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melissa-kenobi · 4 months

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Still Yours

[PS5 Harry Osborn x Reader]

A/N: hola, yes I am writing for Harry :) I love him too he's so adorable. :3 & yes there shall be a pt 2 for my Peter fic :D

Summary: Harry comes back.

***

"Just got a tip." MJ says as she checks her phone. "Raft's moving a couple of inmates to Ravenscroft tomorrow for evaluation."

"Did they say who?" Peter asks MJ as she walks to the door, grabbing her keys on the way.

"Nope! But I'm gonna find out." MJ smirks, a cheeky grin on her lips.

"Be careful MJ." You call out from the kitchen as she gives you a salute and walks out the door. Peter laughs as he walks up to you and gives you a hip bump, reaching for the jar.

"Hey! Not my cookies!" You say, ready to throw soapy water at him, but not before you hear MJ let out a shriek.

"MJ!" Both you and Peter call as you run out in a frightful shock after her only to see someone you never thought you'd see again.

Harry Osborn.

MJ runs up to him and gives him a big hug, squeezing the life out of him, a huge grin etched on her face. Peter follows after her, watching his best friend with a gentle smile.

"Woah!" Harry laughs, holding himself up with the help of a cane. "Doctor's haven't cleared me for MJ hugs yet!"

"Sorry..." MJ apologises sheepishly as she pulls back.

You watch from the steps as Peter hugs his best friend, taking comfort in the fact that he was here, telling him how much you had all missed him. Harry glances up from Peter's hug to see you standing by the steps, hands and arms still covered in bubbly soap, curly hair tied up, a few strands framing your features and a look of longing etched onto your face.

"Y/N..." Harry faintly whispers your name ever so sweetly as he looks at you. You watch his eyes soften as he pulled away from Peter and took a wobbly step towards you, almost falling, but Peter catches him, helping Harry stand up right. You hold in your tears as you rush back indoors, slamming the door and falling to the floor.

It had been two years. Two excruciatingly long fucking years since he went to Europe without mentioning a single word to you. No calls, no texts, nothing.

You had to find out from MJ, someone you'd barely spoken to in high school had told you. Mary fucking Jane had to tell you that your so-called boyfriend had gone to Europe and that no-one knew when he'd would be back or how to contact him.

You called him every single day, leaving voicemail after voicemail until his phone told you that his messages were full and that you couldn't leave anymore. You called Peter, each week asking if he had heard anything from Harry, but alas nothing. You had cried every night, praying, wishing that he would contact you somehow. That he hadn't just upped and left without good reason.

But no. Nothing.

So you got on with your life.

Got a job as kindergarten teacher, helped Peter with his Spider-Man stuff, became really good friends with MJ and moved on. Because if Harry had moved on, then so could you.

But now he was here. He was outside the door and you didn't know what to do.

***

Moments later Peter ran indoors calling your name, Harry following behind cautiously as he took in the appearance of the house.

"Y/N?? You still here?" Peter calls but can't seem to find you anywhere in the house. "I don't think she's h-

"Pete..." Harry sighs as he finds a handwritten note on the table. He still recognises your handwriting, a hand tracing over the note softly as he reads it. "She's gone."

"What do you mean she's gone?" Peter scoffs as he reads the note you wrote.

Hey Pete and MJ,

I'm sorry, seeing Harry again brought up some things. I need to clear my mind before anything. If you see him, tell him I did miss him and I do want to talk, soon.

Make sure he doesn't come after me, please Pete? And make sure you don't eat my cookies ... I'm talking about you Ms Watson... :)

Love you guys,

Cookie xx

Harry hears the sound of an engine being turned on and rushes to the door to try and catch you before you leave. He calls your name but it falls on empty ears as he watches you ride away on a black motorbike, curly hair blowing in the wind.

"She rides motorbikes now?" Harry says, eyes filled with adoration, but heart heavy with how much he had missed with you.

"Yeah...but she still doesn't let anyone touch it." Pete smiles, reading the bit about making sure MJ doesn't eat your cookies. However it soon turns into a frown as he looks at Harry. "She's changed alot since you left Harry."

"I know Pete. I know." Harry sits down, sighing deeply. "How do I fix this Pete?"

Peter exhales heavily. "I don't know."

***

It was coming up to 2 weeks since you had run from Harry. From everything.

You don't know why you did.

Maybe you were scared. Scared he didn't need you anymore. Maybe he didn't love you anymore.

MJ had messaged you a million times, making sure you were okay, even sending you pictures of her and Peter with your cookie jar, making sure you'd seen she hadn't eaten any of them. Peter, on the other hand, thought he was subtle. He had swung around where you were staying, keeping an eye on you making sure you weren't falling back into old habits.

Cookie 🍪: pete, you know I can see you?

Pete 🕷: whaaaat? im with mj at home

Cookie 🍪: *sends picture attachment*

Pete 🕷: :O

Pete 🕷: sorry cookie, just wanted to make sure you were safe :(

Cookie 🍪: im okay petey :)

Pete 🕷: i know. harry says hi. he misses you. we miss you

Cookie 🍪: I'll be home soon, promise, love you guys x

Pete 🕷: love you too cookie x

You decided to go home after Peter's text.

***

Seconds after pushing the keys in the door, you were tackled in a massive hug from MJ, who squeezed the living hell out of you and would not let go. You'd barely gotten your helmet off before it dropped to the floor.

"MJ! I'm fine, you can let go now!" You mumble against her hair. "Please, my bones are gonna crack and you don't even have super strength..."

"Don't ever do that again. Please?" MJ says as she pulls away holding your face.

"Sorry red, I promise I won't." You say squeezing her hands gently, making her pull a face at your nickname for her. Peter smiles as he sees you, pulling you into a albeit gentler hug.

"You good?" Peter asks as you nod in response, wallking backwards towards the staircase.

"I'm gonna put my stuff away and I'll-

"Hi..." Harry breathes out, walking down the stairs, coming face to face with you. His red hair, a slight mess on his head, a smile askew on his rosy lips while he observed every inch of your face as if you'd disappear again if he said something wrong. You could sense those feelings you'd buried deep for him wanting to resurface. No, needing to resurface. A red curl had fallen onto his forehead and you instantly to brush it away.

You weren't ready, but it was now or never.

"Hi." You mumble back, suddenly shy as you avoided looking at him. Because if you did, you were sure it was going to break your heart again.

"We'll leave you two to talk..." Peter says, squeezing your hand in comfort, before heading upstairs with MJ. "Hear him out, Cookie..."

You nod back at Pete and MJ, giving them a smile.

"Hi...I er- sorry I already said that..." Harry says shy, stuttering over his words making you let out a small laugh.

He hadn't changed.

His head lifts up, eager to hear your sweet laughter again, "So you and Pete?" Harry says as he smiles softly at you.

"What? No! No way- he's with MJ!" Your eyes go wide before realising he was teasing you. "You're teasing me..."

He hold his hand up in surrender as a soft smile appears on his lips, as he tilts his head, eyes filled with a gentle longing. You couldn't help but notice how much it suited him, how much he had matured. He was still the same Harry you knew, but his features had grown. He no longer had that beanie he always wore, his eyes were brighter than before, filled with hope.

Harry seemed to notice the look on your face and sighed, "I'm sorry, I am so sorry- about everything. Can- can I explain?"

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. "Let's sit down."

You walk over to the couch and take a seat, Harry following suit, sitting closer than you expected.

"Sorry.." He instantly apologised, shuffling back. You don't know what made you put your hand on his leg, making him freeze as he instinctively went to hold your hand.

"I didn't- sorry..." You mutter, looking down, feeling like a shy teen all over again.

Harry lets out a small laugh, squeezing your hand and rubbing the top of it with his thumb. "Reminds me of our 3rd date at Coney-

"When the stupid candy guy pushed me into you and-

"I caught you, but your face was a red as a tomato, and you wouldn't look at me for the rest of our date till I-

"Till you kissed me..." You finish off blushing as you looked up at Harry. Gosh, you really did miss him. "What happened Harry?"

His lips turn into a grimace, eyes still on you. "Europe was a lie. I was in the city in isolation undergoing treatment. I didn't want you guys to worry. I didn't want you to worry..."

"Harry..." You mutter softly, gently playing with his fingers. "I wish you would have told me, so you wouldn't have had to go through it alone."

"No. It was my choice and I had to live with that. I couldn't put you through that pain." Harry sighs, looking at your entwined fingers, his heart aching. "I saw what my father went through when my mom passed, and I- I didn't want the same to happen to you."

"Is it the same thing your mom had?" You asked, looking at him, tears in your eyes.

"It was..." He smiles as you glance up at him. "We think it's in remission."

You gasp in joy and pull him into a hug. "Really? That's wonderful news!"

Harry feels his heart pound as you hug him- he's missed this. "I- I missed you, more than anything. I'm so sorry for the way I left things, for what I put you through, even though I was trying to protect you. I hurt you even more. I listened to all your voicemails every single one, and then one day they just stopped. I thought-"

Pulling back slightly from him you stare at him. "You thought what? That I'd moved on?"

He nods.

"Harry... how could I? You are the love of my life, I never stopped loving you, even when I was so frustrated and angry with you." You admit, because you truly never stopped loving him. "But I understand, I understand you trying to protect us. To protect me."

"I- thank you." Harry sighs in relief, he hated having this feeling of you being angry and disappointed hanging over him. "I- you still love me?"

You bite your lip and look down, feeling shy all of a sudden, Harry puts a finger on your chin and tilts your head up. "I still love you too. I never stopped, all I could think about was you."

"Harry..." Tears slowly fill the corners of your eyes before you wipe them away.

"Can we start over?" Harry asks sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Would you like to go on a date with me? Coney Island?"

You smirk at him, "Are you going to try and kiss me again?"

"Are you going to turn red again?" Harry teases back.

"I did not! It was cold!" You lightly shove him, but he catches your arms and pulls you into him. Harry places a gentle kiss on the top of your head as he holds you in his arms snugly.

"Is that a yes Cookie?" Harry softly asks, absentmindedly rubbing your hip.

*thump* *thump* *thump*

The two of you jump up only to see MJ and Peter roll down the stairs, Peter trying to help MJ but ending up on the floor, MJ on top of him as she looks up at you with a huge grin on her face.

"Say yes, you doofus!" MJ laughs, and Peter is nodding enthusiastically like a golden retriever.

You throw a pillow in their direction before rolling your eyes at their antics. You can't stop the smile on your face as you pull Harry into a kiss and whisper yes.

***

"Hey, how comes you never let me on your bike? And you never let me eat your cookies!" Peter asks with a fake sad face as he reaches to touch it. But before he can, you lightly slap his hand away.

"You're Spider-Man. You don't need a bike." You deadpan.

"Besides, Harry's my fiance now. So what's mine is his." You smirk as you settle onto your bike, Harry slipping on behind as he wrapped his arms around your waist, placing a kiss on your cheek. "Including my cookies."

"See ya Pete!" Harry childishly sticks his tongue out at Peter as you ride away laughing.

"MJ, you gotta learn how to ride a bike..." Peter mumbles to himself.

***

#ps5 harry osborn x reader #harry osborn #ps5 harry osborn #marvel's spider man 2 #ps5 spiderman #spider man 2 ps5 #insomniac spider man #insomniac harry osborn #insomniac peter parker #insomniac mary jane watson #harry osborn x reader #harry osborn x y/n #harry osborn x you

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kinkandkreep · 11 months

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Hey hey y'all! 👋🏾

Soooo...𝑫𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒚 is complete! What did y'all think? Did you enjoy the ride? Were you surprised by any of the developments of the story? Were you on Team Forgive Miguel and Try Again or Team Kick that Bastard to the Curb? Let me know down below! 😁

I thought I'd do a little FAQ regarding the story, and also answer a few extraneous questions I received.

So, here we go!

First Question: Why did Miguel cheat?

Simple. Miguel cheated because he was weak.

...

Nah, I'm just playin'. Sorta.

Miguel cheated because, as was mentioned in the story, he was a coward and thought it was easier to run and seek comfort in the arms of someone who fed his ego and fed into the illusion he'd created about what true heroism is, than to try and actually talk it out with the one who truly held his heart.

Of course, I am by no means attempting to justify Miguel's behavior in saying this, but I will say that he was under a great deal of pressure trying to maintain the situation with the multiverse and had resolved himself to sacrificing whatever in order to keep it intact. (He also felt he was under pressure by the reader to have children, and though he wasn't opposed to the idea in the sense that he didn't want any, he didn't think it was safe enough to have them.)

When the reader naturally A.) couldn't comprehend why he was so willing to do something so comparatively extreme and B.) subsequently was against it, Miguel saw this as selfishness, and his tired mind sought out someone who he could relate more easily to.

The more time he spent with Layla, he naturally spent less time with the reader, and subsequently wasn't getting his carnal needs met because when he did spend time with the reader, the atmosphere was tense and they would argue. This eventually lead to him sleeping with Layla, to sate his sexual desires and take out his frustration in a way he couldn't with the reader.

Did that all make sense? 🙃

Second Question: Why did Miguel kill Layla?

Though this was explained briefly in the story, I realize that it might have been a little unclear, and that quite a few details were omitted. In short, Layla was a threat. She threatened to expose Miguel's affair to the other members of the Spider Society, none of whom had any knowledge of Layla's existence. If she'd exposed not only his affair, but the fact that he was harboring an anomaly from a different timeline without making the other society members aware, they very likely would have turned on him and he'd have lost his credibility and support. He couldn't have that, and so he dealt with Layla as his instincts dictated.

Third Question: What was the reader's plan?

The reader's plan is simultaneously simple and a bit convoluted. The reader, having been negatively influenced by her bitterness about her situation and Miguel's actions, decided that she also wanted to have her cake and eat it to. She decided to play the long game, willingly getting pregnant because A.) she still wanted a baby and B.) she could use her pregnancy to manipulate Miguel.

She essentially gaslit, gatekept, girlbossed her way out of her situation with Miguel. 😂 Over the months leading up to her conversation with Peter B, she used subtle manipulation to get Miguel to do beneficial things for her, such as changing her lodgings so that she could mor easily explore the complex and look for ways to escape while simultaneously making sure he was none the wiser.

Fourth Question: Was Layla a Spiderwoman?

Short answer, yes. Layla was a Spiderwoman from a separate universe who had lost her family during the collapse of her timeline.

Fifth Question: Why did Miguel already have a room ready for the reader prior to her discovering his affair?

So, this might be a bit of a longer explanation. Essentially, Miguel was a yandere for the reader before she tried to leave him. I didn't go into too much detail about that (and I may do a little sequel-prequel talking about that in more depth 👀) but he only created the room once the affair began. He always feared that the reader would find out, and created the room as a precautionary measure.

(Oh wait, actually, this explanation was pretty short and straightforward...yay!)

Sixth Question: Did Miguel ever love Layla?

Short answer, no.

He was admittedly fond of her, but only because they shared a similar responsibility. He also felt pity for her, given that she had lost everything and was forced to abandon everything she knew.

Seventh Question: What was in the vial Miguel had in the lab in chapter 5?

Contrary to popular speculation, the drug in the vial was neither meant to make the reader addicted to Miguel nor was it meant to solely act as an aphrodisiac. The drug in the vial was actually meant to increase fertility exponentially, as Miguel's intention was to get the reader pregnant and make it so that she couldn't, and wouldn't want to, leave him.

That's all the questions I could think of for now. If y'all have any more, leave them in the comments below or drop me an ask and I'll get them answered! Also remember to let me know if y'all would want a companion drabble detailing how the cheating started and the buildup to that with Miguel and the reader.

Aight, that's all from me. Thank y'all for readin'! Ari out! ✌🏾

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel o'hara x reader #cheater miguel o'hara #cheater miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spider man 2099

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theshipperqueenisnotdone · 25 days

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Will share more lore facts about that yandere heaven au with Sir Pentious? I want to know if your gonna do more for it.

You don't understand how happy I am to see this. If I hadn't had a mental breakdown earlier, then I would cry right now, anyway.

Here are a few ideas for each character's behavior. Remember, this is still a prompt with ideas, not a full story yet (😏). So I might add more to this AU. Also, please give me some feedback and ideas about this AU; I would love to hear your opinion 😍.

INFORMATION

PART 1

💙 🕊 🐨 E M I L Y 🐨 🕊 💙

Let's be for real. Emily is the most likely to help Sir Pentious. At first she would be confused to why would Sir Pentious would leave but once she hears his reasons, she'd totally get it. Actually, she might even decide to tag along with him! And you know what?

It's not like the heaven would mind right? Right?

💛 💙 💐 S A I N T P E T E R 💐 💙 💛

Peter would do anything to avoid Sir Pentious' requests. It would be a lie if Peter didn't admit that he grew attached to him. Other than Emily, Peter was Sir Pentious' first friend (Molly was the second) in heaven, and oh boy! Does Peter make sure that everyone knows it. Which, speaking of that, Peter never thought he'd be so prideful about such a simple friendship, was he acting too.. Prideful and Possessive… Oh, who is he kidding!? Of course, he's proud of being his first friend!

If there is a definition of purity and angelic behavior, Sir Pentious would be a perfect example! Yes, he is going to ignore that he was a demon because he doesn't live there anymore; he is in heaven now! Where everyone doesn't worry about anything! So when Sir Pentious asked to visit hell to see his friends…

This is the first time where Peter ever, EVER, wanted to deny someone respect so badly. Yes, he does feel bad for denying Sir Pentious' request, but it's for his own good! Hell is a terrible place! He may have lived there before, but he is an angel now! Demons will take advantage of that if he ever goes down there again. And besides, heaven is a place where they got no worries, got no burglaries, no strife, It's the perfect afterlife! He has done everything to distract Sir Pentious to avoid his request and just hopes that Sir Pentious gives up.

So of course, Peter snitched when he learned that Emily and Sir Pentious tried to go to hell. He is sure that Sir Pentious would understand what he has done.

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prismuffin · 1 year

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Hey hey it’s me again lol. Can I request (Comic one where he’s an adult) Peter Parker x M!Reader who is a detective? Maybe he keeps visiting him during work and Reader has to remind him that he’s working. I want to thank you for taking my requests and I love reading your stuff. 🫶

A/n: awww this idea sounded so cute I love it😭 sorta a long one, im sorry?? idk if thats a bad thing

Distraction

Peter B. Parker x male!detective!reader

( summary: when your boyfriend Peter comes to drop off your lunch he decides to bother you for the rest of the day instead of leaving )

Warning?: light swearing, talk of guns, slight violence

!-!more under the cut!-!

After the events of spider-verse Peter had tried to fix his old life, make amends with Mary Jane and become the hero that New York needed once again, only it didn't entirely work out that way. He had tried to go back to MJ only to see that she was in a whole new relationship; he still talked to her though, told her the things he should've said years ago and she consoled him, told him to move on in his life and find someone new. So he did, he moved on and started working out a bit more, started showing up and stopping crime again which led him to meeting you.

You were a successful detective working for and with the NYPD, solving cases before and after they happen, so you hung around Spiderman a lot. You two would have playful banter whenever you crossed paths. You'd have silent competitions over who could stop and catch the most criminals (it was always gonna be him but you actually do give him a run for his money). He liked you more than he admitted. He was so scared of fucking up again that he just put this distance between you two, leaving his sly, flirty, playful remarks as the only sign of affection he could show you. He hit this rock bottom state again where the only thing he could think about was failing and you and failing you. He'd have nightmares about him not being able to save you, texting you at the dead of night with the number you gave him for emergencies to make sure you're ok. Sometimes you'd scold him for wasting your time or waking you up but he didn't mind. He was stuck in this spiral and one night he decided to stop feeling so conflicted and tell you about how he felt, and he did, just not in the way he wanted to.

You'd been tracking some criminals for months and finally were one step ahead of them, or so you thought. You caught them once but they weren't found guilty. The police station you worked at didn't classify them as a threat because of that and the chief made you drop the case since it seemed to have gone cold, but you knew they were the culprits. You watched a bar from your car, waiting for the men you've been looking for to come out. You needed to catch them in the act so you had decided to stake it out. The bar door opened and your hand went to your gun as you spotted the men leaving. You quickly made sure your gun was loaded before grabbing your phone, texting Peter, or as you knew him, Spider-man your location and what you were doing just in case. You told him if you didn't respond in fifteen minutes to come and help since you weren't entirely sure if you could take the men on in a fight.

Your hunch was correct when you'd in fact lost the fight you had no chance of winning, hell telling Spider-Man not to come save your ass until fifteen minutes into the fight was being very generous for the criminals. Although, Peters worry for you had made him come and help 8 minutes earlier than you said, I mean he would've come earlier if he'd seen your text sooner but still. It was that night, when he had in fact saved you, when he decided to just come clean about his feelings towards you, even if you rejected him; and so Peter decided to take that leap of faith and asked you out which lead to moments like this, where you’re sat at your desk, looking out your window to see your boyfriend on the building next to yours, waving with a lunchbox in hand. You sigh and shake your head, getting up and closing the blinds not only to mess with him but also for your own sanity before sitting back down and turning back to your paper work. Of course your silence only lasted a few more minutes before a knock was heard on your office door. "Come in." You didn't need to look up from your paperwork to guess who it was, "Guess who brought you lunch~?" You couldn't help but smile at the sound of your boyfriends voice. "Thank you Peter," You looked up at him and smiled as he placed a lunch box on your desk.

He'd turned to leave and was at the doorway when he looked back and saw you move the lunchbox off to the side. "Are you not gonna eat it?" You heard Peter ask and your eyes snapped to his before glancing at the lunch box. "I will Petey, I'm just very busy right now." You gave him a close mouth smile and he crossed his arms, looking you up and down before shrugging. "Alright," you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding when Peter just moved on, usually he'd bother you or someth-

Your thoughts were cut off by your paperwork being snatched from your desk. Peter, who'd used his web shooters to grab your paper, looked at you, almost disapprovingly. "You're not getting this back until you eat that lunch. Do you know how much effort I put into making that." You rolled your eyes, but smiled, and grabbed the lunch that he'd packed. He sat down across from you and wasted no time getting comfortable, kicking his feet up and leaning back. "Peter, this is a gyro from Frank down the street, you didn't make this." He looked at you, down at the gyro, and back at you before shrugging. "Still took a lot of effort." You shook your head at his antics "Unbelievable.." You mumbled before taking a bite out of the gyro. The tapping of your pens got your attention as you watched Peter play with them like they were action figures.

Even after you finished eating he wouldn't stop bugging you, poking your shoulders as you wrote and calling you overworked, which was true, but there wasn't much you could do about it. He was usually like this on slow crime days where he found there was little conflict on the streets of New York which would lead to him thinking about you and missing you and then showing up at your job either as Spider-man coming in to "address official crime business," or as Peter Parker to drop off his boyfriends lunch or to give his boyfriend a file he left at their apartment. Though times when he distracts you like this are annoying you still find them sweet since he does this when he misses you.

"Alright," You placed your pen down after being prodded by Peter for the 127th time. "If we cuddle on the couch for five minutes will you leave me alone to do my work?" Peter looked up and hummed to seem like he was thinking before smiling and nodding. "Yeah alright that's fair, but, lets make it ten minutes." "Fine." You got up and Peter cheered, practically leaping on the couch in your office. He opened his arms for you with a large smile on his face and you respectfully plopped right into them. You both let out identical sighs as you snuggled up into each other, your stress melting away as Peter rubbed your back. "ugh god, you're such a distraction Pete.." you mumbled with your eyes closed, the feeling of sleep creeping up on you. Peter just hummed, looking at you with adoration in his eyes. You both were definitely on that couch for longer than ten minutes but neither of you seemed to mind.

----!----

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Masterlist

#peter parker #peter b parker #Peter b. parker #Peter b. parker x reader #peter b. parker x male reader #male reader #marvel x male reader #marvel x reader #peter b. parker x you #spiderverse x you #spiderverse x reader #x male reader #Peter Parker x reader #Peter parker x you #Peter parker x male reader #prismuffin

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itsgoghtime · 7 months

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Here You Come Again

CW : angsty hurt/comfort (hurt part doesn’t last very long), Ray is a little ooc again, Ray being the sweet honey saccharine boy that he is (it’s his favorite time of year)

Words : 3842

"Do you ever wonder if the universe brings people together?"

"Do you ever wonder if the universe can pull them apart?"

"Nah, that's improbable."

1989 - New York City

There's always something about autumn that inspires magic in the soul.

Maybe it's the changing leaves.

Maybe it's the events.

Maybe it's because I was in love once during this season.

Definitely not that last one.

Granted, I had always loved autumn. The colors change into deep and rich tones that just draw the eyes in. The smells, the sights, the fact that my entire wardrobe that had only really ever consisted of sweaters finally came into play.

Autumn was just the best season.

It was. Now, I just connected it to someone who was no longer around. Didn't help his favorite holiday was Halloween.

After the success of Ghostbusters saving New York (and covering it in marshmallow), Ray and I had dated steadily for some time. A few years. Until, Ghostbusters went under.

"Ray, please. There has to be something we can do..."

"Hun, I'm sorry. There isn't... the business has gone under - I can't ask you to stay here, when I can't provide for you. You deserve someone who can."

"Ray, I don't want to leave - I'll find another job, work as many hours as it takes... please, don't end this between us."

Ray shook his head, letting go of my hand with tears in his eyes.

"I can't."

"Ray, I don't want to be with the business. I want to be with you."

He couldn't even face me when I walked out the door.

It had been two years since I had moved into a little apartment upstate. I found a job proofreading and editing books.

This fall - I was finally working up the desire to go out and do stuff again. Governors Island, the Jack O'Lantern blaze, maybe a haunted house, if I could convince myself I could do it alone. I couldn't let my hurt heart dictate what I was doing anymore.

Todays adventure, the Brooklyn Book festival.

My eyes were as big as dinner plates - I was absolutely amazed at how many books there were, as I had been every year. I took my time meandering, running my hands along the different covers and buying a few every now and then.

I came across a booth with all sorts of paranormal books. It made me smile, remembering how much Ray loved this sort of stuff. I looked through a few of the books before the person running the stand approached.

"How can I... oh my gosh, is that...there's no way..." The familiar voice said, calling my name and I froze.

I looked up and saw Peter Venkman. Just who I didn't want to run into.

"Hey, Peter. Long time no see."

"Yeah, that's about right. Good heavens woman, you've grown up so much!" He laughed. Peter, from the beginning, had taken it upon himself to be an annoying older brother, even though we were only a few years apart in age.

"Yeah, tends to happen to a person when you don't see them for a long time." I chuckled with him.

"How have you been? What have you been up to? Why haven't you come to visit?" Peter was asking interrogation questions at lighting speed, and I answered as short as I could, trying to keep up with him.

"Ray should be back soon, wanted to go find a hot chocolate stand he said you had gone to a few years back. Said they had..."

"...apple cider doughnuts..." I finished for Peter, my look becoming distant. He was still talking about me? "I think I'll just buy this book, if you don't mind." I handed Peter cash, which he took and let me take the book.

"I'll go find him - he'd want to see you." He was absolutely oblivious to my anxious expression - which was normal, for him anyways.

He turned around, and I bolted. I could hear Ray's voice approaching, and heaven knows I didn't want to see him yet. It was enough to see Peter. But Ray?

I immediately returned home, knowing that Peter would look for me throughout the festival to bring me back to the booth.

Arriving home was like retreating to a safe room. I leaned against the door, curling up at the bottom as I slid down.

There's no way.

I reflected back on conversations with Ray - about the universe and it's influence on people meeting.

We had gone over different theories - religions, philosophies, even just theories regular people talked about - soulmates, those sorts of things. Luck versus fate versus no sort of outside influence.

I didn't like thinking about the fact that we had concluded that conversation with the thought that maybe - just maybe - the universe had brought us together.

And then, consequently, that same universe seemed to tear him from me. Or was it just us, denying the pull to each other?

I didn't know anymore, as I sat with my back to my door.

———

Over the next week, I tried to forget about my interaction with Peter. I dove into my books in the evenings, as usual. The paranormal book sounded oddly familiar as I went through it's pages - I discovered the author had consulted with Ray and Egon on their research.

I put the book down.

Why did it seem that even though I had gone two years, without any sort of contact or closure - and now, as the wound had finished healing over, it was opened right back up with one conversation?

I couldn't quite put it together.

In the morning, my coworker came into my office, giggling.

"What's up?" I asked, not looking up from the manuscript I was looking through.

"There's someone here to see you. Says it's important."

"Oh, yeah, I was going to have a meeting with th..."

"No, someone else. It's not your author conference." She laughed again, stepping aside.

Ray Stantz.

In my office.

My eyes slowly moved over him, trying to convince my mind that he was real. His hands shook slightly with the yellow flowers in his hands, and that same soft, nervous smile was on his face.

I was in shock for a moment, and stood to meet him.

"Hey." I whispered, a smile finding its way to my lips.

"Hey yourself." His voice was just as gentle as I remembered.

My coworker skipped out of the office, leaving Ray and I to stand there for a moment, just looking at each other. He finally came out of his trance, and chuckled a little.

"These - are for you." He handed me the flowers and I smiled.

"Thanks." It took me another moment, but I set the flowers down. "Stantz, why are you here? Moreover, how did you know to find me here?"

"Well, it's a pretty simple story, actually. Peter mentioned he saw you at the Brooklyn Book Festival that we used to go to every year. He said you didn't give him a lot of details about what you were doing, so in true Venkman fashion, he looked you up. Found out where you were working, the usual." He looked so guilty - even though he wasn't the one to blame.

I had to laugh at his expression, which seemed to ease him a bit.

"Venkman... that little gunner snipe."

"Funny you say that, those were my exact words when I found out he had invaded your privacy like that." He chuckled.

"Ray, it's alright. I knew by the look in his eyes when I ran into him - he wasn't going to let me off the hook that easy."

"Oh, good. I was afraid you'd be mad."

"I couldn't be, even if I tried."

Our laughter ceased, and then, it became a little awkward.

"Well, it was nice seeing you, Ray."

"Nice to see you too." His voice was quiet, like he had been before he had asked me out for the first time. He moved to leave my office, before turning around in the doorway.

I should have known.

"Hey, can we catch up sometime? Meet up for coffee somewhere?"

I smile, trying to hide the excitement that his question just brought me.

"Yeah, that would be good."

Before Ray could respond, Venkman was in the doorway with him.

"Hey you! Good to see you all set up in your office!" He called with a jovial tone that was laced with sarcasm.

"Hey Peter. So stalking people is your new hobby, eh?"

"No, just stalking you for one of my best friends in the whole wide world." He clapped Rays shoulder. "Even when he didn't ask for it. I'm an under appreciated talent, you know!"

I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Yeah, yeah. Now get out of my office, I have a conference soon."

Peter chuckled and blew me a sarcastic kiss that I pretended to catch and threw it back at him. Ray went to go with him, but I called to him, and he stopped to look at me.

"I'm pretty booked up until Thursday - but you could come and pick me up from my apartment at 6 and we can catch up then. If you're not busy, that is."

"Thursday works perfect. I'll see you then." His smile brightened and that familiar sparkle came back - I stood in a little shock as he walked out the door.

———

I found myself watching the clock on Thursday with impatience. Time wouldn't move any faster, and I was only halfway through the day.

Unable to focus on my manuscript, I sat back in my chair and let myself think.

I couldn't believe myself.

I ran into Peter Venkman once. Once, mind you.

And a week later, Ray Stantz showed up unannounced at my office, asking me to catch up.

I should have been mad. I should have been pushing them both away.

But... I couldn’t.

There's something about this whole situation that I just...

Yeah, Ray Stantz waltzed right in the door, just like he had done so many times before, and he wrapped my heart around his little finger.

I looked back up at the clock. It's 4:30.

I scowled. Of course, I just had to think about something other than work and now, work is almost over.

Should've done that earlier.

——

5:55. I'd been pacing my apartment for fifteen minutes.

I had arrived home from work at five, showered, dried and recurled my hair, spent fifteen minutes deciding what to wear before settling on my favorite sweater - the cream one with the little orange and red leaves on it - and sweatpants and sneakers.

5:57. The doorbell rings.

I rushed towards the door, and then took a minute to collect myself. He didn’t need to know how eager I was to see him. Yet.

Opening the door held the same emotion as opening presents on Christmas. I tried to push that feeling away, but seeing Ray in his button up and jeans wearing that leather jacket I had always been obsessed with...

It put me over the edge. I knew exactly what was happening.

I was falling for Ray Stantz all over again.

"Hey, sorry, I hope it's okay that I'm a little early." He nervously chuckled, and I had to pull myself out of my trance to respond, almost a little too late.

"No, no! That's totally fine." I chuckled, not able to hide my stupidly big smile. It seemed to ease Ray, who smiled back.

"Oh, good."

"Where did you want to go get coffee?" I asked, trying to calm my heart down.

"I was actually wondering if you wanted to go get cider at that stand we used to go to every year. If that's okay, of course." I took note of the blush that appeared on his cheek as he said this.

Little did he know, my stomach started boiling with butterflies.

I nodded softly in response. "I'd love that."

He offered me his arm, which I took, and we began to walk down the street towards the Ecto-1.

"I asked Winston if I could borrow his car, but he said he was going to a drive-in movie upstate and needed it. Sorry, I didn't mean to bring Clarisse on this excursion."

"Ray, it's alright. I've missed the old gal." I squeezed his arm, trying to let him know he was doing alright by me. It seemed to have worked, because he stopped apologizing for everything.

He opened the door for me, like the gentleman he had always been, and went around and climbed into the front seat before driving away.

All of our time together was the happiest I had felt in a long time. The most unadulterated, genuine happiness.

The cider was good, but it didn't compare at all in sweetness to Ray. I hadn't realized how much I had missed him until I spent a couple hours with him.

On the way back to my apartment, the two way radio in Ecto-1 buzzed. Ray answered it, still laughing at something I had said.

"Stantz here."

"Ray, there's a call that just came in. It's in your area, would you be able to answer?"

Ray looked at me, wearing his leather jacket that he had insisted putting on me when I got cold, and his heart fluttered. There was guilt in his eyes, and he shook his head.

"No, I can't tonight."

"Ray," Peter's voice chided. "I know you're on your date with your little friend, but it'll be just like old times if you go. Come on, I don't want to go on this one tomorrow cause it's out of the way from the rest of them on the schedule. Please?"

I looked at Ray, who just kept looking more guilty by the second.

"Hey," My voice caught his attention. "It's okay, we can go. I'd love to see the gear in action again." I didn't tell him that I also just didn't want him to leave yet.

Ray's eyes lit up, and he answered Peter.

"I'll be there."

Within just a few minutes, we arrived at the apartment complex of whoever had called. I watched Ray put the Proton pack on, and my breath hitched in my throat. I had seen him do this a hundred times before, but it was just so much more attractive every time he did it. This instance was no different.

Without warning, he held out the trap, which brushed my hand slightly, pulling me from my lovesick trance again.

"What?"

"Do you wanna come? It's easier with two people." His hand was still outstretched with the trap. I smiled, and took the trap from his hands, which seemed to make him happy.

We were buzzed up to the apartment, and the owner explained to us that their rug had taken a life of its own and was trying to wrap itself around anyone that entered the apartment. Ray assured them we would take care of it, and they thanked him, going to their neighbor's apartment to find refuge.

Ray turned to me before we went into the apartment. He pulled a pair of goggles that had been attached to his pack, and began to put them on my head.

"Helps so you can see the trap better than I'll be able to when it's open. Just switch the button when I give you the signal and we should be good to go. Easy as pie."

I smiled, feeling him adjust the goggles to fit my head.

"Alright."

Ray turned the proton pack on, and for a moment, just looked at me in the goggles. His eyes sparkled with affection before he slowly turned the doorknob.

At first, we didn't see the rug. But sure enough, it was hiding in a corner. Ray smiled at me, and I held the trap, ready to roll it across the floor on its little wheels when he was ready.

His proton stream wrestled with it a few times - slime covering us both at different moments. But surely, he caught the entity in the stream, and I rolled the trap over and opened it up. It swallowed the ghost, leaving the crumpled rug on top of it.

We stood there for a second in shock, staring at the limp rug, before beginning to laugh.

I stood up, and just like second nature, we hugged each other as we laughed. It felt like old times, like Peter had said it would.

After a minute or so, we pulled apart, both blushing profusely.

"You... uh... you did good with the trap." Ray said softly as he looked at his feet.

"You did good with the proton laser beam... thing..." I looked over at him, and we both laughed again.

The car ride home was just as fun as the rest of our evening. We talked about how the call went, how the evening in general went, and we laughed as we compared how much slime we both had.

"Oh, Ray... your jacket..." I gasped when I realized it too, was covered in slime. I looked at it where I had put it in the backseat of Clarisse.

"It's fine - it's been through a few calls before. Doesn't hurt it any, especially..." His voice went quiet. I tilted my head, furrowing my brow in curiosity.

"Especially what?"

Ray thanked his lucky stars it was dark, because his blush deepened. "Especially because it's being worn by someone beautiful like you."

I bit my lip, smiling widely. Realizing it was a little awkward again, I diverted the conversation to when he had worn this jacket on other calls. He excitedly told me about his recent adventures with the jacket, and even a few without.

He arrived at my apartment, and opened my door for me again. We walked arm in arm to my door, and my heart sunk a little. I had so much fun, I didn't want him to leave.

I turned to look up at him after I unlocked my front door. I picked a piece of slime out of his hair - his hair was still as soft as I had remembered.

"Thanks." He chuckled.

"No, thank you. For an extremely fun evening." I practically whispered. Despite my better judgement, I cupped his cheek in one hand and kissed the other, lingering for a moment. I noticed his hand came to meet my elbow before I pulled away.

I took a step back towards my door and smiled at both our blushes.

"Same time next week?" I asked, my brain screaming at me for being so forward.

"Yeah, I'd like that." Ray smiled widely at me. "You have a good night."

"You too." I watched him walk to Ecto-1, and watched him wave at me before driving away.

I was smitten. Head over heels in love. Again.

The next couple weeks, I found myself having Ray over more often than just once a week. We spent a significant amount of time together, when I wasn't working and he wasn't on a call. But sometimes, he would bring me lunch at work, or we'd go out together, and we'd get to see each other then too.

Things remained neutral - we weren't holding hands or anything. My heart ached for it, but I wasn't sure how he felt.

One evening - a Thursday, to be exact - Ray appeared at my doorstep after I was home from work. I had opened the door to see him in an orange flannel - one of his favorites back when we were dating, because I had told him I loved it.

"You'll want to wear a sweater. That cream one with the leaves that you love would work just fine." Ray stated, trying to act nonchalant, while his eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Where are we going?" I called from my room. I decided to wear outfit I had put on for our first... excursion. I couldn't bring myself to call it a date, because he hadn't mentioned that it was.

"It's a surprise..." His voice just rang with suspicious happiness. Stepping out of my room, his smile only widened when he saw my outfit. "We're practically matching!"

I chuckled. "Yeah, we are."

"You don't get motion sickness, right?"

"No...? Why...? Oh." I laughed a little harder when Ray blindfolded me. He picked me up into his arms under the premonition that 'I don't want you tripping'. I forgot how strong his arms felt as I was in them. It made me sad when he put me in the car and buckled me in, because I didn't get to be in his arms anymore. Heaven knows I wasn't going to voice that, though.

I heard Ray go back around the car and get into the drivers seat.

"Comfortable?"

"As much as one who feels like they're being kidnapped can be." I chuckle. "If I throw up later it is totally your fault."

He just laughed, and put us in motion.

I didn't get sick like I thought I might, and soon, he unbuckled me and picked me back up into his arms.

"How long do I have to wear the blindfold for?" I asked, laughing a little more.

"Not much longer." He held me a little tighter, walking a short distance before putting me back down on the ground. Still standing so close, he took my blindfold off and leaned down towards my ear.

"Welcome, to the Great Jack-O-Lantern Blaze."

My eyes adjusted to the light, but when I was able to focus, I gasped excitedly.

I was in the middle of it all. The lights and the pumpkins were fantastic. The smell of pumpkin flavored things surrounded us, and it brought such nostalgia. I turned to Ray.

"This... this is where..."

"Where we had our first date. I remember." Ray's expression was soft as he looked down at me.

I looked up at him, the nostalgia and the longing and the love written all over my expression.

"Letting you go was the worst mistake I've ever made. The last few weeks, I've been happier than I've been in a long time. I... I want to ask you if you'd consider dating me. Steady. Again."

I smiled bashfully, and I looked at my feet for a moment.

"Ray Stantz, you've had me since we got slimed on that call together."

Ray's smile widened, but his eyes still held some anxiety. He didn't say anything for a minute, but it didn't bother me. I stepped forward, cupping his sweet face in my hands as the distance between us lessened.

"Now, you just stay right there, because I am gonna love you to death."

Our lips finally met - after a month of fantasizing about it, he kissed me just like I had imagined, but better. His arms came around me, closing the remaining distance between us as my fingers combed through his soft hair.

The Great Jack-O-Lantern Blaze had been a success this year, at least according to Ray.

#ray #ray stantz x reader #ray stantz #ray x reader #ghostbusters #reader insert #ghostbusters two #dan aykroyd #halloween oneshot #spooky season

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expiredhydrogenperoxide · 2 months

Text

when you require (and are required)

wolfstar microfic

remus stumbles upon the room of requirement one day while pacing the halls, so naturally, he starts going in there to get away from everything. this would be fine, except that he has to bring the map with him every time. because if he doesn’t? there’s a solid chance that someone will notice he’s not on said map.

one day, after months of successfully sneaking away, he leaves the map on his bedside table. and he doesn’t realise.

sirius is laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything and nothing at all. peter was off studying in the library, and james had stayed back after quidditch practice (because of course he had).

at some point, he starts throwing his wand up into the air above his head, attempting to catch it on his finger tip. it’s not going well so far. he has almost poked himself in the eye about.. 4 times?

he’s still trying when peter returns and settles in for the night. he has stopped by the time james has returned and showered. he debates trying some more for a while when he realises that remus hasn’t returned. which is odd. remus is normally back at least half an hour before curfew, and it’s now half an hour past.

moony isn’t his responsibility though, he tells himself. moony can take care of himself. right?

it isn’t until james is well and truly snoring that he thinks to check the map. it’s out of character for remus to ever leave the map behind, but it’s sitting on his nightstand, folded up and blank.

‘i solemnly swear that i am up to no good’ sirius mutters, voice hushed.

his eyes follow as the ink sprawls out across the page, lines stretching out, diverging and meeting again until an intricate replica of the school is spread out before him. there’s one problem though. remus isn’t anywhere. he can’t find moony.

his breathing quickens a little. he wants to pace. he wants to run. sirius has always been restless when anxious.

padfoot’s paws are quiet against the floor as he creeps across the empty common room. this is dumb. he could so easily get caught.

but miraculously, he makes it out and away from the common room without issue. so he runs.

and runs. and runs.

after a full lap of the castle, he finds himself pacing along the seventh floor, one corridor away from the common room. he has circled the entire floor twice now. he debates going back, giving up, and going to sleep. but he's still restless. where is moony?

he moves to head towards the common room again, to check quickly before switching his strategies. but that's when he notices the pair of glowing eyes watching him from around the corner. the fur on his back stands up as he turns back quickly. damn mrs norris.

find a place to hide, find moony, find a place to hide, find moony.

that's all that is on his mind.

find a place to hide, find moony, find a place to hide, find moony. find moony, find moony, find moony.

he startles when he lays eyes on a door. that wasn't previously there. was it some secret storage closet? why hadn't he seen this door before? he could've sworn it wasn't there even a minute ago.

with a quick check behind him (mrs norris is still watching, as if he's some sort of prey) he shifts back, and tries the handle. it turns, and the door swings open. he hesitates briefly.

meow.

oh fuck no. there is no way he's waiting for filch to answer to that calling.

he slips inside, shutting the door as quietly as he can. once it's shut, he finally turns to take in the room. and oh, he could cry.

curled up in the center of the room, on a pile of cushions and blankets, is none other than remus lupin.

he looks so peaceful.

sirius is suddenly painfully aware of the fact that he didn't change out of his uniform. but, as he turns his head, he sees a pair of pyjamas folded neatly on one of the outermost cushions. in fact, he swears that there's a few more cushions and blankets now. it's weird, but he's used to magic, so he brushes it off. he quickly slips out of his uniform and into the pyjamas, leaving it by the edge of the cozy pile.

sirius should really wake him so they can go back to their dorm room.. but moony looks so peaceful, and the spot by moony's side looks so inviting.

remus wakes up with a large black dog curled up against his side. he can’t bring himself to be mad about it, someone else was bound to find this room eventually. he’s just glad it was sirius. he closes his eyes as he runs his hand along padfoots head gently. when he opens them again, his hand is tangled in black curls.

sirius just smiles and wraps his arms around remus’ middle, obviously having no intent of getting up just yet.

that’s fine, they can sleep for a while longer.

#marauders #dead gay wizards #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #anything for our moony #moony #padfoot #moony and padfoot #remus x sirius #pearlescent souls #room of requirement #wolfstar microfic

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shayyprasad · 5 months

Text

we are okay | peter parker

tw: minor angst... kinda? self-deprecation, cursing... but there's always cursing-

summary: peter's been hiding something, and you've gotten into a fight about it. when he leaves before it's been resolved, you give up on this. on him. until...

as you marched up the long set of stairs, you cursed the gods that the elevator was broken. tears were staining your cheeks and blurring your eyes, and you took note of the fact that aunt may's car hadn't been in the parking lot.

good.

curling your hand into a fist, as you'd finally made it up to his level, you angrily pounded on the door. granted, there were better ways to confront your pretentious douchebag of a boyfriend, it was decided by your heart (which in this case was the illogical one) that this was the way.

did you look crazy at 10:00pm banging on someone's door?

yes.

were there people staring?

yes.

did that stop you?

no.

a messy haired brunette peeked out of the door, and his eyes widened the moment he took note of who was there.

"oh, no," he murmured quietly as he pulled you gently inside.

"parker, we past 'oh, no' territory! we are in 'oh, fuck' territory, and i expect you to act like it!" peter winced at that, you never, never, never called him by his last name unless you were furious, and it was quite obvious that you were even past that.

"y/n, angel, i-" you melted at his pet name for you, and for a second you wanted to instantly forgive and forget everything that'd happened.

but you snapped out of that for the sake of yourself, "peter, please. this is the 6th time this week you've either last minute canceled or stood me up! i was waiting for two and a half hours for you! and god, you promised you'd be there this time! you promised, peter, you promised. you- you don't get to do that to me," your voice dropped to a painful whisper, and this heart ached.

"do you know how patient i've been with you? i have no idea what you go out and do, and i'm trying to trust that... you have a good reason, i am, really, but you- you're making it hard. you don't do any of the things that most boyfriends do, and i'm not setting some stupid high expectations or anything, i just want the bare minimum."

he didn't say anything, so you repeated yourself, "the bare mini- minimum, my love. isn't it fair that i at least get that? o-or just tell me what's going on. i promise i won't be mad or anything, please peter, give me something. anything. i won't judge, a-and," you were trying to take deep breaths and calm yourself down, but nothing seemed to be working, and now that you had started, all your thoughts, feelings, and emotions were flooding out.

"you know, at first i didn't even care. i didn't care that you canceled dates, or stood me up, or made stupid, unbelievable excuse, b-because i had you. you were mine, and that was all i needed. but this isn't healthy, peter. this relationship? no, it's not. i-it's not right, not- not to me or to you. tell me peter, tell me w-what's going on," you begged again, sobbing.

but how could he just tell you? it seemed so easy, but actually doing it was so much more different. his head snapped up at the vulnerability in your voice. looking at you turned out to be a mistake. peter's chest squeezed at the sight of your face and the hurt swimming in those beautiful eyes of yours.

his dread mixed with a strange exhilaration at being alone with you like this, and it took all of his willpower not to sweep you up in his arms and never let go. to hold you in his arms and whisper sweet nothings. to kiss you until the two of you were breathless, and to soak in your loving scent that easily brought a smile to his face. to leave everything and everyone behind, just for you.

and the worst part? he couldn't. and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to again. peter begged you silently to not leave. to hold him in your arms instead, for you to whisper sweet nothings to him, and for you to kiss him. for you to just know. to just understand, and that way, it would be so much easier. he wouldn't have to worry about putting words together and making them sound literate, because you would just know.

but you didn't.

and back to square one, he didn't know how to tell you. back to square one, stuck in something more painful than his own webs. back to square one, heartbroken again.

so peter looked back down at the floor, hoping that it would just swallow him up and it'd all be over. he had his spider-man suit under, and the extra layer of clothes he had on top were certainly not helping the sudden heat.

"say something," you urged, "say something to make me stay. tell me you love me, and that you care about us, what we are- or what we were. o-or say that i'm important to you, that you don't want me to go, because if you don't, i'm leaving... and... i'm- i'm not coming back. but get one thing straight, i. am. not. leaving. without. an. answer. i don't care what you say, but you have to say something," you felt so pathetic and stupid as you stood there, right in the middle of his room, waiting for him to say something that would define the fate of your relationship with him. because, utimately, he was the deciding factor.

you knew you wanted this, because peter parker, you'd decided, was the most important this to you. he was above everyone else, including yourself. and if a boy was that important you, but you meant nothing to him, then really, you were pathetic.

he racked his brain, trying to find something to say that would mend everything, make it all better. but in that moment, there was nothing.

"i'm-" he started, trying to string together words as he went along, "i'm, um, i can- explain," peter was crying too now, tears rolling down his soft skin.

and the, with what had to be the worst timing, he felt the hairs on his neck and arms raise, "i- i have to go!"

"yeah, you- wait, what? are you fucking kidding me? right now? gods, peter-"

"i'msosorrywecantalkwhenigetbackandifyoudon'twannastayyoucanletyourselfouti'msosorryiloveyoubutthisisurgent," peter said, barfing out a pool of incoherent words.

and then he left you all alone in his apartment.

so you stood there for a bit, shocked. you walked over to his desk, part of you not wanting to leave. this felt like the only way you could be close to him. after all, you did promise to not leave without an answer, and you owed it to yourself to at least be that petty. taking a seat in his rolling chair, you buried you face into your hands.

no, you weren't the most popular girl in school, not the prettiest, and definitely incomparable to liz, but you weren't eric with glasses who tried to flirt with everyone and instead give them secondhand embarrassment. the kid tried out for swim team... and by some fate of god, he got in.

you sniffled.

maybe if i was prettier, or curvier, or confident. then peter would like me more, right? because who wants to ditch someone like that? he'd never do that to liz. should i have grown out my hair? i'm not skinny enough. i should be skinnier. if i'm skinny, he'll stay.

you dropped your head down onto the table with a thunk. you winced in pain as it hit something hard. sniffling once more and tilting your head slightly you glanced down onto the table. the first thing you noticed were blueprints. many, many blueprints. the were all blue and had the same thing in the bottom corner, the emblem of stark industries.

it probably wasn't right to look through his things, you thought, but whatever.

the one on top looked like a figure. no, a costume. squinting harder, you realized it was a suit... for spider-man. that made sense, he worked for tony, well, interned, so it made sense to have blueprints. although peter had always said that he didn't get "involved" with the avenger at all. he had claimed to do "smaller things," like coffee runs and sometimes programming.

and there was another paper under, a blue print of a small... box? scrawled in what you knew was peter's handwriting, was web cartridges. for spider-guy? there were formulas written under, ones you'd never be smart enough to understand. moving the sheets, you saw the same little box- er, web cartridge.

you picked it up and examined it, noting that it was light-weight. there was a small divot near the edge, and you pressed down on it and pulled it back. there were some wires around it, but other than that, it was empty.

huh. "not involved" my ass, pete.

and then it hit you. the idea weighed heavy on your mind, and it wasn't one you had ever thought of before, but looking at it now, the pieces seemed to latch themselves together. shock burst through you like something of electricity, and it made your head spin.

peter was spider-man.

no, no, he would tell me if he was. because- because we don't keep secrets, right?

but it made so much sense, and looking back on it, you felt stupid for not realizing it sooner. you took in a shaky breath. it all match up, and now that the thought was in your mind, nothing else made sense. you pulled your phone out of your pocket and clicked on the app for live news. and guess what was there?

a live report of spider-man at a robbery, one that had started about 15 minutes ago.

the same time he'd rushed out.

so peter really was spider-man.

and then?

guilt.

it was crushing, and it felt as if it was pounding on your lungs, stopping your breathing. you had yelled at him... for saving people. you were the worst girlfriend ever. the love of your life was out fighting bad guys and you just screamed at him. you made him cry.

well, that made you cry. terrible, ugly, sobs wracked your body and you did nothing to stop them. with that, you left his apartment, feeling shitty. you wanted nothing more to take it all back, because if you'd just kept your mouth shut, there wouldn't have been an argument. it was pitch black as you walked the dark streets of new york.

this was an empty part of town, and the streets were bare.

there was a fine chance that you could die, but in that moment, you couldn't care less. maybe that'd be good. maybe you deserved it. you heard a small thud behind you and froze, feeling a chill pass you.

it was a familiar face, one laced in red and blue.

"y-you shouldn't be walking alone at night, it's-... it's not safe," his voice was timid and hesitant. peter had tried to give himself a small accent, but it didn't do much for him, as you could see right through it.

the same guilt coursed through you again, and you simply could stop the sob that slipped your lips. "i- i'm so sorry, i shouldn't have- i didn't- i didn't know, i'm such a terrible girlfriend, i know, you deserve better, and- and," you were full on crying now, ignoring the 7% that was doubtful of peter being behind mask as your knees felt weak.

"ma'am, i-" there was no point. you knew. he knew you knew. "oh, darling, i'm so sorry, i know i should have told you. please, don't apologize and don't blame youself... you- you didn't know."

"no, you don't under-"

"i do, i get it, but listen to me, you didn't know, you don't get to blame yourself. i didn't tell you and that's on me, got it?" he cried, enveloping you fully. his dark hues were glistening with tears and you looked up at them. " don't you dare say sorry, you understand? gods, i- i love you so much, y/n, so much. i didn't tell you... because i was scared, i thought it'd put you danger, but it doesn't matter, because there's no way in hel that i'm letting anyone touch you."

"i love you, too, peter. i... will we be okay?" you asked softly.

"we are okay."

how was it?? was it angsty enough?? i said minor angst, ik, but did you get the feels?? did you cry?? i'll be so happy if someone cried lmao (sounds bad ik) have a good day/night/evening/whatever/you get the point/okay i'll stop now

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #peter parker #spiderman #angst with a happy ending

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3mcwriting · 1 year

Text

Any Fan's Dream, Part 4

Any Fan's Dream Masterlist

Synopsis:

When you look around and see Avengers Tower in front of you and Peter Parker beside you, you wonder how the hell you managed to get into the MCU.

"Hey, kid." Tony greeted you as you walked into the workroom.

"Hi!" You cursed in your head, stop sounding so excited! It's not normal!

He raised an eyebrow at you, eyes glancing at you then returning to the object on the table. "You sound happy."

"I know," you nodded, "I think I'm sick."

He snorted, "alright. Well, we should get started."

The two of you spent the next couple hours talking and working, taking the occasional breaks in between. Your heart was so full, you felt like you could burst. It was so easy to talk to Tony, in fact, it was easy to talk to all of them(well, as soon as you were able to stop tripping over your words while fan-girling). It even made it so that you were able to push the Loki encounter from the night before to the back of your mind

Tony played music the whole time, AC/DC of course, but also other rock bands. Sometimes, he would dance while he was working and you would smile at the purity of the situation. There was no trace of the trauma haunting his features as the two of you hung out. It was perfect.

A knock sounded at the door, which neither of you heard because of the music. The knob twisted and in stepped a super soldier.

"Hi?" Steve raised his voice, trying to get the attention of the two of you. FRIDAY paused the music, and Steve again tried to greet you two. “Hello?"

"Capsicle," Tony's voice had an edge of annoyance. "Are you the reason my music is paused?"

Steve stiffened, "I didn't do anything to your music. I just walked in here and neither of you heard me so FRIDAY must have stopped it."

"Well, why are you here?" Tony's voice was sharp.

You looked between the two, surprised at the palpable tension between the two. Then you remembered, Civil War, not to mention their usual opposing attitudes. You could only guess what could have the tension so high. Especially considering the amount of News vans outside of the Tower earlier. You and Peter had used another entrance to get into the building, but the crowd of reporters was hard to miss.

Wanda must have bombed the building already.

Of course, you knew it was an accident. That she was only trying to help Steve. And she did. But she wasn't able to control her powers quite enough and it exploded in that building, sparking the beginning of Civil War.

Both Steve and Wanda blamed themselves for it, and the rest of the world had no problem blaming them either.

Steve cleared his throat and looked at you. "Today for your training we're going on a run. You should go get ready. Natasha said she left out some workout clothes for you on her bed."

Your eyes moved from him to Tony, observing the man's expression. "Is that ok? I don't want to go if we still have work to do."

Steve interjected, "actually, Tony has other-"

"She asked me," Tony cut him off, "one would think a person of your age would have manners but I guess not.

"Can we not do this now?" Steve asked through clenched teeth.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I have a convention to get to."

Tony left the room, leaving you with an annoyed super soldier. Steve had a disgruntled look on his face, but he looked at you and tried to hide the expression.

"We should leave soon," he stated, "could you go get ready, please?"

You nodded, exiting the room with thoughts swirling through your mind in a torrential hurricane. If Civil War is happening now, how long before everyone is fighting each other?

When Steve said he was taking you to the compound, you weren't surprised. After all, with all the press in NYC, the two of you probably wouldn't even be able to jog a couple feet before someone stopped you.

What you didn't expect, was that he planned on driving you there on his motorcycle.

Your plan to interrogate him in the car was thrown out the nonexistent windows. The wind was rushing by, making it too loud for you to attempt to start a conversation. All you could do was hold on to him tightly, which felt really nice because like it was Steven Grant Rogers for goodness sake and you were holding onto his waist and you could feel his fucking six pack through his t-shirt. Like what the hell? Does he sharpen the damn things?

Unfortunately, you didn't even have the chance to fully appreciate the man seated in front of you because that stupid interaction with him and Tony was buzzing around in your mind.

An unexpectedly short drive later, the two of you arrived at the compound. When you got off the motorcycle, your legs were stiff from the unfamiliar position you were in while riding the motorcycle, which didn't at all help the soreness in your body. Sheesh, soreness is such a bitch. Like I just exercised for you, body! I did it to keep you healthy! And now you repay me with this pain? Not cool.

Your mental grumbling was cut off when a certain man came jogging around the corner of the compound. He spotted the two of you and ran towards you two, your smile growing because you knew exactly who it was.

"(y/n), this is Sam. Sam this is (y/n)," Steve introduced.

Sam smiled. "Nice to meet you."

Your mind short-circuited because after he said that, he winked. HE FUCKING WINKED!

You tried to collect your thoughts.

"You're hot."

SHIT SHIT SHIT NOT THOSE THOUGHTS!

You tried to own it, act like you actually intended to say that. "Nice to meet you too."

Sam let out a small laugh when you said it, "thanks."

"No problem," you tried not to sound too dazed.

"Ok," Steve interjected, looking between you and Sam. "(y/n), you have to do 8 laps around the compound."

Your jaw dropped, did he know how big the fuckin compound was? "8 laps? I'm not a super-soldier, Steve."

"I know," he responded, "if you were, you'd be doing 20."

You were too out of breath to curse Steve out loud, but that didn't affect the torrent of insults swirling in your mind as you cursed that Star-Spangled-Shit.

"Jeez, Cap doesn't mess around." Sam said, jogging next to you.

You nodded, unable to speak, unless gasps and wheezes counted.

"I'll run with you until you finish," he stated, "it's easier to run when you're running with somebody."

A while later, you were hunched over, trying to catch your breath. You had just finished the 8 laps and you could barely breathe, your lungs complaining while your legs burned. Those laps were huge! Sam had informed you that the laps you were running were 0.75 miles/about 1.2 km each. That meant you had run 6 miles/9.65 km! Back in your world, you spent all your time doing schoolwork and watching TV, your body was not ready for the training.

"How was it?" Steve asked, standing there. He didn't look even a little out of breath, the only indication he had just 15 miles/24.1 km was that he had a slight sheen along his face from sweat.

You tried to respond with, "I loathe you," but with how you were breathing it just sounded like, "I oatoo."

He smiled. "Don't worry, your body will get used to it."

Sam patted Steve on the shoulder and whispered something to him.

You couldn't hear most of it, but one word- or should you say, name, caught your ears.

Bucky.

You knew that Sam had been helping Steve try to find Bucky since the events of Captain America: the Winter Soldier. And you also knew that because of Bucky's experience with staying off the radar, they wouldn't end up finding him until Civil War when Bucky gets framed for the bombing while he was shopping for plums.

The events of Civil War had already started, what with Wanda bombing the building on accident. You could only guess that the convention Tony had mentioned earlier was the one where that woman confronts him about her son's death in Sokovia. You frowned, Tony had been so carefree and happy when the two of you were working on the suit. That confrontation would bring to the surface all of his guilt, after all, he felt guilty because of all the bombs, like the ones that had killed Wanda's parents, and now he would deal with the guilt of Sokovia.

You didn't know how you could change Civil War, or even if you should. As much as it pained you to think, the Avengers being split up played a major part in Infinity War. What if you somehow managed to keep the team together and because of that, you screwed something up and they lost to Thanos permanently? What then?

"(y/n), are you okay?" Steve looked at you, worried. You looked like you were having a panic attack.

You looked at him, trying to calm your breathing. Which wasn't an easy task considering how fast your heart was beating from the run and now from the panic of the future. You plastered on a smile, hoping that it didn't look as stiff as it felt. "I'm good. Just not used to this much exercise."

Steve nodded, not looking entirely convinced but not wanting to pry. "Well, it was nice to see you, Sam. I'll be back in a couple days," Steve bid him good-bye.

"Bye, Sam. It was really awesome meeting you." You waved.

"You too, (y/n)." He grinned at you and waved back.

"Are you really ok?" Steve questioned, voice hesitant. He didn't want to bother you.

You had been silent since the two of you had arrived back at the Tower, a troubled expression on your face.

You forced a laugh. "Yeah, just worried about how my mom is gonna react. I'm 80% sure that if I go home and I'm limping from being sore, she's gonna show up at the Tower and beat Tony with a shoe."

Steve wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"Anyway," you added, "how about you, Steve?"

"Huh?"

"How are you?"

"Oh," Steve let out, "I'm alright."

He was clearly lying. After all, Steve didn't exactly like lies so he wasn't the most gifted liar. "I saw what happened."

His face dropped, his eyes darting away before going back to you. "You did?"

"Yeah," you affirmed, "it wasn't your fault, you know."

"But I-" he stopped, "what happened was horrible. People want someone to blame. Better me than Wanda."

He couldn't tell you about how he had frozen when Rumlow had mentioned Bucky, afraid of you looking at him differently for his blunder. Little did he know, you knew all about it.

"It's not either of your faults," you spoke honestly, "it was that annoying fucking dick monkey, Rumlow. If anyone wants to blame someone, they can blame that stupid ass bitch."

Your hatred for the man was more than obvious, disgust practically dripping off each loatheful word.

Steve glanced at you, surprise apparent on his face at how vocal you were about despising that man.

"C'mon, Steve." You tugged his arm. "Let's go inside."

You exited Natasha's bathroom, once again clothed in a pair of her sweatpants and another one of her shirts. You smelled good, whatever the scent of the body wash was, you loved it.

You exited the room and wandered the Tower, exploring the space. "Your" phone, which you had found on the nightstand in "your" room, buzzed in your pocket. You had been worried about the password when you turned on the phone, but you had been able to guess it easily because of your obsession with Marvel and the other you's obsession with the Avengers.

You unlocked the phone, opening the messaging app.

Peter had texted you:

Husband: ever just drink mustard cuz youre bored?

You: howd you know?

Husband: what?

You: what?

You turned off "your" phone, slipping it back into one of the pockets of the sweats.

Your stomach growled, commanding you to go claim nourishment. "Alright, alright, I hear you."

Your stomach continued to growl, pushing you to find food. Everything still hurt from the training the day before, and you were worried about whether you'd be able to walk tomorrow.

You arrived in the kitchen, looking around for the pop-tarts you had put away after Thor had left. To your dismay, the two boxes were gone. Dammit. Who has stolen my pop of the tarts? You heinous monkey lard- wait a minute. What the fuck am I even thinking about? OH. Right, pop tarts. Popitty tarts popitty tarts. WHERE ARE THE POPPITY TARTS?

"(y/n), are you good?" Clint asked, "you look like a bird that fell out of a tree after getting high."

"I'm looking for the poppity tarts," you responded, "and that is oddly specific."

"I learned from the best."

That's when your mind forgot about the damn poppity tarts and you realized you were talking to CLINT MFING BARTON! Him and Nat were so underrated, you loved them both so much. Though, to be honest you loved so many of them so much-

"You're getting the look again."

"Oh."

"I've gotta go, Laura wanted me back home 10 minutes ago." Clint said. "See ya."

And just like that, he was gone.

Your jaw dropped.

YOU HAD JUST MET HAWKEYE AND DIDN'T EVEN GET THE CHANCE TO FANGIRL BECAUSE YOU WERE ONLY INTERACTING WITH HIM FOR LIKE TWO MINUTES! WHAT THE FUCK THAT'S NOT COOL.

You grumbled, cursing the world for the unfairness then stopping quickly once you realized what you were doing. You didn't want to be sent back to your home world, that would suck. You quickly apologized to the world, taking back your curses.

The phone in your pocket rang, prompting you to stick your hand in and grab it. You answered the phone when you saw the contact.

"Hey, honeybun."

"Hi, (n/n)."

It was silent for a second.

"I'm downstairs."

You nodded. "Ok, cool."

It was quiet again.

"Waiting for you." Peter added.

You facepalmed at your stupidity. "Right. I'll be there quickly."

"Ok, see ya then, (n/n)."

"See ya, husband."

"What-"

He was cut off by your phone dying.

You smiled, you were calling with Peter Parker! And he seemed to enjoy your company a lot. Like, a lot a lot.

You loved this world.

Would any of you be interested in me making a taglist? If you do, just comment that you do and I'll start one.

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dsaf-confessions · 4 months

Note

So like after making that I think Steven's tragedy is overlooked confession I realised it isn't just him but also everyone else . Including Jack & Dave the most popular characters in this fandom

So like Dee. She was a child. I think around 6 years old. Idk but Im sure she wasn't even 10. And she also died in her birthday??. So like imagine being so young going to a pizzeria to celebrate your birthday, and then, you get killed by a pink fuck, in a place you thought was supposed to be fun and harmless children entertainment fun. And then said pink fuck, FORCES your soul in an animatronic. So like you spend decades, trying to save other children so they won't end up like you. Jesus, she tried her hardest to save other children, to help give them their happiest day that was taken away from them at such young ages. But it was a cycle of failure. She couldn't save them. She was still, a child, like them. A child that was forced to mature at such young age. Can only do much. It's so fucking tragic. I love her I rlly wanna hug her.

Peter. People seem to say that he abandoned Dee and Jack. But I don't think he did. He just moved on with his wife. That's kinda what married people do. Just because he wasn't there, doesn't mean he outright abandoned them. If he had. I don't think Jack would had run off to his place for help after his and Dee's death. Or that Henry's line about his family dying just to get away from him, and that he meant more as a phone guy than he did to his family when he was alive. Would had affected him, if he actually tried getting away from them. He feels bad for not being there for them. I don't blame him. He was a working man. He probably COULDN'T be there at Dee's party cause of work. Fazbender's is a shit ass place to work at anyway. He still blames himself. For his family falling apart. For leaving. He spent many years slaved at Freddy's while also having flashbacks/memories when he was alive. Sounds awful. His suicidal outburst in the evil route isn't talked about enough. He wanted to die. If it meant he'd see Caroline again. Oof

Even Jack and Dave's tragedies are overlooked.

Dave's backstory is so messed that it actually makes me sick in my stomach. No kidding. (Not saying it's bad or anything) So I'd prefer to not talk too much about it. Hope you understand .But in a nutshell. It's about someone who never had any kind of love growing up desperately trying to get the approval/love of the people he loves. And even considers family. So much that he's willing to take any kind of abuse, fucked up experiments, manipulation and literally killing him. To be with them. Cause he never had any love. He thinks they care for him. And that's enough for him to literally cheat death and posses his own corpse, over, and over, and over again. Just to be with them. That he was willing to murder. For them. Cause they told him he was doing good. Jesus. It's messed up.

Jack's own tragedy, and blackjack's, he lost his parents and was left as an orphan to take care of his sister at an actually young age. I think he was in his 19-20s when that happened. In fact Im sure he wasn't even old enough to drink on the state he lives in. Which I think already explains how messed up his mental health actually was. And then one day he messed up. He left Dee and that led to her death. He tried to find her, to save her. It cost him his own life. He was dead, soulless, people didn't saw him as human. They knew him as the ' scary orange man/guy'. But he made a promise. It's sad, one of the very few times he's actually acknowledged as human. Is the dsaf 3 good ending. Aka where he literally did everything for everyone knowing that in the end he couldn't pass on and get his own happiest day. And blackjack's regret. It was so strong that it gave him the power to go back in time. Just cause his guilt to turn back the clock and save Dee was that strong.

I think people should start seeing dsaf as something more than just "haha funny orange and aubergine guys have sex in Vegas". There are so many other things to it than davesport. For a series that's as much of a shitpost as dsaf. It's actually filled with angst. And so much potential only for the fandom to focus only on one part of it.

Anyway hi.

Can you guys that I like angst by now?

#dayshift at freddy's #dsaf #dsaf confessions #jack kennedy #dave miller #dee kennedy #peter kennedy #steven stevenson

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siriuslygay1981 · 2 months

Text

"I caught you forgetting me"

as a small writing prompt featuring the black brothers.

Regulus looked over at Sirius who had his arm around James as they walked, he was going to do this today he decided. Sirius doesn't even glance at him as the two...brothers shoved each other around and laughed, regulus only lets it hurt for a moment. The disdain he feels at the word isn't as all consuming anymore. He knows Sirius sees James as a brother, he did save sirius so regulus had decided he wouldn't fight Sirius on the subject. He had come to terms with James stepping in when regulus couldn't, taking Sirius in when he needed. His eyes followed the group of boys as they passed through the great hall. They're so full of life , so full of love...regulus tries picturing himself beside the two but it only lasts for a second, he couldnt get ahead of himself. Even as he thought that he felt a small feeling of excitement to be back with his brother...if he could just talk to him.

Regulus would've missed the next sentence if it weren't for the fact that he decided today was the day he would make things better with Sirius. Today he would be brave...for himself and for his brother. Today...if his brother asked he would say yes...he would leave behind his whole life. He felt his weak courage squirm in him as he stepped forward his mouth opening to call out to him.

"Where is your brother Mr.black?" Regulus paused, his eyes snapping to sirius. He knew he'd regret it and he felt his anxiety rise, he'd say James is right here first, which is going to hurt...a lot but then he will glance towards regulus. Or proclaim he has no other brother. Or maybe even say to ask one of Regulus' friends. Maybe it would've hurt less if he said that.

Sirius looked confused his eyes sliding over to James before coming back to McGonagall. It was instinctive... Regulus felt his hope, his courage vanish in the twelve seconds it took for Sirius to realize what he did. What he forgot. Who he forgot.

Regulus could feel his lungs seize up, his stomach dropped and a cold feeling dripped down his chest. His throat felt tight as sirius' eyes widened, his face paling. Remus and Peter have gone quiet in shock while james' face was blank as he realized the same as the others. Sirius had forgotten all about regulus. Sirius....Sirius Sirius sirius Sirius black forgot about his poor baby brother.

Regulus remembered Sirius, he remembered, he held him close every f-king second. He remembered him and regulus felt mortified. He was wrong...he was wrongwrongwrong. Sirius asked regulus to come out of obligation, he didn't want regulus to say yes. He must've felt relieved when regulus declined. Maybe he wasn't faking animosity towards regulus as regulus had been doing towards Sirius. Maybe he was glad to be rid of regulus. Regulus' mouth shut silently his posture went rigid even as his heart cracked and his body went numb.

His brother had forgotten he still had a younger brother. Someone with the same blood, someone he spent years raising. Sirius had replaced him with James fucking potter. And- and before it was fine because regulus was going to reclaim that spot. He was going to be with Sirius again and sure James was an undesired extra but he'd deal. But...but but but he was too late.

Regulus...regulus didn't feel too good. He turned around and quickly started walking, he barely made it to the next corner before throwing up. Brave wasn't...brave did no one any good he decided. He pushed himself off the wall and onto his unsteady legs, all the memories of his brother once bright and loving now sucking the life out of him. Weighing him down as he stumbled towards the black lake. The water would feel good on his burning skin.

He thought the same as he stumbled towards the edge of the rocks and gratefully chugged down water. He fell in...no he was pulled in razor sharp claws pulling at his skin and yanking him down.

Sirius forgot me...and he won't remember me but Sirius will always be the one person I could never forget. Sirius will always be my big brother. Always be my protector

Where has he been?

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amostimprobabledream · 3 months

Text

forbidden fruit is the sweetest (Gin Ichimaru x Reader)

Wrote this little AU smutfic because there isn't enough of Gin in general and he should be in more porn. Also available on Ao3!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53897803 Your nails tap against the wineglass on the table. You haven't touched much of it because the taste is acidic, sour. You're not sure if it's a bad bottle or if that's just how this brand tastes - you're not much of a wine drinker, but at least sipping from it (or pretending to) gives you something to do between awkward silences. To be honest, this entire evening is well out of your comfort zone. You don't know what you were thinking letting Rangiku talk you into this - one day she just plopped herself down in the seat across from you, her chest heaving. "We really need to get you out there." she declared in final tones, like she was continuing a conversation you'd just been having. "It's not good to mope around after some guy."

It’s pretty ironic, really, since no doubt Rangiku had done plenty of moping over the same person you were. But it wasn't like you could tell her that - even if nothing official had been confirmed, you weren't stupid, you knew that Gin and Rangiku had a long, complicated history that an outsider couldn't possibly hope to understand. And how you were supposed to compete with a woman like Rangiku Matsumoto - even if you wanted to? So here you are, at a speed dating thing, sitting here in the vain hope that you might find some guy that might make you forget about Gin Ichimaru and the fact that, despite your better judgement, you were in love with him.

"So, um…" the fifth guy opposite you stumbles through his line of questioning, and you can't even remember his name. All the men you've spoken to so far tonight talk like they were given a script they didn't bother to learn properly - the same questions, same responses and the whole time you want to scream. You've even started just making things up to just try and inject a little variety into your responses, because why not? “Where are you from?”

Oh, riveting question. It’s not like I haven’t been asked that four times tonight.

You know you’re being judgmental, so that’s a winning combination, judgmental and unattractive, but you tried going into this with an open mind and despite your expectations being low, you still find yourself feeling disappointed. How can so many different people all talk the same? It doesn’t help none of them are that attractive, either.

You wonder if you can overcome cost sunk fallacy and just get up and leave – just walk out of here and leave the shitty wine and overly loud music and interminably dull conversation behind. Sure, you’ll go home, curl up on your futon and feel like a failure, but at least you’ll be at home, in your futon, and not here.

The conversation peters out, namely because the responses to such inane questions can only be milked for so much prattling smalltalk before it dwindles into awkwardly nodding at each other. You play with your phone, wondering if it’s normal to feel so desperately ill at ease you want to rip your own skin off. Probably not, but you’re sure you can’t be totally alone in that regard. When it’s time for the men to get up and move seats, you don’t even bother hiding the relief on your face. After all, no doubt he was as keen to get away from you as you were him.

That’s when the next guy sits down and introduces himself as Takeshi. A salaryman. He’s nice. Which may sound like you’re damning him with faint praise, but considering everyone else has been mediocre at best, you’ll take “nice” gladly. You tell him your name and he smiles, like you’ve given him some good news.

"What do you do for work?” he asks, picking up his shochu.

“Well...”

You hate answering this question – it’s just a job. It’s not like you’re not a doctor or a firefighter or something, someone who lives for their job and studied for years to become one. You do your work because you have to, because it’s how you pay to live in your apartment and that’s preferable than living under a bridge. It doesn’t really say much about you as a person, really, except for the obsession with your boss.

Stop it. You think to yourself, sternly. Give him a chance.

Rangiku is right – you do need to get laid.

Easy for her to say, though. Rangiku doesn’t need to attend events like these because the idea she’d ever need to is absolutely laughable. You’ve seen men actually walk into things because they were too busy staring at her to watch where they were going. Women either hate her or they look at her in awe. Rangiku Matsumoto ever being short on offers for dates, or sex, or even someone to just do her bidding is ridiculous. But it’s not for you, even though you hate yourself a little bit for admitting it, because you know it’s the truth. You’re not like her.

“Oh, nothing special, just office stuff.” You say, trying to sound breezy. “What about you?”

God, you sound so fake. Why can’t people talk about things that are actually interesting? This is the equivalent of conversational elevator music. When does expected standard become acceptable to ignore for the sake of spicing things up a bit?

Perhaps you’ve been a little spoiled, though. You can think of someone who always manages to keep you on your toes and never bores you. But you give your head a quick shake like you’re trying to flick away a fly and try to pay attention to Takeshi, even though you’re more focused on the movement on his lips than the words themselves.

“So…what do you like to do for fun?” Takeshi asks.

Another kind of generic question, but at least he does sound somewhat interested when you answer. He's easy to read, you notice. His emotions are all just right there on his face, which feels…strange. Not necessarily in a bad way, but it’s like the difficulty on a video game has suddenly dropped.

“And you?” you prompt, deciding to go out on a limb and ask something direct. “What brings you here? Looking at you I wouldn’t think you have problems getting asked out.”

Shit, did that sound sarcastic? You didn’t mean it to be. But Takeshi seems pleased by the comment, and you notice he has a dimple when he smiles.

“Well, to be honest I’m usually so tired after work I go home and just crash.” He says with a self-deprecating laugh, combing his fingers through light brown hair. “And most of the women in my office are married. Or over fifty and smell of boiled sweets.”

“Ha!” you bark out a laugh, the first time you’ve laughed or even smiled genuinely all night. “Yeah, I get that. Plus, there’s that whole worry about if things don’t go well with a colleague, you still have to face them all the time over the water cooler.”

“Water cooler?” Takeshi blinks.

“Nevermind.” You take another sip of your wine, then make a face. It truly is disgusting – why are you still drinking it at all? Time to be the change you want to be. “Excuse me, let me go buy myself something less vile.”

“I’ll come with you!” he practically jumps out of his seat.

Things flow surprisingly easy once you find someone you can talk to – Takeshi doesn’t understand all your little jokes and you suspect he finds your habitual sliding into sarcasm somewhat confusing, but he’s at least got enough social intelligence to ask questions and reply with more than one-word answers and he even insists on paying for your drink. A little unease creeps through you, wondering if it’s a trick and he’s trying to build a tab against you by doing it, but he seems so eager to be of use in some way that you capitulate. You can always buy him one later.

Soon enough there’s a call for a break – apparently events like these are split into two to give everyone a little time to gather their thoughts, buy more alcohol, go to the bathroom, smoke, whatever. You decide to slip outside, where there’s this surprisingly pleasant little outdoor seating area with picnic tables and a few plants in huge planters (probably so drunk people can’t knock them over), an alleyway leading out to the street. You perch down at one of the tables and suck in a deep breath, before checking your phone and generally enjoying some quiet. With the music pumping through the speakers and the buzzing of conversation, you know that if you linger too long, you’ll wake up with a headache tomorrow. You make a mental note not to just collapse into bed when you get home no matter how much you want to and get something to drink – juice or whatever you have in the fridge.

“There you are.”

You glance over your shoulder. Oh. Of course, Takeshi followed you out – why wouldn’t he? Still, a little irritation nudges at you, which you try to ignore.

“Yeah. The music in there is…kinda loud.” You say, with a friendly grimace.

“Yeah, it is.”

He comes to sit down next to you, and he’s very close, his thigh pressed against yours, denim rubbing up against your skin. Again, a spark of annoyance at how he didn’t even think twice about encroaching on your personal space when you clearly want a minute alone. You clear your throat, feeling a sudden weight between you that wasn’t present when you were talking inside. Rather than being exhilarating, you feel nervous. Almost a little queasy – now there’s a subtle sort of pressure, bearing down on you. An expectation has formed and one way or another, you’re going to have to meet it. Irrationally, you resent Takeshi a little for this, for this sudden invisible hand pressing down on the back of your neck.

Do you have a right to feel uncomfortable? Isn’t this why you came here – for something like this to happen?

Yet…

Takeshi says your name, making you jump, and when you turn to look at him, he’s staring intently at you, his eyes looking oddly gooey and wet in his head, almost like he’s on the brink of tears. Or is that just a trick of the light?

“Yes?” you say, hyperaware of everything suddenly. Your clothes, previously sitting comfortably on you, feel itchy. You want to take off your necklace, your makeup. You want to run away. To not be seen.

“Can I kiss you?” he breathes.

If he notices that the pause that follows this question is slightly too long, he doesn’t comment on it. Perhaps he chooses not to notice it. Your throat feels dry, and you swallow.

“Okay.” You answer, because you’d feel like a hypocrite if you said no.

So he does.

It's…fine.

Damned by faint praise again, huh? You think, as his mouth touches yours. He only makes a couple of seconds pretense at actually kissing you, before he’s clumsily licking at your mouth to ask for you to open it. You do, because the way he’s licking your lips is tickling them and it’s kind of irritating, and then his tongue, a wet slab, thrusts between your top and bottom teeth. Your own tongue is buffeted to the side for a second and you have to push it into his mouth just to get some air.

And, most damning of all… in your head, a countdown starts – you’ve been kissing for a couple of seconds and you’re already bored and waiting for it to be over.

You make a noise like a gag and draw your head back, wiping saliva off your chin with the back of your hand. Ugh. Ew.

“Sorry.” Takeshi says with a breathy laugh, and he can’t ignore the disapproval in your face. “Let me try again-“

“My, my.”

You both freeze.

Like something out of a comedy movie, except you don’t feel much like laughing, both of you slowly turn your heads towards the voice, even though you don’t need to – you know who has caught you out here – you’d know that voice anywhere.

Gin stands watching you both with a slight tilt to his head, that permanent smile stretched wide.

And your heart, weak, traitorous thing it is, begins to thump loudly at the sight of him, like a dog wagging its tail.

He looks good too – white shirt, black trousers, a thin silver chain of a necklace disappearing into his collar. You can smell a hint of the cologne he uses, a subtle tease to your nose instead of the cloying, overpowering brands you’ve been unintentionally inhaling all night.

Both you and Takeshi stand up in sync, like you’re in a play and have just remembered your stage directions. Gin glides closer with graceful, soundless footsteps, the white of his shirt making him look not unlike a ghost in the dim outdoor lighting.

The appearance of Gin drives home a truth that you have been subconsciously fleeing from, as efficiently as a sledgehammer whacking down a nail. Because the thing is, it doesn’t matter if somebody is nice, or if they’re a decent kisser, or if they don’t mind waiting politely for you to make up your mind about what you want to do next.

The fact is, as long as Gin Ichimaru holds your heart in his hands, there is no hope of giving it to anyone else. And he knows it.

You freeze and a trickle of panic crawls down your spine. Your lipgloss is smudged and it's pretty obvious what you were just doing. Your eyes dart from Takeshi to Gin - does he know? Know that your heart didn't even change its speed the whole time Takeshi was touching you? Know that all you could think about when you spoke to every guy in there, you could only see inscrutable smiles and long, elegant fingers in your mind's eye?

"Sir." you say, feeling silly - it feels a little late to fall back on protocol now, but what else can you say?

"I'll take it from here," Gin says, ostensibly to Takeshi, but it’s no doubt difficult for him to tell considering Gin’s eyes are closed as usual and his face is still squarely facing you.

“I-“ Takeshi says, glancing at you, but you barely register the quizzical tilt of his eyebrow, too busy staring at Gin like a deer in headlights.

Ordinarily a man gatecrashing another man’s date and summarily dismissing him would provoke anger, defiant, maybe even the beginning of a fight, but despite the constant smiling, Gin’s don’t-fuck-with-me vibes are immaculate and since you clearly know him, Takeshi gives in rather quickly.

“Oh, um…sure. Goodnight, then.” He said, with an awkward little nod.

You know that you should be insisting he stay, apologise for…well, for before, that you should do something. But keeping him around for Gin to torment would be far crueller than indifference, so you just nod back.

“Night.” You say, firmly, and wearing a look of polite bewilderment, Takeshi goes back inside.

Silence settles like snow as the door shuts with a dull thus behind Takeshi. Gin looks at you, and you find your eyes sliding away. Words tangle in your throat. “Why are you here?” you demand rather rudely, blinking hard to fight back the peculiar but strong urge to tear up. Did Rangiku tell him about this?

Why does he have to spoil everything?

“I went for a walk,” Gin replies with that fucking smile still adorning his face and he moves closer to you, his footsteps smooth and flowing as water. “Imagine my surprise to come across such a racy little scene. Tell me, do ya always let strange men kiss you in alleyways?”

“How’s that any of your business?” you bite back, yet your find yourself being crowded back against the wall as Gin steps closer, getting in your space.

His smile doesn’t waver, but working under him for so long has made you something of a specialist at reading the subtle nuances of his facial expressions – there’s a slight forcedness to his smile and a pinch of tension between his eyebrows that even he can’t totally smooth away.

“So, she has a tongue.” Gin hums, as if to himself.

His hand reaches out, pinching your chin, tilting your face up. You don’t resist and hate yourself for the undeniable crackle of electricity when he touches you – Gin rarely puts his hands on anyone, so that you’ve pushed him to do so gives you a stab of victory, paltry as it is.

But your feeling of triumph is incredibly short-lived as, with deliberate care like he’s excavating a fragile artefact from the ground, Gin swipes the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip. Your mouth tingles where he touches you and you stand stock-still, gazing up at him with wide eyes.

Gin raises his hand to his mouth and, slowly, his tongue glides across the pad of his thumb, licking off the sweet tasting gloss that had been formally coating your lips. You can only stare at him, transfixed, watching his tongue slide back into his mouth.

“Tastes sweet.” Gin remarks in that teasing lilt of his. He still hasn’t let go of your face. “But I think…”

You’re given no time to react before suddenly, he is pulling you in, one hand clamping on your waist, leaning down to your mouth-

Oh, fuck.

This isn’t possible. It can’t be. As long as you’ve known him, Gin has always held you at a very specific arm’s length – far enough to leave you in a perpetual state of yearning, but close enough so that he can have you yanked back to him by a crook of his beckoning fingers.

That he could cross this barrier any time he liked to kiss you and chose not to, only to do it now, is almost inconceivable.

But-

His lips are surprisingly warm against yours, which is funny because his hands are cold. But heat is all you can think about, your body surging with it, a blush rising to your face, your mouth opening for him without a thought. He invades your mouth like he invaded your head, leaving you no room to say a word, he won’t allow for any feeble denials or pointless questions. There are many ways to communicate, after all – words are just one of them.

Your back meets rough brick wall and you give a muffled grunt. Gin has your wrists pinned either side of your head and you feel like a butterfly on a slab – yet your cunt doesn’t seem to have the common sense to be wary of him like your brain does, because you can feel a telltale throb of excitement between your legs as he easily holds you in place, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

“Gin - sir-“ you stumble over your words.

“Shsh.” He hisses, and you shut up.

He pauses as he looks you up and down, even though his eyes are shut as always. A teasing smile curls at his lips and you dimly note he’s probably never seen you dressed up before, at least if you don’t count work Christmas parties. It seems he doesn’t have any problems with what you’re wearing, since nothing catty leaves his lips.

“I was right,” Gin nods slowly, his words a slow, measured singsong, like he’s about to read you a story. “Things like this gotta be savoured, y’know? I wonder…do you taste so good everywhere?”

Your mouth drops open, and your cheeks turn hot. Is he implying what you think he is?

“I- that’s-“ you splutter, because he’s always had the power to turn you into a gibbering moron even when he isn’t casually dropping sexual innuendos like a bomb.

Gin chuckles and gives your cheek an affectionate poke, before he tips his chin down, and slowly, with elegance, sinks down onto his knees. You can only watch him, transfixed, as he settles comfortably between your legs and he doesn’t have to tell you to part your legs – you do it without even thinking about it. You make the mistake of looking down.

Gin is looking up at you, between your spread thighs, his hands gripping your thighs so tightly that you know you’re going to have bruises where his thumbs are digging into your flesh.

And his eyes are open. Oh, fuck me sideways. You think, your own widening.

“Be a good girl and hold still.” Gin says in a silky voice, and now his eyes are open the gleam of amusement in them is all too visible to you. You could almost kick him for keeping them shut most of the time – they’re a beautiful shade of pale blue. You don’t have time to admire them for long though. Gin has business to attend to.

And attend it he does. He barely needs to do anything to keep you pressed against the wall, you’re rooted to the spot as his hands slide up your thighs, taking the gauzy material of your dress along with them. Cool air brushes up against your legs, but that isn’t the reason you’re shivering.

He smirks at the sight of your underwear – you’d worn something somewhat sexy to try and get into the spirit of tonight, but not a thong since you knew you’d be sitting down a while and didn’t want to think about it the whole time. So instead, he’s greeted by black panties with lacy panels on the sides, heated flesh just concealed beneath it.

“Now these,” Gin says in a singsong voice, snapping the elastic against your hip, the pop of noise in the stillness making you jolt. “Are the kind of panties you’d wear if you wanted to get fucked.”

“G-Gin…” you mewl.

He snickers at your embarrassment, eyes shifting back to your crotch. Teasingly slow, like you’re a dessert he wants to savour, he starts to peel your underwear down, fingers massaging your flesh, kneading it. He leans in, his breath hot on your core.

His tongue is skilled, you knew that already, but now you’re getting a real firsthand experience with it. He isn’t shy about nuzzling up against your cunt, nails digging crescent marks into the flesh of your legs as he licks inbetween your folds, hot and mercilessly and you keen out loud. If anybody comes outside for a smoke right now, you are so fucked.

But all of it – the thrill of getting caught, shock of Gin touching you, the roughness of the brick scraping your bare skin, the chilly bite of a spring night and the way your head is swimming from nasty cheap wine and boiling-over lust…all of it throws what’s going on into blinding focus.

“Gin…” you keen aloud, wanting to pull his pretty silver locks but you don’t quite dare, so you settle for resting a hand on his shoulder instead, your fingers clamping down on him in a voice grip. “Oh, fuck…nngh…”

He just gives a muffled chuckle and amps up the pace, his long, slender fingers creeping up to tease at your clit while his mouth attends to your cunt. Your legs are wobbling as you try to maintain your balance, but it’s not easy when he’s working you over like this, reaching places you could never manage with your own fingers…how the fuck is he so good at this?! It’s like he has a perfect, 3-D map of where everything is and exactly what to do to drive you insane. Your head has gone from verging on a headache to pleasantly, blissfully light and fuzzy, electricity zipping up and down your limbs, heat blooming in your core. He has to stop or you’re going to explode, but if he stops now you think you really might die…

“I’m coming…” you gasp out, tilting your head back, breath coming out in stuttered gasps. “Gin, please, fuck…don’t stop…”

Fuck you. I love you. Fuck you. The words ring over and over in your head as – for once - Gin obliges you.

The feeling is so intense that for a second you’re practically swooning, supernovas of lust and relief exploding like fireworks behind your shut eyelids. It’s ridiculous – you’re against a brick wall outside a bar, you can smell cigarettes from a nearby ashtray, it’s chilly and any moment somebody wanting their nicotine fix could see you. Yet your heart is pounding, warmth painting your face, swelling in your chest and yes, the satisfaction of seeing Gin leaning back, licking his lips and slowly rising to his feet like he did nothing more taxing than tying his shoelace helps. You hurriedly make sure your dress is safely floating about above your knees once again, smoothing it down with shaking hands. As illicitly thrilling as it is to do this outside, you don’t want anybody who passes you to immediately know just what you’ve been doing. Though you’re sure it wouldn’t be hard to work out – you probably smell of sex now, overpowering the perfume you’d picked out to wear tonight. Of course Gin would figure out a way to exert his influence by masking your scent as well as ruining your lipgloss.

How are you supposed to go back inside now? Well, obviously, you aren’t. Gin’s made that abundantly clear – no toy of his is to go exchanging clumsy kisses with other men until he’s bored of playing with them, and if he has to go to extremes to prove his point, so be it.

He's a fucking cruel bastard.

You nearly ask, What are we? Out loud, but thankfully before you can speak, Gin grabs your wrist and starts tugging you along after him. He doesn’t explain himself and you stumble after him on unsteady legs, still tingling with the afterglow and feeling the phantom touch of his tongue on you.

There’s a taxi waiting in the street outside, the driver sitting patiently, checking something on his phone. Your eyes snap to Gin – how long has that been there? When did he order it? But you don’t get to ask any of these questions, before Gin steps across to the back door and opens it, practically bundling you inside.

“Take this one home, will ya?” he says cheerfully to the driving, reeling off your address and you’re astonished that he knows it well enough to be able to repeat it off the top of his head. “She’s had enough to drink, I think.”

“Gin, what-? Why-?” you blurt out, trying desperately to get some semblance of an explanation for all this out of him.

Surely he can’t have done all that for his own amusement. You never were sure if Gin was fully aware of how you felt. Most people in your office tend to be wary of him at best, so your skittishness with him could easily be attributed to that. But Gin is a very perceptive man, so perhaps those times when he would lean over you as you worked to point at something on your screen, or stood too close to you whenever you were in the lift together, or when he’d send you these secretive little smirks across the room…maybe that was more than just a tease. Was he trying to tell you all along that he knew?

He leans in close to you, one hand gripping the door, and your heart flutters in your chest, wondering if he’s going to kiss you again, wanting him to but also feeling that familiar swoop of fear and excitement-

He just smiles and boops your nose and unceremoniously shuts the door on in your face, and the car speeds away into the night. And belatedly, you realise something else, something that makes your legs clamp together – He took your fucking panties.

His voice rings mockingly in your head, the last thing he said before sending you on your way, the mirth in his voice brimming over.

“See you on Monday.”

#Gin Ichimaru #Gin x Reader #Bleach x Reader #Fanfiction #Smut #Gin being a bastard #Reader Insert

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akairawrites · 11 months

Text

Not Your Gwen Stacy pt.2

Earlier the next morning as soon as you came into work you began working on your page for the newspaper although you’d rather write about Spiderman based on what you saw you had to depend on news articles for now and none of them said anything good.

You didn't believe he was a bad guy because he saved your life if he was he wouldn’t have. You believed he was a bit misunderstood. You thought about asking him yourself but then immediately shut it down considering the fact that you had no way of contacting him and purposely getting yourself in a dangerous situation was not an option.

You frowned looking down at the blank paper writer’s block seemed to show up at the worst times. You cursed to yourself as you ran a hand down your tired face you haven’t gotten a thing done since you sat down in your chair and Peter running late didn’t help one bit.

“Trouble writing?”

You looked up and your frown turned into a small smile “Hi Ned, just having trouble figuring out where to start.” you said truthfully

“Well,” Ned sat down the two cups of coffee in his hands on your desk you took one and took a sip surprisingly enough it was just the way you liked it. He pulled up a chair and took the paper from your hands. “Let's see.”

“It's blank.”

“I know.”

“Why don't you write about what's been happening lately?” He suggested taking a sip of his coffee.

You shook your head “I don't wanna write anything bad about Spiderman..he saved my life the other day I don’t believe he’s a bad guy.”

He just laughed and clicked his teeth “Leave it up to you to see the good in people.”

“I try.”

Ned looked around as if he was looking for someone his eyebrow lifted when he turned his attention back to you “Where is Parker? Isn't he supposed to be helping you with this?”

“Yeah but you know Peter always running late besides...I don't think he could help me with this part away.” Just as you finished with your sentence Peter rushed into the room he looked as if he just rolled out of bed. His hair looked like it was tousled by the wind and his clothes were wrinkled and disheveled. “Uh sorry I’m late,” he said trying to fix his hair.

“Hey, Peter.”

“Hey, Ned.”

“Uhh...look Y/N I gotta go I’ll see you later alright. Good luck with the paper.” He placed a hand on your shoulder and flashed his famous smile, he put the chair back and grabbed his coffee before walking off. “I got the pictures,” Peter said taking Ned's place he placed them down on the desk in front of you. They were Polaroid pictures you picked them up and searched through them to find the best one but most of them were blurred and for the others, you couldn't see the masked hero.

“Umm, Peter I'm sorry but I don't think these are going to work. He's not even in the shot for half of these.” Peter signed and stuffed the pictures inside his bag disappointment was evident on his face “Are you okay?” You asked

You felt slightly bad for him something was going through something and although you had only known him for two days you had the urge to be there every step of the way “Peter...I’m here for you.” He didn't even look up at you as he clinched his jaw

“I gotta go.” he grabbed his bag and left. You were a bit confused about what just happened. You weren't sure if it had been something you said or the fact that you didn't like the pictures he took either way you wouldn't dwell on it you just wanted to focus on getting the page done.

---

Later that night you took it upon yourself to grab dinner on your way home. Once you made it to your apartment you sat the food down onto the counter and headed straight for the shower. You stripped and let the warm water rinse away the stress. As you washed the shampoo out of your hair you heard a noise come from your living room quickly you shut the shower off waiting to hear the noise again. When you didn't hear you stepped out and quickly dried yourself off and threw on some clothes.

You slowly crept into your living room your hair was still wet so you still had your towel and pat-dried your hair. At first, it just seemed like a false alarm you thought you were being paranoid until you saw a silhouette moving on your fire escape.

Peter barely landed on his fire escape, he doubled over and clutched his stomach he used his bloody hand to open the window once he stepped inside he tripped over an end table knocking it and its contents on the floor he was about to question it until the lights flickered on revealing that he was not in his apartment.

“Oh my god are you okay?”

Peter froze he knew that voice all too well without making contact Peter tried going through the window again but the gash on his stomach was preventing him from doing so without a second thought Y/N helped him up and onto the couch. Peter couldn't comprehend why she was helping him he comprehend why anyone would help him when he couldn't be The Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman he promised to be. After the passing of Gwen, Peter didn't have a reason to see the good In people anymore he stopped caring he didn't see a reason to be remorseful. Other than his Aunt May Peter had no one intended on keeping it that way seeing how everyone he seemed to get close to end up dying.

He was pulled away from his thoughts when he felt the couch dip down beside him he had no idea how long he'd been in his thoughts because you returned with a first aid kit and a towel drenched in alcohol. “I need you to um...” She gestured toward his suit. He slowly removed the top half of his suit but of course, he left his mask on. Besides the large gash across his chest, you couldn't help but notice his nice physique but you didn't let yourself stare too long.

You were a bit surprised that Spiderman just climbed through your window and at the fact that you didn't even think twice about helping him. You lightly dabbed his wound It hurt of course but it was nothing Peter couldn't handle. You cleared her throat wanting to make conversation with the hero. If you were gone to dress his wounds you might as well get to know him while you're at it. “So um…believe it or not I’m writing a paper about you over at the Daily Bugle,” Peter knew what you were doing although he’d rather not and get this over with he decided to engage in conversation anyway.

“Oh yeah? Let me guess it’s gonna be another article about how I’m a menace to the city of New York.” He guessed. You shook your head “No actually…I wanted to write about how much of a good person you are.” She told him truthfully “Why?” Peter was genuinely confused he felt as though he didn’t deserve the kindness she was showing him “I don’t know if you remember but you saved my life once and I think a lot of people are forgetting that you were a hero once upon a time. And even though you have made some not-so-great choices you're still human, everyone makes mistakes.” Peter stared at you astonished he was so glad you couldn't see his face right now “So…consider this us getting even.” You looked up and smiled sweetly at him even through his mask you could see the shocked expression on his face. “Don’t look so surprised you get what you give in return right?”

Once you were done dressing his wounds he thanked you. You lent him a blanket so that he could rest on your couch even though he protested you still insisted and eventually, he gave in. You wished him goodnight before going into your room and crawling into bed yourself.

Pt.1 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5

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