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boxofbonesfic · 11 months

Note

omg i would love a dark!Peter or a Ransom prompt 👀 it can just be an idea, or a specific scene or scenario, whatever strikes your fancy 💖

Ok! Ransom x plus size reader: college au, fwb. Ransom doesn't want to be seen with her cause she's fat and she's cool with it cause she's literally just here for the d while she gets her degree right? Ransom's an ass but that dick is bomb and no feelings are involved so perfect. But then Ransom gets addicted to the p and wants her all to himself, still on the dl tho. His changing feelings don't come out till she meets someone and breaks it off with Ransom. Reader doesn't think anything of it but Ransom COMPLETELY loses his mind and starts stalking her, blowing up her phone, etc. Not caring if everyone knows now. Reader is CONFUSED and MIFFED!

Title: Breaking

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 5,374

Summary: Ransom wasn’t eager to stake any sort of claim on you—until someone else does it first.

Warnings: College AU, Stalking, Kidnapping, Darkfic, Plus Size Reader, Manipulation, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, MINORS DNI!

A/N: thank you so much for this lovely prompt! i really hope you enjoy this little ficlet. ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics

Ransom had found it kind of funny at first, when you’d stopped responding to his rather crassly worded “U up?” texts. It wasn’t until the third text in half as many weeks had gone completely unanswered that he’d tried calling instead—and found you had blocked him completely.

What?

That wasn’t like you. Not like Ransom had taken time to really know you, but ghosting just didn’t seem like it belonged in your playbook.

“The number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time. Please contact your service provider if you believe you have reached this message in error.”

It had taken a little finesse, Ransom laying the charm rather thickly on your friend in his business management class, the one whose name he could never remember.

“She has a boyfriend,” she’d said, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger with a nervous giggle. “But I’m, um, single.”

Which brings him to now.

You weren’t the sort of girl he usually took out on dates, and, looking back on it, you’d picked it up rather quickly. Your requests to meet at parties or the bars his frat brothers regularly visited were answered with vague no’s. Or, more often than not, ignored outright until you stopped sending them. It wasn’t your fault—he had a reputation to think about. Though tonight, ironically, his reputation is the furthest thing from his mind.

What is on his mind, is you.

Ransom’s lip curls as he watches Isaac drape an arm across your shoulders, squeeing affectionately. He doesn’t know him well—they haven’t spoken much beyond the idle chit-chat around the keg. It turns his stomach, the thought that he’d finally realized just how much you meant to him, only to have this—this boy-scout steal you from right under his nose. Out from his fucking bed.

Ransom isn’t used to coming in second place. It’s never happened before, losing something he actually wants. Isaac seems happy to be next to you, not embarrassed or hiding behind baseball caps and wide sunglasses. Not like Ransom. He’s angry—at you, a little, but mostly at himself. It’s not hard to recall how you felt underneath him, all soft skin, soft curves, and fuck. He hates himself for not savoring that last time more, for not knowing it was going to be the last time.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Ransom Drysdale didn’t get dumped—he was the one who did the dumping. And, he, thinks with no small amount of derision as he watches you from across the bar, I didn’t get dumped. We were never together. You can’t break up if you’re not together. The thought rings hollow even in his own head as he nurses his fifth beer of the night. It feels stupid-no, superficial, now; the way he’d only drop by your dorm-room after midnight, showing up without calling or texting and knowing full well that you would let him in.

But not anymore.

You’re too far away for him to hear it, but when you laugh, you tilt your head back, attempting to cover your wide grin with one hand. Pretty, he thins to himself, taking another long swallow from the bottle. Fuck how had he not noticed how pretty you are when you laugh, before? Had he just never seen it? Now that it occurs to him, Ransom’s hard pressed to find a memory that isn’t just sweaty skin, and hungry words growled into the curls at the nape of your neck.

Fuck.

Those were his favorite nights, the ones he spent digging his fingers into the softness of your hips while he sank in to the hilt—Ransom shudders. Even through the condoms you insisted he wear, the memory of your slick, tight heat is enough to send a hot, jealous pulse through his veins.

“We’re not together,” you’d said, crossing your arms stoutly as you stared up at him. “Condom or nothing.”

Probably doesn’t make Isaac wear a fucking condom. He takes another bitter swallow. He doesn’t know what’s worse, the thought of you fucking that Leave it To Beaver reject, or you fucking him raw. Both make him see red.

“Right, Ransom?” Someone claps him on the shoulder, and Ransom nods wordlessly. He isn’t paying attention, not to them, not with you here. You lean over to say something to your friend, the same mousy one who’d volunteered herself in your place. Ransom scoffs into his beer.

“Three fucking weeks.” He mumbles, draining the bottle before placing it down almost too hard on the bar-top. “How’s it get serious in three fucking weeks?” He waves at the bartender, signaling for another.

“Ran, we’re heading out.” Theo jerks his head towards the door. “There’s a party at Jude’s place. Hella girls.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Drunk ones.”

Ransom shrugs bad-naturedly, grimacing. “I’m going to stay here,” he says evasively, casting another sour look at you as his lip curls. “I don’t feel like pulling your head out of the toilet tonight.”

“Whatever, man.” Theo rolls his eyes, squaring his shoulders. He follows Ransom’s eye across the bar, and smirks. “Just because you’re not getting your dick wet with your porky little sidepiece anymore doesn’t mean the rest of us have to stay here and mope with you all weekend.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol warming his gut, but Ransom’s up before he’s really got a chance to think about it, his hands on Theo’s shoulders as he shoves him backwards, hard. The other man stumbles backward, and Ransom squares his shoulders.

“Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”

“What, now you care, all of a sudden?” Theo scoffs. “Dude you wouldn’t even let her come in through the front door—”��

Ransom doesn’t know when exactly he grabbed a handful of Theo’s thin hair, holding his head still while he drives a frenzied fist into his former friend’s face as everyone watches. He comes to as he rears his fist back again, the sound of his name distant in his ears, like it was spoken through glass.

“Ransom!” Your confused face in the crowd is all he can see—which is why Theo’s sucker punch catches him off guard. It makes his ears ring as stars explode in his right eye. The world tilts as Ransom stumbles, and the television static in his ears is replaced by yelling. The warm wet trickle from his nose is blood, staining the tips of his fingers red as he holds his face. Theo’s not doing much better, blood pouring from his nose, and an ugly, swollen bruise coming to bear on the right side of his face.

“Fuck you,” Theo mumbles, drawing the back of his sleeve across his bloody lip. “Fucking asshole.” He storms out, a few of their frat brothers trailing behind him as he goes.

“Are you fucking serious?” The bartender throws down the towel in his hands, before smacking them against the bar-top. “I’ve fucking told you guys about bringing that bullshit in here—”

“I was just leaving,” Ransom snaps, shoving his hands into his pockets. He hates that he can feel your eyes on him too; watchful, judging. Theo’s gone by the time Ransom makes his way outside. It’s almost winter break, and the icy night air feels good against the hot, painful throbbing in his cheek.

“Ransom.” He turns, scowling at you over his shoulder. “What the fuck was that?” He shrugs miserably.

“Nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

“What do you fucking care?” The venom on his tongue flows easily, likely aided by the liquid courage currently sloshing around in his gut. “You blocked me. You have a boyfriend.” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting from this confrontation, but your distinct lack of a reaction feels like more of a slap in the face than anything else. You blink at him, one eyebrow quirked as if in question.

“Yeah, I did.” Why does it hurt? Ransom’s rejected hundreds of girls—some as he was fucking pulling out of them, so why does this feel like a fucking knife in his back? “I figured you wouldn’t care much, Ransom, considering.” He hates this, hates how he’s the angry one and you’re calm—the roles should be reversed. They would be, if not for that niggling, irritating feeling that you should be his, just his. He doesn’t want to admit that you’re right, that you’ve got him pegged dead to fucking rights.

“How would you know?”

“You don’t sneak girls you like in through the basement entrance.” You retort smoothly. You’ve had a lifetime of this, of learning to live in your body, of learning to weather other people’s reactions to it—it’s Ransom that’s unfamiliar with rejection, unsure of how to handle the fact that the “r-train” isn’t enough to keep you coming back for more despite his treatment.

“But I do. I do like you.” He says, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t do this. It doesn’t have to be a thing. We can just, we can go back to how it was before.” This time, you do react, your face screwing up as you regard him first with disbelief and then anger.

“Why would I give up being in a relationship with someone who actually likes me, who is willing to be seen with me in public places and with his friends— you know what? I don’t need this.” You mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose. “This is what I fucking get for trying to make sure you’re okay. Silly me. I thought we were mature, here.” You gesture between the two of you before another dry laugh bubbles out from between your lips.

“Have a good night, Ransom.”

No, no, don’t leave! The desperate thought makes his throat tight. You can’t leave me. He stumbles exaggeratedly as you watch, falling against the bus stop with a groan. The plan lays itself out before him neatly like lines on a map.

“God fucking dammit—Ransom!” You huff irritatedly. He leans against the pole, counting the seconds until you come over to check on him. You do, and he moans pitifully. “Can you walk?”

“No,” he hiccoughs, swaying cartoonishly as you try to help him stand. “Ju-hic-just go. I’ll be fine.” You blow an exasperated breath out as you straighten him up. She doesn’t talk to her parents. He licks his lips as you pull out your phone, holding it up to your ear as you wait for someone to answer on the other end. She told me that when we were smoking, that one time.

“I obviously can’t. How did you get here?” You say, holding your hand over the mouthpiece as you scowl up at him.

“Theo d-drove.” The house is only a ten minute drive from here. Fifteen, tops.

“Yeah, I’m just going to head back to campus. No, I’m gonna take an uber. Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow, Isaac.” The little smile that curls at the corners of your lips makes him sick. “Yeah, you too.” Ransom leans on you heavily, and you don’t seem to notice when he presses his face into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo with relish. Fucking Isaac.

“I’ll get the uber,” he says, slurring the words deliberately as he fumbles with his own phone. “M’sorry, Princess.” He taps the screen clumsily, selecting Home instead of Dorm, before hastily stowing it back in his pocket.

“Don’t call me that.” You snap sharply. You try—and fail—to stand Ransom on his own two feet. Instead he hangs over you, draped over your shoulders with his chin resting on the top of your head.

“Why?” The question comes out petulantly. “You used to like it.”

“Stop.”

The familiar feel of your body pressed against his is sweet in a way Ransom hadn’t anticipated. The attic’s secure. Quiet.

When the car pulls up, Ransom allows you to wrangle him into the back seat, where he sprawls across your lap when you sit down beside him. You don’t say anything to the driver beyond a mumbled hello, which suits him just fine. Ransom plays up the drunk act, asking the driver a nonsensical question that makes you whisper at him to be quite.

“Sorry. Just trying to get him home.” You reply, pushing uselessly at his head as he settles into your lap. Soft. He can’t help but run a reverent hand across your jean clad thigh. Love how soft she is.

You’re so distracted trying to keep him from getting comfortable that you don’t notice the cab is heading away from the dorm until the driver turns down the private road.

“Wait—wait, I think you made a wrong turn somewhere,” you say, leaning forward to talk to the driver. He shakes his head enthusiastically, and points at his phone’s GPS.

“No, I followed the directions,” he protests, and Ransom hides his snicker in a groan. “This is the address.”

You lean back with a dissatisfied sigh, and look down at Ransom.

“Let me see your phone.” He unlocks it and hands it over, his face a mask of innocence. You notice the mistake immediately, leaning forward again. “Could you turn around and take us back to Harvard campus, please—”

“This trip was already way out of my route,” the driver grouses, frowning at the two of you in the mirror. “And I don’t think he’ll make another trip. Looks like he’s about to puke any second.”

“He’s fine.”

Ransom retches, and watches as the cabby’s face twists angrily.

“He’s not! I’m sorry, I’m done for the night. Maybe someone else will be able to pick you up.”

The finality in his voice makes Ransom giddy, and he clutches his stomach, gagging. He’s never thrown up—he’s not a fucking freshman lightweight, he’s a fucking Sigma for chrissakes—but he’s willing to let the two of you believe he might. You bite your lip, teeth sinking into its pillow softness as you try to undo what Ransom’s done.

“M’sorry. Didn’ mean to put in the wrong hic place.”

You nod stiffly. “I know. I guess… Well, this place has plenty of couches, right?” There’s little humor in your joke, but Ransom makes sure to laugh a little anyway, nodding.

“My grandfather won’t mind if you sleep in one of the guest rooms. Promise, Princess.”

“Ransom, don’t—”

“We’re here.” The driver cuts in as the car pulls to a stop in front of the house. “Sounds like you guys have it all figured out.”

—

As expected, the only people home are his grandfather, along with a few odd members of the staff. They’re easy enough to convince, Fran and Marta ferrying him upstairs to his room while he mumbles incoherently. You help too, tugging the blanket up over him after pulling off his shoes with a grunt. It feels nice, having you care for him like this, your soft hands on his face.

It feels right.

“I’ll get the guest room set up for you upstairs,” Fran says on her way out. “I’ve got a t-shirt around here somewhere.” Ransom doesn’t catch your answer, but that doesn’t matter much, not when he knows where you’ll be. It’s strange, how he’s impatient now, here at the home stretch, but he is. The smell of you, the taste, the feel, it’s all he can think about now that he’s so close.

It won’t be easy keeping you, he knows that, but nothing good comes without a challenge, right? And with the right motivation, Ransom knows he can make you fall in line. The house quiets around him, and distantly, he hears the sound of first Fran’s car, and then Marta’s. He forces himself to wait a few minutes more, and when he emerges out into the still air of the hallway, he smiles.

The door to the guest room is ever so slightly ajar, and Ransom slides inside. You sit up sharply, and for a moment only sound between you is the quiet settling of the house.

“What are you doing?”

“I came to check on you.” He can’t see your face in the dark, but he can see the shape of you, silhouetted in the pale beam of light streaming in from the tiny window above the bed.

“I’m fine.” The words are stiff. “You should go to bed.”

He doesn’t. Instead, Ransom turns and closes the door securely behind him, slipping the key into his pocket. The sound is deafening in the quiet, and he knows you hear it too.

“Have you texted Isaac, yet?” He asks, cocking his head. The room is small, shaped oddly by the sloping roof, and Ransom himself takes up the bulk of it standing in front of the door. You seem to shrink a little in response, and your hesitation answers the question truthfully, before you’ve even spoken.

“Y-yes. You should go to—” The way your hand strays under the pillow to feel for your phone tells him the opposite. Ransom licks his lips.

“Have you fucked him yet, Princess?”

Your gasp is audible.

“Don’t—don’t call me that. Ransom go to bed. You’re drunk.”

“Have you fucked him?” He repeats it, dropping to his knees on the bed.

“Get out!” You make for the door too late, and Ransom grabs you, wrapping an arm securely around your waist as he breathes a relieved sigh into your bare shoulder. Your frustrated struggle turns panicked at the sound of metal clacking against metal. “No, Ransom no—” The handcuffs he produces from his pocket aren’t the padded ones he’s used with you before—these are the real deal, and he clamps them tightly around your left wrist, looping it around the bed-frame before capturing your right. You’re writhing and fighting, but it’s easy to ignore the pain as he locks his arms tight, waiting for you to tire yourself out.

You’re wearing just a t-shirt, and Ransom palms the heavy weight of your tits through the soft cotton with a soft groan.

“So you haven’t fucked him.”

You open your mouth to scream, and Ransom laughs.

“Nearest person is two floors down, Princess,” he breathes, a low, satisfied hum rumbling in his chest as he draws his fingers through your messy hair, before tangling his fingers in it to tug your head back. His teeth scrape at your throat. “You can scream if you want to,” he mumbles against your pulse. “You know I like it when you’re loud.”

“Ransom, stop. You’re—”

“Drunk?” He answers smartly, before shaking his head. He cups your face with one sure hand, stroking your lip with the pad of his thumb. “I know you feel bad, Princess. You let me fuck that juicy cunt so quick, you thought you needed to make him work for it.” This close he can see your face, can see the guilt you quickly try to bury because he’s right. The answer is there, written in the way you turn your head away from him, trying to hide your face in shadow. Ransom doesn’t let you, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers as he forces you to stay still, to look him in the eye.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spit hoarsely, and Ransom laughs. “You’re fucking drunk and-and—get off me!” You shrill, bucking against him uselessly. If he’s drunk, that’s what he’s drunk on; the heady sensation of knowing the truth with absolute certainty.

“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” He sneers, pressing you down into the mattress. The smell of your skin is intoxicating, like orange blossoms and fucking sunshine. “Fuck, Princess, I missed this.” It’s almost reverent, the way he slides his hands down over your hips, slowly working a knee between your stubborn thighs. Your borrowed t-shirt rolls up as Ransom spreads your legs, grinning at the sight of white lace between them.

He draws a finger over the curve of your cunt before cupping it.

“Why’d you block me, Sweetheart?” He asks, tracing the shape of your puffy lips through the cotton.

“You didn’t want me!” You hiss through clenched teeth. Ransom clucks his tongue at you, shaking his head, before delivering a stinging slap to your cunt. You feel it through the cotton, of course, whining and writhing underneath him as you cry out. “You’re fucking crazy—” The palm of his hand cracks sharply against you again, and it cuts your complaint short as the words disappear in a pained gasp.

“Be honest with me, Princess.” He says, grinning as you try to wriggle away from him.

“You wouldn’t even be seen with me!” Your voice cracks. “It’s not fair, Ransom!”

“You want me to stake a claim, Sweetheart? I can do that,” Ransom breathes, pushing the shirt up over your breasts, groaning at the sight of your puffy nipples. He draws his thumb across one, watching, enraptured, as the flesh pebbles underneath his touch. He trails sloppy, heated kisses up the side of your throat, nipping at the skin until you whimper. He mouths at your skin, sucking at the purpling bruise until he pulls away, satisfied.

“We can think of a more permanent solution later.” He leans back with a satisfied sigh. It feels good to mark you, to watch the bruises spread like ink on your pretty skin.

“Please, Ransom, just go!” You sob, the chain rattling against the bed-frame as you try unsuccessfully to loose yourself from your restraints. “We-we’ll just pretend it never happened!” You nod at him, like you’re trying to encourage him to do the same, your wide eyes fever bright. “It’ll be just like before—”

“Why would I want that?” He asks, reaching down to tug your panties tight, pulling the fabric tautly through the lips of your pussy like dental floss. “I don’t think you’re really grasping the situation, Princess, so let me spell it out for you.” Ransom spreads your legs wider as you stare up at him with fearful eyes.

“I don’t want things how they were before.” He snarls. “Things are different now, Sweetheart. You made them different.” Ransom slips his fingers underneath the elastic of your panties, and begins tugging them own your thighs, ignoring your whimpered pleas to wait and stop. You kick at him, a frenzied wail working its way out of your throat. True to his word, he ignores it, sliding down your body until he’s faced with the slick patch between your thighs.

“Ransom—” His name is a hoarse wail as he attaches his lips to your cunt, his tongue seeking out your traitorously swelling clit. He grins against you, dragging his tongue noisily through your folds, moaning. This is perfection, he muses dimly, lapping at you as you whine. You can’t deny how good it feels, not when he can see the evidence glistening on your quaking thighs, taste it on his tongue. You’re gasping, those precious little choking noises filling his ears as you try to swallow down the sound of your pleasure.

“Can’t fucking get over how good you taste, Princess,” he mumbles, reveling in your yelp as he sucks harshly on your swollen bud, spreading you wide with his fingers. You shake, your body jackknifing as you murmur nonsensically. He’s always loved that flavor—like fresh peaches, why do you taste like fucking peaches—

“F-Fuck you!” He doesn’t let you cum, though, pulling away to flick softly at your clit with his thumb. He draws the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away the evidence of your body’s betrayal with a sly smile. A hoarse little whimper escapes you, and Ransom clucks his tongue, before reaching down to palm himself through his sweats. His cock his hard, so hard it almost hurts, thick drops of precum gathering at the reddened tip. He reaches for his phone with the other hand, the shutter noise clicking as he snaps a few pictures of your tear-stained face.

“N-no, no—!” You voice your displeasure with a whine as Ransom pans the camera down your body, like he’s trying to map it out for posterity’s sake. “No pictures, please, please!” Your wild, watery eyes are frantic as you plead with him. “Please don’t, Ran, please don’t send those—” A hot pulse shoots through his body at your desperation, and his cock throbs.

“A minute ago you were just telling me to go fuck myself.” He quirks an eyebrow at you over the top of the phone. “So which is it?”

“Please don’t send those.” You swallow thickly, the sound audible. “Please.”

He has no intention of sending them anywhere—except maybe to Isaac with your face cropped out, of course. But he smiles lasciviously anyway, blue eyes narrowing. Ransom runs his tongue across his lips, still tasting you on them.

“Let’s make a little deal, then.” He tugs his sweats down, and the fat, veiny length of his cock springs out. Ransom hisses softly as he spreads a sticky drop of precum across his tip with his thumb. “You’re going to end it with Isaac.” You open your mouth to complain, but Ransom forges ahead, ignoring you. “We’ll be exclusive, you and me, Princess.” He forces your thighs open a little wider. “Just like you want.” Ransom’s practically giddy with the thrill of it as your full lips begin to tremble and fresh tears track down your cheeks.

“I—I don’t want you!” You gasp, your attempts to buck him off only succeeding in wedging him further between your frantically kicking legs. Ransom clucks his tongue at you.

“I don’t know about that, Princess,” he says, slapping a hand against your swollen cunt, cupping it roughly. You squeal as he draws a finger through your slick, still throbbing folds.

“Not sure if you’ve ever been wetter.” Ransom presses your thighs to your chest. He asks, licking his lips. “It’s all up to you, of course.” Ransom lies so easily it doesn’t even really occur to him that he’s doing it.

“You tell me to go, I’ll go. But I can’t say what’ll happen to that footage.” He shrugs. He’s got no intention of leaving this room, not really, but he doesn’t mind pretending. “But if you were my girl, I might be able to swing deleting it. After all, what would I need it for? Got the real thing all to myself.” He dips the tip of a thick finger into your entrance. “Get it, Princess? No more scholarship. No more shitty dorm-room. I’ll take care of you.”

You’re so easy to read like this, your guard down and your desperation front and center. He can see you weighing the options, trying to parse out the best win for yourself in this devil’s bargain. He can see you testing the weight of your future against the events of this evening, and coming up far short. Ransom’s not stupid—and neither are you. You know what happens to girls like you when these things make their way into campus chatrooms and local reddit pages.

“You’ll really delete them?” You ask meekly, your mouth trembling. “You won’t… you won’t show these to anyone?” Ransom grins wider, drawing an X across his heart with the tip of his index finger.

“Cross my heart.” Ransom steadies one hand against your hip, his fingers sinking into the soft curve of it as he aligns himself with your entrance. His eyes roll as the head of his cock meets your cunt with a lewd, wet squelch. He’s getting impatient—after all, it’s been more than two weeks since the last time he’s been inside you, and his cock twitches hard against you at the thought.

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry Princess, you’ll need to speak up.” Ransom leans down over you, his hard eyes locked on yours. “Again.”

“I said fine!” Your quiet voice is strained. “Fine. I’ll—I’ll break up with Isaac—” Ransom kisses you, swallowing the rest of your words eagerly. He gorges himself on your mouth, sucking your tongue fiercely before pulling away to worry at your lower lip with his teeth until it’s swollen and red.

“Oh Princess.” He breathes. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that.” He watches with dark glee when your eyes go wide as he begins to press into you, the head of his cock forcing you open. “No condom this time, but that’s alright, isn’t it?”

“Ransom!”

“M’right here,” he breathes, his hips jerking as your slick, puffy cunt sucks at his tip. “Fuck.” Ransom watches your eyes roll as you sink your teeth into your lower lip. “I know you missed it too, Sweetheart,” Ransom grits the words out through his teeth as he sinks in, his toes curling as your wet heat envelops him inch by precious inch. “You can admit it.”

The warm euphoria that spreads down his spine as he bottoms out draws another curse from his lips. You feel like fucking slick velvet inside, your walls clamping down on the girth of his cock like a wet fist. It’s hypnotic, pulling out only to thrust home again, his ears barely registering the groan of the bed-frame beneath you. The space between his temples is buzzing—your compliance, the feel of you around him, the knowledge that he’d won—Ransom’s delirious with it.

What’s even better is he can see it, plain on your face how much you’re enjoying it—how much you hate yourself for it. It makes every mumbled curse, every moan he wrenches from your unwilling throat all the sweeter. Ransom clucks his tongue at you as he leans down to capture your lips again. They’re pillow soft and swollen from his teeth.

“It’s my fault.” Ransom drives his cock into you, groaning. “I was stupid, Princess, I know. But I know what I need, now,” he says, hooking an arm beneath your thigh, lifting it so he can sink in even deeper. “Just you.” The shameful little wail that escapes your throat as you clamp down around him is almost enough to make him cum with you, cursing and crying as you do. He hangs on by the last fraying thread of his self control.

“Shit, shit, shit—”

“See?” He laughs, rolling his hips into yours with heavy strokes. “You need me, too.”

God, he loves seeing you like this, loves being the one to break you apart—loves knowing he’ll be the only one. It’s that thought that does it, aided by the miserable way you mewl his name as you cum again. His hands are tight on your hips, sinking into the heavy curve of them as he growls your name roughly in your ear. For a moment he’s lost in it; his forehead resting against yours as you milk him.

He stays inside you for a few luxurious minutes, basking in the feel of your cunt before pulling out. Ransom slaps his still hard cock against your oversensitive clit and you whine, your hips jerking. He can’t help but admire the mess he’s made, dragging his tip through your slick, sticky folds.

You watch him with red-rimmed eyes, your brows furrowing as he rises from the bed, pulling his sweats back up over his hips. He doesn’t reach for the keys, but instead slides his hand underneath your pillow to remove your phone.

“Ransom let me out, now.” Your voice is high, panicked. “You promised—”

“To delete the pictures.” He finishes, nodding. As you sputter, he removes his own phone from his pocket, and faces the screen towards you as he selects the pictures and videos from the photo album, and there’s a swooshing sound from the phone’s speakers as they disappear. “And I’ve deleted them.” Frantically, you rattle the handcuff chains against the bed-frame, trying desperately to dislodge them as Ransom sighs.

“You’re just going to hurt yourself.” You keep trying anyway, ignoring him your terrified sobs grow louder.

“Let me go! You fucking promised, Ransom, don’t leave me here—”

He cocks his head at you.

“Why would I leave you?” He asks, slipping both your phones into his pocket as he stands, stretching. “Winter break’s just starting,” Ransom says with a smile. “And I can’t think of a better way to spend it.”

the end

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the-kr8tor · 10 months

Text

Silk & Cologne

Hobie Brown x Silk!Reader Relationship Headcanons.

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Silk! gn Reader/ Spider-Punk x Silk! gn Reader

Word count: 3.8k

Tags: No use of Y/N, No specific physical description of the reader, TW blood, TW needles, TW injuries, canon typical violence, fluff, hurt/comfort, Kinda soulmate AU.

*I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms*

You meet Hobie while you're running away from his team of spider-people.

You are an anomaly who accidentally entered a different dimension from yours, but you didn't know that at the moment. Your biggest worry right now are the various spider-people going after you for some reason.

Running and swinging from unfamiliar rooftops, you feel an invisible rope tug at you, this is probably your silk sense telling you where to go, you thought, so you follow it on instinct.

Unbeknownst to you, Hobie Brown aka Spider-Punk feels the exact same invisible rope pull him towards somewhere. He just got out of the inter-dimensional portal when he felt an unfamiliar feeling.

Also thinking it's his spidey senses keeping him on his toes, he follows it. He ignores all the calls from his comms to follow his instincts.

You both swing towards the mysterious pull, until you both almost collide in the air with each other.

You and Hobie both lean away last minute from each other to prevent the collision.

Your eyes lock with his for the first time.

You both feel the invisible rope stop pulling, it's replaced by longing and an unidentified urge.

As you both swing in the air you get a good look at each other. Time seems to be in slow motion as you both swing in a circle just watching each other.

The others catch up to the both of you, stopping at a nearby rooftop, watching you both curiously.

"What the hell am I watching?" Gwen Stacy asks as she watches you circle each other.

"Looks like some sort of mating dance" Peter B. Scratches his neck.

"Oh God, they're a silk variant, Lyla, Get Miguel and tell him to bring the silk blockers, this could get ugly" Jess says in her comms.

"Ohh, Dramaa. Miguel's on his way" Lyla reports.

It seemed to be hours just circling each other, waiting for either one of you to make a move.

Suddenly you both get tackled at the same time, landing on a dirty rooftop, you bite and scratch at the assailant.

You see from your peripheral that he's getting manhandled by someone in a blue suit, you watch as he quickly injects something in him, that makes your stranger go limp. The same invisible pull you felt dulls a little bit.

You turn back to the woman holding you down, your eyes widen before she plunges the needle with the same color in your neck.

Darkness wraps you immediately. The last thing you see is the sunlight bouncing off the metal on his suit.

You wake up from the noise of different voices arguing.

You're in a futuristic prison of some sort, you listen to the conversation for some answers, the magnetic pull seems to get stronger every second.

"Hobie you didn't see how they reacted, they're like feral or something!" Gwen pleads.

"Yeah, because you bloody tackled them!" Hobie uncharacteristically screams at Gwen.

"Let them go now" He demands Miguel.

"Don't you see Hobie, you're already captivated, it's because you were both bitten by the same radioactive spider, it created an irresistible attraction between you two, it will overwhelm you once the blockers I injected in both of you wears off" Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose "You two are linked together. You need to take this pheromone blocker to see reason"

You see him hold a blue pill.

"Take it before you become a danger to yourself and them" Miguel points at you.

They all look towards you, now awake, your pupils blown up like a balloon, with all the eyes on you, your only attention is on the leather clad form.

Hobie looks at you then to the pill, every second he wastes not taking the medication, he feels the pull towards you get stronger, it's almost painful.

Listening to Gwen, he grabs the pill quickly downing it.

He sighs as the pressure subsides.

Hobie feels like himself again.

You sigh as you feel it too, the pain without him next to you dulls. It's like an itch you can't scratch.

Hobie crouches next to you.

You lock eyes, the attraction still there, but you both don't have the animalistic need to be with each other.

"They need to take it too, so the medicine can take full effect" Miguel gives Hobie an identical pill.

"Where am I? Who are you?" You meekly speak for the first time.

"My name's Hobie Brown, apparently we were bitten by the same spider, we're linked with each other," Hobie looks towards Miguel "open it, they won't do anything"

"How'd you know?" Miguel raises his brow.

"I just know"

Miguel deactivates the orange glow around you.

You stand up to your full height, Hobie mirrors your movement. He hands you the pill, your hands brush against each other, electricity cackles around Hobie's hand.

You swallow it down dryly. Feeling the pressure completely alleviate, you finally feel normal.

Hobie feels the same, he still feels connected to you, somewhat. Like a lingering aftertaste. But there's no feeling of suddenly jumping your bones in front of everyone.

"Okay, now where the hell am I?" You push past Hobie, he gets surprised with your sudden change of tone.

Miguel gives you the spidey orientation added with some context on silk variants.

Learning that you were bitten by the same spider feels kinda weird. Like how Lyla put it simply "it's like your soul mates, kindred spirits" then she sighs while holographic hearts float above her head.

Then finding out what you both felt hours ago, was actually an animalistic urge to mate? That is the weirdest thing ever.

After hearing the word mate leave Miguel's mouth, you take a step further away from Hobie, you just met the man and you were ready to rip off each other's clothes the second you saw each other?

Miguel, the boss of the entire spider society, you just learned, offered you a place in their elite group. As long as you and Hobie keep taking the medication of course.

You accept the offer. A few hours ago, you thought you were the only person with spider powers, being locked in a bunker alone for almost ten years makes you lonely. Now that there's an entire team who understands you and a man who's basically your soulmate you cannot say no.

You don't want to be lonely ever again.

You've been part of the spider society for a few weeks now, becoming friends with the other spider people.

You were afraid of coming out of your assigned room for the first few days just in case there's another spider-person out there who was bitten by the same radioactive spider. You definitely don't want to ever feel that way again.

Miguel tasked you to train so you could hone your skills.

In your surprise you see Hobie in the training room, honestly you were avoiding him, with how weird you two first met, who wouldn't?

"O'hara, really?" You glare at Miguel.

Weirdly enough, you and Miguel have become fast friends, probably because he keeps you closely monitored in case your 'charms' go haywire again.

You call it your 'charms' since you didn't like that everyone called it pheromones, it gave you the ick.

"Being in close proximity to each other helps in training you in keeping your urges in check" Miguel informed you both, "you've taken both your meds, right?"

"Yes bossman, otherwise I would be all over them right now" Hobie teases you both.

You almost broke your own neck with how fast you turned to look at Hobie.

Miguel sighs "Whatever just keep it PG" He leaves, the doors hiss closed once he stepped outside.

"I like your suit" Hobie breaks the ice as he roams his eyes over your form.

"Thanks, I made it from my own webbing" you lift your arms to show it off.

"That's -"

"Please don't say hot"

"I was gonna say punk rock, but that works too"

Ignoring his last comment, you walk towards the console to start up the training simulation.

"You've been avoiding me" he says matter-of-fact.

"Hmm, I wonder why" you play with the console's settings, continuing in ignoring him.

Suddenly you feel strong arms caging you in, you turn around, and find yourself trapped by Hobie, your back gets blocked by the console so you don't have anywhere else to go.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You can feel his warmth with how close he is. You look up at him through your eyelashes.

"It bothers you then? Our connection" Hobie tilts his head in question.

"No it doesn't, it's just weird and awkward. I've already wasted ten years of my life locked up, I don't want a spider defining the rest of it, do you?" Despite your brain telling you to just swing away, you fight it off and speak your mind.

Hobie smirks, oh how he likes that fire, he intends to feed it, let it spread, he would let it burn him as long as he gets to see the real you without the pheromone fog clouding his thoughts.

"No I don't, but we've both been away from each other for a while, and yet you still feel it don't you? The want to be near each other, the need to protect each other" Hobie rambles on, "I think it's our shared spider senses telling us something, it would be a shame to not explore it"

"What a shame, then" taunting him, you lean up closer, your breaths mixing with each other.

Suddenly Miguel's booming voice surrounds the large training grounds "LEAVE ROOM FOR THE HOLY SPIRIT!"

You both pull away snickering at Miguel's comment.

No matter how hard you try to ignore what Hobie said you can't, because he's right, even though you take the medication, you still feel him. Every time he goes back to Nueva York, for some reason you feel his presence even though you didn't see him around the building; same goes for when he leaves, you feel some sort of emptiness inside you.

You ask Miguel whether his medication isn't completely working.

"It's not the medication's fault, there'll always be that lingering feeling. You're connected to each other, whether you like it or not" Miguel has his back turned to you, "best to just ignore it"

You huff at his comment, dissatisfied with his answer.

You try to ignore him, you do but it's basically impossible since you're friends with his friends and you both work at the same place. You keep seeing him EVERYWHERE.

Hobie does it on purpose though, whenever another spidey gets partnered up with you on a mission, he convinces them to swap with him.

"You, again?!" You scoff. "Lyla said I would be partnered up with Noir this time"

"He had something come up," Hobie shrugs. "Right Lyla?"

Lyla appears suddenly "yep, some goons to punch and what not"

"Ugh!" You swing away.

Hobie winks at Lyla as she shapes a heart with her hand.

Whenever you come to the mess hall with a long line of hungry spider-people, Hobie's already sitting down with an extra tray of food next to him. He nonchalantly looks at you with a smug smile on his lips.

You would ignore his invitation but he's always with backup, he would be with Gwen or Pavitr, whom you have grown fond of over the last few months. So you reluctantly swing towards them.

It also doesn't help that he's your assigned trainer, all the lingering looks and touches when he's correcting your form, wakes up the butterflies in your stomach.

You spend so much time with him, it's impossible to ignore the feeling.

Hobie loves leaving you cd's of movies and music you missed from the last decade in your dimension. He drops it on your doorstep every chance he's got.

One time you got hurt while on a mission without Hobie, you tried to hide the deep gash on your shoulder from your team, but of course you stubbornly deny it.

Entering the inter-dimensional portal, you feel the stabbing pain on your shoulder. Ignoring the pleas from your team, you give them a pained smile, telling them that your enhanced healing will fix it.

When you reach the hallway where your room resides, you see Hobie leaning on your door, you feel the magnetic pull towards him. With no choice but to confront him, despite the pain, you saunter towards your door with your head held up high.

"I don't remember ordering a doormat" You tease him, You felt a chill run through your body from the pain and blood loss.

"I felt that y'know, the cold" He stares at you seriously. "I felt the exact moment you got injured, I never want to feel that ever again" he straightens up, anticipating what comes next.

"Hobie I'm - " You feel nauseous, you fall towards him, he catches you in one swift motion.

"Stop being so bloody stubborn. Let me help you please" He softly says right next to your head.

You shift your head to look at him directly, memorizing every detail of his face, counting every single one of his piercings.

He shakes you out of your stupor, "Oi, stay awake for me, yeah?"

You swallow down the pain, "Okay, Hobie, you can help me"

Without missing a beat he carries you towards the med bay, expertly weaving through spider-people.

The entire time you were in the med bay, he was there with you, with every stitch to close your wound, he was there. You instinctively reached for his hand to hold on to.

When you finally woke up, he was sitting on a chair next to your bed, asleep. You take note of his hand still holding yours. You watch him, his chest moving up and down, taking note of every single detail of his suit, every crease of his boots; the different pins he has on his vest. You count every callus he has on his fingers.

When Miguel finally approves your proposal to finally go back to your own dimension. Now that you're both stable enough to be around each other; your stomach flips when you remember it's also Hobie's dimension.

With your reintegration back to society, you ask Jess, (the only adult you trust) to help you in finding a place to live in. And possibly a Job, to feel like a normal human again.

Thanks to Jess your transition back to your own dimension was pretty smooth. You still feel the pull here and there, but now you've gotten used to it. So used to the feeling and his presence, you didn't notice him perched on your windowsill.

"Nice place you got here" Hobie whistles.

"Christ!"

"Just me, lovey" he takes off his mask and enters your abode. "D'you need a doormat?" Hobie holds a brown rectangle in his hand.

"What?" You take it from hobie with a raised brow, "Come back with a warrant" laughing once you read it out loud.

"Glad you liked it, nicked it from another flat" Hobie smiles hearing your laugh, he goes towards your fridge to rummage through it.

"Wait, what! Please don't tell me it's from a neighbor" You follow him, opening the freezer, showing him different kinds of soda he can choose from.

" 'Course not, got it from another building in a nicer neighborhood" he opens a can of orange soda.

"So you basically swung around the city, holding this" you hold up the doormat. You must like me a lot. You wanted to add but you bite your tongue.

"Yeah, what of it?" He rummages through your cupboards. "You got any food in this dump?"

You roll your eyes, knowing his schedule you hand him a packet of biscuits for his patrol. You wish he could stay though.

Whenever you're both free from your responsibilities and obligations, Hobie mysteriously appears in your flat, holding a dvd of another movie you missed and a large bag of popcorn, three feet tall, how and where in the world did he even get that?

Sometimes though you're the instigator, instead of movies and a comically large popcorn, you bring him to different places around the city. Museums, a walk in the park, cafés, and concerts of bands that Hobie likes (that you like too but you don't specifically tell Hobie that)

When you're swinging together on patrol, you point at places that have changed since you were in your bunker. Telling him stories about your experiences in some places.

Whenever you feel hungry, sad or in pain, Hobie feels it too. He's there waiting for you and you do the same thing for him. You take care of each other.

Once you two got bored in your flat and decided to make a conspiracy/theory board on how and when you two got bit by the same spider. Both of you were so invested in it, you didn't sleep till five am.

You woke up from the soft snores and the strong arms around you. You force one eye open, the first thing you saw was the large board you two made, riddled with pins, and pictures of places you've both been to all connected with red strings tied around the pins.

You hear him snort in his sleep, you smile softly. Cuddling further onto his chest. He hugs you tighter, half lidded eyes looking down on you.

"First I was a doormat, now a pillow" He says in his gravelly voice from just waking up.

"Go back to sleep or you'll be a punching bag next"

You were in Nueva York, just hanging around with Gwen, when suddenly you felt a painful pang in your chest. You hold on to a nearby wall to steady yourself.

"You okay?" Gwen asks.

"I think -" another stabbing pain but in your skull this time. Your eyes widen in realization.

You look up at Gwen "Hobie" you gasp, swinging towards Miguel's command center. Gwen following your move.

You didn't waste a second once you landed in his area. "Where's Hobie?!" You scream in your urgency for him to answer you quickly. Miguel's up on his platform, his back turned.

"They didn't ask for backup, stand down, Silk" he watches his numerous monitors.

"I don't give a shit, O'hara! Tell me which dimension!" You demand.

Miguel finally turns to you, he looks down on you menacingly "I said stand down"

You feel the pull again, a lot stronger this time, it's a primal need to protect him.

Gwen, noticing the tension in the air, decides to simmer it down. "It's okay Miguel, we uh, understand we'll wait for them to call for backup" she stares at you to wordlessly say: play along.

"Fine" you say, faking a smile.

Miguel grunts and finally turns around back to his monitors.

Gwen subtly knocks your shoulder with hers.

Lyla appears on a nearby table, hiding behind a console, she beckons you over.

You crouch in front of her, she puts her index finger on her lips, she summons a board out of thin air, written on it is the dimension where Hobie is.

You mouth a thank you to Lyla. She makes a heart with her hands.

Wasting no time, you run away from Miguel, finding a spot to open a portal, Gwen and you swing towards it quickly.

Once transported, smoke and chaos greet you. Your eyes roam around the area where various spider people swing around the giant mech of an octopus, clambering up the buildings.

You panic, not seeing the familiar glint of his spikes.

"Gwen go help the others, be careful" you instruct her.

"Go find him" She nods.

Without being able to see him, you panic, so you use the invisible web that ties you both together. Closing your eyes, you concentrate on finding the other end of the web. You try to remember his smell to help you in locating him.

Reaching the end of the rope you finally feel him, you can hear him breathing out slow breaths, you feel every cut and bruise on his body. A tear slides down your cheeks, but you don't have time, so you swing towards him.

Dodging mechanical octopus arms, you ignore Miguel's orders ringing from your armband.

You finally reach him inside an abandoned restaurant. He's sitting down on the floor, back against the cashier counter, his head down low, chin on his chest.

He looks up at you the moment he feels your presence.

"You come 'ere often?" He jokes despite the pain.

"Hobie Brown, you're an idiot" you walk towards him.

"Yeah, but you're the one who came here, so who's the bigger idiot?" He coughs out the last part of his sentence.

You carefully grab his chin to assess the damage. His mask torn from the side, his brilliant brown eyes now dull, you get a glimpse of a dark red gash on his chest.

"Let's get you out of here, okay?" You hold his face, keeping him awake with your touch.

"Have I ever told you that You're the most gorgeous person I've ever seen?" He managed to get out.

"No, but you show it often," you smile. "Will you let me help you?"

He gives you a blood soaked smile, "Yeah, you can help me, love"

You both feel the tug and pull of the web, straining against itself, now taut, it finally breaks.

You kiss him on his bloodstained lips, ignoring the taste of iron. He kisses you most fervently.

You feel like a dam just broke in you, overflowing your senses with just Hobie flooding every fiber of your being.

Hobie feels rejuvenated, like he can get back out again and fight the giant octopus by himself.

You both pull away for air. Gasping and staring in each other's blown out eyes. Hobie leans forward and kisses you again, as if he hadn't seen you in years.

"We need to take out doc oc" Hobie whispers against your lips.

As if on cue, the octopus mech falls down on the ground with a loud crash, followed by the cheers of the spider-people.

"Guess they didn't need us" you chuckle.

You hold him up by his arms, slinging one on your shoulder, you help him up.

The sunlight greets you both as you step out of the building.

You hear Gwen yell out your names. She drops down gracefully.

"You're both Okay!" She bounces on her feet in happinesses.

"It takes more than that to kill me, Gweny" Hobie holds on to you tighter.

Gwen opens a portal back to Nueva York. You all step in.

You sigh in relief when the three of you finally reach the med bay. You get Hobie admitted, you hold his hand the entire time he gets treated. Thank goodness for 2099 medicine.

He finally falls asleep, still holding your hand. Miguel enters the room, one angry look from you, he grunts as if to say 'another time then' before leaving you both.

When he woke up you made sure that the first thing he sees is your face.

"Hey, trouble" his gravelly voice making you smile in relief.

"You're okay?" Tears threaten to spill over your eyes.

"Come 'ere," Hobie brings out his arm so you don't crush it as you lay down next to him. He moves his head towards you for a kiss, you close your eyes, anticipation flooding your senses.

His kiss reminds you that you'll never be truly alone in this world.

A/n: that awkward moment when you realise that you almost accidentally wrote an a/b/o fic lmao I had so much fun writing this! Couldn't even sleep without finishing it up. Is this still technically a headcanon when it's this long lol. Hope you liked it! As always comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

*image above is from pinterest*

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devotion · 1 year

Text

only you | p.p

summary: peter needs you after his patience snaps.

w/c: 1.1k+ | p.p masterlist

warnings: swears? tiniest bit of angst, fluff (should fluff really be a warning tho?)

prompts: kitchen counter make-outs | “i’ve had a terrible day at work so just kiss me”

notes: when i read this before continuing this wip after so so long, i realised that it was inspired by a spidey/venom comic i read in march/april so... idk which one it was but hopefully you don’t need much context. also, i love (v)eddie, but for the purpose of this blurb.... i do not. (i do.)

・──・──────── ⋆✦⋆ ────────・──・⁣⁣

peter’s hot-headed, irate and enervated whilst a throbbing headache troubles him.

there are a number of conspicuous changes in his behaviour that you notice instantly when he’s like this; along with his clenched jaw, his fist closed into a tight ball has his upper arm bulging out of his t-shirt, and one specific vein more prominent than ever, you would go out your way to consider that this attitude in some way is lewd. but not when he has the super-strength to punch through the wall with his bare hands and you both have to suffer the consequences of it.

it’s more than evident when you see the steam emitting from his ears, as his figure storms through the front door. peter’s composure only seems to settle the slightest bit when he turns around to lock it. his arm then rests on the doorframe, followed by his head.

he comes through to the living room of your usually humbling home that you two share, rips his bag off his shoulder and throws it off to the far end of the room, whereupon you hear a tear from behind him as he does so. a series of cracks sound after his bag hits the wall. it makes you cringe badly.

by the looks of it, not only has he tore the wallpaper, but he’s cracked the wall behind.

peter, realising what he’s just done, begins to blurt out to apologise, “i-”

“—no. just... water first,” you cut him off, leaving to the kitchen to fetch a glass.

rubbing the back of his neck as he pads to the kitchen, he sees you fill it with the water filter once he’s there. your eyes dart towards him in the doorway, moving to go get some ice from the freezer.

you’re surprised he’s simmered down so quickly, but you know him best — he isn’t one to be enraged for too long. now that he’s caused damage to the wall in the living room, he definitely shouldn’t be anyway.

when you give him it, he’s relocated to the counter behind you, accepting the glass when you offer him it.

peter mumbles a thank you before drinking, then waits for a moment or two for you to meet his gaze. after downing it whole, a hand finds yours, causing you to look up. he maintains eye contact whilst he starts with, “i’m sorry, baby. i really am.”

your eyebrows raise to indicate that he explains further. his shoulders slump.

“he’s pissing me off,” he admits, voice tremulous, “so so much, y/n.”

“who?” you squeeze his hand.

“you know...” he replies, before you squint an eye, tilting your head ever so slightly to indicate that you, in fact, don’t know. “eddie...” peter comes out with before he sighs, “it’s eddie.”

your mouth turns in an ‘o’ as he hands you back the glass. he’s mentioned a friend that he’s known for a long time, but the problem is that he’s become somewhat of an adversary as of recently. a walking havoc, new york thinks, and a hulking and distorted version of your boyfriend’s alter-ego.

“he does everything he can to show me that i’m some kinda wimp to not have done anything about kasady,” he observes in annoyance, “in every. possible. way.”

“he’s gonna let it go some day, pete,” you try to convince him, to no avail since he begins to roll his eyes and replies with, “it’s been 3 months. he’s even got a job at the bugle.”

he contemplates loudly, “he killed him though, so what’s left?” he laughs before shaking his head, “stupid bastard.”

“weren’t you once friends with said bastard?” you tease.

“and i fought tooth and nail to get him away from me when he sabotaged everything we had: our trust.”

and with that, peter’s reminded of the relentless ordeal he's having to endure with eddie. it must be the nonsensical alien in his mind.

“no way am i letting you talk to him.”

too late. you met at a party weeks ago.

“wasn’t fucking gonna anyway,” you huff, having no intention to in the first place, “he’s like a smidge hot but he’s not...” you move your hands in an attempt to try to explain what you’re about to say, mouth fumbling for the right words, continuing instead with: “you know, a hero, if you will.”

“yeah,” he smirks mockingly, tongue clicking against his cheek, “hero, my ass.”

he thinks about the thing that’s nagging him, one that eddie confessed to him just half an hour ago. he trusts you, with everything and anything, but the image of eddie sweeping up your feet torments him.

you’re noticing his demeanour again, shifting to what seems to be more angry, “that bad, huh? i—”

“—he likes you!”

startled, your eyes meet his — seeing him look down and away; poor peter thinks that you knowing that will ever change your feelings for him, that eddie has a chance with you. it’s all a ruse. why would you ever think of doing so, when you have the paragon of a boyfriend right in front of you, in your heart and forevermore?

then your hands proceed to his shoulders to gain his attention, letting them rest there before you rub them.

“peter, i know.”

“look, i don’t li- wait... what? how?” his eyebrows relax, eyes softening. it was stupid thinking you hadn’t bumped into him yet.

there’s a few moments of silence as he gazes at you, unnecessary insecurities gnawing at him briefly before he lets it go to ask in a whisper: “why didn’t you tell me?”

“because he means shit to me, sweetheart,” you urge, “i don't have an ounce of love for him, i don’t see him that way.”

the jealousy vanishes into thin air as you say that, leaving him feeling feeble-minded that he ever even thought about eddie with you. you continue to reassure him, “better yet, i’ve never really thought about it. you shouldn’t either.”

“fine,” he nods, sighing, “i’m so-”

“stop apologising, pete, just... forget about it, it’s okay.” you bring his head towards your chest, and he nestles in the midst of it.

all until he grabs the underside of your thighs, spinning you a hundred and eighty degrees so your bum sits comfortably on the counter.

he beseeches you, “i’ve had a terrible day, though, so just please... please kiss me.” he pouts. “tell me i’m yours, baby.”

your palm rests against his cheek, grinning, “you’re mine, pete. always have been, always will be.”

when your lips meet his, he smiles into it instantly, the ache in his heart recovering. his arms embrace you whole as he leans into you, desperate, and you taste nothing but the burning kick inviting on his tongue. it tells you only one thing, which only you’re able to discern as such.

you pull away, wiping the moisture that’s evident next to his mouth. “upstairs?”

he nods fervently.

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 3 months

Text

Question: Why doesn't Peter use his watch to go get Gwen?

We see Miguel basically dismiss Peter, leaving Peter to his own devices. The scene cuts to Miles for a while - and look at the next time we see Peter:

He uses a portal to get home.

Okaayyy...... So, your watch is working?

Cause I know you ain't get in the Go-Home Machine. So... Your watch is working??

That's how he got home, no? Typing his universe into his watch and going home.

I mean.. surely.. couldn't he just.. go see Gwen? Like how he could've gone and saw Miles?

Surely, he - one of the only people who knows Miles address - should be looking for Miles. Or Gwen, who was just assaulted in front of him.

We have no indication there's anything wrong with Peter's watch, nor that it's disabled.

As far as we know how watch is fine. There's nothing to imply it isn't.

But he uses his functioning watch to go home - and then he does nothing.

And look, MJ even asks:

And Peter tries to play it off??? And also 'ANOTHER FIGHT'. He's done this before.

Why didn't he tell MJ the fight he took MayDay to was AGAINST MILES?

Not only has he 1) brought MayDay in fights MULTIPLE times but he's 2) refused to acknowledge his involvement in what just happened.

He claims Miles saved his marriage and influenced him having a child - but he sees Miles get hunted - most likely goes home with technology that could help Miles, and then fails to even show concern or at least let MJ know what was happening.

Peter has no reason to lie or downplay the situation to MJ. He just wants to for some very odd reason.

Because he doesn't want to look like a bad mentor. Seriously, that's all he cares about.

Seriously, Peter B isn't a good guy.

He made no attempt to help Gwen, he's pretty fine with endangering MayDay, he basically avoids the question when MJ asks - AND his watch seems to be completely fine.

Why didn't he just... Go to Gwen's universe. From what we know Lyla isn't watching ALL the time, because Lyla didn't know how close Gwen got to Miles until Gwen admitted it to Jess.

So we can assume that if that watch can just go places when it's not specifically locked -

Because Hobie randomly turns turn in Mumbattan wearing a Miguel-issued watch, not his own. So that implies that when they travel, Lyla isn't directly monitoring them at every moment/authorizing every jump.

Why not go and see Gwen? Why not try to find Miles? Or at the very very very least -

Why not just tell MJ?

I feel like him lying to MJ - a person with no stake in this race - indicates that for Peter, this whole mentorship is about ego and proving he's competent enough to be a mentor or a dad - rather than actually DOING the things that requires, like keeping MayDay safe or going after Gwen.

It seems every time I think about it I have more of a reason to question Peter B.

So you can take your watch and go home, but you won't use it to go find Gwen AND you lie to MJ about taking your daughter to a fight AGAIN and fail to mention that fight was against a CHILD you personally know.

That's not very heroic sir.

But no. He's just worried about whether or not he's 'good at this mentor thing' - his words, not mine.

And y'all want me to clap for him. No sir. No no no.

All my Hobies hate Peter B (not a typo).

#spiderman #atsv #spider man #marvel #across the spiderverse #back at it with the #I hate Peter b #Peter Parker #Peter b #gwen stacy #spidergwen #spider Gwen #ghostspider #ghost spider #Miles morales

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hana-no-seiiki · 1 year

Text

YANDERE! BATFAM W/ MILES MORALES (BUT MAKE IT GENDER NEUTRAL)! READER

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] [PREVIOUS CHAPTER ]

GENERAL CW/TW: Spoilers for Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse. Typical Yandere themes of stalking, violence, and whatnot.

PART SPECIFIC CW/TW: Soft, awfully wholesome scene with your father. Like seriously it’s like the third time I watched the whole movie but this particular scene still breaks me

current status: unedited

summary: you get replaced by peter last minute as the one that plugs in the goober. but you won’t let that happen. not when he still has a whole life to get back to.

Reply if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

WHAT’S UP DANGER

( PART FOUR )

“Aye, Getting old they doubted us, makes it that more marvelous. Sign ‘em up cause I’m on this vibes and I get synonymous.

What’s up, danger?

Aye, don’t be a stranger!”

Look, because of the Spiderman: Miles Morales game I’m a bit biased.

I don’t want uncle Aaron to die damn it. But yeah the Prowler does exist and you have been keeping contact with him.

But for the sake of keeping the dude alive though he’ll only physically come in act 2 of this series, we gucci?

Although this means you lose a lot of the development Miles gets from his death. I’ll try my best to make the events as natural as possible

Anyways, you come back to the spider gang hanging out at Jason and Roy’s apartment.

The gang essentially jumpscares you (thank god for spider sense) with a suit of your own.

Except it was one size too big.

And there were holes at the eye sockets for you to actually see through.

“Ehrm . . . Thanks ?”

“You don’t gotta pretend you like it, kid.”

“Ahaha…”

��It’ll fit eventually.”

You begin sweating quite a bit. Something felt so off here.

You notice that Jason was looking straight at you.

Which I mean, anyone would be m e l t i n g if someone like Red Hood was staring right at them so it’s a miracle you aren’t a puddle at the moment.

Perhaps it’s cause you spent so much time with your crush, Gwen, that you’ve pretty much gotten used to hot people looking at you directly.

Still, you turn away and hide your face. Utterly clueless as to how react in this type of situation.

The relatively peaceful circumstance doesn’t last long as everyone’s spider sense is alerted and the door bell rings. A mechanical tentacle shoots through the lock, completely shattering it.

“Cute place. Real homey.”

Oh great, it’s Liv.

“Get out of here, kid.”

“For the last time I’m a legal adult—“

“Mira todas estas arañitas. (Well, look at these little spiders.)”

Two more of Kingpin’s men show up, Tombstone and Scorpion.

God, fucking damn it—

Olivia spots the new flashdrive Peni made around Peter’s neck and grins.

“Oh, I think I’ll be taking that.”

You hold in your attraction to the woman and duck as a fight ensues.

Scorpion takes notice of you.

“Niñito dale. (Go ahead, little one.)”

“Prepárate a morir (Prepare to die) — Ah, man stupid pillows!”

Before you could get your body bashed in by the cyborg, Red Hood takes a shot his tail just in time.

“You good?”

“Y-yeah.”

Your spider senses were all over the place just like with Damian. What is it with black haired hot guys and their danger levels-

You manage to slip away, flashdrive in hand, courtesy of invisibility finally working in your favor.

“All vehicles in the area we have a disturbance involving multiple spider . . . people ?”

“On my way.”

Dick wasn’t the type to spend Christmas in Gotham.

But the tone of his brother’s voice — how broken and desperate it was — alarmed him.

It seemed that his baby brother finally fell in love.

It was about time really.

Although he was terribly curious as to who the person the Damian Wayne had fallen for.

You couldn’t just be a normal student from school right?

He finds around the scene looking terrified and scared.

A perfect opportunity to get to know you a little better.

“You alright there citizen?”

“Huh? Yeah I’m fine.”

“You seem pretty calm despite being in a police car and all.”

“My dad’s a cop. He gives me rides in one plenty of times.”

“Jefferson Davis, right?”

“You know him?”

“Well, it’s hard not knowing the guy who’s been looking all over for you. He spread the news to several police departments.”

“That . . . sounds a lot like him . . . “

“You don’t have to worry. I won’t tell him where you are. You need some space, right?”

“Right.”

Nothing outstanding so far. You were cute albeit awkward. But he could see that you were going through things at the moment. Early adulthood is a bitch after all.

You kept quiet most of the ride.

You were so distracted that you didn’t even question how he knew what school you went to and the location of your dorms.

“Hey, I’m a little curious, why don’t you have his last name? Family problems?”

“No, it’s something with my grandfather. I don’t think it’s within my place to share.”

“Well alright.”

You two arrive at your dormitory and you make sure to give the place a good old scan just in case you were getting followed.

“I’ll see ya when I see ya, [Y/N]. Give me a call if you ever need help.”

“Got ya.”

You realize that you don’t even know the man’s name much less a way to contact him.

But as you look back, the car he was in had already driven away.

Time wasn’t going to wait for you.

You knew that. You were trying your darn hardest to chase after it.

But you weren’t fast enough.

“[Y/N]. We came to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye? We can say goodbye at the collider.”

“You’re not getting it. You’re staying here.”

“I need to be there, so you can all go home.”

“They are going home [Y/N]. I’m the only one staying.”

“You’re taking my place.”

Your voice trembled as you say those words. And unbeknownst to you, Jason (and to be fair the rest of the spider-people are out there eavesdropping too) shivered as he heard your words.

“If you stay here you’ll die.”

“I’m doing what needs to be done. I just wanted you to hear it from me.”

“What about MJ?”

“Not everything works out, kid. I need the goober.”

“That’s not fair! You gotta tell them I can do this.”

It took Jason all his might to not reach out and embrace you.

He knew how it felt to be replaced. Circumstances differ but still, a connection was made.

Although he couldn’t be there for you now as you had to grow into the Spiderman you had to be, he promised to himself that he will in the future.

After all, if you two were partners in another universe, what stops it from happening in this one as well?

“It wasn’t their decision.”

“I’m ready, I promise— ah—!”

Peter knocks you down, jumping to the ceiling and dangling you by a web.

Jason clenched his teeth. As much as this man knew so much about him and his vulnerabilities, and how he knew this was completely necessary it still ached to see his destined partner getting thrown around.

“Then venom strike me right now or turn invisible on command so you can get past me.”

Peter webs your entire body and sticks you to the chair your roommate always used.

“Look I know how much you want this kid. But you don’t have it yet. I’m sorry.”

“When will I know I’m ready?!”

He then webs your mouth and takes the goober from your hands.

“You won’t. It’s a leap of faith. That’s all it is [Y/N]. A leap of faith.”

And you’re left alone, stuck with webs all over your body. Unable to move or talk.

You hear a knock to your door.

“[Y/N]. . . ! Uh . . . [Y/N] it’s your dad. Please open the door.”

Unfortunately you couldn’t so you just use thrust your body closer to him.

“[Y/N] I can see your shadow moving around.”

“Yeah okay I get it. I get it yes… still ignoring me. Look can we talk for a minute?”

You nod. Internally facepalming after realizing he can’t see you doing so.

“Look sometimes people drift apart [Y/N] and I don’t want that to happen to us, okay? I know I don’t always do what you need me to do or say what you need me to say but I’m…”

“But I see this - this — spark in you, it’s - it’s amazing. It’s why I push you but . . . it’s yours and whatever you choose to do with it you’d be great.”

You feel tears falling from your face as your father spoke.

All those days feeling the pressure of everyone’s expectations on you

As [Y/N], as the Spiderman of this universe.

You were an adult in age, yes. But in the face of all these events your youth and inexperience slapped you in your face.

You wanted to run away. You wanted everything to be over and done with.

But you realize, you were the only one who could do this. For the sake of the spider-gang. For Gotham.

You didn’t know if you were going to succeed but wasn’t that what life was?

A leap of faith.

“Look, call me when you can.”

“I love you. You don’t have to say it back though.”

And your father leaves.

You close your eyes. Thinking back to all the moments you’ve failed, all the times you’ve broken a bone or two trying to learn.

Time wasn’t going to wait for you. But why run after it when you can web-sling it up?

You use your venom powers to get rid of the webs and do you best to get to Jason’s place. He had to have an extra, better suit lying around right? Anything was better than what the gang gave you.

You ring the bell to his house completely expecting him to not be there and potentially having to break in.

But you stand corrected.

“Took you long enough.”

taglist: @vanessa-boo @w31rdg1rl @zlatolait-writes @ice-cream-writes-stuff @hakudaru @violet2507 @sleepy-maenad @yell0wdreams @humanoid606 @holybatflapexpert

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noahmullariii · 21 days

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do I believe any character's trust in Dumbledore could potentially be broken? yes. have I ever seen anybody write it in ways that make sense for those characters' unique perspectives and personalities? no.

and a lot of times it's still compelling as hell when the most devoted characters start seeing cracks early or when they fight for something else in the first place, not regarding Dumbledore as their guiding light at all. it turns those characters into different people though.

but what strikes me more is the immediate shift of the atmosphere of the first war and everything that happens throughout.

because when I think about the first Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore, my first association is, surprisingly, cult of personality. USSR cults, specifically. they were sort of unique, initially crafted to give more power to the Party instead of the Leader.

Order is similar, in a way. on the surface it's just resistance. an organised war effort. a mishmash of people from different backgrounds uniting to fight for personal reasons. James fights for the greater good and his righteous ideals. and James fights for Lily. Lily fights for herself and those marginalised like her. and Lily fights for her muggle family. Sirius doesn't fight for, but against - against his blood family, against Slytherins, against everybody like them. and Sirius fights with James. those 3 are simple. what about others?

Remus doesn't fight for or against. Remus fights with Dumbledore. because Remus' world revolves around Dumbledore and when he says "go die in a war" - Remus goes, no questions asked. he owes Dumbledore that much. Peter doesn't fight for or against. Peter fights with Dumbledore. because Peter wants to be safe and Peter wants to win. Dumbledore promises a win. Peter believes him until he doesn't.

but James also fights with Dumbledore. because Dumbledore is the greater good personified and shares James' righteous ideals. Lily also fights with Dumbledore. because Dumbledore fights for marginalised the loudest. Sirius also fights with Dumbledore. because Dumbledore fights against everybody who's like Sirius' family.

Dumbledore, Dumbledore, Dumbledore. the centre of it all, the bonfire of hope, the beacon of light, the daimon of good. Order is Dumbledore, first and foremost - not Moody, Alice, Frank, Dorcas, Marlene, Prewetts, Caradoc, James, Lily, Sirius, Remus or Peter. not any of the others. it's Albus Dumbledore and the blind, the devoted.

it doesn't fall apart until it's too late. it's only Sirius who gets a chance to notice but he promptly denies it, locked up in a cell for 12 years, carefully tucked away by Dumbledore. he trusts Dumbledore.

he trusts Dumbledore when he escapes, he trusts Dumbledore with Harry, he trusts Dumbledore when he tells Sirius to hide at Lupin's, he trusts Dumbledore when he locks Sirius up in his childhood house of terrors, he trusts Dumbledore when he assembles second Order. he joins Dumbledore, he fights with Dumbledore again, even locked up and angry, and the only time he doesn't trust Dumbledore with either Harry or himself he goes, and fights for Harry, and dies.

others are dead, or tortured, or new, or Remus. Remus who is the blindest and the most devoted. Remus who owes Dumbledore, believes that he owes Dumbledore everything and more. the new don't know any better yet, but Remus does and ignores it. he trusts Dumbledore. trusts him with Harry, and with Sirius, and with himself.

Remus joins Dumbledore, fights with Dumbledore again. sees Dumbledore destroy Sirius - looks the other way, sees Dumbledore destroy himself - deifies him even more in his death, sees Dumbledore's ghost destroy Harry - wants to join him to be destroyed too. because there's nothing left - Dumbledore gifted him his heart at 11, and it died piece by piece in the span of 16 years, and then Dumbledore dies himself, and he can't gift Remus another heart, another life. so Remus blinds himself some more, fights with Dumbledore's ghost and dies. probably for Dumbledore too.

and if all of that can happen when a small group of people simply trusts one mortal man, it's going to take a lot more than a wayward thought in one of those devoted heads to see the cracks. it's going to take a lot of thoughts, a lot of heads, a lot of cracks. a lot of discussions and a fair share of arm-twisting and change of faith. it surely must be a group effort in one way or another, preferably with the help of those who aren't as devoted. if there are any.

because as lovely and as gratifying as it is to read about Remus or Sirius or even Minerva blowing up at Albus - if you don't write them getting to that point after deconstructing their prior canon beliefs... then those characters aren't really Remus, Sirius or Minerva. especially not Remus who was always the most devoted of them all.

#albus dumbledore #anti albus dumbledore #i'm sorry man it wasn't my intention but i gotta tag this now #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #lily evans #peter pettigrew #order of the phoenix #harry james potter #minerva mcgonagall #marauders #marauders era #the marauders #the marauders era

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lillypad910 · 11 months

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Brother’s Best Friend

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Emerson!Girly girl!F!Reader

Word count: 5846

Warnings: none really, mostly fluff, girly crush on a boy older than you, unrequited love, little bit of angst but not a lot, happy ending!

Summary: You are 16, the little sister of Gareth Emerson, the drummer of Corroded Coffin. You take every opportunity to be around the band of guys. Why? Not because of your brother, no! Because of him! Eddie Munson, the man of the show, the 20 years old in his second run of Senior year, also your brother’s friend. And boy, do you have such a school girl crush on him.

A/N:Trying to make more interesting photos, specifically with this one.

You wake up in the morning, the sunlight just making its way into your room. It’s Monday, band practice for Corroded Coffin tonight would take place at your house. You get up, panning your closet to find an outfit. You wanna look cute, charming, no more simple little girl, you’re a grown up now. You stare at the colorful array of clothing, the pastels and neutral colors stare back at you. ‘Ok,’ you think to yourself, staring at the items of fabric completely mesmerized by the cute frilly skirts and Peter pan collared shirts, ‘maybe one more week.’ Pulling out your favorite skirt and blouse, you put it on before putting your hair in a half-up, half-down look with a flower clip. You pull out some frilly white socks, and your favorite shoes, a pair of Mary Janes.

After putting everything on, you make your way downstairs, and get greeted by your mother, who’s making breakfast. “Good morning, dear! Gareth! Breakfast!” She calls out to your older brother. Gareth comes sprinting down the stairs, almost tripping on his untied shoelaces. “Thanks, Mom!” He starts shoveling food into his mouth as you sit down at the table to calmly eat. “It’s still ok for the guys to come over this afternoon, right?” Gareth asks your mom, “Of course! They can stay for dinner also if they want, is that alright with you, (y/n)?” You look up at your mother then towards your brother who stares at you, “yeah, that’s fine.”

You remembered the days the band of boys came crowding your garage. You remember the times and days they do gigs at The Hideout, Tuesday’s at 8. You always beg your brother to take you.

After eating, you both grab your bags and head towards Gareth’s car. The drive to school was full with Van Halen screaming in your ears, but you don’t mind. You like the band, just as much as your brother, but refuse to admit it to anyone but him and his friends.

Gareth parks the car, and you immediately step out, waiting for him as he takes his time gathering his belongings. “Come on, Gareth! Class starts soon!” You glance at your wrist watch. “If you’re worried then go. I don’t get why you have to wait on me.” You feel your cheeks heat up, knowing the reason you always did. Him.

Your brother locks the car, shoving you lightly towards the school. About half way towards the doors, a voice calls out. “Gareth!” You both turn to see Eddie Munson running up, throwing his arms around you both before walking with you both towards the door.

Eddie Munson. He is a 20 year old senior who was held back for two years. You didn’t care. To you, Eddie is perfect. Eddie Munson couldn’t do anything bad. You were so smitten you didn’t understand how your brother didn’t know. Your mom sure as hell did.

Ever since that first day of freshman year, when you came in dressed in your usual way and immediately met with rude teens, bullying you, Eddie jumped in. He defended you, protected you. So now here you were, completely and utterly in love with a boy you knew to be completely unreachable. Unless-

“How was your weekend, (y/n)?” Eddie’s perfect voice pulls you from your internal thoughts. “What?” You ask, looking at the older boy with such admiration. “Your weekend. How was it?” Eddie chuckles, removing his arms from you and your brother and opening the door. Your brother walks in and you follow close behind. “Good! How was yours?” You ask. He smiles at you, walking through the door and letting it shut behind him as you both start down the hall. “Alright, oh, Gareth, we still on for practice at your house tonight?” You continue to stare at Eddie as you walk. “Yeah, asked this morning.” “Good.” Barely a second later, you’re pulled to Eddie, your back pressing to his chest for a brief moment, making your heart pound, before being pushed in front of him by a couple steps. You almost walked into a pole while staring at him. “Careful, Sweetheart.” Eddie laughs at you as your cheeks flush red.

Sitting in class you stare at the board in front of you before feeling bored and scribbling into your notebook. You draw simple sketches before completely zoning out into your work. Your hand continues to move as you defocus. “(Y/N)!” You snap out of your daze and look up at the board, your teacher practically glaring at you. “Sorry, what was the question?” You ask, laughs fill the classroom and you sink into your chair. “I was asking if you knew the answer to question 7.” The teacher speaks, venom filling her words. You nod quickly yanking out the homework from your binder. You give the answer, honestly scared it was wrong for a minute. “Thank you.” You look down towards your note book. Your face goes red. Written multiple times on the page in pretty lettering was ‘(Y/n) Munson.’

When the school bell rings, you scurry to shove your things into your bag. You get up from your seat and walk out of the door quickly. Your class was just down the hall, but you quickly turn down a separate hallway. Just as you walk by a certain classroom, out comes a certain boy, “Oh, hey, (y/n)!” Eddie greets you, you smile at him, “Hey!” You greet back, “I was meaning to ask, are you coming tomorrow for our gig at The Hideout?” He asks, holding out his hand to you. Your heart flutters, you think about taking it for a split second before it lands back at his side, “Yeah, if Gareth is willing to drive me. I’d like to.” You express, a blush fanning over your cheeks. “Well if he refuses to, let me know, I can come pick you up.” You feel butterflies form in your stomach, “Really? You’d drive me to your gig?” “Yeah! Your like our personal cheerleader! You have to come!” Eddie smiles at you, shoving into you slightly. You giggle, before shoving back into him. “Well this is me, just let me know ok?” He smiles, you nod before he turns around and walks into his next class. The warning bell dings and you quickly book it to your next class, just slipping into your seat as the late bell rings.

As classes go by, you enter the lunch room to see your brother at his usual spot with his friends. You take a deep breath before joining your own, knowing it’s too weird if you joined your brother for lunch. That just goes over your limit of contact with him. You deal with his foolery enough at home.

Sitting down in your seat, you watch as Eddie chats with his friends, excited about something. You can’t help but smile. You love seeing him excited, it makes you feel all giddy. “(Y/n), are you coming?” Your friend, Jenny, interrupts your starring. “You coming to the party tonight? At Jason’s?” Jenny is a cheerleader you’ve been friends with since elementary school. “Oh, uh no, I have a project to work on, sorry.” You glance back towards the boys. Jenny turns and smiles. “Right. A project.” She smiles at you. You blush as you continue to eat your lunch.

“(Y/n), come on!” Gareth calls out to you, spinning his keys around his finger, his other hand in his pocket while he steps out of the school. Jeff walks next to him chuckling to himself. “Cut her some slack, dude, she has short legs.” You glare at Jeff before running up and shoving him lightly, making him stumble, but it really just makes him laugh. “Good shove.” A voice comes from behind you, you turn to see Eddie, your heart flutters instantly. He glances at the top of your head, before reaching up. He takes the flower clip out of your hair before putting it in his own. “How do I look?” He asks you with a smirk. Gareth and Jeff chuckle to themselves a bit, as Eddie takes the clip out of his hair and stepping behind you.

His nails run over your scalp instantly relaxing you. Your eyes shut at the comforting feeling of your hair being lifted back into its original hold, the clip being put back into place. “There.” He steps back. “Perfect.” He smiles at you, and you smile back. “Nice clip, (y/n). Got it out of the garbage?” A cheerleader walks by but slows as she passes you all, laughing at her own joke. “Nice hair, got it from your grandma’s closet?” Jeff calls back. The girl immediately stops laughing and struts off. “Thanks, Jeff.” He nods towards you, you look back towards Eddie and he’s glaring at the girl as she walks off, “Bitch…” simply mumbles from his lips. You can’t help but smile. “Well, I’ll see you guys at my house in about an hour,” Gareth says, stepping back. “(Y/n), come on.” He gestures to you, and you quickly follow after him.

After getting home, you drop your bag off in your room, before quickly finishing your homework. You hear cars pull up into your driveway, looking out to see Eddie’s van. A smile plasters onto your face and you wait a minute before running downstairs, slowing down as you reach the bottom. “Dear, can you take these snacks into the garage? I know your brother’s friends just got here.” You nod, happy that your mom always gave you a task, aka a reason, to go into the garage when they were here.

“Snacks!” You announce, opening the door to the garage. Everyone turns to you and smiles. You sit the plate down on the small side table they have sitting in the corner.

You sit on a stool by your brother’s drum set, watching as the guys start playing. Your eyes watch Eddie as his fingers strum the guitar, admiring him.

During a break, everyone takes a minute to either use the bathroom or get drinks, that kinda thing. Eddie walks over to you, sitting on the stool for the drum set, just in front of you. “How y’a feeling, Sweetheart?” He asks, you smile at him, giddy after the loud music they were just playing. “Good! You guys are really good.” He smiles at you and stares at you.

For the short few seconds he actually watches you, it feels like ages to you, your heart racing and pounding in your chest.

Eddie stands as the rest of the band walks back in, going back over to his guitar. As they get ready to play again you try to get your heart to steady again. A hand places on your head and you look up to see Gareth behind you, only stepping by you to get to his drums. “Good?” He asks, giving you a thumbs up. You nod and he sits.

Later that night, after the guys had left after dinner, you sit in your room and pan over the notebook you were scribbling in during first period. Your name with Eddie’s last name makes your face go bright red and your heart quicken. “God dang it..” you mumble to yourself. Before closing the book and climbing into bed.

In the morning, Gareth drives you both back to school, and you ask him on the way, “Will you take me to see your gig tonight?” Your voice was sugar sweet. “Nope. It’s a bar, (y/n), we’ve talked about this.” You pout, annoyed he never lets you, all you want is to cheer them on! “Please?? I wanna be there to support you guys!” Gareth glances at you as he parks the car in the parking lot. “I said no. If you want a ride you’re gonna have to figure it out on your own.” You glare at him before getting out of the car.

Eddie greets you both down the path,placing his arm around your shoulder “well?” He asks, looking between you and Gareth. “Well what?” Gareth asks. “He won’t drive me, Eddie.” You tell him, pretending to look hurt. Gareth glares at you, obviously knowing the game you’re playing. “What??” Eddie turns to his friend. “She’s 16, Eddie.” “She’s our personal cheerleader! She a genuine fan, Gareth!” He expresses. Gareth shakes his head. “She’s my little sis, you’re not putting her in a place I can’t watch her.” Eddie thinks for a moment. “Then we will have her sit at the bar where we can keep an eye on her! I’ll take personal responsibility for watching her!” Your heart skips. “I’ll even drive her! Please, Gareth, she’s the perfect energy we need!” Eddie makes a pouting face towards your brother, nudging you. You quickly make a cute pout face, hoping it works to convince him. Gareth grumbles to himself for a minute before letting out a soft “fine.” He then follows with “but you’re driving her.” Eddie and you let out laughs before walking into the school.

School goes by fast today, doing your usual routine of walking down the hall Eddie’s classes are on just to run into him. You chat about simple things, one being how excited you were to finally get to come to their show. Eddie can’t help but smile at your excitement.

When you get home in the afternoon, you quickly change into the (very few) things you have that are a mellow version of yourself. You don’t wanna draw attention, knowing Eddie and the gang won’t be really able to jump in to your rescue. You ask your brother if you can steal one of his band tees to blend into the crowd, and he lets you, also not wanting you to draw too much attention.

So there you were standing in your one pair of denim jeans, your brother’s (quite large on you) Iron Maiden t-shirt, and some short cut ankle boots. Gareth also gave you a flannel in case you got cold, but he made you wear it completely.

Of course, knowing your parents also wouldn’t want you going, you both stayed quiet about the engagement. When Gareth walks outside to get into his car later in the evening, he had told you before to wait on Eddie, in your room, and climb out your window when he got there.

You watch the driveway like a hawk, trying to watch for Eddie’s van. He pulls up and your heart skips. You open your window and wave at him, as he parks and steps out of the van. He stands just outside your window as you climb out onto the roof. You carefully make your way to the ground, Eddie catching you when you reach the bottom. His arms wrapped around you thighs as he holds you against his chest. You feel your face heat up. “Nice outfit! Iron Maiden, I like it!” He sits you down smiling. He goes to open the passenger van door, letting you take a seat, before shutting it for you. “To the Hideout we go!” He says, pulling out of your driveway.

Eddie has you sit on a bar stool at the bar for the entire night, obviously wanting to know where you are at all times. You ask for a glass of water, and the bar tender gets you one, smiling kindly. “You must be (y/n).” He speaks. He’s a boy you’ve seen around school, but never really paid much attention to. You nod. “Gareth talks about you all the time, they all do.” He smiles, gesture towards the band as they set up for the show. “There isn’t much to talk about.” You admit, sipping your water. “I beg to differ, Eddie never shuts up about how adorable you are.” Your heart stops.

He thinks you’re adorable? Your heart begins to race. Eddie Munson thinks you’re adorable!

When the guys start playing, they are just as good as they are during practice. You’ve gotta admit, as annoying as you brother can be, he’s great at drums and looks hella bitchin up there. You look over to Eddie only to see him look back down at his guitar.

Was he looking at you?

You watch the show, the loud music blares in your ears, just like at practice. But somehow it’s louder, the adrenaline rush you get is crazy, wanting to bang your head to the music, but also not look like an idiot.

After the concert ends, Eddie comes over to you and smiles, “So, whatcha think, Sweetheart?” You smile at him, “You guys are really good! Way better than practice.” You giggle at him. He ruffles your hair, “It’s nice to have you here, you raise a lot of moral for the guys. And as much as Gareth didn’t want you here, I can tell he’s glad you are.” Eddie nudges your shoulder. “I’m glad I’m here too.” You smile at him. He glances back at stage, “Do you want me to drive you home?” He asks. “Yes!” The word slips out of your mouth faster than you could think. “I mean- yeah, I would like that.” You try to play off. Eddie chuckles at you, before ruffling your hair again, “cool.” He walks off and you finally breath.

Eddie drives you home, stopping towards the bottom of your driveway. You stare at your house, not wanting the night to end. “I had fun.” You simply say, Eddie smiles at you. “I’m glad! Well, you should probably go inside, we do have school tomorrow.” Eddie shoves your head playfully, making you giggle.

You both say goodnight before you climb back up to your window, softly dropping onto the carpeted floor of your bedroom. You sigh thinking of Eddie’s soft smile. You hear his car drive away, and pop your eyes over the windowsill to watch the van drive down the road. You are head over heels for that boy.

Sitting at lunch the next day, you chat with Jenny as she tells you about the party you missed the other night. You don’t care, obviously, but you let her finally reveal to you all the gossip that occurred. She loves to spill everyone’s secrets to you.

“And then Jason said- (y/n), are you even listening?” She smiles at you softly. To be honest, no, you weren’t, you were too busy staring at the ‘freaks’ as they ate lunch. “Snap a picture it will last longer.” Jenny’s comment pulls you from your stare, “What?”

“Why don’t you just talk to him! You are totally in love with him! Not to mention he’s always been protective of you!” “Yeah, because of Gareth! I’m his friend’s little sister, of course he’s gonna be protective of me! He doesn’t like me like that, Jenny! Besides he’s too old!” “Too old? Please! You stare at him like he’s a new Fleetwood Mac cassette! Girl, get a grip on reality!! He likes you! And yes, he’s hot, so talk to him!” “No!” “(Y/n)!” “Jennifer!” She glares at you, obviously not a serious one. “If you don’t I will.” Your face goes pale, “you wouldn’t dare!” Jenny smirks at you, “You bet money on that?” She stands and you quickly stand after her.

“Jenny, please!” You follow her as she walks across the cafeteria, your heart racing. “Hey! Munson!” Jenny yells out, and the entire group turns to you both. “Jenny, I swear!” Eddie raises his brow as you both walk up to his table. “Yeah?” He asks, pushing his chair back to give you both his full attention.

Mike, a freshman Eddie has brought into the group, looks at the cheerleader you are friends with. “What’s going on?” Mike asks Dustin, who is seated next to him. Dustin shrugs. “I have a question, Munson,” Jenny places her hand on her hip, striking a pose. Eddie glances at you and you glance back, before you both look back at the cheerleader. “Shoot.”

“Would you be interested in a date? Say Friday, 5:30, diner across town?” Jenny’s voice is overly confident. You heart pounds in your chest, scared for his answer. Jenny is the prettiest girl you know, even you know that. “Uhh,” Eddie glances at his friends, “all kindness, Darling, but you’re not really my type.” Your eyes widen as you pan to Jenny’s face. You can tell she wasn’t exactly expecting him to say yes, but also wasn’t expecting to be rejected. “Is (y/n) in that type?” Jenny asks. “Ok!!” You grab your friend and start pulling her back.

“I mean,” Eddie glances at Gareth. “She cute.” He simple states.

“Cute?” Jenny smugly reiterates. You feel your heart burst from the word. Eddie Munson thinks you’re cute! You quickly grab your friend and drag her back to your table. “See you guys later!!” You yell out as you shove Jenny. You can’t help but have a huge smile on your face for the rest of the day.

Walking towards your brother’s car, before you round the corner, you hear the guys talking. “Cute?” Gareth asks. “Yeah, I mean she’s adorable.” Eddie tries to explain. You stop in your tracks. They are talking about lunch.

“Eddie, she’s 16.” Gareth glares at him. Eddie holds his hands up defensively, “I’m not saying I’m attracted to her, Gareth,” your heart stops. You feel like everything around you slows. “Her friend just asked if she fit my type. Besides what did you want me to say! You know (y/n) is self conscious in the way she dresses! I didn’t wanna make her feel bad.” He only said you were cute to not make you feel bad?

“Eddie, just be careful with what you say. She’s sensitive, always has been. One wrong choice of word and her mind goes everywhere.” “Yeah, which is why I said cute. I didn’t say pretty. I’m not hitting on her, Gareth.” Eddie lets out a soft chuckle. You feel your eyes water, everything shatters.

You wait a few minutes after they stop talking, or at least change the topic. Turning the corner you greet them, “Hey!” You put on a fake smile. Eddie smiles back. Gareth signals you to start walking as you catch up about the rest of the day.

When you get home you go straight to your room, crawling into bed and shoving your face into your pillows. You allow yourself to cry, smothering your sadness into the fabric of your bedding.

Friday comes quickly, as the rest of the week goes by in a blur. Sitting in the gym as the game goes on in front of you, Jenny doing the cheer routine she’s been working on with the other cheerleaders. You feel out of place.

As the night comes to a close, you follow the rest of the school out of the gym, the cheering the whole school makes, congratulating the team for winning the championship game. But you don’t care, you just want to go home. You spot the Hellfire club running out of one of the side doors, happy to know your brother was ready to go too. You walk over to them silently, faking a smile. “Hey, how was the campaign?” You ask Gareth. “Great! Erica Sinclair beat Vecna!” Gareth smiles back at you. Erica?

You look past your brother to see a young girl, maybe 11, standing proudly. You smile and go to wave but Jeff cuts in front of you. You hesitate, and just put your hand back by your side. “Gareth, I wanna go home.” You tell your brother, gripping at his flannel. He doesn’t pay you any attention and continues to celebrate with the rest of the group. You feel your stomach turn.

“Gareth.” You call out, but he waves you off. “What’s up?” A voice comes from behind you and you whip around, Eddie stands there smiling, but stops when he sees your face. “Whoa, hey, you ok? You look tense.” He asks. You nod, feeling awkward. You’re not gonna lie, you’ve been dodging Eddie since Wednesday afternoon, since he said he didn’t like you.

“I’m ok. Just tired.” You explain. He nods and slaps Gareth over the head, “Hey, jackass!” Gareth hisses at the slap and turns around. “Take her home. You’re her ride. Don’t ignore her.” Eddie tells your brother. You feel your cheeks heat up. Eddie places his hand on your head, “hey,” you look up at him, “get home and get some rest, ok? Make sure to eat something.” You nod at him.

On Saturday morning, you wake up and head down into the living room. Your parents sit around the tv, the news displayed on screen. “This morning, a Hawkins High Student was found dead. We have no name or suspects to note just yet, but have been told the family of the student will be made aware.” You rub your eyes as you eye the trailer behind the reporter. Your eyes widen. “Gareth!!” You yell up.

Gareth comes running downstairs. “What?” You point to the tv your parents are watching. Gareth stares at the screen and you watch his expression go from confused to concerned. You both look at each other. “Eddie.”

The next couple of days follow with no new news of Eddie’s whereabouts, what’s worse is people are claiming he killed the student, which is bull shit! Eddie wouldn’t do that.

By the end of the following week, your small little corner of the world had been flipped upside down, but Eddie was found, his crime proven innocent. He was in the hospital for a good week before he was finally released.

You didn’t know what happened to him after he left the hospital, truth be told you never say him again. Gareth says he left Hawkins, drove out west towards California probably, but even he didn’t seem certain.

The years flew by and before you knew it, you were 22, standing outside a bar in Indianapolis with your college friends, one of them still familiar, Jenny from high school.

“I can’t believe I was able to get these tickets!” Your newer friend, Steph, grins ear to ear. “I can’t believe I get to actually see them live!!” Jenny shrugs, “It’s crazy, I swear I’ve heard that name before, too.”

You glance down at your paper ticket, the name ‘Corroded Coffin’ inked on the page. You know you’ve seen it before too, but you can’t put your finger on it.

After getting into the bar, you all crowd around the stage, and the moment it starts you know where you’ve seen that name before.

Suddenly you were that 16 years old girl again, heart fluttering under your Peter Pan collared shirt, back to your garage, the loud music blaring through you, but this time the drummer isn’t your brother, the other two members aren’t Jeff or Kevin, but there he is.

Eddie Munson walks out on stage, his long curls still the same, his body still littered in those tattoos you wish you could have seen up close.

Steph giggles, leaning into you, “isn’t he so hot?” You glance at Jenny, who doesn’t seem to recognize him. “Yeah,” you simply say, “definitely.”

As the band takes a break you spot Eddie sneaking off to the bar. “Hey, I’ma get a drink,” you pat Jenny’s shoulder and she nods. Stepping closer to the bar, you take this opportunity to admire him, his scrawny body now has a bit more muscle, but he’s still pretty lean. “Eddie…?” You call out to him, and he whips around quickly, smiling already.

“That would be my name, yeah.” Eddie stares at you, before his smile drops. “(Y/n)…?” You nod at him, “yeah, s’been a while.” You smile. Eddie steps closer to you, looking you up and down, “damn,” he smiles, “you’ve grown up.” You laugh a bit, “yeah, that kinda happens when you are older than the legal drinking age.” He chuckles, holding out his arms to you and you embrace him, hugging him close. “God, I haven’t talked to the guys in years! How’s Gareth? He doin’ ok?”

You shrug, leaning up on the bar, “he’s ok, believe it or not, that jackass got married last year.” “What!? And I missed the wedding??” Eddie pouts, utterly disappointed. “Yeah,” you simply say, you can’t stop your eyes from looking him up and down, checking him out. “Damn, is the girl nice at least?”

“She’s sweet, they still live in Hawkins, he’s got a musical instruments shop there, now.” You inform, watching as Eddie nods, taking a sip of his drink. “Well that’s good. What about you?” He asks, looking at you inquisitively. “I’m in school, college.” You point towards your friends, “Still friends with Jenny, made a new friend Steph. She’s actually the reason we are all here tonight, she’s a fan.” I gesture towards the stage. He nods, “theres a lot more of them in this room than there was ever at the Hideout.” You nod, glancing around the room. “It’s weird, I remember always wanting to see you guys play live, and then you invited me. Now here I am with a bought ticket because you actually have to buy one now.”

He laughs, Eddie can’t help but look you up and down, but you don’t notice. You watch your friends giggle in the crowd, until you feel a hand press to your waist. “I have to get back, meet me after?” He moved closer to you, so when you turn your head he’s right there.

That small 16 years old in you would have died, but you’re not 16 anymore, sure the crush hasn’t died, that much is obvious. But you’re actually a grown up now, wearing a short dress that cuts at your mid thigh. You know you look hot, and that’s all that matters.

“Yeah, I can meet you after.” You glance across his face, before he leans closer, placing his lips by your ear, your heart racing faster. “Good, can’t wait.” He pulls away and walks off leaving you a fluttering mess.

You wait outside the venue with your friends, Jenny and Steph talking about the show, they don’t know why you are here waiting, all you said was you saw an old friend. “That was so cool! God, gonna be holding that memory forever!” Steph cheers, genuinely happy. “Glad you had fun, Steph.” You tell her, she smiles.

“Hey!” A voice calls out to you all, and you all whip around, Jenny and Steph freeze. “Oh. My. God.” Steph looks at you. Eddie walks up, his hand up in a small wave. “Nice to meet ‘cha.” Jenny takes a second, “Oh my god!” The realization hits her, “Eddie Munson!” Steph never mentioned the names of the members, so Jenny never made the connection until right now. “Holly shit, I knew I’ve seen you before!” She grips your arm and shakes you, happily laughing.

“You two-“ Steph speaks, “You two know him??” Jenn corrects her, “I definitely only know the bare minimum, (y/n) here was obsessed with him in high school.” Your eyes widen, “Jennifer!” “Oh?” Eddie tilts his head, “obsessed? Elaborate.” Jenny smiles from ear to ear, you can tell she’s been waiting for this moment practically her whole life. “Oh my god, she used to have this journal that she would doodle in, I can’t tell you enough how many of the pages were just (y/n) Munson-“ “JENNIFER!” You slap your hand over her mouth. “You two need to go back to the hotel, I’ll meet you there,” you order pushing them to the curb before hailing them a taxi. “But-“ “Nope. You’re cut off, Jennifer.” The two get into the taxi, Steph sticks her head out the window and waves as the car drives off.

You turn back to Eddie, dropping your head in embarrassment, “Ignore her. Please. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.” “It’s fine, I…” he hesitates a moment before continuing, “I kinda already knew…” A soft chuckle leaves him. “What!?” You look up at him, face red and your arms scrunched over your chest like a T-Rex.

“You weren’t exactly… subtle, Sweetheart.” That old nickname makes you groan. He leans against the wall behind him, watching you carefully as you get more and more flustered.

“How long did you know?? When did you find out?” You ask, utterly blown. “The way you looked at me was enough to let me know. Sweetheart, you almost ran into a poll one time when staring at me.” You groan even more. “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing…” you cover your face in your hands.

He steps closer, lifting his hands to grab your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “I… thought it was cute though.” He mumbles. You realize very quickly how close he is to you. “I thought…” he glances away from you, “you were cute…” he mumbles, you feel the butterflies go wild in your stomach. “To be honest,” he looks back at you, “I didn’t think much of it back then. You were Gareth’s little sister.”

He sighs a bit, running a hand through his hair. “I thought it was cute you had a crush on me, but I never thought about reciprocating it, I mean fuck, I’m 4 years older than you, to me back then you were a little kid.” He chuckles a bit. “This might sound weird so bare with me,” he smiles at you, his stupid grin making you smile. “I didn’t ever think of you more than just Gareth’s sister, for the longest time. I honestly didn’t think much of you at all over these past years. But then there you were, smiling at me just in there, during my half time of my show.” You blush a bit. “I mean, what’s a guy supposed to do when God throws him his best possible catch. In a pretty dress, that adorable flower clip still in your hair.” You instinctively reach up to touch the clip, “yeah I noticed that too, don’t think I don’t see the old you still there.” He smiles. “You look good, more than good, you look pretty.” He stops talking for a moment.

“Eddie-“ you try to cut in but he continues. “I’m about to be an idiot or the smartest man alive but I’m willing to take that chance.” Before you can react, Eddie reaches out, cupping your cheeks in his hands, pulling you closer to him. your eyes widen when he leans forward.

Your lips press together perfectly. You hesitate before leaning into him, kissing him back. He moves one hand down to your waist, pulling you closer as your arms wrap around his neck, tangling your fingers into his hair. He pulls back a bit, laying his forehead on yours while you both catch your breath.

“So… am I an idiot…?” He asks, voice soft, his fingers balling up the fabric of your dress at your sides. “No…” you smile, “Not at all, Munson.” You lean into him again, pressing your lips together once more.

Tag list!

(If you wanna be tagged when I post shoot me an ask or comment on my posts saying so!)

@cagethemunson @cherrycolas-things @spikeybatt

#eddie munson x f!reader #stranger things #x reader #fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #x girly girl! reader #brother’s best friend #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #Eddie Munson x Emerson! reader #gareth emerson #angst/fluff

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oliveroctavius · 11 months

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Honestly, the more I think about it, the more I'm bummed out that the really interesting meta commentary in ATSV on comics lore, what makes Spider-Man a Spider-Man on a meta creation level, etc. had to revolve around the Death of Captain Stacy as THE canon event bc it really ramped up the copaganda to a level where it's intrinsic to the narrative, and for what? Off the top of my head, 'death of a police captain close to Spider-Man who dies heroically saving a child' isn't that common across spider characters or even Peter specifically (it doesn't even really fit TASM), and I know the narrative in BTSV is going to prove that Miguel is wrong that it must happen bc it's obviously not a really a necessary event even if you look beyond Miles, but as it is, it's treated as fact bc not a single character beyond Miles questions it even though most of the spiders wouldn't have that event in their narratives.

I suspect they chose it partly bc the Death of Gwen Stacy would be the expected canon event and they absolutely played with audience expectations there leading up to it, and I get not going with it bc it's tired, misogynistic, and traps Gwen in a 'But is she going to die?' role yet again, but the copaganda is really dragging it down the more I think about it, especially if you, say, project where Hobie's actions are headed if he's going to help Miles save his cop dad, which undermines all the earlier anti-authority stuff against Miguel, etc.

I get why it's specifically useful to raise the stakes for Gwen and Miles, I guess... very well-known cop dads in the comics, so it locks in well with the family/mentor conflicts. It's like, Miguel's position is such an obvious strawman that no matter which plot beat you pick, it will be stupid from a dozen spiderpeople's perspectives. And yet people actually talk like that on twitter all the time.

MY pitch for an alternate canon event would have been—wait no don't look at my icon that will give it away—"your best friend becomes jealous and in trying to become a supervillain meets a horrible end". That covers not just the comics but Raimi, TASM2, AND Gwen's backstory and would be the perfect excuse to expand on Ganke's relationship with Miles. Like obviously Miguel is wrong and Ganke doesn't fill that story role. But might he? What if Ganke had an internship at Alchemax? What if the Spot saw Spider-Man save Ganke and decided he was going to origin story the hell out of this kid that his arch-nemesis obviously cared about? Was becoming Ganke's friend and telling him his secret identity a mistake, vindicating Gwen's closed-off worldview? Huh??? What then???

#MCU (dys)synergy look what you've taken from meee #ganke lee #ATSV spoilers #spiderverse #ganke

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aurevell · 9 months

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Just Good Business Steter | 21k | T

Stiles comes home to find someone unexpected in his apartment. Peter might come to regret holding this specific guy hostage.

Read on AO3 (or check out the beginning below)

Stiles would like to say he senses something off about his apartment. The entrance rug with its flipped corner, maybe, or the extinguished light above the kitchen stove—he always leaves it on by accident when he leaves. The slight creak of a floorboard. An incongruous sense of presence, the sudden awareness that he isn’t alone in his own apartment.

The truth is, he doesn’t notice a thing.

He’s absolutely fucking dead, in his defense. He just wrapped up a seventy-two-hour shift, the never-ending stream of emergency calls broken only by dull waits in the ambulance depot. Some kid shattered his entire femur trying to backflip off a brick wall, and they had a hell of a time with his mom’s wailing on the ride to the hospital. After that, Stiles caught a few scattered naps, but all he wants to do is shower and pass right out. Possibly crawl into bed first if he can manage it.

It’s only when he locks the door behind him that a voice cuts through the silence of his apartment. “Turn around. Nice and slow.”

Stiles startles, jerking around as a figure steps from behind the shelves dividing his kitchenette from the rest of his studio. The streetlight outside casts a featureless silhouette, a man about as tall as Stiles. One arm curls up toward his chest, the other hangs loose at his side. The sleek shape of a handgun sits within it. The gun remains lowered, even as the moment stretches, but the threat is obvious all the same.

“I don’t intend to hurt you,” the person says, maybe following Stiles’s sightline. Despite the businesslike tone, an odd tension strains each word. “But you’ll make that harder if you start screaming.”

The first sluggish thought that pops into Stiles’s brain, which has been lulled into a stupor during the monotony of the trip home, is that this has to be a really stupid joke. Some kind of weird prank Scotty’s gotten up to—only he just parted ways with Scott a little while ago when their shift ended, and he looked as braindead as Stiles feels.

If it’s real, then—well, he’s heard stories like this from his dad, stories that rarely take place in a town like Beacon Hills. Home intrusions can be more dangerous crimes than most.

Which sounds fucking tiring. Stiles is genuinely too exhausted to be terrified of this asshole, who doesn’t even have the decency to catch him when he’s at least had a recent coffee. He thinks wistfully of his bed, and how close he is to getting into it, and has the fleeting thought that he should just shoulder past this prick and collapse into the sheets like he hasn’t heard a thing.

Sure, this might as well happen tonight, Stiles thinks with resignation. “Yeah, sounds like a line, dude,” he counters aloud.

“I’m just looking for cooperation. You help me, we both walk away.”

There’s that strain again, like the man is speaking through gritted teeth. Stiles takes a chance and moves one arm slowly toward the light switch, telegraphing in case the guy’s trigger-happy. Flicks it on.

Maybe that’s another reason the intruder didn’t bother to raise his gun: he didn’t need to. Peter Hale’s face is easy to recognize, handsome and half scarred. That face has been plastered across every news broadcast in Beacon County for days, maybe even across most of the state at this point.

Read the rest on AO3

#steter #steter fic #au-gust 2023 #mine

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liketwoswansinbalance · 3 days

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CONSIDER: Shadows and Light

The Symbolism Surrounding Rhian, Rafal, and the Pan

Fun fact: Under certain conditions, a flame will not cast a shadow.

⸻

As we saw in Rise, Rhian could turn into a golden glow, turn into light, his non-human form, just as Rafal could turn into a shadow.

And those facts bring me to how the Pan subplot and the brothers' main plot might parallel each other more than we may think.

That Hook had to kill the Pan’s shadow was probably no accident. It likely couldn't have been a coincidence—it has to be a casual quality of the magic system in SGE and Peter Pan lore in general, no doubt.

So, we have: killing the shadow (the Pan's or symbolically, Rafal himself).

Rhian killed the shadow to his light.

And besides, an excess of light eradicates all shadows, and fire, specifically, can cast very distorted shadows because it's always in motion, and therefore, it's restless. This could mean fire as a light source could affect the shadow's "power," its appearance, just as Rhian, like a fairy-tale Nemesis (perhaps?), might have weakened Rafal as Rhian became stronger, and that Rhian had been a force that changed or warped Rafal as a person, while also becoming colder himself. Meanwhile, Rafal's hair curled slightly and he gained more color and warmth to his complexion towards the climax of their tale.

I wonder if, in getting his magic back from Hook when it was released, Rhian had been further corrupted or overpowered enough, to overpower Rafal (while, all the while, the Storian had been stripping Rafal of the magic he held) because it didn’t dissipate by itself, with the loss of his immortality(?). Hook could have been acting like a temporary storage unit for that magic, until it returned, meaning the Storian may not have been able to rescind it from Rhian directly.

(And did Kyma release Rhian's magic when it was transferred to her? Or did it just disappear/dissolve without returning to its owner?)

Then, we can ask ourselves: what was the only move that could kill Pan? Somehow, magically killing his shadow. His life source. The apparent source of his immortality.

And, Rhian killing the source of his former immortality (his brother, and as a result, their bond along with Rafal's death)? Well, that’s killing a shadow, too.

Thus, the two plots line up exactly.

Rafal was once Rhian's shadow, in a sense, the person who stayed by him, who saved him again and again. Thus, Rhian destroyed himself, to an extent, by killing that shadow. He not only killed his life source, the love that kept him alive, by severing the twins' bond, but lost a part of his identity when he killed Rafal. Thus, he ages. Like the Pan as he died, Rhian was no longer a perpetual youth, no longer a young "lost boy."

And sometimes, Rhian's shadow strayed too far and left him (Rafal deserting the School at the start), just as Pan’s shadow isn’t always right by the Pan himself. The Pan's shadow had a life and will of its own, seemingly, like Rafal did.

Rafal getting his own life, by venturing out, beyond the School, was one step away from having his identity always tied to Rhian. Maybe, just maybe, Rafal wasn't inseparable, inconceivable without Rhian (the light source), his other half. But, Rafal always did revolve around Rhian (when Rafal had his few, less selfish moments). Because, he simply can’t be brought up or thought of alone, at least not in the tales, in their world. One brother's presence always summons the other's to mind, when you talk about them. That’s how locked together, how insoluble their combined identity was, or plural roles were. The shadow was tethered to his object. They can’t be torn apart, not even in memory, which makes the nature of the tales themselves all the more reductive, dehumanizing, even.

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heliads · 1 year

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i’m so glad your reqs are open again, i love your writing !! i had an idea for a peter parker x reader for nwh after he’s been erased from everyone’s mind where him and the reader used to be really close but now for some reason when they meet again the reader doesn’t really like him and he tries his best to change that.

kind of like a one sided enemies to lovers?

one sided enemies to lovers? anon you're going wild

masterlist

Peter Parker is staring at the ceiling and wishing he were somewhere else. This place is not his home. This apartment with its crumbling drywall and uncomfortable amount of black mold in the corners is not the place he grew up, it is not known by anyone Peter has ever cared for before, and it only serves to separate him even further from the life he once led.

All this is unavoidable, but if Peter slumps onto his bed (too small, too hard to be the one from before) and fixes his eyes up above, he can just pretend that he’s back there again. Back at home. Back where everything made sense, where his friends remembered who he was and he still had at least one family member still alive and breathing.

He’s better at excusing away the present moments on some days rather than others. The illusion’s slipping away for now; Peter squints one eye shut slowly, then the other, trying to get the world to lose just enough details so he won’t notice the fractures that could only belong to this apartment.

It’s not worth the effort, and soon enough Peter gives up, sitting up in a rush and swinging his legs over the side. There’s nothing he can do to pretend that he is back at home, that the life that had once seemed so certain isn’t locked away in the past, never to be his again. This is him now, a shadowed sort of existence full of people who have never so much as heard the name Peter Parker in their lives. There is nobody in this world who knows him. It is some of the worst solitude he has ever endured.

Peter hadn’t counted on how truly terrible the loneliness would be. Maybe he’s grown to rely on his usual support group a little too much, and that’s why he’s so beaten down by this latest turn of events. Even when the rest of the world hated him when he was revealed as Spider-Man, he could still go to his friends for solace. Now, they have no idea who he is. How splendid.

He’s missing his friends a little extra today. That would explain why Peter grabs his Spider-Man suit and throws himself out into the brisk air with the usual flourish, why he finds himself heading to one specific rooftop before he can stop himself.

Only when Peter’s feet hit the ground and he catches himself in a tight somersault does he realize what he’s done. Peter stands up slowly, looking around. He hasn’t allowed himself to come back here, even after weeks of solitary patrols came and went. Peter pretends that he could reinvent himself whenever he wanted, but some part of him knows, has always known this: the worst pain of all has been losing Y/N, and he will never get over that.

Y/N L/N is an honor student at Midtown. Y/N was Peter’s best friend. More than that, Y/N was Peter’s partner in patrols. They were an inhuman with enhanced abilities; faster and stronger than any human being. Better in every way too, but maybe that’s just Peter’s faulty memories glorifying them in his eyes, gilding their every edge, making him miss them even more than before.

Peter has yet to run into Y/N as Spider-Man. He did that on purpose; they met as regular people first, so he has no idea if they would have any memory of their patrols together whatsoever. Peter knows that he cannot bear looking at Y/N and seeing no sign of all the hours they’ve spent fighting and dying for each other, so he stays away. Y/N has yet to track him down, so clearly his presumption about their memories was right.

Still, Peter is here now, a mistake to be sure. Peter allows himself one final moment of pretending that they might be coming for him. He deludes himself into thinking that he can hear the pattern of their feet now, the swing of their arm reaching towards him, a smile on their face. The two of them have done this so many times. What’s one more evening together? What’s one more night? Peter wouldn’t risk his life for anyone else. He would give it freely, and he did, and that is exactly why he cannot have Y/N anymore.

A voice sounds from behind him. It’s far too cold and untrusting to ever be Y/N’s, but maybe that’s because he hasn’t experienced what it’s like to be a stranger to them in years. Regardless, he knows now that he wasn’t merely conjuring up the sound of them approaching, they’re actually here.

“What are you doing here?”

The words, leveled at him like a blade, pierce through Peter’s best efforts at pretending this memory spell hasn’t affected him. He can practically feel the blood dripping out between his fingers.

Trying not to choke on the overwhelming tang of copper, Peter swallows back his regrets and does his best to speak with a level tone. “I’m just patrolling. Same as you.”

Y/N’s in their uniform for patrols, mask and all. Even so, he can sense the way their eyes are narrowing, tightening with suspicion. “You never come over here, Spider-Man. What changed?”

“Crime,” Peter says pleasantly, “there’s a lot of it, in case you haven’t noticed. Figured this view was as good as any.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m handling it,” Y/N’s voice remains hard. “Go back to your part of the city. This area is mine.”

Peter forces himself to laugh. It’s easier than despairing over how quick they try to get rid of him, certainly a far cry from how close they’d been before the spell. “Surely you wouldn’t mind an extra pair of eyes watching your back. It’s dangerous out there.”

Y/N shakes their head decisively. “I’m good, thanks. Always have been.”

Peter can’t help a quiet plea. “Always?”

Y/N hesitates a second, but their stony demeanor comes back up again in a flash. “Always. Now go back to your part of the streets. I’m fine by myself.”

Peter sighs, the ghost of his last promise to track them down and make them remember him disappearing into the wintry night air. “Alright, then. If you’re sure.”

Y/N doesn’t respond to that, and Peter allows himself one last moment of torment before jumping off the edge of the building and swinging into the endless black. Unable to stop himself, Peter glances over his shoulder as he goes. He notices that Y/N had walked to the edge of the skyscraper, staring out after him in surprise. Maybe they don’t remember Peter’s casual way of launching himself over the edge. Or maybe he’s just gotten more careless since he stopped having someone to look out for him.

Regardless, it’s not like it matters now. Peter’s last hope was that Y/N would remember their time together on patrols, even if they wouldn’t remember that it was Peter behind the mask, but it looks like that’s over. He does his best to distract himself from the aching hole in his heart, but it’s no good. Peter can hear Y/N’s voice whispering in the space between his eyes, calling out to him like the old days. He was always more attuned to them than anyone else. Even MJ.

The shriek of sirens drags his thoughts from the past. Distantly, Peter realizes that they’re headed in the direction of Y/N’s usual patrol spot. He panics for a moment, scrambling for his phone so he can check the police radio networks he hijacked. After listening for a few moments, Peter learns that some big showdown is going down between some unidentified inhuman and Y/N.

The situation is not great, to say the least. Judging by the amount of property damage, Y/N isn’t winning the fight. Peter may have lost his place in their heart, but he’s not willing to lose them, too. Without another thought, he throws himself into the air again, swinging from web to web as fast as he can. The only thing on his mind is making it to Y/N as soon as he can.

Sure enough, the scene is bad. Peter gives himself about half a second before launching himself into the thick of things. Some inhuman who seems to have super strength is throwing cars, lamps, and everything in sight towards Y/N. They’re doing a pretty good job of dodging so far, but Peter can tell that they’re getting tired. At some point, they’re going to be unable to move fast enough to miss a blow, and it appears that moment is coming right now.

The enemy inhuman hurls two cars Y/N’s way. They’re able to avoid one, but the second one is thrown too quickly and there’s no way they can escape in time. Peter launches a spiderweb towards the car, sending it spiraling down the street instead. Surprised, Y/N turns towards him in unison with the other inhuman.

Peter’s main focus is taking out the maniac, though. Shocked revelations are going to have to come later. He quickly shoots two webs at the inhuman’s hands, tying them down to the road. Peter adds layer after layer of web. Y/N quickly knocks the guy out while he’s distracted, and Peter ties him to the ground with another web for good measure.

Only then does Y/N stalk towards Peter. “Once again, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Saving your life,” Peter points out somewhat needlessly.

Y/N groans, aggravated. “I didn’t need your help.”

“Actually,” Peter counters, “you would have been pancaked by that Honda Civic if you hadn’t, so really, I feel like you should be thanking me instead of yelling at me again.”

Y/N folds their arms across their chest. “Really?”

“Really,” Peter says, “although if you aren’t into the whole gratitude thing, I will accept it if you stop hating me instead.”

Y/N scoffs. “I just met you. I can hate who I please.”

Peter feels his heart sink in his chest for the dozenth time today. “Of course. We just met.”

Y/N cocks their head to the side. “What’s that about? That attitude.”

“Nothing,” Peter denies frantically, “absolutely nothing. Anyways, see you around, new best friend.”

He isn’t sure about it, but he swears he hears Y/N laugh as he swings away. It could just be his overactive imagination, of course, but Peter is certain that they might not completely hate him anymore.

It takes a few more weeks for Peter to be sure of that. The first few times Peter tries showing up to their patrol spot again, Y/N forces him to leave. After the fifth time, Peter stopped rolling up with an expectation of conversation and just perched somewhere on the side of the skyscraper. That was allowed. Eventually, they gave in and let Peter stand on level ground, if only for the claim that it was freaking them out to see Peter sticking to a vertical surface.

It’s not the same, even after Y/N begrudgingly lets Peter tag along on patrols. Of course, it never could be. Peter doesn’t know why he keeps expecting something to change, it never will. That sort of memory spell isn’t the type to break. Still, he keeps hoping.

If there’s one thing Peter should know, though, it’s that hope has no place in a life like his. Every time Peter has dared to enjoy a dream, it is taken from him. This is no exception.

They’re back on that rooftop one moonless night, staring out over the never ending expanse of cars coming and going. Peter is bothering Y/N because he won’t stop pointing out all the purple cars to pass through the streets (Y/N swore they’d never seen one, Peter thought otherwise). Y/N’s been doing their best to pretend Peter isn’t funny at all, but he knows he’s wearing them down.

His point is proven when Peter triumphantly points out not one but two purple cars side by side. Y/N groans. “Okay, you were right. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” Peter calls back, “I may never top this moment. Maybe I’ll print out a certificate to tape on my wall. On this day, Spider-Man proved his favorite patrol partner wrong.”

Y/N makes a choking sound. Peter knows it for what it is, though, and he spins around, arms raised in victory. “Was that a laugh? Did you just laugh? After all this time, you’re laughing at my joke. Now that’s a real success.”

Y/N indulges this for a moment, then fixes him with a typical piercing stare. “Why are you so excited about this? Most people would have given up on trying to win me over by now. What’s keeping you around?”

Peter sighs. “I know how good it is to be your friend. Maybe I want to have that.”

“How would you know?” Y/N’s tone grows suspicious. “You know something about me that you refuse to share. What is it?”

Normally, Peter would deflect with a casual joke and let the past die just like it always has. He’s been faulty in his defense, though, and keeps slipping up. Y/N’s noticed it, of course they have. Peter hasn’t exactly been the best at concealing his feelings, either. He references things that Spider-Man shouldn’t know about Y/N. And then there was that one time he accidentally used their name instead of the code name Y/N uses on patrols. He immediately clammed up and pretended he misspoke, but Y/N knew.

So, Peter lets the anger and sadness and deep, deep regret out. It’s been bottled up for so long that it feels good to finally say everything that’s been on his chest.

“I know that I want to be your friend because I already was, Y/N. I was your friend for years, and they were the best damn years of my life. I thought that there would never be another person for me like you. We were friends outside of patrols and everything. I was happiest when I was with you. You don’t remember a single moment we shared because I had to get someone to cast a memory spell so everyone would forget me.”

Y/N’s brow is arched. “A memory spell?”

Peter nods, keeping his eyes firmly trained on the dark night so he doesn’t have to look at them. “The universe was getting messed up. It was the only way. You made me promise that I’d come back and make you remember anyway. We both knew it wasn’t going to work, but the thought of forgetting everything we did together was so horrible that we pretended otherwise.”

Y/N’s voice cuts through the midnight air like a blade. “Prove it. Prove this is real.”

“Alright,” Peter says, and he starts to speak. He pulls off his Spider-Man mask as he starts in the hope that maybe it’ll make some difference, but he knows even before Y/N looks at him that it won’t.

“Your name is Y/N L/N and you were my best friend until you forgot who I was. You started going on patrols when you were sixteen because you could do things no one else could and it made you sick to your stomach with guilt to think that people were getting hurt and you weren’t stopping it. Your first uniform was made out of supplies from the craft store down the block. We made the second one together. At one point, you wanted a cape but we saw The Incredibles after school one day and you decided it would never work out.”

Peter takes a deep breath and continues. “The first time you almost died, you were trying to save people from a burning building. It was that apartment four streets over from yours, for a moment you thought you knew someone in there but you went in even after you realized they were just strangers. You still have a scar on your right shoulder from a burning beam falling on you. I brought you food for two weeks afterwards because you swore you were too tired to cook. That didn’t stop you from trying to climb out your window every night for patrols, though. I had to web your window shut to stop you.”

Peter laughs bitterly at the memory, but it turns sour in his mouth when he looks over and realizes that Y/N is clearly recalling none of this.

They pull off their mask too. “I probably don’t need this if you know me so well,” they say, gesturing at it.

Peter dares to nurture even the smallest bit of hope. “Does that mean–”

Y/N cuts him off with a simple shake of their head. “I’m sorry. Really, I am, but whoever you knew, that isn’t me anymore. I’m just some person. I’m not your Y/N.”

Peter nods stoically. “And you never have been. Listen, I’m sorry for all this. I should have just let it go.”

It doesn’t matter that he never could. Peter shoves his mask back on his face and heads out. The night air whips at him, threatening to send him spinning into the multitude of skyscrapers surrounding him on either side, but Peter keeps going. Anything is better than staying still and letting the pain overwhelm him. He really thought he could convince Y/N to remember him, but even his best efforts are worthless.

Peter settles on a tall roof of an office building. He lands in a contained roll but just stays there on the ground, chest heaving, staring up at stars that will never look back on him in quite the same way. He knew the spell was permanent, but he had hoped that somehow he would be able to change Fate’s mind and let this all work out.

Footsteps appear around the corner of the roof. It appears that Peter’s time of self-pity is over. He gets up without looking at the intruder, assuming it to be the owner of the office building. Peter opens his mouth to apologize for trespassing, but the words dry up in his throat when he realizes that it’s Y/N who’s followed him all this way instead.

Their eyes are wide, but their stature is as steady as ever. “I may not be your Y/N,” they repeat, “but I could be. I don’t have your memories, but I have mine. Maybe I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“You never have been,” Peter says softly.

He slowly crosses the roof until he’s in front of them. Y/N’s breath is rough in their chest, but they still look at him like Peter is all they’ve ever needed. Peter forgot what that felt like, how it struck him to be this close. It appears time has its way of messing with him as well.

“Before the spell,” Y/N whisper hesitantly, “were you and I– were we just friends, or–”

They can’t manage to complete the sentence. Peter knows enough of their mind to guess at the rest.

“No,” he answers, “just friends. Nothing more.”

“What if I want to change that?” Y/N asks tentatively.

Peter stares at them, then damns the past to the past. It is dead and gone and buried, but the future is as alive as ever. For once, that doesn’t haunt him like it always has.

marvel tag list: @namoreno, @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie, @with-inked-solace, @callsign-scully, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @w1shes43, @deafsuperhero, @fadedver, @gods-fools-heroes

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lilhoeforevanpeters · 7 months

Text

Dress

Evan Peters x Fem!Reader

****inspired by Taylor Swifts’ ‘Dress’****

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Our secret moments in a crowded room, they got no idea about me and you

You wore your best dress tonight, wishing to attract Evan’s attention. You two had been dating for about six months, but he still wanted to keep the relationship a secret. Tonight, you put on your best heels, painted your nails, spent an unholy amount of time on your makeup and hair, and finally- the cherry on top- a beautiful black dress.

There is an indentation in the shape of you, made your mark on me, a golden tattoo, all of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you

As you walked out of your car and into the club, you ruffled your hair slightly and felt an excited flutter in your heart. You hoped this would catch Evan’s attention, you hadn’t seen him in a week due to him filming. You looked around the dimly lit building, bright, colorful lights occasionally flashing across the room and your face. You walked through crowds of people, keeping your eye out for a specific blondie, your boyfriend, whom you loved with your entire heart, and wanted nothing more than for him and you to be alone together.

All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting, my hands are shaking from all this

Your eyebrows slightly furrowed as all of your concentration is on one thing and one thing only- finding Evan. You ponder to yourself if you should take your phone out and send him a quick text before you hear a familiar name.

Say my name and everything just stops

When he calls your name, your heart races and you spin around, your excitement evident as your eyes meet his. He gives you a warm smile and walks towards you. You smile back at him, quickly moving to him and wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him into a tight embrace.

“Hey, darling,” Evan whispers into your ear, placing a soft and quick kiss on your neck. Your breath catches and you look up at him.

“Hi…”

“You look… incredible,” He compliments, looking at you up and down. You smile and mentally high five yourself due to getting the reaction you craved.

“Thank you, I think you look very sexy tonight,” as you say this quietly he smiles at you and leans down to be able to talk to you and only you.

“If you keep saying things like that, we’re not going to make it to bed…” He whispers in a slight growl, making you smirk and look up at him.

I don’t want you like a best friend, only bought this dress so you could take it off

He looks down at you again and smirks softly.

“My god… that dress,” He whispers to you, pressing himself slightly against you. If anyone took notice of how close you two were to each other, it’d be evident that you and Evan were dating. I smile softly and kiss the side of his face quickly.

“Well… I wore it for you, so I’m glad you like it,” you whisper back to him, a bigger smirk crossing his face as you tell him this.

“Is that so?” He asks, a bit of a smug look on his face as you nod and hum.

“Mhm, it is. In fact, I only wore this dress so you could take it off of me.” I whisper in his ear, making him smile and gently grab your hand, leading you to the bathroom.

Inescapable, I’m not even gonna try, and if i get burned, at least we were electrified, I’m spilling wine in the bathtub, you kiss my face and we’re both drunk, everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing about

You smile as Evan leads you both into the bathroom, locking the door behind him before turning to face you with a smile on his face.

“Alone… at last…” He whispers before moving over to you and softly yet hungrily kissing your lips, his hand resting on your lower back, and the other under your chin and tilting your face up towards him.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” He mutters softly and moves from your lips to peppering small kisses down your neck, leaving a few love bites along his way.

All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you, all of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting, my hands are shaking from all of this

Evan’s hands slid up and down your sides, nibbling at your neck softly.

“Do you want to go further?” He whispers, to which you hum and nod, desperate for him. He chuckles softly and gently pushes you against the bathroom door, moving your dress up slightly around your waist, your thighs and underwear exposed to him. He gently caresses your thighs before playing with your clothed pussy.

“I haven’t even done anything and you're this wet already? I guess you really missed me, huh?” He smirks up at you, making you blush slightly and gently grind against his hand, he lets out an airy laugh at your neediness. He slides your underwear down to your ankles before toying with your clit, rubbing it in painfully slow circles.

“Evan, please,” You whine out softly, him smirking and kissing just above your pelvic bone.

“I’ll get there, sweetie, be a little patient,” He teases you quietly before rubbing your clit in quicker circles,causing you to squirm. He dips a finger into your entrance, gently pumping in and out slowly, your breath hitches as you let out a soft gasp. He smiles softly and looks at you to make sure you’re alright before adding in another finger, stretching you out slightly before he adds a third and starts to pump his fingers in and out of you quicker.

You let out a quiet moan before silencing yourself, Evan kissing your lips to help muffle any moans that might escape from your mouth. His pace quickens as he fingers you, his other fingers rubbing circles into your clit as he adjusts his speed now, going faster. You breathe a little heavier before he curves his digits up, hitting your spongy g-spot, and you let out a gasp and a quiet moan before he kisses you again.

“F-fuck Evan, I’m close,” I whimper softly to him as he smirks and goes a little bit quicker, sending you over the edge and causing you to release on his fingers and send you through a shuddering orgasam. He helps you through it before slowly removing his fingers from your pussy and licking your wetness mixed with your cum. You kiss him, your release still on his lips. He smiles at you, sends you a quick wink, and leaves the bathroom, trying not to make it obvious to anyone else what you were doing in there. You stay there for a few more minutes, breathing heavily, trying to recover.

Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me, flashback to my mistakes, my rebounds, my earthquakes, even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me

#american horror story #evan peters #Evan Peters #Evan Peters x reader #evan peters x female reader #ahs #ahs asylum #tate langdon #ahs coven #ahs murder house #ahs fandom #ahs hotel #kit walker

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