouflaged his embarrassment behind a suave grin. “Still do,” he replied. “But if I wear it while my flames are on, it usually ends up melting. So you’ll only see me with it every now and then.” 

“I’m actually mad at how good it looks on you,” Spider-Man grumbled. “You and your goddamn model face can pull things off I’d never dream of trying. Also, nose ring definitely adds extra points to your bad boy rating.”

The Human Torch ran his fingers through his flaming locks with a dreamy sigh. “I get it, all right? I’m gorgeous, and you’re obsessed with me. Get in line.”

A nervous giggle escaped the spider-themed hero. “Ugh. Remind me to never compliment you ever again.” He launched himself off the sign and whipped around the closest skyscraper. The Human Torch followed shortly behind.

“I’ll try,” Johnny teased him, catching up to the masked hero and flanking him on the left, “but you just can’t seem to help yourself. There’s so many wonderful things about me for you to gush over.” 

“Get bent, Johnny,” Spider-Man laughed, using the momentum from his next swing to kick off of his back like a fiery springboard. 

“Hey!” Johnny cried. He wobbled in the air for a moment before regaining his balance, then shot after the cackling hero as he thwipped ahead. 

“My advice from before still stands, by the way!” Johnny called, catching up to him. “If you want to try to mend your public image, I can help you! We could make a page or profile for Spider-Man together.”

The masked vigilante cupped his hand behind one ear as if he’d spontaneously gone deaf. “Huh? What’s that? The wind’s too loud! I can’t hear you!” He dashed across the windows of an office building and extended his pointer finger in front of him. “Anyways, the bridge is just ahead! And I’m totally gonna beat you to it!”

“You liar,” Johnny scoffed, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. “You told everyone back at the tower you have heightened senses! I know you can hear me! Hey! Wait up! Spidey!”

Spider-Man pressed forward as fast as his webs would carry him, sprinting and swinging and slingshotting his way between buildings. For a few moments, Johnny let him take the lead. He watched him bob above the skyline and dip towards the earth, admiring the lovely shapes his body made as he arched and soared. His hard edges seemed to soften between flips and somersaults and swings, like the warm wind was eroding away his points. He was a perfect stone skipping across a pond’s glass surface. He was a colorful kingfisher swooping and breaching the surf. He was a fairy in the cosmos bounding between constellations.

And then…he was falling.

Johnny watched in shock as Spider-Man made his signature “thwipping” motion only for nothing to come out of his web shooters but a puff of smoke. Mid-drop, he tried again, aiming with his left wrist this time. Again—more smoke, no webs. He ran through a rapid-fire list of expletives as he plunged towards the ground, arms windmilling through the air. Johnny raced forward to catch him, but it was too late. Spider-Man crashed stomach-first into a streetlamp, his body folding in on itself from the impact, a painful “oof” punching out of his chest. In an instant, the magic spell Spidey had him under was broken, replaced instead by the vigilante’s true essence—a dumbass teenager in full-body pantyhose who’d just belly-flopped into a light post. 

“Oh my god,” Johnny exclaimed, half-laughing, half-concerned. He dove down to where the masked hero had fallen. “Dude! Are you okay?”

Moaning, the young hero clambered on top of the light, hugging his midsection pitifully. “I’m good…y-yep. Totally good. That wasn’t embarrassing at all. Ugh…” He raised his arm in front of his eyes and tapped at his palm triggers. A tiny metal capsule shot out of the device on his wrist, spinning and steaming. He snatched it out of the air and huffed bitterly. “Forgot to load my web-shooters with new cartridges. You’d think with all times I’ve ate shit after running out of webs, I would’ve learned my lesson by now. But no.”

Johnny snickered into his hands. “You have a knack for switching from remarkable athlete to helpless klutz in the blink of an eye. You’re like a cartoon character. It’s very entertaining.”

“Mm-hmm, great. So glad one of us is entertained by this. You know what’s not entertaining? Ramming your gut into a pole after inhaling six handfuls of Oreos. Why did I have to go for double stuffed? Ugh…regrets…”

The Human Torch extended his arms above his head and spoke in his best Anchorman voice. “Breaking news: Spider-Man crashes into a streetlamp then pukes all over the sidewalk! Will his reign of terror never cease? Maybe if he let his friend Johnny help him restore his reputation, dumb stories like these would stop making headlines.”

Spider-Man perched on top of the light post, rubbing gingerly at his belly. “I told you before, Johnny. I don’t care what people like Jameson think about me.”

“I think you do,” Johnny countered, crossing his arms against his chest. “Not Jameson, specifically. But this city as a whole. It’s okay for it to bother you, you know. Being hated isn’t fun. Not that I would know—I’m adored the entire world over.”

The masked hero chuckled feebly. “It isn’t fun,” he admitted. “But I’m used to it by now. And I have better things to do than trying to change their minds.”

“You wouldn’t have to do anything. I would head the entire operation. Since you’re obviously incapable of unburying your rep on your own.”

Spider-Man stood and started to say something else, then backtracked. “Uh,” he stammered, eyeing the sidewalk below. “We’re kind of attracting an audience.”

Johnny turned towards the small mob forming beneath the lamppost. Teens and adults alike were gathering along the curb, murmuring and whispering excitedly, filming the two of them on their phones. The Human Torch grinned and waved, sending a thrill of squeals through the crowd, and a lightbulb went off inside his head.

“Hey friends,” he called. He rose to hover at Spider-Man’s side, dousing the flames on his right arm and slinging it around the vigilante’s shoulders. “Make sure to capture me and Spidey’s good side, yeah?”

Exclamations of surprise and snapping camera shutters bubbled from the pedestrians. Spider-Man shot a glance at him, eye lenses wide, squirming a little beneath his embrace. 

“Johnny…” he said nervously. “We shouldn’t—I mean, your sister will—”

“To hell with my sister,” Johnny hissed under his breath. “Just follow my lead, webhead! Smile and wave!”

“Johnny! Hey Johnny!” a man hollered from below. “Are you friends with Spider-Man?”

“Of course not!” another guy answered for him. “Have you been living under a goddamn rock? Spider-Man is a criminal! Johnny Storm is a hero!”

Johnny frowned, raising his hand. “Hold on a minute—”

“Are you taking the masked menace to the police for burning down that boba shop?” a woman interjected.

“Or assassinating JFK?”

“Or running a whorehouse out of every bagel shop in Queens?”

“It’s true! I’ve seen it! Einstein’s has been overrun by prostitutes! Just look at the outfits those cashiers wear! And it’s all Spider-Man’s fault!”

“Oh my god,” Spider-Man groaned, hanging his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Come on, people! I’ve never even been to an Einstein’s before! Everyone knows Hot Bialys Bagels is where it’s at!”

The crowd’s booing drowned him out. Other than a few supporters sprinkled here and there, the majority of the mob seemed staunchly anti-Spider-Man. Their bitter animosity made Johnny’s stomach twist. 

“Get out of our city!” one guy yelled.

“Leave Johnny Storm alone!” another hollered. 

“Can I get a selfie?”

“We love you, Johnny!”

“Fuck off, menace!”

“You’re my hero, Spider-Man!”

“No he’s not!”

“Shut up!” 

“You shut up!”

“Stop sexualizing bagels!”

Spider-Man sighed. “Love you too, New York,” he said begrudgingly. Then he tugged at Johnny’s non-fiery arm. “I think we should go.”

“But—” Johnny began, fumbling for words. But the masked hero was already zipping away on silken threads, dodging a few handfuls of garbage flung at him from the streets below. The flickering flames on the Human Torch’s shoulders flared in frustration. He turned towards the growing mob, floating high above their heads.

“You’re wrong about him, you know!” he shouted over their bickering, stunning a section of them silent. “You shouldn’t believe everything you see on sketchy news sites!” 

“Don’t get caught in his web of lies, Johnny!” a young woman cried. “You’re one of the good ones!”

“Have my babies, Johnny Storm!”

“Sign my forehead!”

“Step on my throat!”

“Fantastic Four Forever!”

Johnny huffed defeatedly. No matter what Spider-Man did, people continued to hate him. And no matter what Johnny Storm did, people continued to love him. Both of them were caught on opposite sides of the same inescapable fate, but Johnny was determined to drag Spidey over to his end of the spectrum. Unfortunately, at this rate, it’d probably take more than an impromptu photo op or shouting at randos on the streets to make it happen. 

With a sigh, Johnny blew a flaming kiss to his fans, sending a wave of shrieks cascading down the sidewalk. Then he jetted after Spider-Man, who was swinging between skyscrapers once again.  

“Bagel prostitutes, huh?” he said, moving close enough to see himself glimmering in the whites of Spidey’s eye lenses. “That’s a new one.”

Spider-Man shrugged mid-thwip. “Everyone needs a hobby.”

Against his will, Johnny busted out laughing, which made Spidey giggle, too. Johnny considered saying more—about the billboard, the mob, the cruel nonsense they’d spouted about him. But the bridge was in their sights, looming dead ahead, poking above the horizon. And the young vigilante was picking up speed, cutting eager glances his way, daring him to keep up. They zoomed down Delancey Street, passing pie shops and bodegas and fancy overpriced ramen restaurants, the world blurring at the edges of their vision, the wind howling in their ears. Taxis and tour buses whizzed by like race cars. Spider-Man moved like a web-slinging machine and wore the city’s colors well. 

Johnny could easily blaze ahead of him, but flying by Spidey’s side was much more fun. He started bobbing up and down to match Spider-Man’s swinging motions, which made the masked hero laugh. 

“You look like a flaming dolphin!” he giggled, slightly out of breath. 

Johnny smiled. “You look like this city was made just for you.”

Spider-Man’s eyes snapped up to meet his—so quickly, in fact, he fumbled a little on his next swing, very nearly letting the web-line slip right through his fingers. “O-oh yeah?” he sputtered in response, gripping onto the thread for dear life. Johnny laughed into the wind and rocketed forward.

“Eat my flames, web for brains!”

He circled Spidey in a few wide arcs, wondering how they must’ve looked from afar. Perhaps like ice skaters mirroring each other in the rink, or a brilliant comet orbiting its favorite red and blue planet. As they cleared the final stretch of land between them and the East River, Johnny propelled himself into the lead, weaving between suspension cables to land atop the bridge’s first tower. He turned to watch Spider-Man brachiate up the metal wires and flip onto the concrete platform beside him. Once he found his footing, he doubled over with his hands on his knees, wheezing with breathless laughter.

“You’re looking a little winded there, buddy,” Johnny teased him, extinguishing his flames to pat him on the back. “That’s embarrassing. I haven’t even broken a sweat.”

“Shut up,” Spider-Man chuckled, clutching his ribs. “I have to actually exert effort to go fast. You just—I don’t know—think about it, and it happens. Like Iron Man or Captain Marvel with your goddamn rocket booster feet.”

“You mean like two of the most powerful superheroes ever? Guess I’m in good company, then. Cooler, less smellier company.”

Spider-Man sank to his knees with a huff, then flopped dramatically onto his back, letting his legs dangle off the edge of the tower. Johnny sat beside him, tossing a tiny ball of fire between his hands. 

“How long have you had your powers again?” Spidey asked, gazing up at the sky. “Four months?”

“Almost five,” Johnny replied.

The vigilante shifted to fold his arms behind his head. “I know you’ve talked about it in interviews and stuff, but…what was it like? The incident in space, waking up with superpowers, all of it? Did anything happen that you’ve never told anyone before?”

Johnny narrowed his eyes and rested his chin on his knees. “Hmm. I peed a little when I got hit with the particle cloud. Does that count?”

Spider-Man snickered in that adorable little way that spun Johnny’s brain to scrambled eggs. “Seriously? That’s all?”

The Human Torch stared across the glistening river, reliving the moments that had changed his life forever, trying to remember the jumbled thoughts that had raced through his mind. He snuffed the tiny fireball in his fist.

“When the particle cloud hit, I was…the last one to get struck by it. Ben, Reed, and Sue were in front of me, and I had to watch all three of them disappear behind a wall of radioactive space dust.” The menacing storm colliding with their ship and swallowing his friends whole replayed behind his eyes.“In that fraction of a second, everything kinda…dipped into slow motion. I was certain I’d just witnessed all the people I had left to care about die in one fell swoop. And as the ship’s co-pilot, it was partially my fault.” 

Something thorny squeezed the inside of his throat. Johnny swallowed, turning towards the masked vigilante. “Do you know what I was thinking in that moment?”

Spider-Man sat up slowly, holding his gaze, uncharacteristically quiet. Johnny stared at his fingers as they kneaded the fabric on his forearms. 

“I thought, ‘if this thing kills them, then it better fucking kill me, too.’”

A couple seconds passed before Spider-Man laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. Johnny glanced at him quickly then lowered his gaze, feeling queasy and exposed all of a sudden, wondering how the masked hero always found a way to pull these kinds of confessions out of him. Wondering why things that normally felt impossible to say spilled from his lips so easily in his presence. 

“I’m really sorry you felt that way,” Spider-Man said. “You’ve lost a lot of your loved ones at a really young age. Losing the ones you’ve got left is the scariest scenario imaginable for people like us. I know that had to be terrifying.”

With a groan, Johnny turned away from him, wiping at the tears suddenly falling from his eyes. “God dammit, webhead,” he laughed, throat tight. “How do you always manage to turn me into an absolute sap? This is not very King Bad Boy of me.” 

The masked hero giggled apologetically. “For what it’s worth, being emotionally vulnerable is the most bad boy thing ever in my book. It’s something I’ve always admired about you.”

“I hate it, but thanks,” Johnny chuckled. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and took a slow, shaky breath. Johnny Storm’s tendency to feel his feelings very strongly was one of his fans’ favorite things about him. He just wished he could control them more instead of them controlling him. His therapist said big feelings often signify that we embrace life fully because we’re not repressing our natural reactions, but being unable to properly regulate them can be frustrating and scary. It was a very difficult balance to strike—managing without repressing.

“You know what?" Johnny sighed. "You can keep your bad boy title. I’m more of the overly sensitive manic pixie dream boy-type anyhow. If I wanted to come off as dark and mysterious, I’d probably have to follow your example and start wearing a mask. And I don’t see that happening anytime soon; it’d be criminal to cover a face this pretty.”

Spider-Man leaned back with his weight on his palms and his chin tilted towards the clouds. “I’m not gonna lie—on top of hiding my identity, that was one of the main reasons I decided to start wearing one.”

Johnny pulled his hands away from his eyes in surprise. “Really? You’re a big crybaby, too?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Definitely not as big as you are,” he ribbed him. “But…despite all of the life-or-death situations I’ve gotten myself into, I still get scared a lot more often than people probably realize. When I’m fighting bad guys ten times my size and double my age, or getting shot at by machine guns, or struggling to save someone, knowing one wrong move on my end could get them killed…I’m petrified.” 

The Human Torch studied him curiously, the smile on his lips waning. Spider-Man tapped his eye lenses with his fingers. 

“If my enemies and teammates and the people I rescue could see how scared I am all the time, I don’t think they’d have as much faith in me to do what I do well. So I wear a mask and crack stupid jokes to seem cool and chill and in control instead of four seconds away from shitting my pants. Or bawling my eyes out.”

Johnny traced the contours of Spider-Man’s mask with his gaze, his brain deconstructing and rewiring its understanding of the vigilante in real time. He gave his leg a playful punch. 

“Guess we’re both just a couple of dumb, terrified kids in way over our heads, huh?” 

“Probably me more than you,” Spidey giggled. He hugged his knees to his chest and stared at the cars buzzing beneath their feet, his voice suddenly timid. “I used to be scared of heights, you know.”

Johnny cracked into a grin. “No way,” he said.

“It’s true. Have you seen that footage of me scaling the Washington Monument? At the time, that was the highest I’d ever climbed before. When I finally got to the top and looked down, I thought I was going to puke. Or faint. Or both.”

“That is so adorable,” Johnny cackled. “Aw, man. Poor webhead. Scared of heights, scared of spiders. Fate dealt you one helluva hand, my guy.”

Spider-Man huffed. “I’ll have you know I sacrificed one of those poor, defenseless crickets you gave me to Benji, and I only screamed for fifteen seconds. Did I want to scream more? Yes. Did I make myself watch as he tore that helpless insect to shreds? Of course not. I don’t even know if he ate it. I very likely could’ve missed his cage entirely. I had my eyes shut the whole time.”

Johnny snickered into his palm. “At least you’re referring to Benji by his name instead of ‘it’ or ‘monstrosity’ or ‘nightmare fuel.’ That’s progress!”

A helicopter passed overhead, chomping at the air, lights winking. After a beat, Spidey nudged him with his elbow.

“Hey, so…in case no one’s ever said this, I want you to know you can’t blame yourself for what happened on the space mission. Nobody could’ve predicted that—not even Dr. Richards, and he’s one of the smartest guys ever!”

Johnny blinked, bit his cheek, then furrowed his brow. “I know,” he murmured eventually. “It just…it could’ve been really bad.”

“But it wasn’t,” Spider-Man reminded him. “Instead of hurting your friends, the particle cloud gave you all superpowers. I think you were meant to be there when the space dust hit. I think everything happened exactly as it did for a reason.”

A hesitant smile found Johnny’s lips. “And what reason might that be, Thwippy?”

The masked hero shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe so you can save the world. Maybe to give you a family again—one that’s united unlike any other family out there.” He pressed his finger against the Fantastic Four symbol in the center of his chest, making Johnny stiffen and glance down. “But I know for a fact this didn’t happen for nothing.” 

His touch lingered just long enough to stir Johnny’s heart inside his ribs, and he wondered if Spider-Man could feel it. When he withdrew his hand, which felt decades later yet far too soon, the masked hero giggled.

“You’re not about to cry again, are you?”

Jarred back to the real world, Johnny managed a curt laugh. “No, asshole,” he snapped, even though he suddenly felt like bursting into tears. He gave him a shove for good measure and ran the back of his hand under his nose. “I’m not that pathetic.”

The masked hero chuckled, tilting his head to the side. “It’s all right. I think it’s sweet how much you care about your teammates. Even though you act like you hate each other most of the time.”

“Oh, I do hate them,” Johnny corrected him. He grabbed a handful of Spidey’s suit in his fist and yanked him forward with a playfully threatening grin. “And if you tell them I said anything that suggests otherwise, I’ll deny it all and sneak little Benji under your pillow while you’re sleeping. Understood?”

Spidey laughed skittishly, curling his fingers around the ones gripping his suit. “I don’t know. Still feels worth it to me.”

“Then I’ll tweet out to all my followers that Spider-Man is scared of spiders and heights.”

“That’s all you got? I have far more damning things tweeted about me every day. Try again.”

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, my friend.”

“Danger is my middle name, Torch.”

Johnny had released his hold on him by that point, but they were still leaning towards each other, gazes locked, faces recklessly close, kneecaps brushing, breaths stilled. Each daring the other to be the first to back away, chicken out. It wasn’t going to be Johnny. His pulse raced as he pressed the tiniest bit closer, blood electric, voice small. 

“Spidey, I—”

“Something’s wrong.”

Johnny opened his eyes, which had unconsciously slipped shut, to find himself facing the back of Spider-Man’s head. The masked hero was looking behind them towards the Brooklyn side of the city beyond the Williamsburg Bridge. The Human Torch blinked, the fairy lights untangling from his heart, the rose-tinted sparkles dissolving from his vision. Sickly embarrassment replaced all other emotions. He shrunk into himself, swallowing. 

“W-what is it?” he asked in a hollow voice. Spider-Man rose to his feet. 

“Someone’s in trouble,” the masked hero said, animated with urgency. “Like…really in trouble. We have to go.” He kicked off the tower, waving for Johnny to follow him. “Come on!”

Johnny stood up slowly, watching the red and blue figure swing down the center of the bridge, lines of webbing hooked between swooping suspension cables. He emptied the stale air from his lungs. God, I’m an idiot. At least Spidey was too clueless and heterosexual to take a hint. He’d never fallen for anyone this quickly or acutely before. It was bordering on pathetic—unhinged, even. Johnny Storm could have anyone else he wanted: so why did he choose to torture himself by crushing on a guy so clearly not interested? He had to stop entertaining this delusional fantasy. He had to quit reopening old wounds. No more toeing needlessly inflammatory lines. After all the shit Johnny had put him through—from scoffing at his kindness to exploiting his compassion and now forcing his affections on him when they weren’t reciprocated—it was a wonder Spider-Man still wanted to be friends with him at all.

Self-destructive tendencies ran deep in the Storm family. It was time to end this before he officially ruined everything. 

Igniting the fire in his veins once again, Johnny chased after the masked hero, a trail of embers on his tail. They cleared the bridge and zipped above the bustling streets of Brooklyn, the city growing darker and quieter as they approached the more residential neighborhoods near Prospect Park. Spider-Man followed whatever 6th sense instinct was guiding him all the way into an alley between two apartment complexes, which reeked of rotting takeout and sewage. Johnny braked to hover at his side and grimaced. 

“Blech,” he said, pinching his nose. “You sure your danger detecting powers weren’t leading us here because that dumpster is emitting some kind of bio-hazardous radiation? ‘Cuz that’s a bit below my pay grade.” 

“No,” Spider-Man insisted. “It’s something else.”

“You said so yourself your senses can be a bit finicky. Maybe the threat’s already passed.”

“That’s not how it works,” Spidey snapped, taking a couple steps forward. “I can feel it. Someone’s in trouble really close by.”

“Could it be someone in one of these apartments? That’ll take ages to figure out. Maybe we should look for an easier victim to rescue.”

Spidey faced him with a scoff. “Johnny! Somebody needs our help! We can’t just leave! We have to find them!”

“All right! I’m just saying! Maybe this spider sense you claim to have isn’t as reliable as you think.”

“It’s reliable enough to be buzzing like crazy right now! Which I know means there’s danger nearby!” 

“Well maybe the danger you’re sensing is the smelliest dumpster in all of New York that you’ve decided to park us by! I mean, Jesus, Spidey! Are your eyes not watering right now? ‘Cuz mine are practically melting out of my face!”

Spider-Man groaned and turned back down the alleyway. “I know someone’s in trouble. You can go if you want, but I’m staying until I find whoever it is.”

Johnny mumbled a few choice words under his breath, but reluctantly followed him. “This would be a lot easier if the person in danger was actively vocalizing that fact. You know, screaming, wailing, flipping some kind of alarm. Doing something to alert us that they need our—”

“Help! Please help!”

The two heroes stiffened in surprise, wide eyes meeting in the pale darkness. What? No way.

“Help me!”

Spidey and Johnny gasped in unison. Oh shit. Yes way.

To their horror, the weak cries were coming from inside the rancid dumpster beside them. Immediately, Spidey sprung into action. He stuck to the wall above the bin and got right to work digging through the muck, a fresh stink of ungodly horrors bubbling up and assaulting their airways. 

“Oh god, I’m gonna puke,” Johnny croaked. He dared not imagine how anyone could survive being trapped in that noxious filth. 

“We’re coming! We’re gonna get you out!” Spider-Man plunged his entire arm into the garbage, rooting around feverishly, then shot Johnny a look. “I could use a hand here, Gucci Couture!”

“B-but what if there’s something flammable in there? I don’t want to accidentally light you both on fire!”

“Then turn your flames off!”

The Human Torch whined in defeat and extinguished the fire encasing him. “This is not what I had in mind for our superhero team-up night.” He definitely would’ve stayed home if he knew this was what he was signing up for. Looking away with his eyes pinched shut, Johnny gingerly pawed at the sticky trash pile, cursing and gagging into his elbow. The whimpers from within grew louder and louder. As Johnny’s dinner threatened to make a reappearance, his fingers bumped something that felt strangely solid. Johnny ventured a glance into the dumpster to find a hand poking out of the debris. 

“Here!” he cried, only to break into a nauseous coughing fit. While he dry-heaved against the opposite wall, Spider-Man cleared away another layer of garbage and seized the buried man by the wrist. 

“I gotcha!” he said. Spidey pulled him out of the trash mound, an avalanche of filth falling around them, then scooped the man into his arms bridal-style. He hopped off the lip of the dumpster and knelt to the ground, brushing banana peels and Pop Tart wrappers out of his hair. “Oh my god. Are you okay?”

The man blinked dazedly, his eyes distant and bloodshot, his clothes smeared and stained. He had a large bruise on his left temple that was crusted with blood and other smaller wounds sprinkled across his body. Early thirties, Johnny guessed—a waiter, based on his attire. Johnny’s heart twinged at the sight of him while his stomach turned from the smell. 

“Sir? Can you hear me? We’re going to call you an ambulance, okay?”

“My son,” he wheezed, his eyes flashing with realization. He sat up rigidly, grabbing Spider-Man’s arm. “Please. They took my son!”

“Who took your son?” the masked hero asked. “Was it the same people who did this to you?”

“Yes! They ambushed me! They cornered us, ripped him right out of my arms, b-beat me unconscious, then—” He choked on his words, tears flooding his eyes. “I have to get him back! Please! I’ll do anything!”

“Did you see where they took him?” Johnny said. “Did they have a vehicle?”

The man was sobbing hysterically now, hands shaking, hardly able to speak. “I don’t know! It h-happened so fast! I couldn’t protect him! Why would anyone do this? Who would steal someone’s child?”

He doubled over his lap, racked with sobs. Spider-Man laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“We’re going to get him back,” he assured him. A far-off scream suddenly cut through the air, sending a chill through Johnny’s skeleton. The two teens winced in alarm, then dashed to the end of the alleyway, entering the street it fed into. At the nearest intersection, four men were wrestling a young woman into the back of a van. She was kicking and shrieking with all her might, but horrendously, painfully outnumbered. Adrenaline sizzled like pop rocks in Johnny’s bloodstream. Spider-Man whirled towards the father on the ground. 

“Call 911!” he shouted. “Tell them we're in pursuit of the kidnappers! And have them send an ambulance!”

Without waiting to see if he followed his demands, Spider-Man launched himself towards the van on taut strands of webbing. Johnny rocketed after him, pulse humming in his ears. 

“Shit!” one of the thugs hissed. “It’s him! The spider freak is here!”

“Who’s that with him? Oh, fuck! Is that that fruity flaming kid?” 

“Let her go, dipshits!” Spidey cried. A glob of webbing splattered across the largest goon’s face, muffling his cries of terror.

“Call it in! We gotta get outta here!"

"Step on it!”

The men shoved the girl into the vehicle and piled in frantically behind her. Just before the back doors clapped shut, Johnny caught a glimpse of a tiny figure huddled in the corner, arms hugging his knees, feeble cries tearing from his throat.

“Daddy!” the boy wept. 

“Help!” the woman screamed.

Then they disappeared behind tinted windows as the van peeled away from the curb.

“They’re getting away!” Johnny cried. “We have to stop them!” 

The vehicle screeched around a corner. Johnny zipped after it, pumping everything he had into propelling himself faster, leaving Spider-Man far in his wake. He was gaining on the kidnappers, pushing closer and closer, reaching out to grab hold of the door handles on the back—

And then, two more vehicles appeared. 

Zooming up from behind, flanking Johnny on his left and right, gunning it at eighty miles an hour at least. The Human Torch wavered in surprise, glancing between the pair of unexpected bonus vans, squinting to try to see through their near-black windows. 

“The hell—?” he started to say.

“Johnny!” Spider-Man’s voice called from above, his red and blue shape leaping from the rooftops in his peripherals. “Watch out!”

Johnny’s gaze whipped forward just in time to stare down the barrel of a handgun. Poking out of the passenger side window, aimed directly between his eyes. A finger pulling back on the trigger. Johnny sucked in a gasp. His heart lodged in his throat. He wouldn’t be able to dodge in time. 

Shit, he realized. I’m about to be shot! 

The muzzle flashed, a bang rang out, but something struck him before the bullet could, knocking him out of the way. The air was punched from his lungs twice: once when he was tackled, and again when his body crashed into concrete. Searing pain blossomed in his shoulder, making him cry out. He gripped his upper arm and groaned furiously, the weight of whatever had hit him rising off his chest.

“Ow, ow, ow!” Spidey hissed. Johnny peeled his eyes open to find the masked vigilante kneeling over him, swatting at his torso and waving his arms around. “Gah! Shit! That was not my brightest idea!”

Johnny blinked, the recognition flooding in. “Oh my god,” he breathed. “You…that was you? You knocked me out of the way?” He blinked again, the rattled gears in his head gradually clicking back into place. “I…I was about to die. You saved me.”

Spider-Man dusted the remaining cinders off his suit, bits of burnt fabric falling away to reveal blistered skin underneath. “Are you okay? That was a close call. You fell on your shoulder pretty bad, huh? Sorry I hit you so hard.”

The piercing pain snaking down his arm was still present but bearable. Johnny sat up with a grimace, the rumble of car engines fading into the distance, drinking in the scorch marks on Spider-Man’s costume and flesh. Despair lashed around his stomach. 

“Fuck,” he choked out. “I burnt you.” He doused his flames immediately, fingers hovering over the freshly seared skin. “Oh my god. You're burnt all over.”

“I’ll be okay,” Spider-Man assured him unconvincingly. “Nothing a little aloe vera can’t fix. Who knows—maybe I’ll get lucky and it’ll peel into a tan.” 

He flinched when the Human Torch brushed the exposed flesh on his forearm, driving a nail straight through Johnny’s heart. He’d never burnt someone he cared about this severely before. Sure, he’d singed the occasional eyebrow off, fried a few teammates’ reading glasses to ashes, but not this. Nothing like this.

“You’re really hurt,” Johnny croaked, tears pricking his eyes. “You’re hurt because of me.” 

“It’s not that bad. And It wasn’t your fault. I’m the one who body-slammed into you, remember?” Spider-Man was putting on his cheeriest, most comedic facade to try to lighten the mood and lessen Johnny’s remorse, but the streaks of blistered skin peeking through his blackened suit spoke for themselves. 

“I shouldn’t have come,” the Human Torch whispered, skewered with guilt.

The masked hero clasped his arm and gave it a shake. “I promise I’m fine. And if you’re fine too, we’ve gotta get moving. We can’t let them escape with the son and that girl.”

The thought of the two of them trapped with those monsters was enough to anchor Johnny’s focus. Bleary-eyed, he tried his best to swallow down his emotions—just enough that he could execute the task at hand. People needed their help. For their sake, he had to shift his concern. Temporarily, anyway. The despair clinging to his throat sloughed into his stomach and boiled to rage. 

He rolled his aching shoulder and nodded. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

Spidey stood, helped him to his feet, and together, they were off: zipping between buildings, tracking the three vans through Brooklyn. Johnny couldn’t help but notice the masked hero favoring his left side as he swung, which was a little less burnt than his right. The Human Torch kept his distance so none of his heat or embers would accidentally blow into Spider-Man, guilt branching through his insides. He was never going to burn him ever again. 

Two blocks ahead, the trio of dark vehicles came into sight, weaving recklessly through traffic. Johnny scrutinized them from afar, fire licking the edges of his vision. 

“We need to work together to get to the hostages without getting shot,” Johnny called to Spider-Man. The masked hero swung off a flagpole at his side. 

“What did you have in mind, Matchstick? You’re the better team player here.”

Johnny narrowed his eyes and pressed a little faster forward. “You focus on getting to the front car and rescuing the captives. I’ll cover you, disarm anyone who has a weapon, and try to take out the back-up vans.”

Spider-Man nodded. “We’ll cover each other. Just be careful going after the other two cars; for all we know, they could have hostages inside, too.”

The Human Torch balled up his hands at his sides. “Let’s bust these douchebags.”

Spidey charged ahead first, catapulting skyward and slingshotting himself down the street. Johnny jetted after him, eyes darting between the three vans, fistfuls of fire at the ready. Right as Spider-Man landed on top of the front car, the right side door of the van on the left clattered open, revealing three men dressed in black and armed with the scariest machine guns Johnny had ever seen. 

Jesus Christ, Johnny thought, alarm coating his throat. What kind of kidnappers are these guys? Military-grade weapons and matching body armor weren’t prevalent among everyday criminals. These men had funding far beyond any street gang Johnny had encountered. One of the thugs leaned out of the van and pointed his gun at the back of Spider-Man’s head. Magma ignited in Johnny’s blood.

“Nope!” he cried, hurling a fire blast at his hands. “Not today, sir!” Flames exploded in the man’s face, making him drop the weapon with a shout of surprise. The Human Torch propelled himself inside the van, kicking the now unarmed thug into the two other gunmen. They staggered into the back door, scrambling to get to their feet, gawking at the flaming teenager hovering before them. Johnny’s blaze cast a flickering orange glow across the walls of the vehicle and flashed in the men’s wide eyes. He swept his gaze across the hostage-less van and smirked. 

“No captives,” Johnny noted. “Perfect. No one to get in the way of me wiping the floor with you three.”

“The fuck?” the disarmed thug exclaimed. The other goons grappled frantically with their guns as Johnny summoned flames to his palms. Before they could shoot, Johnny seized the barrels of their assault rifles in his fists and heated his hands so hot, they melted shut. He bashed the useless weapons into their skulls, stunning both men dizzy. The third guy pulled a baton from his belt that buzzed with electricity. Johnny laughed.

“You seriously think that’ll hurt me? I’m made of plasma, dude.”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the thug growled. The men had thick Russian accents, like they’d been plucked right out of a James Bond movie. They had such visceral “bad guy” energy, it was almost laughable.

Almost.

“Don’t kidnap children, and I won’t have to be,” the Human Torch countered. The sound of a gun cocking rang from behind him, making him whip around with frenzied movements.

“Don’t shoot!” the goon with the baton ordered. The van’s driver lowered his weapon, looking just as confused as Johnny. “Not that one. We only kill the Spider-Man.”

Johnny faced the thug with a puzzled scoff, throwing his hands in the air. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not good enough for you to kill?”

“Knock him out,” he demanded. “Save your bullets for the Spider.”

Sticky unease swam through his entrails. Why would they want him dead but not me? The goon twirled the baton in his fingers, then charged at him. Johnny met him in the middle—darting forwards and ramming his good shoulder into his chest, knocking him hard enough into the back doors to bust one off its hinges. He screamed and flew out of the van onto the broken door as it skidded across the pavement, sparks flying. Within seconds, he was a receding dot in the distance. The wail of approaching police sirens found Johnny’s ears. Hopefully the cops would grab him before he could make a getaway.

Johnny snatched two pairs of handcuffs from the ominous pile of restraints in the corner and cuffed the remaining thugs to the metal support bars on the wall. Gunfire suddenly exploded from behind him, making him yelp in surprise. Johnny spun around to find the third van careening towards him with four more men inside. They were shooting at Spider-Man, but their car was barreling straight for Johnny. The Human Torch hit the deck as the vehicles collided. The crash made his teeth rattle inside his skull. The van he was in went airborne. He braced for the second impact. 

But it didn’t come. Instead, the van bounced and wobbled like it had landed in jello instead of crashing into the sidewalk. Dizzy relief crossed with wary confusion swirled through Johnny’s system as he crawled across the lopsided surface and staggered to his feet. He poked his head out of the sliding door to find the van suspended about ten feet above the pavement, strung between buildings by thick nets of webbing.

Cursing, the vehicle’s driver flung himself out the window to try to escape, only to drop into the tangle of spider webs and wind up trapped and squirming like a fly awaiting a gruesome demise. Far ahead, Spider-Man tottered on top of the van in front, hopping and dancing all over the place to avoid the bullets blasting through the roof beneath his feet. The vehicle zig-zagged between lanes in attempt to shake him off while the second van revved to catch up. Flashing police cars barreled up the road behind them, the overlapping wail of sirens drowning out everything except the pop of gunfire.

Johnny spared himself a moment to admire Spidey’s quick web work, then launched out of the van. Red-hot flames pulsed off his body as he chased the runaway vehicles, which the police were gradually gaining on. 

The two remaining vans were charging madly down the road. They clipped parked cars and rammed aside any other vehicles in their way, sending sprays of shattered headlights bounding across the pavement. Spider-Man shot quick globs of webbing at the men in the adjacent van while struggling to dodge the gunfire from the thug in the passenger’s seat underneath him. He caught Johnny’s eye and gave him a wave.

“Johnny!” he called. “Could you—?”

“On it!” Johnny said, racing past him. He whacked the pistol out of the gunman’s hands and grabbed hold of his arm through the window, ignoring his cries of pain. Or perhaps, rather, savoring them. This man was the bastard who had almost shot him. He was the reason Spider-Man knocked him out of the way and wound up getting burnt. He was also, not to mention, a goddamn kidnapper. He deserved every ounce of pain Johnny’s fingers were searing into his skin. Johnny held on a little while longer, tightening his grip just for good measure, the stench of fried flesh filling his nose. Then he kicked off the side of the van, dragging the man out through the window, and chucked him into a pile of garbage bags stacked on the curb. He hoped they smelled just as rank as the dumpster they’d left their captive’s father in. 

Spider-Man ducked behind the side of the van as bullets erupted from the opposing vehicle. Johnny faced the car overflowing with thugs and assault rifles as it gunned towards him head-on. Liquid fire coursed through his veins. Summer wind whistled in his ears. He took a deep breath, gathering oxygen into his lungs, then released it as a blast of flames from his palms. The stream of fire spilled over the van’s front tires, making them burst. The car swerved uncontrollably, scraping along on metal rims, streaks of melted rubber trailing behind it. It veered off the road and crashed into a fire hydrant, sending the goons hanging off the sides spilling onto the concrete. A spume of water arched high above their heads and rained across the hot pavement. Johnny checked the van for hostages and was grateful to find none. The police were quick to surround the wreck, so he left the scene for them to handle. The most important pieces of this car chase were still trapped in the final van. 

Dead ahead, Spider-Man was clinging onto the remaining vehicle, whose doors remained firmly locked shut. He climbed around to the back of the car and grabbed hold of the handles, yanking with all his might. The doors tore away like tissue paper and bounced down the street. One shivering girl, one crying child, and a trio balking men greeted him on the other side. 

Three things happened in the next three seconds. 

First, quick as lightning, Spider-Man latched a web-line to the girl’s waist and whipped her out of the van, pulling a shriek from her lips as he flung her down the road. A web hammock unfurled beneath her from a perfectly timed, perfectly aimed web grenade, softening her landing and leaving her ruffled but safe. 

“Sorry!” Spidey shouted to her over his shoulder.

Next, a flash bomb went off inside the van, as loud as it was bright, catching the masked hero off guard. He cried out and clutched his eyes, giving the thugs the opportunity to strike. Unaffected by the blast—perhaps due to the creepy sunglasses they all wore—the largest of the men barreled forward and rammed two electrified batons square in the center of Spidey’s chest. 

Lastly, Spider-Man fell off the back of the van and struck the unforgiving pavement, rolling and tumbling before sprawling to a stop in the middle of a wide, bustling intersection. 

“Spidey!” Johnny gasped. The Human Torch rocketed ahead of the incoming traffic to scoop him off the street—seconds before a semi could stampede over his battered body. He extinguished his flames as much as he could to safely hold him and still stay airborne. The masked vigilante moaned in his arms, volts of electricity jittering through his muscles, hands kneading at his eye lenses. They were squinted into slits and fluttering out of control.

“Agh! Shit! Is that you, Torchy? Dammit! We have got to stop meeting like this.”

“Are you all right? Your eye things—they’re flipping out.”

“No kidding. Ugh. Now I have two very different but equally scarring stories to tell about getting flashed in Brooklyn. Still not sure which one hurt my eyes more, but this is certainly giving ‘old man in untied SpongeBob bathrobe’ a run for his money.”

“But you’re okay, right?”

“Mentally speaking? Absolutely not. I don’t think I’ll ever recover from the horrors I bore witness to that bitter autumn day.  All my remaining innocence, ripped away in a heartbeat. Curse you, old man in untied SpongeBob bathrobe: ruiner of childhoods.”

Worry and frustration boiled to the tip of Johnny’s tongue. “Would you stop making jokes for two seconds and just tell me if you’re okay?”

Startled, Spidey pulled his hands away from his eyes. The lenses were still pinched small and twitching, but gradually returning to normal. He stared at him in silence, tiny rivulets of blood running down his arms and leaping into the breeze. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Johnny added, the anger melting from his voice. “You can’t confess to me you crack stupid jokes to hide your fear then turn around five minutes later and try to use it against me. I’m not gonna let it slide.”

Spider-Man started to say something in response, but it died on his lips. Probably another preloaded wisecrack he had to stop himself from unconsciously retorting with. His scorch marks from before were now bisected by a fresh collection of scratches and road burns. The poor hero looked like he’d been thrown into a pit full of rabid, fire-breathing cats. 

“I…sorry,” he eventually mumbled, the artificial spark leaving his voice, head slightly hung. “Force of habit. Turning it off is like trying to make yourself stop blinking. Now I’m kinda regretting telling you about that. It’s like my constant, go-to thing.” He gave a frail, awkward laugh, then cleared his throat. “I’m fine, really. I just got stunned by the flash, and it gave them the chance to get a cheap hit in. Heightened senses also means heightened sensitivity, unfortunately. It was a shock to the system, but I’m okay.”

Johnny breathed out slowly, then set his jaw. “We’ve both nearly died way too many times today. I don’t think this ‘team-up’ thing is going so hot for either of us.” 

“Hey, at least we know we’re good at rescuing each other seconds before certain doom.”

“Certain doom that we got each other into,” Johnny added grimly. 

“Both of us would’ve gone after the kidnappers, whether we were together or alone,” Spidey insisted. “I’m glad we’re doing it together.”

Johnny hinted a smile. “Me too.”

Spider-Man’s gaze dropped to observe his current position: bundled in Johnny’s strong, protective arms. Suddenly bashful, he squirmed against his hold. “You, uh—you know you can put me down now, right? We’ve still got one more rescue to make.”

“I know,” Johnny answered, a grin lifting his lips, making no move to let him go. “You’re just so light and easy to carry. It’s like holding a little puppy. Or a newspaper. Or a handful of grapes. Or one of those sticky climbing toys you throw against the wall. Or—”

“Okay, got it, thank you,” Spider-Man grumbled. He shifted to escape his grip, then stopped suddenly, shooting a glance at the van up ahead. “Wait. That actually gives me an idea.”

“Really?” Johnny snickered. “Which part?”

He turned back to face him. “The throwing the sticky guy part. You’re going to fly as fast as you can towards the back of the van and throw me inside.”

Johnny blinked. “I’m sorry—what? Absolutely not!”

“I need to get between them and the kid!” Spidey explained. “This will catch the thugs by surprise and give me enough momentum to break through their wall of muscle and guns and poorly masked body odor.”

“What if they flash bang you again? Or worse?”

“I’ll be ready this time. Trust me.”

Johnny’s eyes flickered to the three brawny men crowding the cramped van and the obscured shape of the child huddled behind them. He swallowed, throat dry with uncertainty. 

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” Johnny said. He fed the fire pulsing off his feet, the flames creeping up his legs and fanning across his torso, driving the two of them faster forward. “Just get the kid out of there, okay?”

Spider-Man nodded. “I will.”

As the fire consumed more and more of his body, Johnny released Spider-Man so the only part of him he was still hanging onto was his wrist. He dragged the masked hero underneath him, their speed climbing, the city streaking by. 

Once the goons spotted the heroes making their approach, they started chucking pinecone-sized objects in their direction. The first one hit the ground and exploded on impact directly beneath them, sending Johnny swerving sideways in terror. He leveled himself, gawking in disbelief. Grenades! he realized. They’re throwing goddamn grenades at us! Who the hell is selling these assholes grenades? Better yet—who’s giving them money to buy them? To make matters worse, a constant stream of bullets poured from the back of the van. Johnny wove to avoid the barrage of deadly projectiles: ducking and rolling and snaking left and right. It didn't take long to notice they were shooting at Spider-Man, not him. He had to swing the vigilante around like a red and blue pendulum to keep his narrow frame out of the gunmen's path. Chunks of concrete whizzed past the two teens as more and more explosions tore into the road.

“I’ll try to slow down the driver while you save the kid!” Johnny shouted.

“Okay!” Spidey hollered. “Ready? Throw me…now!”

With a grunt of effort, Johnny swung Spidey back then hurled him forward. The masked hero road the momentum perfectly, bellowing: “Special delivery, coming in hot!” as he flew into the van. Shrieks of surprise sounded from inside as Spider-Man plowed into them feet-first. Johnny whispered an anxious prayer for anyone who was listening: Please keep him safe. Then he soared to the front of the car, locking eyes with the frazzled man in the driver’s seat.

“Stop!” the Human Torch roared, flaring his flames to punctuate the demand. But the driver just screamed and floored it. A choked gasp punched out of Johnny’s chest as the van rammed into him. His top half flattened across the hood while his legs knocked against the grill. He grimaced and groaned, hoping the hit hadn’t fractured any of his ribs. 

“Jesus,” he coughed, flames flickering weakly. “That’s the exact opposite of what I said.” Shouts and gunshots and the sound of fists landing blows echoed from the back of the van. The whole vehicle bounced and shook, fresh dents buckling out of the frame every few seconds. He couldn’t see how the fight was going—only hear it and wonder who was holding strong. He pushed up on his elbows, palms burning handprints into the paint, weighing his next approach. 

Then a man flew screeching from the car, sticking to the nearest streetlamp in a cocoon of webbing. A couple yells and fired rounds later, another thug tumbled from the back onto the street, coated in a layer of spider’s silk as thick as a sleeping bag, wriggling uselessly. Spider-Man is winning, Johnny realized, new strength surging through him. We’ve got this! Almost there!

Johnny clambered the rest of the way onto the hood, white-knuckled as the vehicle bucked and swerved. Maybe if he burnt through the van’s battery cables, he could end this wild car chase once and for all. But if he wasn’t precise enough, he ran the risk of blowing up the entire vehicle. Perhaps he could punch through the windshield and yank the driver out. Or counter their forward momentum by pushing the van backwards with all the power of his flames behind him. He had to act fast. He had to come up with something before—

HOOONK! The shrill warning gave Johnny only seconds to register the incoming disaster. A truck was pulling out in front of them on the left. The van was hurtling through a red light at full-speed. If he stayed put, he’d be crushed between the two vehicles. 

But what about Spidey and the kid?

He had no time to think. He kicked off the hood in a panic as the van struck the front of the truck. The van skidded in circles until the wheels lost traction with the road. Johnny sailed into an abandoned construction zone on the sidewalk, taking out a few traffic cones along the way. Debris spewed in every direction as the van crashed down the street, eventually groaning to a feeble stop. When the Human Torch rose off the gritty asphalt, he spotted the van on its side about fifty feet away, smoke streaming out of the engine. 

“Shit,” he hissed, rocketing off the ground. The top of the car had been crushed to the point that it blocked the opening to the back of the van. Spider-Man and the kid could be trapped inside, their heads bashed in as much as the vehicle. Johnny dropped behind the car and pulled at the jagged barrier with all his strength, the plastic shell of the van melting beneath his grip. He wasn’t moving fast enough.

“Spidey! Can you hear me? Please tell me you guys are okay!” 

No answer came. What if they were dead by the time he pried the car open? They could be bleeding out right now, their bodies twisted into unnatural shapes, their faces slack with shock. Were their hearts still beating? Were they breathing their final breaths? He tried to blink away his last moments with his mother, yet the images rallied to the forefront of his mind. The splashes of red mottling her skin, the crooked angle her neck was bent at, the lively spark fading from her eyes. 

“Answer me!” Johnny pleaded, clawing frantically at the mangled van. One of the pieces had softened enough for him to tear. As he ripped it away and flung it aside, a figure came into view—a person sprawled across the floor of the vehicle, moaning and still. Terror seized him, followed by crippling relief, then confusion. 

It was the last of the thugs. Thoroughly battered, probably concussed, but alive and likely to stay that way. Too beefy and bulky to be the webhead. Johnny’s arms fell to his sides. But if they aren’t here, then where—?

“Torchy!”

Numb, Johnny spun on his heels. At the end of the block, surrounded by overturned traffic cones and pot holes and smashed car bits, Spider-Man stood in the center of the street, holding the young boy in his arms. Although the masked hero was burned, bleeding, and tremendously bruised, he was alive, and the child was, too. Spidey gave him a wave, and Johnny's heart soared. He blasted down the road, scrubbing the tears from his eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Spidey asked. Johnny answered by dousing his flames and wrapping the vigilante into a lung-crushing hug. A startled squeak leapt from his throat, followed by a strangled laugh. Johnny squeezed him so hard and held him so close, he could hear his heart thumping inside his chest. 

“Ouch! Johnny!” Spider-Man giggled. “Easy! You’re going to smoosh the kid!”

Even so, the Human Torch hugged him a couple seconds longer, only letting go after the kid gave his head a shove. “Oh! Sorry!” he stammered. The boy whined and pouted his lips, burying his face back into the crook of Spider-Man’s neck. 

“He’s okay,” Spidey insisted. “Just scared and shaken.”

“That makes two of us,” Johnny said hoarsely. “I thought you guys were trapped inside the van! I thought you were dead!”

Spider-Man glanced at him in surprise. “Really? I guess it was hard to see from your angle. We got out right before the accident happened. I had warning tingles coming from pretty much every direction, but one that big was impossible to ignore.”

Johnny must’ve looked as ashen and haunted as he felt, because the masked hero changed his tune from bright and sunny to soft and reassuring. “We’re fine, all right? Everything’s okay.” He gestured to the chaos scattered around them. “We stopped the bad guys and got everyone out safe.”

The Human Torch clenched his jaw, lowering his gaze. “I hate car wrecks,” he said hollowly.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Neither hero spoke for the next few moments, both of them mourning people who’d passed long ago. Then the kid slowly raised his head from Spidey’s shoulder, tears shining in his eyes. He looked about two with dark hair and skin like his dad. 

“Hey there, bud,” Spider-Man said gently, shifting the boy higher up his hip so he sat at his eye-level. “You doing okay? That was scary, huh? You were super brave, though! Avengers-level brave! We’re gonna get you back to your dad real soon, okay?”

At the mention of his father, the boy immediately burst into tears, scrunching up his hands into angry little fists. Johnny flinched back in alarm. He had no experience deescalating toddler meltdowns. Fortunately, Spider-Man stayed calm.

“Shhh, it’s okay! Hey! Watch this!” The masked hero raised his hand in front of the kid’s face, and a card appeared between his fingers—seemingly out of thin air. Then, just as quickly, he made another motion, and the card vanished. The little trick was enough to pique the boy’s interest and distract him from his sobbing. He stared at Spider-Man’s empty palm, sniffling softly, cheeks stained with tear tracks. Spidey faked a dramatic gasp.

“Where’d it go? What do you think? Wait a minute!” He reached behind his ear, wiggling his fingers against his neck as he did, and produced the card once again, saying: “Ah-ha! Here it is! You were hiding it!”

The boy’s hesitant smile transformed into shy giggles. He grabbed for the card, and Spidey let him take it. The softness of the scene was enough to melt Johnny’s heart. 

“You’re good with kids,” he observed.

Spider-Man shrugged. “Me-me babysits a lot, but it’s not so easy when I’m in costume. The mask tends to scare them.”

Johnny gestured to the card the boy was currently chewing on. “Where’d you learn how to do that?”

“Antman showed me,” Spidey beamed. “That guy is weirdly good at close-up magic. There’s one more trick I can do. Let me see if I try—”

He held his palm up to his mouth, but cards suddenly spilled out of his hand, shooting off in random directions and fluttering to the ground. Spider-Man groaned in defeat as Johnny and the child laughed. 

“Did you mean to do that?” Johnny snickered.

“No. It was supposed to look like I was barfing them up. Guess I need to keep practicing.”

Johnny grinned at the giggling child. “The kid still liked it.”

Spidey bounced the boy in his arms, making him laugh even harder. Johnny watched the pair like a spectator at the movies: delighted and endeared yet detached from the moment. Cheering others up when they were at their lowest came so naturally to the masked hero. It was like another superpower of his. Johnny wasn’t sure if Spidey even understood the effect he had on those around him. He dismissed his own well-being and acted playful and calm even while in pain—all to make others happy and keep them safe. 

“I’m glad you’re both okay,” Johnny said. He gave the vigilante a hardy clap on the back. It was meant to be a friendly love-tap, but he was surprised when Spider-Man jerked from his touch like he’d electrocuted him, releasing a sharp gasp. Frowning, Johnny retracted his hand. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. His gaze wandered down to his palm, which suddenly felt damp. The deep blue of his glove was drenched through with purple stains. It took him a moment to realize his hand was soaked in blood. 

Johnny’s eyes snapped up. A particularly dark section of Spider-Man’s suit stood out against the other lesions peppered across his body, smudged just below his rib cage. Up until now, the child had been blocking it. His abdomen had a puncture wound that was leeching a scary amount of blood down his chest and his back. The fact that Spider-Man was acting so normal and plucky made the devastating injury difficult for Johnny’s mind to grasp. Slowly, his smile fell. 

“Spidey…?” he said, trying to read his unreadable stare. He pointed to the spot with his bloodstained fingers. “What is that? What happened? You’re dripping blood!”

The masked vigilante shushed him like a grouchy librarian. “Not in front of the kid!” he snapped. “I don’t want to freak him out any more than he already is!”

Johnny just stared at him. “You’re bleeding out in the street, and your biggest concern is not freaking people out? We need to get you to a hospital!”

“Shhh! Johnny!” Spider-Man spoke in a hushed, exasperated tone. “Avengers Tower has a fully stocked medical bay, all right? I’ll get myself fixed up there, no problem! It’s not a big deal!” He was talking at breakneck speed, as if trying to convince himself. 

“No big deal?” the Human Torch exclaimed. “What kind of masochistic bullshit are you on? You have a gaping wound in your side!”

“Johnny! You can’t say bullshit in front of kids!” 

“I think the gravity of the situation more than warrants it! Besides—you just said it, too!”

“Whatever! I’m telling you I’m fine, okay? I’ve been shot before!”

“You were shot?” Johnny spluttered, gripping the sides of his head in his hands. “What the actual fuck, man? When were you planning to tell me you had a bullet wound in your stomach? Who the hell did that to you? How long has it been there? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Before he could respond, the child erupted into violent sobs once again. Spider-Man sighed, rubbing the boy’s back with one hand and cradling his head with the other.

“Great. Now he’s crying again. Thanks a lot.”

Smoke fizzled from Johnny’s shoulders and fists. “I don’t understand how you’re acting so calm right now! You’ve been shot!”

A crash and a grunt from behind them made both teenagers turn their heads. The van’s driver had smashed through the window and tumbled out of the vehicle onto the street. He started booking it down the road as fast as his legs would carry him.

“Hold this guy a sec,” Spidey said, handing Johnny the kid. 

“What? Wait—I don’t—” he began to protest. But suddenly the boy was in his arms, and Spider-Man was marching after the fleeing thug. “Spidey! Come back! I’m not a baby person!”

Spider-Man stopped beside the overturned van and aimed his wrist in front of him. He fired a web grenade down the block, planting it on the side of a car parked a few paces ahead of the thug’s trajectory. At just the right moment, the trap went off; webs exploded all over the kidnapper, pinning him to a trash can in a squirming, screaming heap. Spidey withdrew his arm and pressed a palm to his bullet wound, pinching his eyes shut with a groan of pain. Blood dribbled off his fingers onto the ground.

“Stop moving, Jesus Christ!” Johnny jogged up behind him, laying his free hand against Spider-Man’s chest. “You’re bleeding all over the road!”

“He was getting away,” the vigilante replied, voice a little more ragged, breaths a tad more strained. “I had to stop him.”

Johnny scanned the battered hero up and down. He could see the adrenaline seeping from his bloodstream in real time, giving way to his body’s true state of wounded exhaustion. His arms hung heavy at his sides. He was swaying a little on his feet. The hand holding his injury was saturated in blood. Johnny’s frustration persisted, but the sight of him so broken and pathetic singed every trace of it from his lips. He grabbed Spidey’s wrist and gave it a light squeeze. 

“For someone with dodging with powers, you’re awfully good at getting your ass kicked, you know that?” He shook his head in dismay. “Is this a regular thing for you? Getting beat half to death every time you go on patrol?”

The masked hero chuckled thinly. “Happens more often than I’d like to admit, but today’s ass beating was something else. My usual thugs aren’t armed like these guys. They knew my fighting patterns, how to counter my attacks, how to knock my senses out of whack. It’s like they were expecting me to come after them.”

Johnny nodded. “I think they were. They were aiming their guns at you specifically, like they were following orders from someone. The same someone who must be funding their operation; no regular street criminals are packing that kind of firepower.” He pressed the heel of his palm on top of Spidey's hand to help him stem the bleeding, pulling a shivery whimper from his lips. “I can’t believe how badly they hurt you.” 

“I couldn’t either,” he hissed through his teeth, “until I noticed the company name on the side of those vans.”

Johnny narrowed his eyes, craning his head away from the child, who was trying to rip out fistfuls of his hair. “What do you mean?”

“Veles Taxi,” Spidey said, sparing a glance at his blood-soaked midsection. “It took me a while to realize where I recognized it from. It’s a company that’s owned and operated by the Russian mafia, who are in turn controlled by Kingpin.” He glared at the thug still bound to the trash can. He’d given up trying to break free of the webbing and had resigned himself to pitiful whimpering. “These kidnappers work for Wilson Fisk.”

The Human Torch scoffed. “Fisk? You mean that bald rich guy from Hell’s Kitchen? I didn’t know he was evil. I heard he was trying to win candidacy for New York’s next mayoral election.”

Spider-Man’s eye lenses bulged as wide as physically possible. “What? You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking.”

“I saw it on the news a couple days ago. He even voiced his support for the Fantastic Four—said we were vital to keeping the city safe and that he wanted to work with us if he was elected.”

“That bastard,” Spidey snarled. “How could he…h-how could anyone…?”

He staggered suddenly, knees buckling beneath him. Johnny rushed to catch him, the wounded hero’s weight sagging into his chest. Spider-Man grappled sluggishly with Johnny’s arms, trying to lift himself back upright. The skin on his face that was visible through the cuts in his mask looked sweaty and pale. 

“M’fine,” he rasped, pushing him away. “Sorry, I—I’m fine. Tripped.”

“We have to get you out of here,” Johnny said distraughtly. 

Seconds later, the NYPD came screeching onto the scene. Howling police cars surrounded them, bathing the teenagers in colorful flashing lights. A drizzle of relief settled over Johnny’s heart.

“Shit,” Spider-Man hissed.

“It’s okay,” the Human Torch assured him. “They can help you. We’ll ask them to give you a ride to Avengers Tower.”

“Liam!” 

A man stumbled out of one of the cop cars and charged through the barricade of police. It was the father they’d dragged from the dumpster—still grimy and bruised but buzzing with wild hope. The cops roared at him to stop, but he ignored them. He raced towards superheroes in the center of the road, tears flooding his eyes. 

“Daddy!” the boy cheered, reaching out for him. Johnny handed the child to his father, who buried him in his arms and a million adoring kisses. 

“My son! My boy! My beautiful Liam!” he wept. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.” The reunion inundated Johnny with indescribable warmth. If Sue were here, she’d be scrambling to get pictures taken, people posed, interviews lined up. It was refreshing to save the day, to return a stolen child to his father, and simply bask in the joy of that triumph, instead of exploiting the moment for fan content. 

The dad lifted his face from his son’s dark curls and met Johnny’s gaze with an endlessly grateful smile. “Thank you,” he sniffled. “Thank you both. I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.”

“It was all this guy,” Johnny said, wrapping an arm around the wounded vigilante, who was fighting to stay on his feet. “Spider-Man’s the one who got him out of there. I just burned some shit, flipped a van or two.”

The father turned to the masked hero nervously. “Thank you, Spider-Man. Please take care of yourself. That looks really bad.”

Spider-Man gave him a bloody thumbs up. “Yep. That’s up next on my to-do list.” His voice sounded gravelly, like he was speaking through gritted teeth. “Make sure you get yourselves checked out, too. And give Liam all the chocolate pudding he wants for being so brave. He t-told me it’s his favorite.”

The dad chuckled. “Will do.”

As father and son were led to an ambulance, the cops approached the two teens on high alert. Johnny slung Spidey’s arm over his shoulder and started to guide him towards the police, but the masked hero dragged his feet. 

“Johnny…” he grated out. “I can’t. They’re not going to help. I have to go.”

“What?” Johnny exclaimed. “Of course they will. They saw you save the kid. Plus, you’re with me. I work with them all the time. It’ll be okay.”

“Mr. Storm!” the cop at the front of the wedge of officers called. “Step away from Spider-Man and stand aside!”

Johnny approached the policewoman with the masked hero in tow, throwing her a wave. “Chief Yuri! Nice to see you! Loving the new haircut! Really complements your bone structure!” He patted the side of the vigilante’s head, which was slightly drooped towards the ground. “My friend Spider-Man here got shot by those thugs and needs a ride to Avengers Tower for medical assistance! Could one of your officers give us a lift?”

“Stop where you are!” Chief Yuri demanded, fingering the gun in her holster. “Don’t make me ask again, Storm! Drop the vigilante and stand down!”

Johnny froze in place, unfamiliar fear spearing through him. He swept his gaze across the sea of icy stares and glinting badges. His grip tightened around Spidey’s waist. 

“What’s your problem?” he snapped. “Can’t you see he needs help? He just risked his life to save two hostages! Why are you acting like he’s the bad guy here?”

“Please, Johnny,” the injured hero implored. “I can get back on my own. Just let me go. ” He tugged weakly against Johnny’s hold. The Human Torch pinned him to his side and clasped his wrist in his bloody fingers.  

“Spider-Man is under arrest for unlawful vigilantism, arson, theft, destruction of public property, and too many other things for me to list out right now. He’s not worth the trouble, Storm. Hand him over and step aside now.”

Johnny’s tongue tasted like lead. Even when people witnessed Spidey’s heroics firsthand, they still rallied against him. How could they be so blinded by lies? Why couldn’t they see him the way Johnny did? What possessed the world to love the Human Torch so fondly and hate Spider-Man so mercilessly?

The officers pressed in around them, guns at the ready. The masked vigilante was fading by the second. Johnny’s hands were slicked with his blood. He stared down the police chief, fury churning in his gut.

“If I leave with him, will you shoot me?”

Yuri’s eyes widened. “Don’t do anything rash, kid. You’re a hero. He’s a criminal. I’d hate for that to get twisted.”

“And I’d hate to think how my fans would react to the NYPD killing their favorite superhero,” Johnny countered. “My teammates, too.”

“At this rate, they may not be your fans for long.”

Johnny bared his teeth, then laughed. “The chief of police, trying to lecture me about good PR. That’s rich. You’re the ones the public barely trusts. Your image depends on me smiling and shaking hands with your officers like they actually help us instead of just getting in the way. You need my endorsement, but I don’t need yours.”

“He doesn’t mean that!” Spider-Man blurted out. “I’m sure you’re all v-very good at your jobs and want to stay friends with the Fantastic Four and wow chief that haircut does frame your face well and—mmph!”

The Human Torch smothered him into silence. “Hey! Can it, webhead!”

The block fell eerily quiet. Spider-Man spat muffled curses into his palm. Chief Yuri shook her head. 

“You’re making a mistake, Storm.”

Johnny tilted his chin towards the sky. “I’m leaving.”

Bright yellow flames jetted cautiously from his feet, lifting the two of them off the ground. Johnny held the police chief’s gaze, daring her to stop him. Yuri’s face twisted with malice, but her hand lifted reluctantly from her holster. 

“Hold your fire,” she demanded. “Clear the street.”

A tiny crumb of his anxiety eased. Johnny hooked an arm underneath Spidey’s knees and whisked him fully off his feet, ignoring his protests as he cradled his spindly shape close to his chest. He looked and felt so fragile—and this time, it was true. Fire encased his lower half and carried them above the city, away from the leering cops, out of harm’s path. Skyscrapers whisked beneath them, followed by the dark maw of the river. Johnny braced his hand against the exit wound on his back so both sides of the bullet hole had pressure on them. A ragged moan rose in his throat.

“I got you, okay? I’m taking you home.”

“You d-didn’t have to do that,” Spider-Man said, voice choked with pain. “Now the cops will hate you, too.”

“Let them,” Johnny growled. “I never liked those bastards, anyway. ACAB, am I right?”

The masked hero managed a dismal laugh. “Yeah. Fuck the police.”

The moon hung low over the East River. Spider-Man’s head rested just beneath Johnny’s shoulder, close enough for him to lean down and plant a kiss on his temple. The thought made him blush, and he discarded it immediately. The audacity of his emotions never ceased to astound him. 

“I’m sorry about tonight,” Spidey murmured. His eye lenses blinked slowly, half-closed and drooping. “This w-wasn’t how it was supposed to go.”

“As far as team-ups go, it was a pretty badass evening. Dangerous criminals, mid-car-chase battles, a son reunited with his father, pissed off cops. As soon as you’re healed, I’m crashing every last one of your late night patrols from here on out.”

The hand Spider-Man wasn’t clutching his wound with tightened its grip on Johnny’s shoulder. “Thanks for s-sticking up for me,” he said. 

Butterflies danced up Johnny’s throat. “Oh—of course. How could I not?” He swallowed as many of them down as he could. “You risked your life to save those people. You took a bullet to protect them from those monsters. I am now and forever officially crowning you the Ultimate King Bad Boy. Congratulations, your majesty.”

When Spider-Man didn’t respond, Johnny glanced down in surprise. The masked hero’s eye lenses had slipped shut, and his cheek was squished against his sternum. At first, Johnny marveled at how cute and sleepy he looked. Like a kitten snoozing in his arms. Then he remembered he was on the brink of bleeding out, and gave the vigilante a violent shake.

“Whoa! Hey! Wakey-wakey, webhead! I know you must be tired, but you can’t fall asleep yet!”

Spider-Man jerked back to consciousness, then scrunched into a moaning little ball, gripping his bloody torso. “Ugh. No fair. You’re the one who woke me up at crack of ass o’clock this morning and didn’t let me nap after the p-power demos…”

Johnny deflated with relief. “We’re almost there, okay? Just hang on a little bit longer. And once we get you all fixed up, I’ll let you sleep as late as you want tomorrow. No early morning wake-up calls.”

“Promise?” 

“Promise.”

Spidey slumped against his chest with a pitiful whimper. “It’s so hard,” he whined. “My eyes won’t stay open.”

Johnny pursed his lips in thought. “Why don’t you tell me about something sciencey? Go on one of your nerdy little rants. That ought to keep you awake.”

The masked hero’s eye lenses flicked wide, blinking twice. “Does it annoy you when I talk about that kind of stuff?” he asked timidly. It broke Johnny’s heart when he realized he was being genuine. It was a challenge not to drown him in words of affirmation. 

“It pisses me off that you’re so much smarter than me,” Johnny chuckled. He gazed across the shimmering expanse beneath them and the blue-black endlessness above, unable to meet his gaze. “But no, it doesn’t annoy me. I like listening to people talk about the things they’re passionate about. Even if I don’t understand half of what you’re saying.”

Spider-Man hummed in sleepy acknowledgment, eye lenses sinking closed again. Johnny gave him a second shake, this one a tad more gentle than the first. 

“Come on, bud. Tell me more about your webbing. You said it was hard to make, right? Walk me through it. Every nitty-gritty detail.”

He yawned into Johnny’s shoulder. “Can I do it with my eyes closed?”

“As long as you’re awake and talking.”

“Mm’kay,” he mumbled. He snuggled a little deeper into his embrace. “Let’s see. The hardest thing was f-finding the right balance between strength, malleability, and stickiness. The tensile strength of natural spider silk is 1.75 GPa, which means it’s really strong, but not flexible enough for my purposes. 1.0 gigapascals wound up being the sweet spot. Load-bearing and strong, able to withstand extreme amounts of weight and stress, but with a little stretch to it. I borrowed some materials from my school to synthesize my first formula. I started with salicylic acid, toulene, methanol, carbon tetrachloride, and potassium carbonate, but something was missing…”

He rambled in his arms the rest of the way to the tower, nodding off a couple more times mid-sentence, forcing Johnny to softly rouse him. He prompted him questions when his tangents slowed, asking what this word meant, what that compound did, why he decided to try this thing instead of something else. He listened and held him and tried not to think about the warm, wet stickiness of the vigilante’s blood on his hands. He listened, and decided it was enough. 

This was enough. Just being around him. Being his friend. Bearing witness to his goofy, reckless, motor-mouth way of moving through the world. Watching him throw himself in harm’s way to protect others; defending him from those who sought his destruction. Coaxing out his radiant laugh and sunning himself in the halo of light that gleamed off the webhead like a warm, perpetual aurora. Learning his quirks and passions and fears. Fighting by his side. Overriding his self-sacrificial tendencies. Teasing, taunting, poking fun. Being super awesome superhero besties, and nothing more. 

Johnny Storm wasn’t allowed to fall for Spider-Man. It wasn’t fair to either of them.

But what to do with this abundance of affection with no place to go?

Well.

If he couldn’t love him, perhaps the world could love him for him.  

In that moment, with the wounded hero prattling drowsily in his arms, Johnny vowed he would make the universe see Spider-Man for who he was. No more deceptive headlines, no more twisted narratives, no more blatant lies. No more Daily Bugle tabloids running unopposed; no more pacifying Sue or their investors. Spidey was a hero, and he was going to prove it. Once the public got a glimpse of the real friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, they wouldn’t be able to resist it. They’d have no choice but to fall in love. 

Avengers Tower rose like a beacon on the horizon. Johnny Storm bore the masked hero across the city determinedly. 

It was enough. 

It was enough.

It had to be enough. 

#slow burn #spider-man #spideytorch #peter parker x johnny storm #peter parker #spiderman fanfiction #johnny storm #my writing #bi peter parker #fantastic 4 #fantastic four #enemies to lovers

[all-the-things-2020]

No Better Place - Chapter 2

Summary: Cassidy Yates meets her neighbors, courtesy of the crazy horse she just bought. One of them is the enigmatic Javier Pena.

Word Count: 2500+

Cassidy Yates rolled reluctantly out of bed. It had been after two when she’d fallen into bed, but horses want to be fed on time and if she didn’t get up soon, there’d be a chorus of whinnying to face, not to mention a very pissed off cat. She pulled on a pair of jeans and tucked her nightshirt into them, wriggled into a sweatshirt and jammed her long hair in a knot underneath a baseball cap. As she padded barefoot to the kitchen, Linus wound himself between her ankles, nearly tripping her.

“Damned cat,” she muttered. “If you’d walk in a straight line …” The smoky gray cat merely chirped at her and waved his tail. She popped open a can of Friskies, dumped it on a plate and sat it on the kitchen floor in front of him and Linus dug in. “You’re welcome,” Cassidy said as she shoved her feet into the boots that stood by the back door.

Outside, the sun was just peeping over the horizon and the birds were starting to rev up. It was chilly, but that wouldn’t last long and she enjoyed the cool air while she could. As she entered the barn, a chorus of whickers greeted her and she was wrapped in the warm, inviting smell of hay and horses.

“Good morning, kids,” she said as she unlocked the door to the feed room. It didn’t take long to fill three buckets with grain and supplements and lug them to the stalls. She swapped the full buckets with the empty ones from last night’s feed, then pulled the water buckets. She walked outside to dump and scrub them, and that’s when she saw it.

“Son of a bitch!,” she cried. Last night, when she’d finally gotten the trailer backed up and the crazy rescue horse unloaded, the pen had been in one piece. Now a whole section of fence was missing, shattered and piled on the ground. Hoof prints led away from the pen, heading east.

Once the other horses were watered and she’d given them each a flake of hay, she went back to the house for her keys, unhitched the trailer and drove the pickup down the long driveway. There was a ranch to her east, owned by an older Mexican-American man. Pena or something like that.

As she reached the gate of the ranch, she saw a bright bay horse trotting toward the outbuildings, its tail flagged and head held high. “Glad you’re feeling frisky,” she muttered. She laid on the horn, hoping someone would come open the gate quickly.

“You speak English?,” she asked when a young man strolled out from the barn.

“Of course,” he said sharply. “What do you want?”

She gestured toward the horse, which was now circling the corral behind the house. “I think that’s my horse,” she said. “He busted out of his pen last night.”

The young man shook his head. “I’ll get Senor Pena,” he said. “Drive up to the house.” He unlocked the gate and swung it open, closing it again as soon as she’d cleared the fence line.

Cassidy parked in the dirt drive next to a scraggly patch of lawn. There were several other pickups parked nearby, one a nice new Ford tucked under a carport. The rest were older Chevys and Fords, decorated with an assortment of dents and rust spots, much like her own blue beast.

“Can I help you, miss?” An older man came out of the house, his weather lined face the color of old saddle leather. “Chucho Pena,” he said, extending his hand. “Luis said something about a loose horse?”

“Yeah,” Cassidy said, hopping out of the truck. “I just moved into the McLane place a few weeks ago and I brought home a new horse last night. It was late and I put him in a pen but I guess he didn’t like it much. He busted out and I’m pretty sure that’s him messing around by your corral.” She gestured toward the pen where the bay was pacing back and forth along the fence.

Chucho took a long look and nodded. “He’s not one of mine,” he said. “Let me get my son out of bed to help you. That one looks like a handful.”

Cassidy agreed. “He’s a crazy one, but I’m going to cut him as soon as I can get the vet out. I’ll try to catch him myself, but I’d appreciate any help you can offer. It took three of us to get him in the trailer last night at the auction.”

She fetched a halter and lead rope from the bed of the truck and walked slowly toward the corral where the colt was prancing back and forth, tossing his head and snorting to the mares who stood placidly inside. She was sure they were rolling their eyes at the young stud.

“Come on, buddy,” she said softly as she got closer. The colt froze, ears pricked, and stared at her before shying away. He trotted a few steps, stopped, then hopped sideways. “Oh, come on, I’m not gonna hurt you,” she crooned. “I just want to get you home and give you some breakfast.”

They danced for about twenty minutes before the colt suddenly threw his head up and bolted several yards, his muscles quivering. Cassidy turned to see what had spooked him and saw a man. He was about six feet tall, dark haired, with a thick mustache, aviator sunglasses and a sour look on his handsome face. Tight jeans and a loosely tucked in red checked shirt made him look like he belonged on the ranch, but something about him told her he didn’t feel at home here.

“My dad said you needed some help,” he said, nodding toward the colt. “I’m Javi.”

“Cassidy,” she said, trying not to let her eyes linger too long on his body. She told herself that cowboys were not her type, but this man was definitely not a cowboy, despite his father owning a ranch. She turned back toward the horse. “He’s a Thoroughbred. Bought him at an auction last night. Crazy bastard but I think he’ll make a good horse once I work with him a bit.”

Javi nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

Cassidy thought for a moment. “Can you open the gate to the corral without letting the mares out?,” she asked. If she could get the colt in an enclosed area, he’d be easier to catch.

Javi cocked his head. “You want to put him in with our horses?”

“Yeah,” Cassidy said, keeping her eye on the colt. “If we can get him in there, then bring out your mares, I should be able to get him settled down enough to get a halter on him.”

Javi shrugged and opened the corral gate. The two mares watched him calmly. He walked slowly away from the gate and walked around the corral until he was positioned as far from the colt and the gate as possible. He clicked his tongue at the mares, and they pricked their ears before ambling slowly toward him.

Cassidy worked her way around behind the colt, carefully herding him toward the open gate. “Go on,” she said softly. “Go see your girls. Come on, buddy.” The bay snorted and started to move away from the corral, but Cassidy shifted her weight and flicked the lead rope, which pushed the colt toward the other horses.

The moment he was inside the corral, Cassidy swung the gate shut and all three horses began to move around the pen. The mares pinned their ears at the newcomer and soon he was standing, worried, against one side of the corral while the mares followed Javi as he walked slowly toward the gate.

Cassidy heard him speaking quietly to them in Spanish as he approached her. She unlatched the gate, her eyes never leaving the nervous colt, even as she felt the heat of Javi’s body behind her. “You go in and I’ll get the mares out,” he said quietly. Cassidy nodded, trying not to think about the timbre of his voice. Think about the horse, dumbass, she told herself. Letting a man distract her from her horses never worked out.

Once Javi had removed the ranch horses and Cassidy was alone with the colt, it was only a matter of time. She shook the lead rope at him and sent him trotting around and around the corral, hoping to tire him out a little before she attempted to put the halter on.

“Hah, hah, hah,” she chided every time the colt tried to slow down. “You want to run, you’re gonna run, buddy.” Finally, he flicked an ear at her and started to lower his head. She relaxed her stance and let him drop into a walk. Then she stopped turning with him and stood quietly. She heard the bay shuffling back and forth behind her for a minute before hoof beats slowly approached her. When she felt his hot breath blowing on her elbow, she turned slowly around. The colt stood less than a foot away, his ears still pricked but his eyes softer and not panicked.

“There we go,” she crooned. “See, I’m not gonna hurt you.” She held out the halter for him to sniff. When he didn’t shy from it, she slowly slipped it over his head and fastened the buckle. Once it was on, she attached the lead rope.

“Open the gate,” she called to Javi, who was leaning on the rail near the gate. The mares were gone, so he or Luis or Chucho must have taken them into the barn while she was busy. She led the colt through the gate, tightening her grip on the lead rope in case he shied from Javi. The horse did stop for a moment and blew sharply at the man, but he kept walking.

“How are you going to get him home?” Chucho asked as she led the colt away from the corral.

“Shit,” Cassidy said. She hadn’t thought about that. She’d driven the truck over without the trailer attached.

Chucho laughed. “Luis, saddle a horse for her,” he said. “And Javi, you follow her in her truck.” It was clear that Chucho was used to calling the shots on the ranch.

“Nice looking horse,” Chucho said, looking the colt over as they waited for Luis to bring her a saddle horse. “Where’d you get him?”

“Auction,” she said. “He’s a Thoroughbred but wasn’t fast enough for the track so they sold him as a jumper. But he’s a bit of a nut case and he went through about three barns before he ended up at that auction. I outbid the meat buyer for him.” She stroked the colt’s velvety nose. “I know he’s kind of skinny and wild right now, but he’s got that spark. Once I get him gelded and retrained, he’ll make a good riding horse.” She shook her head. “Don’t know why they didn’t cut him right away, but I guess he’s got good bloodlines or something. I don’t pay attention to all that. He could be sired by Secretariat for all I know, but who cares.”

Chucho nodded. “I like Quarter Horses, myself,” he said. “Quieter than Thoroughbreds and smarter. But I don’t care about the pedigree either. Hell, I don’t care where the horse comes from as long as it does its job.” He gestured toward the red roan that Luis was leading toward them. “That cabron came off my friend’s ranch; he bought a mare, was working cattle with her and one morning he comes out and she’s got this ugly thing beside her. No idea who or what the sire was but she was a good cow horse and Rojo took after her.”

Cassidy ran her eyes over the roan. A rough boned gelding, a bit of a ewe neck and a clunky head, not much of a tail. He probably had some Appaloosa in him, maybe mustang. Nothing like the elegant bay colt but he had a kind, intelligent eye. She nodded. “Thanks.”

Chucho held the colt while she swung into Rojo’s saddle. As he handed her the lead rope, the colt danced up to the gelding, sniffing and blowing. “Javi will drive your truck and he can ride Rojo back home,” Chucho said. She glanced over at Javi, who was standing back, looking bored and resigned.

“Keys are in the truck,” she called out to him. “And the gear shift sticks a bit going from reverse to drive, so you have to fiddle with it a bit.”

“Got it,” he said, turning on his heel and heading for the truck. Definitely a man of few words. Cassidy tried not to watch his ass as he walked away, but those jeans were so damned tight, she couldn’t help it. A chuckle brought her attention back to Chucho.

“He’s a ladies man, my son,” he said, “but he’s a mess. I wouldn’t get mixed up with him if I were you.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Just a bit of neighborly advice.”

Cassidy shook her head and settled into the saddle. Picking up the reins, she nudged Rojo with her knees, after making sure the lead rope was dallied loosely around the saddle horn just in case the colt jerked the rope from her hand. She needed to pay attention to the horses, not Javi Pena’s shapely ass.

The ride back to her place was uneventful, except for the colt shying at a jackrabbit and spooking Rojo into a crow hop that fortunately didn’t catch her entirely unaware. For the most part, she followed the side of the road but took a shortcut once she reached a trail she’d ridden a few times already and knew led right to her barn.

Javi was sitting in her truck when she arrived, slumped in the seat looking completely bored. He did hop out to take hold of Rojo’s bridle as she dismounted, though, and waited for her to lead the colt into the barn and tuck him into the stall she’d prepared for him yesterday. Should have just put him away last night, she chided herself, but after being in a tiny pen at the auction and in the trailer for two hours, she’d wanted to give him a bit of a turnout.

“Thanks,” she said when she came out of the barn. Javi was standing beside Rojo, stroking the gelding’s nose. He shrugged.

“Thank my dad,” he said. “I just do what I’m told.” He sighed. “You good?”

“Yeah,” she said.

Javi nodded and swung into the saddle. He took a moment to adjust the stirrup leathers to accommodate his longer legs, then turned Rojo and trotted off without a word. Cassidy watched them for a moment, trying not to notice the way Javi’s hips moved with the horse’s gait. Enough, she told herself. Chucho warned you, and you already have enough on your plate. Reluctantly, she turned away and headed back to the barn. She needed to feed, water and groom the colt before she could go back inside and change into something more appropriate for the heat that was already starting to build up as the sun shone down as only a south Texas sun can.

#pedro pascal #javier peña x ofc #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #horses

[thegeminisage]

tng night SIGH number four. tonight's eps were uhhh [checks] "lonely among us" and "justice." verdict: idk, i kept getting bored and looking at my phone

"lonely among us" was about a little electric thing that kept hopping bodies. this was initially kind of fun, if stupid, because it seemed SO OBVIOUS that crusher should report missing time right away and she just didn't lol

i do like that deanna finally got something to do (hypnotizing them) but it just made me remember that in tos they werent allowed to do that and this hypnotism could have been an email (vulcan mind meld). i'll get there. i just miss him.

the aliens who wanted to eat live animals were like. unfunny. especially when menacing tasha yar. idk, she always looks incredibly tense and it's starting to make me feel bad for her. she seems to hate everything. poor ms whoever is playing her

data's bit with the sherlock pipe was kinda cringe but i love him anyway. i was VERY mad when picard told him to knock it off. you're stopping him from stimming!!! leave him alone!!! also, in the next episode, he got onto him about babbling and watching data shut down in response was SOOO sad jail for picard for ONE THOUSAND YEARS im glad his ass apologized

unfortunately during the middle of the pipe thing is when i found out about the loz movie via destiel meme (ep was boring i was looking at my phone sorry) so i ruined the best part of the episode for myself

i am coming to understand that generally speaking data is the best part of any given tng episode <3

there was a moment in this episode where wesley was once again right and told to buzz off. in the next episode he does something stupid and they spend the entire time defending him. i DONT understand why it always has to be like this. i don't even dislike wesley, i just dislike the way the other characters are written is reponse to him. he's like the theo teenwolf of tng (dont get me started)

big moment in this ep was the potential mutiny. once again it's too early for this shit. i wanted some episodes where they explore planets and fight some guys (like the ferengi ep!) before we did anything deep. i bet if this happened in like seasons 3-5 i'd be beside myself about it the way i was when it almost happened in tos. but i don't like some of these guys yet, let alone care deeply about them (except data, who is my best friend).

next ep: The Sex Planet. once again, it is inappropriate to be having children on a starship, but it is especially inappropriate to send your fifteen year old """honorary""" """""ensign"""""" down to a planet that you don't know anything about except how they LOVE to fuck. the greeting party literally didn't even know what to do with him if they couldn't feel him up. he had to explain in 1987 hays code that he was a fucking virgin. maybe some research besides "they love to fuck here" would have helped with this situation but also "let's not send the 15yo to the brothel planet" would be a good line of thought too???

anyway he breaks the law has to die and theyre twisting themselves into knots over the prime directive and the setup was ACTUALLY almost interesting except they just beamed away with him in the end without finding a third option, which they could have done like 20 minutes in. also, if theyre trying not to break the prime directive, why are they allowed to tell the aliens they're from space and beam one aboard their ship? like, i actually love ethical questions posed by the prime directive, so this episode is cool on paper, but the execution flopped

oh i nearly forgot worf was bragging about his prowess in bed and how he was too much for weak human partners and riker looked SO intrigued which was like the funniest fucking thing. good for both of them. also it was androidphobia that they didn't let data go to that planet to get laid

anyway, as of now, i have been OFFICIALLY DITCHED. catherine maulthots has decided to let me do s1 and s2 of tng on my OWN and then show her the relevant ones so it's time to watch this shit on 2x speed until i hit the good parts

#personal #star trek blogging #tng lb #i miss spock. and bones and kirk ofc but mostly just spock

[wanduhhh]

L’Amour Looks Something Like You

Wanda/Reader (18+)

Chapter 5: The Disbelieving Angel👼

A/N: this took weeks to force myself to update my mind is torturous. Idk if there will be any more chapters after this one, unless I find inspo/anyone has any inspo for me x thank you for reading!

——————————————-

Peeling the duvet off your body as quietly as possible you attempted to get out of bed without waking Wanda. You had looked down and noticed red marks all over the top of Wanda’s collarbone, no doubt trailing lower. You couldn’t imagine having to have a conversation with the redhead, whilst looking at the marks you had covered her body in. Bending slightly you grabbed last nights outfit and clutched it to your bare form; trying to preserve what dignity you had left.

You successfully left the bed and tiptoed towards the door, wincing every time you heard a creak. Pulling the door open as slowly as you possibly could- yet you were unable to stop the resounding creak it made. “Fuck” you muttered to yourself as you cursed the old wooden doors, the shuffling on the bed behind you told you that Wanda had woken up.

“You know the walk of shame doesn’t work as well when you live in the same house right” you rolled your eyes and turned round. “I was Not doing the walk of shame I just uh, have to pee” god you didn’t even believe yourself. You burned holes in the duvet as you refused to meet Wanda’s inquisitive eyes. From your peripheral you could spot her slight smirk and you felt infuriated that she was still so relaxed.

“I’m going back to sleep, I’ll just let you go wallow. Good luck covering those up by the way” your hand flew up to hold your neck, as if holding the marks would make them disappear. With that Wanda threw the covers back over her head and you walked out the door dumbfounded.

You spent the day in your room, confused and frustrated. Running downstairs to grab something for lunch became a covert mission.

Despite living in the same building as the woman you had managed to avoid her for a full day, but the fact that she had also avoided you didn’t slip your mind. The lack of her usual musical presence left the house feeling dull. You missed watching her dance to Kate Bush as she cooked dinner, always humming along. Your quiet pining had consumed you.

You knew this defiant avoidance was futile and you knew just the person to give you the kick up the ass you desperately needed.

“You look like shit” crackled through your phone speaker, “thanks Lena, hello to you too”. As nice as it was to see her through the screen, you wanted nothing more than a bone-crushing hug; you didn’t tell that to her cocky face though. “So what have you been doing whilst I’ve been gone, or should I say who have you been doing” you felt her eyes flicker down to the marks over your throat, and for the second time today your hands reached up to cover them. “Shut it Lena, it’s such a weird situation and I can’t avoid it because she’s literally in the room next door-“ “wait wait wait, you and witchy?” You knew you shouldn’t have opened your mouth.

“I mean I knew it would happen but just not so fast. What about her AI boyfriend?” You rolled your eyes at the thought, “haven’t seen much of him in a while, not that I’m complaining”. It felt good to be able to vent to someone, and the screen between you made you miss Yelena more than you thought you would. When you had to say bye to each other you sniffled and told Yelena it was hay-fever.

Talking through everything with your friend made you feel a bit more ready to face Wanda and talk like adults. It forced you to acknowledge how stupid the two of you were being, avoidance had been the default for so long.

You hopped up with momentum, knowing now that you were ready to face this and force Wanda to face it too if that’s what it took.

When you pushed open Wanda’s bedroom door you found her where you left her that morning, duvet over her head with red curly hair poking out the top. It only added to your confidence.

You went over and peeled the covers back, lightly chuckling at Wanda’s scrunched up nose when the light met her eyes and then you got in and pulled the duvet over both of you. The confusion you were expecting was non existent as Wanda scooted closer to you, pulling your arm over her bare waist and shuffling against you til she was comfy. Breathing a sleepy “took you long enough” before you both let yourself fall into a happy nap.

You woke up a few hours later to the feeling of soft fingertips tracing the length of your nose, hearing a quiet chuckle each time it made your nose twitch. You let your face break into a sleepy grin, not yet opening your eyes. Wanda smiled down at you and placed a gentle kiss on the tip of your Cupid’s bow. So soft that you almost believed you had imagined it.

“Good morning sleepy” floated through your ears as you lay with eyes closed, you knew if you opened them you’d be met with a blinding grin and eyes that would render you speechless. You let yourself bask in the soft moment without overwhelming yourself. Grunting lightly to tell Wanda you were indeed awake, peeking one eye open to be met with a smiling Wanda.

“Hey” you had both decided to stay whispering, buried under the darkness of the duvet immersing yourselves in the bubble you had created. “Hey” she spoke back, nuzzling her nose against yours gently. It was sickeningly sweet. “So we’re doing this?” Wanda questioned you, despite the seriousness of her question you both remained smiling. Letting yourself kiss her soft lips quickly before nodding, you were indeed doing this.

“Just is now? No one else?” Wanda’s pointed tone had your mind flicking back to grinding against Natasha and then again to hearing Wanda with Vision’s name on her tongue. It caused you to since slightly, willing the memories away. “Just us” you have her another kiss to seal the deal. She mumbled “good” against your lips, eyebrows drawn together and you knew she was thinking the same thing you had just shooed out of your brain.

It was nighttime before you both managed to peel yourselves out of the cocoon, only because Wanda’s stomach rumbled loud enough that it had you both giggling into each other’s hair.

You sat at the kitchen island watching Wanda cook for you both. Swaying as she stirred, one of your shirts resting just on the swell of her ass. Your heart ached in that moment when you thought of all the days you had watched her dance alone rather than spin her under your arm. It had you desperately scraping your chair away and rushing to pull her into your arms. She furrowed her brows at the intensity but let you kiss her senseless.

Your days were blissful with the redhead, late nights drinking wine and giggling, days spent drawing together as you lay on the grass in the backyard. Wanda would make you daisy chains and kiss every new freckle she saw on your sun kissed skin. It was as if nothing; and everything had changed.

As sweet as Wanda was you got to experience more of her fiery side in the weeks you spent adjusting to life as a couple. Little arguments between you would spark a fire in Wanda’s eyes. Head tilting, eyebrow lifting slightly. Although it meant some nights you’d be sent to sleep alone, it did nothing but enamour you more.

You loved Wanda so wholeheartedly the more you got to know every aspect of her. And when she would slip into the cold bed behind you in the middle of the night, shuffling her arm underneath you whilst whispering how she was still mad; you loved her even more.

Wanda would leave you little notes around the house, sometimes reminding you to brush your teeth when you were having a bad day, mostly reminding you just how much she loved you.

You had weekly FaceTime dates with Yelena, where you would prob the laptop on the table and you and Wanda would squeeze together on the sofa and ask Yelena all about her travels. She said seeing you so in love together made her equally queasy and homesick.

You hadn’t had sex in months, yet you had made love almost every day. Never growing tired of the way Wanda fell apart under your mouth and your hands. There were times when slow passion wasn’t enough for Wanda, especially when she felt she had to remind you exactly who you belonged to.

Most notably the Halloween party you and Wanda had decided to host. The thought of letting people into the bubble you had been living in scared you, but Wanda’s excitement about couples costumes more than made up for it. She had decided that you would go as an angel and a demon, and despite your protests that you were the true angel out of the two of you, Wanda stood before you in a white slip on with golden wings attached to her back.

You were in a tight black dress, small red horns on the top of your head. You felt ridiculous until Wanda’s eyes devoured you, honing in on the skin between the dress and the tops of your thigh high boots. The costumes were definitely worth it.

Wanda had invited all of her friends and knowing Natasha would be there made you a little nervous, mostly in anticipation of how Wanda would react to seeing the two of you in the same room again. You wondered just how angelic she would be throughout the night.

When Natasha arrived, dressed in a latex suit claiming to be an assassin for the night it had you gulping air. Not because you were overcome with lust, rather because you anticipated how Wanda would react to seeing you so much as say hello to the other redhead. Wanda was on your side from then like a magnet. Barely parting to refill a drink. It should have overwhelmed you, you should’ve been offended at the lack of trust in you; but you kissed her.

You welcomed the way her arms wrapped around you in a vice grip and every time she met your lips with her own, you kissed her back twice as hard.

A few hours into the night you and Natasha had smoothed over the awkwardness, falling into an easy conversation about baby Yelena. Deciding you needed Yelena’s input you FaceTimed her, you and Natasha squishing together to fit in the frame as you all laughed. Wanda sipped her drink bitterly, watching as you were too close to Natasha for her liking.

The sweet wine in Wanda’s cup was gulped down in one, stood across the room back against the wall openly glaring at Natasha. “Her red, cool it down your cheeks are starting to match your hair” Carol mumbled beside the seething redhead, playfully poking her side.

“Shut it Danvers, look at her she basically has her tongue down y/n’s throat” Carol chuckled at that, Wanda always one for hyperboles. “Wands she has an arm round her shoulder, if you’re so bothered go stake your claim” Carol emphasised her sentence by banging her scythe on the ground. Love advice from the grim reaper, only seemed right.

However, when she watched Wanda walk over and drag you to the stairs by the arm, she realised her mistake. “Ummm what happened there?” Yelena’s delayed response came from the phone, cutting through the silence of the room. “I uh- may have encouraged Wanda to ‘claim’ y/n” Natasha rolled her eyes, “so you told them to go fuck upstairs?”.

“I told them to go fuck upstairs”.

Despite frantically asking Wanda what was wrong as she marched you to your bedroom, she refused to reply even once. Taking 2 steps at a time, wings and tits bouncing in sync with the power in her steps. When she got you close enough to the bed she threw you onto it, straddling you in one swoop.

Although you were confused, you were more distracted now. Wanda was wearing white garters, clipped together with a love heart on each thigh, your mouth was watering at the way they stretched over her inner thighs.

The juxtaposition of Wanda’s angelic appearance and the devilish way she wrapped her hand around your throat was not lost on you. You thought then that the Halloween costumes should have been reversed.

“Do you act like a slut for everyone baby?, or just redheads” although she posed it as a question you knew better than to answer. Cowering under the way she smirked down at you, “hmm too dumb to speak are we? That’s okay dumb baby. You won’t need to use your brain just now anyway. Just that pretty mouth”.

With finality she pushed you flat on your back and lifted herself to hover above your head. Your eyes met her lacy white panties, able to see how wet they were already just from her taking charge. You desperately arched your head forward and whined at the way she held you back by your hair. “Please Wanda, please let me make you feel good” she was still a sucker for your doe eyes.

She lowered herself onto your waiting mouth, your tongue immediately lapping at her through her underwear. Trying your best to wordlessly convince her to remove the panties so you could properly taste her.

She lasted 2 whole minutes before giving in, slipping a shaky hand down to pull her panties to the side. Before letting you delve in however, she held you by the hair and looked down into your eyes. “You’re going to make me cum and then you are going to behave yourself, got it?” Before you could reply she sat her weight down onto your open mouth. Letting out a moan that you knew floated downstairs.

You pushed your tongue inside her and moaned at how good she tasted, how warm she was. Wanda had her hands wound into your hair, rutting against your mouth and taking the pleasure she needed. Her halo bounced vigorously with each movement, of all the angels you still thought Wanda was the sweetest.

When her hips stuttered against your mouth and you felt yourself swallowing down all she had to offer, she let herself flop beside you. Halo squint and a lazy smirk on her face. You rolled over and kissed her, licking into her mouth and chuckling when you heard her moan at her own taste.

“I love you Wanda” you knew she knew this, knew it by the way you had her coffee order memorised. Knew it in the way you never ran her a bath if she didn’t have a bath bomb, knew it in the way you brushed out every knot in her hair after a long day of work. But when you said it, it didn’t fail to make her tear up. “I love you so much” she whispered against your nose.

You helped her up a minute later, shuffling her panties back into place and straightening her garters. Kissing her over the top of her panties just to watch her breath hitch. You fluffed out her wings and tamed her curls, lightly pinching her red cheeks and leading her back to the party by her hand.

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