*moan*

Y o u n g L o v e

Pairing: Tate Langdon X Reader

⚠️ Warnings: none ⚠️

Listen to this song while you read:

You slipped into the cold black sheets that adorned your mattress as you prepared yourself for sleep. It was an autumn night and you were ready to fall asleep listening to the rain patter against the glass of your bedroom window. The red panes cast an eerie glow over everything and made your room illuminated in the color. There was something soft and beautiful about it; something you couldn't put your finger on that made you feel as though you were safe and comfortable. Ironically, you were living in a house full of ghosts.

But they were not bad.

Your head hit the pillow and your eyes met the ceiling. It had only been a month since you've moved into the infamous Murder House, yet you were content. The house may have been old and the people may have been rude, but you found yourself here. And you were grateful.

"Hey."

You felt the bed dip next to you and you moved over to the left side to make room for Tate as you participated in your nightly routine. His hand met your back as your face met his chest, your hands reaching up to play with his hair. This is where you felt the safest. Surrounded by the smell of cigarettes and the cashmere of your boyfriend's sweater. The feeling of a now warm bed and the arms resting delicately over your frame. You wouldn't trade this for the world.

Tate kissed you softly on the head; the rain crashing against your window as the storm's intensity increased. Thunder rolled in and made the quiet house alive with the noise of the sky and the universe above. And amongst it all; you were holding your favorite part of the universe in your arms. His short breaths hitting the top of your head and the sound of his heartbeat resonating through his chest signifying that he was both comfortable and in love.

"Hey. Enjoying the rain?" You softly asked him.

He smiled and let out a short laugh. "Of course I am."

He moved your hair out of your face so that he could look you in the eyes. Tate has done a lot of bad in this world. He wasn't always the sweet and loving person you knew him as today. There was a time when his name brought people fear and pain instead of admiration and peace. You were lucky to know him now; you had gone most of your life thinking that people could never change but here he was. Living proof that people aren't always what they seem.

"I love you so much." He said as his gaze met yours. "And I wouldn't trade you for the world." He planted another kiss to your forehead before smiling down at you once more in his arms. In his mind, that's exactly where you belonged, even though there were times where he didn't believe he deserved to have you there. Times when he was alone and found his thoughts drifting to you as they usually did. Times when he saw you leave the house and remembered that you were very much alive. That you still had things to do and people to meet and experiences to have. He felt so selfish for keeping you to himself sometimes knowing that the house was all he could offer you besides from himself. And it crushed him.

As guilty as he felt, having you here tonight made all of his negative thoughts disperse. What had he been so nervous of? Why had he originally fought against the idea of loving you when he first saw you move in? Why had he tried to avoid every attempt of contact you made? Why did he try to convince you that your feelings for him were invalid because you didn't know the truth? It was only when you did find out and you agreed to continue loving him that he let his walls come crashing down.

You still loved him despite his past and the people he's hurt. You still offered to be here and to hold him on nights like these where the loneliness oftentimes took over. You still wore his sweaters and snuggled with him when he felt anxious. You still danced to Nirvana even though it wasn't your taste in music. You still wanted him. And that was more than he could ever ask for.

"Are you okay?" You asked, reaching up to touch his face.

"I'm absolutely perfect."

Lying there, you both fell asleep holding each other and letting the rain drown out the sound of your hearts beating for young love.

SPIDERMAN

TASM! Peter Parker:

Bitch Onions: Absolutely ridiculous scenario in which you throw Andrew Garfield's chili dog off the Empire State building.

(Crack)

Cloud 9: Memories, danger, and a jar of peanut butter. Only happens when you're with Peter Parker.

(Romance/Slight Angst/Fluff)

Peter's Motivational Speech: Just a little drabble where the reader lets go of some anxiety to which their boyfriend calms them down.

(Romance/Fluff)

Sunflowers and Sunsets: small little one-shot where you're entranced by Peter and the loveliness of the upcoming afternoon.

(Romance/Fluff)

why dont you read/watch something that forces you to confront the fact that you are capable of feeling empathy for a person who has done deeply cruel or evil things. And maybe you’ll calm down

💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

Shoot your shot babe

FIGHT CLUB

Johnny Seo X Y/N X Yuta Nakamoto

Just a piece of advice!! This fanfic probably won't make any sense unless you've seen the 1999 movie, Fight Club written by David Fincher. This revolves around the storyline for said movie and previous knowledge of it needs to be present for it to make sense! In that case, read on! :) 💜💜

⚠️ Warnings: swearing, mentions of gore, mentions of nsfw, talk of weapons and violence as well as drugs⚠️

People were always asking me, did I know Johnny Seo?

"We won't really die, we'll be immortal."

"You're thinking of vampires."

"oh-...ra..aH-...oo"

With a gun barrel between your teeth, you only speak in vowels.

With my tongue, I can feel the silencer holes drilled into the barrel of the gun. Most of the noise a gunshot makes is expanding gases. I totally forgot about Johnny's whole murder-suicide thing for a second and I wondered how clean the gun barrel was.

Johnny checked his watch. "Three minutes."

The building we're standing in won't be here in three minutes. You take a 98-percent concentration of fuming nitric acid and add three times as much sulfuric in a bathtub full of ice. Then, glycerin drop-by-drop. I know this because Johnny knows this.

The demolitions committee of Project Mayhem wrapped the foundation columns of this building with blasting gelatin. The primary charge will blow the base charge, and this spot Johnny and I are standing on will be a point in the sky.

"This is our world now. Two minutes."

Two minutes to go and I'm wondering how I got here.

...

Part One:

"I want you to hit me." Johnny said, fixing his posture and squaring up to Yuta trying to get a better position for a fight. They were outside of Joon's on a cold night after Yuta lost his apartment and his job. Both of which exploded in his face. His apartment a bit too literally. He wondered if any of his Ikea furniture survived the blast.

"I- What?" Yuta was confused now. First, Johnny had stolen a bunch of ketchup packets from the inside of the restaurant, stuffed them in his pockets, and walked out with a cigarette dangling between his teeth. Now, he was asking Yuta to knee him in the gut or swat him on the nose.

"You heard me. I know you want to."

Truth is, Yuta did want to hit him. And to be fair, Johnny deserved it. I mean, the guy blew up his apartment with homemade dynamite for Christ's sake.

Yuta reeled his arm back and hit Johnny the best he could. Johnny looked taken aback as he stumbled to regain his footing. Through a bloody nose and determined eyes he replied, "My turn."

And thus, Fight Club commenced.

...

"The rules of Fight Club are as follows:

One, you do not talk about Fight Club.

Two, you DO NOT talk about Fight Club.

Three, someone yells stop, goes limp, taps out, the fight is over.

Four, only two guys to a fight.

Five, one fight at a time.

Six, no shirts, no shoes.

Seven, fights will go on for as long as they have to.

Eight, if this is your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight."

Johnny walked around the circle of men who had gathered before him as he explained the rules of the club; a club which was held in Joon's basement- a restaurant with very few customers. Originally, Fight Club had been something between Johnny and Yuta, something small that would pass the time when they wanted to relieve some stress. It was merely playtime for the two and now it had branched into what it was today.

Yuta continued wrapping his hands in gauze from his last fight. Taeil from one of his previous support groups beat him nasty; blood dripping from the top of the Japanese boy's head as well as a giant cut along the underside of his wrist. It wasn't anything unusual, he had won of course, sending Taeil straight for the floor and knocking out a couple of his teeth. It wasn't the wound that stung, no. It was the jealousy that bubbled in his chest and made way for his throat. Fight Club was never supposed to be this. It should've been just him and Johnny.

"Man. I see in Fight Club the strongest and smartest men who've ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering. Goddamn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose, or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war...our great depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires and movie gods and rockstars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very very pissed off."

Johnny looked at each man once and then swiveled around and looked at them again. He held eye contact with each and every person so that his words were reaching them on every level possible. He wanted them to feel. To feel the pain of the unforgiving world and the passion for Fight Club. He wanted everyone to praise his words like the Bible and for them to go home later that night with a sense of enlightenment. He wanted Fight Club to be burned into the brains and the skin of these men.

But I am Jack's inflamed sense of rejection.

Yuta barred his teeth from where he was sitting. Johnny had a way with words. Even if he was pissed from their earlier conversation with you in the house, he wasn't showing it. Johnny had stripped him of anger towards himself and provided him with anger towards the movement. Yuta was going to make the best of this club- watching humanity's downfall while he sat from his throne looking out towards everyone's anguish. That was where he belonged, Yuta thought. Not in some corporate office building fetching papers for his boss.

He thought back to his life before Johnny. How he would work his 5-9 job in some shitty little office building with shitty little people with shitty little egos. He remembered what a horrible insomniac he was, sleeping a total of one hour a night- if he was lucky. He remembered going to his support groups just to feel something. To cry on the shoulders of others who were going through unimaginable pain as he cried from his position of perfect health. It was all an effort to sleep at night until he realized that he was spending his days in pain and inflicting pain on others. And he was addicted to it.

You had walked into one of his regular support groups on a Saturday; one of the founders of said group griping about the fact he'd lost his balls to testicular cancer and sobbing up on the rickety podium. You had caught his eye that day- and not just because you were a woman walking into a support group for men with non-functional penises. It was because of the first words to come out of your mouth:

"This is cancer, right?"

You were his downfall. You ruined everything at first. Because you had shown up to his daily pain sessions, he was no longer the black sheep of the group- the only one who was healthy out of a room of dying people. Sure, you were dying, but that was because of the shitty drugs you put into your body and the cigarette that was always hanging out of your mouth. But Yuta realized that his feelings of hatred were actually ones of intense sexual desire.

He'd fucked you later that night anyways.

Or at least, he dreamt about it.

"Who's first?" Johnny asked to no one in particular, awaiting a response from one of the eager men around. This snapped Yuta out of his daze as he looked down at his hands. The gauze was wrapped too tight (probably a direct result of his previous thoughts) and the blood was seeping through the makeshift bandage. Oh well, at least he'd shown Taeil who's club it really was.

The first to agree on fighting was a scrawny looking boy with red and white hair. An odd color combination, but Yuta guessed it framed his face nicely. He had a bunch of piercings along his ear and a determined look on his face. A slight grin showed his confidence as the boy took his shirt off and loosened up his belt.

On the other side of the "ring," there was another boy that radiated an equal amount of confidence but looked a bit skeptical as his eyes landed on the others around the dank basement. He too, removed pieces of his clothing and slicked his blonde hair back from his face.

"Alright, first victims are Taeyong and Hendery. Knock yourselves out.....literally."

Johnny stepped away from them as they collided with one another, blood already dripping from the eyebrow piercing on Hendery's face and a crack coming from Taeyong's finger. Despite this, the boys looked more fiery than ever before as they tackled one another to the ground, ripping out each other's hair and punching each other wherever they could reach. A quick sharp kick to Hendery's groin left him falling to the ground where the other boy found his footing and beat him to a pulp. Not the first fight that ended up in two broken noses, but definitely the first fight to bring this many people together.

And with Taeyong's win, Yuta followed Johnny back home to the abandoned neighborhood they stayed in.

...

Again, it was another night of Yuta lying restless as he listened to your moans coming through the wall separating him and Johnny. Once you had met Johnny all it took was a promise of a new carton of cigarettes to go up to the bedroom with him. This wasn't anything new to Yuta (who did have a crush on you, he was just too afraid to admit it) who heard it every hour of every day; he wondered if you two ever grew bored of slamming the headboard against the wall.

Yuta figured the only thing he could really do in this situation was to go downstairs to the rotting kitchen and make himself a sandwich out of condiments stolen from Joon's and a couple leftover banana peppers from the night before. He pulled his robe over his shoulders and made his way down the decaying hardwood stairs of the mildewed house, making sure not to step on the soggiest part of the floor.

It was cold, but it felt nice after sweating in his blanket just a few minutes before. He opened the door to the fridge and found the pickles as well as the condiments, but his eyes stopped when he spotted some of Johnny's "lab equipment" which consisted of homemade explosives and torture mechanisms. Why they were in the fridge, Yuta didn't know, but he presumed Johnny had a reason. Just as long as he didn't find any Lye in his sandwich.

After making the shittiest thing Yuta had ever eaten in his life (which is saying a lot because he's accidentally eaten literal shit) he made his way upstairs, past the banister and the bathroom with the lonesome bathtub. He was just about to pass Johnny's room when he realized that it had been quiet. For a minute and a half.

Slowly, he opened the door and BANG Johnny walked straight into him wearing nothing but a robe.

"The fuck you doing man? Hey- is that the ketchup I stole from Joon's?"

"Ah shit! Uh I was just making a sandwich is all," he stammered out as he just about dropped the plate. He wasn't going to admit to Johnny that he was looking to see what had gone on with their sexcapade since he'd had a pleasant couple of seconds to himself for the first time since your and Johnny's introduction.

"Hey! I found the cigarettes."

You were high off your ass as you rolled around in Johnny's horribly stained bedsheets, waiting for whatever the holdup was at the door. "Y'all want some?"

"No thanks, Sylvia Plath."

...

Day two of Fight Club commenced in Joon's basement on a spectacularly cold Thursday, when Yuta was supposed to be at work. Instead, he was sitting on one of the empty barrels by the back of the room, watching everything happen before him. Fight Club wasn't just Fight Club anymore. This pain was all normal. It was expected. It wasn't anything different or new like the support groups Yuta had found solace in when he was an insomniac. He could feel the night of restlessness before him.

"Alright men, get your shit together. Today we have someone new joining our group. And, as the rules state, if it's your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight."

Johnny paced the circle of men, gripping onto the loops of his belt to make him look like more of the leader and less of a member. His shoulder length black hair was tied into a ponytail and his muscles were on full display; curtesy of his white slim-fit tee. Yuta would have to agree with you on one thing- Johnny was sexy as fuck. He was a confident bastard, but he understood why you liked someone like him. He was more than Yuta ever could be.

"On one side we have Jaehyun, an undefeated member of our group- not counting me of course."

This granted a couple of chuckles from the back as Yuta waited in anticipation for the newest member to be announced.

"Welcome, Xiaojun. Hope you find happiness getting your brains knocked out in a basement this small."

And standing before Yuta was Xiaojun, a former applicant of the testicular cancer support group, someone whom he had cried on as he wistfully remembered the days before meeting Johnny on a plane (That was a lot to cover into one fanfiction, but if you've seen the movie you'd know what I'm talking about). The days where pain wasn't measured by the amount of people feeling it, and instead was something to pass the time.

The blonde haired boy walked up to Jaehyun and smiled. It wasn't a 'Oh it's so nice to be here I can't wait to fight!' type smile. No, this smile was nothing more than pure malice.

Xiaojun was taking Jaehyun down. Yuta knew it for fact.

"Alright, have at it."

With Johnny's approval, Jaehyun launched for the boy, one arm balled into a fist and the other ready to strike a blow to the stomach. However, Xiaojun cut right across his ribcage and managed to dodge the blow, that shit-eating grin never once leaving his face.

"Ah fuck," Jaehyun clutched his chest as he doubled over in pain. Not allowing for the opponent to get too far though, he got back up on his feet and positioned himself so that he would be ready for another punch.

Jaehyun went in again, this time he was aiming lower to serve as an uppercut, payback for what the fast guy he went against did on his last move. He just about hit Xiaojun when Xiao ducked and rolled along the floor knocking Jaehyun from his position. Jaehyun was on the ground and was pinned there. Now all that was left was the final blow.

Yuta could hear one of the people in the circle mumble "fatality" in reference to Mortal Kombat as Xiaojun beat the shit out of this guy. Blood was going everywhere, nose was most definitely broken, his seemingly perfect face was now most definitely bruised. Hell, this guy would be lucky to even have a few teeth left from what Yuta could gather as he was positioned farther outside of the circle.

"Hey. HEY! RULE THREE BITCHASS!" Johnny's voice brought everyone back down to earth as they realized 'holy shit, Jaehyun is on his way out,' and they scrambled to help him off the floor. Knocked unconscious and bleeding from almost every orifice (except his ass), laid Jaehyun, once a fearless champion amongst the crowd now a bird with clipped wings.

I am Jack's complete lack of surprise.

Yuta caught a glimpse of Xiaojun, seemingly in perfect condition and a clam expression on his face. His eyes were the same though, the same as Johnny's. He was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

...

You couldn't say you were surprised in the least amount with Johnny's sudden outburst. All you had done was talk to him about his selfish ways; and he most definitely was being selfish- one minute he'd be sweet talking you and explaining how you mean the world to him, to changing every topic you brought up and acting like a cocky arrogant asshole. You figured it had something to do with his new "support group" and that Fight Club had left him bipolar. Even the nights you spent fucking him to no end had no resolve on his character and you were starting to grow annoyed with his sudden change of demeanor.

You rolled out of Johnny's bed and made way for the kitchen downstairs. At least most of the men were at Joon's, so you have the house to yourself and Johnny. That's how it usually was anyways. And that's when it hit you: the dress you'd bought a while ago was still upstairs! Maybe you could use it to sway Johnny into a better mood?

Running back to Johnny's room, you slipped on the semi-pink, alcohol stained wedding dress (or what was left of it) over your body frame and took a look in the mirror.

"Huh, not bad."

You had bought the dress because you liked it, of course, not because you originally had the intentions you do now. You didn't usually give a fuck when it came to the opinions of men, so why did his matter so much to you? You frizzled up your hair and rain your hands through the mess and popped an Adderall in your mouth. Hey, you needed something to get by for the day.

You found yourself downstairs, another cigarette in your mouth and a jacket around the exposed sections of your collarbone. Your feet still bare, you entered the dining room that was full of "Johnny's experiments" and you twirled a bit upon finding Johnny sitting in the chair by the table.

"Well," you said, "Do you like it?"

"What am I looking at?"

"The dress, idiot. Do you like the dress?"

He sat there in confusion for minute before he responded with a simple "It's okay."

Why does he always do this? You wondered. He would show you a sweet and loving side to him and then he'd act all coy and nonchalant as if nothing you said had any impact on him. Did he pretend to love you just to fuck you? Did he care about you just so he could have his way with you in bed?

"I got it for a dollar. Imagine- someone bought this dress with the intention that it would be worn on the most important day of their lives. And now, I'm wearing it as business casual."

He ignored you again, sipping on that blasted cup of coffee and looking through ads in the news. His hair was pushed back from his eyes and his brows were furrowed. He had no interest in anything you said.

"Goodbye," you said, and walked out.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Fuck him

...

(Part Two coming soon!!!!)

TAEMIN  ✦  SEXUALITY  ✦  The 1st Stage Nippon Budokan

Cloud 9

TASM X Reader

Danger happens to find you on a night out, how will you manage to save yourself? Or will an unexpected encounter save you?

⚠️ Warnings: swearing, mentions of sexual violence, violence⚠️

"Hey you wacko," you said, hopping up beside your best friend on the cold metal bleachers of the school. The coolness of your seat was a nice contrast against the sunny 75° weather of New York City. It has been nice all week, transitioning from spring to summer and the harsh snow finally ending. You were thankful you didn't have to wear that bulky jacket anymore, and instead you found yourself wearing a light sweater and black ripped jeans. To top it off, you had your favorite pair of converse.

"Hey," he said, scooting closer to where you were seated and turning his computer to your direction, "What do you think of this interface?"

Looking at what Peter had coded on his laptop, you responded, "Your interface is fine, but you forgot to turn the Option Explicit on at the top." You smiled, knowing that you were right since you both took the same programming class.

"Ahhhh thanks! That's probably why it popped up with so many errors," he said, ruffling his floppy brown hair and pushing up his glasses, "God, I hate working with Visual Basic."

"Same here." You sighed, turning your direction to the sky above you instead of looking at the ongoing football game. It was a pretty orange color since it was after school hours. You usually didn't leave your house this late, but Peter had insisted you meet up with him at this particular football game on a Friday nonetheless. Peter also hated sports. So what was the deal?

You turned to say something to him but your breath instantly caught in your throat. He was staring intently at his computer, his glasses falling off his face and his hair a mess. He was chewing on his tongue and he looked extremely nerdy but extremely cute.

It surprised you, thinking this way of your best friend all of a sudden.

I mean, it's not like you haven't before.

There was that time in gym class where he'd lifted his hoodie off and you caught a glimpse of his toned abdomen. And that time when you had both traveled to Chicago for the Academic Decathlon trip and he had shared a room with you. Or that time-

"Whatcha thinking about?" He asked, now focused solely on you and your response. He had a knowing smile on his face and it was one that you often found yourself fancying. His eyes got all squinty as he knew what you were probably thinking. He thought the same about you sometimes, he just didn't know how to initiate the right words. He thought you would've picked it up by now that you were being flirted with, but I guess school smarts aren't the equivalent of emotional intelligence, as you were still clueless to his intentions.

"Your doofus looking project." You said, hoping to deflect the conversation back to his homework.

"You're unnecessarily mean." He smiled

"Or I'm just right as always." You smiled back.

Just then, you heard a fast wooshing noise, the sound of something being projectile thrown at you. Before it had time to make contact with your jaw, Peter flung himself in front of you, catching the stray football with one hand.

"Holy shit," you said, "nice catch."

Except Peter didn't look ecstatic over his skills. He looked genuinely terrified. Of what, you didn't know.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice fluctuating from his timidness over catching the ball. He threw it towards the goal post, and you watched as the ball collided with the metal and dented it.

"Peter?! What the hell? How did you dent that?" You asked, absolutely astonished with what just happened before your eyes. Your mouth open and your hair flying away from your face, Peter knew he had to go before he messed something else up- and potentially risked exposing his identity.

"Sorry, I have to go." He said, hurriedly stuffing his computer with his unfinished project into his backpack and grabbing his other miscellaneous papers that had flown out of his folders. He nodded towards you and practically ran to get off the bleachers.

"Peter! Wait!" You said, trying to grab your stuff as well. "Why did you want to meet up?!"

Your question went unanswered as you looked over the side of the bleachers where your best friend had just been except now there was no one there. It was as if he had disappeared without a trace when you had directed your attention towards your bag.

"What the hell was that?" You wondered.

🕸️🕸️🕸️

Peter was scrambling. He had finally worked up the courage to tell you how he felt but of course, his stupid new power messed things up. He couldn't let you know he was Spiderman, that would ruin everything and potentially put you in danger. What if you didn't like what he was? What if an enemy knew you were his weak spot and went after you? What if-

He ran into his front door.

"Ow." He said, rubbing his forehead. He shouldn't have gotten so lost in his thoughts. He felt bad about having to swing out of the situation (literally) and leave you by yourself to watch the game. Today didn't go at all how he'd planned it in his head.

He threw his backpack down by his nightstand and flipped down on the bed, not even bothering to say hello to his Aunt May. Things have been different now that Uncle Ben was dead and he didn't think he could listen to any more of her grieving. Sighing, he took off his jacket and turned on the computers at his desk, looking at his wallpaper of you and him from when you had a food fight.

You had surprised him by visiting him late at night when you guys were sophomores, your cute little cardigan on and your hair all curled up just to tell him you wanted to stream Donnie Darko on his tv since he had the best picture quality.

Deciding not to argue, he smiled and led you to the living room, where he watched you excitedly fix the tv in preparation for the movie night. Feeling as though he wasn't helping enough, he asked if you wanted a snack.

You said yes and he decided he was going to make you some popcorn but you had insisted on peanut butter and jelly.

You popped open the peanut butter and started to spread it on your choice of bread, the sun finally setting and casting an illuminesent orange on your figure. Peter had just walked into the kitchen after finalizing the movie plans and stopped in the doorframe. Your hair looked like something out of a magazine, your skin looking as shiny as honey and your aura lighting up the entire room. He felt himself glued to the spot, feeling an ache in his chest as he watched you do the simple task of making a sandwich. It felt as though time had stopped and he wondered why he ever settled on seeing you in a friendly way. The image before him was nothing short of a revelation as he finally came to term with his senses:

He was irrevocably in love with you.

You smiled and stared at him from where you made your spot in the yellow kitchen. "Want some?" You asked.

"I- yeah." He said, walking towards you.

"Perfect." You said, and while he was still in his daze, you put your finger in the peanut butter jar and rubbed it on his face. Giggling, you ran away towards the other end of the counter as you watched him reach up to his face and rub it off.

"Oh you're in for it now." He said, getting some of the snack on his hands and running after you. You yelped in excitement and ran away from him, first towards the left of the counter and then the right as he finally caught up to you and grabbed you from behind your waist. Both of you laughing, he rubs the peanut butter on your face and sits you down on the ground.

"You're such a sore loser," you said, punching him on the shoulder between fits of laughter.

If there was any denial about his previous thoughts of love, there wasn't any now. It was clear and he knew you belonged there in his arms, laughing in the warmth of the sun.

Peter recalled the fond memory and felt himself smiling, reaching up to the spot on his face that had been touched by you. That entire moment had led him to making a shitty playlist of love songs that would keep the memory alive and him listening to it for the entire week after. Since then, his head has been filled with you and only you. And some math and quantum theory, but mainly you.

🕸️🕸️🕸️

You had decided to go out with your friends tonight. They wanted to visit this café not too far away from the school, and they wanted to dress up, since it was a nicer place. The agenda was casual nice and you found yourself struggling to look through your closet and find something suitable. You did dress fancy, but you wanted to find something new to wear; something they hadn't seen you in yet. Going towards the back of your wardrobe, you saw a beat up looking box. Perfect! It was one of your old cardigans. Last time you wore it was....

....when you rubbed peanut butter on Peter's face. You cringed slightly at the memory. That day you wanted to confess your feelings for him, but you decided to break the awkward silence when you saw him walk into the kitchen. Truth is, when you saw him standing there in the doorway with the soft angelic glow of the sun hitting his perfectly dorky face, you felt something in your chest. That feeling was the same reason you hadn't accepted any requests for dating, even when one of the most popular boys in your school had asked you on a date. You could only think of one person in that bittersweet romantic way.

And that person just happened to be your best friend.

Sliding on your boots, you walked over to the mirror and looked at your reflection. You looked alright and once you did your hair you would look better.

Walking to your bathroom, you grabbed your curling iron and reevaluated your makeup choice. It was a soft yellow with bold eyeliner. It was just something fun you were trying out, also going so far as to add a couple gems from your scrapbooking stickers. Cool.

You picked up your purse off the floor and stepped out of your apartment.

🕸️🕸️🕸️

Slipping on his suit, Peter readied himself for his journey out in the city. He usually paroled the streets at night when he wasn't swamped with homework in case there was someone who needed his help. It wasn't often that it was more that a quick dispute between friends, or an old lady needing help with groceries, but it still filled him with pride knowing that he could have an impact in some way.

He quickly went downstairs now that Aunt May was asleep and grabbed some fuel food. He scarfed down a banana and went back upstairs, opening his bedroom window and leaving the small confines of his bedroom as he went to go find trouble-or rather- for trouble to find him.

He shot his webs towards the sky. Nothing felt quite like this. The wind hitting his frame and the free falling feeling of flying. He was up higher than the oblivious people beneath him, the cars zooming past his feet and the clouds rolling past his head. Night had just fallen and the moon shone on the glass window panes of the buildings he latched onto. He would push from one end of the building to the other, relying on his webs and his strength to travel through the dark. He felt free.

Stopping atop one of the shorter buildings, he looked at the streets below. Any signs of irregular activity would signal his presence and he would be able to help. Tonight, less people seemed to be wandering the sidewalks and he noticed there was less activity in this particular area. He was about to leave when-

He saw a familiar person.

Was that- was that you? Why were you out so late and what on earth compelled you to walk out at night by yourself? Did you have a death wish? Peter knew you were smarter than that.

"Yeah I should be there in a couple minutes." He heard you say into your phone from below. You seemed rushed and he knew that you had snuck out to see someone, giving him context as to why you were out at this hour. Were you going out on a date? He saw the way you were dressed and the makeup you were wearing. He felt his heart drop a little bit, but he knew that his sole focus should be on making sure you got there safely.

So, watching you from the rooftops, he followed your movements towards one of the newer café establishments that all the kids at school were talking about. He waited for you to walk inside, but you stopped for a second to check through your purse. That was all it took for someone to come up from behind you and put their hand over your mouth.

Feeling adrenaline course through his veins, he had a rage he never knew existed before. You were in trouble, and in desperate need of his help.

🕸️🕸️🕸️

You had decided to check your purse to see if you had put your wallet in it since you didn't feel the familiar weight of it in the back pocket of your jeans. You rummaged through the contents before you were fiercely grabbed from behind, a male figure putting one of their hands over your mouth and the other around your waist. Frozen in shock, he led you to the alley behind the café and threw you to the ground, knocking the wind out of you.

"Hey, pretty lady. Lucky I found you tonight, I need your help."

Your hands fumbled around for the pepper spray that you kept in your purse, wondering where it had fallen on the wet street.

"Looking for this?" He asked, holding up said object as he stared down at you, a horrid smile on his face. He looked to be in his forties, an ugly inconsistent mustache on his upper lip and a dingy looking clothes. He reeked of alcohol and cigarettes and that was the moment you got a complete grasp on your situation: you were in immediate danger.

Jumping up and trying to run away from the man, two other men in rugged states appeared in front of you. You were cornered. There was no way of getting out of this one. Feeling more terrified than ever before, you started to feel tears springing at the corners of your eyes.

"I'm just gonna make this plain and simple." The man who had grabbed you said as he sauntered over to you. "Strip."

Fearing for your life, you froze again. What could you possibly do? You couldn't call your friends, your phone was still in your bag. You could fight, but you knew that you were no match for all three of them. You frantically looked for something- anything -to help you fight them off.

Finding an old wine bottle you grabbed it and hit it against the brick wall of the café. The end of it shattering into twenty pieces, you raised the bottle towards the men in front of you.

"Fucking try me."

Just then, there was a flash of red and the man in front of you was stuck to the café wall. It seemed as though he was pinned by spiderwebs?

The new figure in front of you was tall and slim. He was wearing what seemed to be an intricately designed spandex costume that was red and blue. A large black spider on the front and slanted eyes led you to the conclusion that this was the infamous Spiderman that every news station had been talking about for the past few months.

Just then, Spiderman flung out his arm and more of the web-like substance flowed from his wrist, capturing the men behind you. He then grabbed you and shot the substance upwards, latching onto the rooftop above you and swinging you both over the city.

You held tightly around his neck as you watched the image of the café and the men stuck to it fade in the distance, your eyes now looking at the entirety of New York beneath you. It was beautiful but terrifying as you were so high up.

"I should've killed them." You heard the mystery man mumble under his breath and he landed on the top of another building much farther and much higher than the last one. Your makeup had to be running at this point, you were sure you must've cried from the intensity of the situation.

"I- thank you for saving me back there." You whimpered out, now finally understanding what had just happened. You had gone into fight or flight mode and you weren't sure how well you would've fought down there if it wasn't for the help of the superhero.

Peter felt something in his chest as he watched you look at the sight below. Your makeup had started to run and your hair was out of place. You looked frazzled, but beautiful. Just then, the sun started to come up, signalling the end of the night and the end to this nightmare. The wind picked up slightly and your cardigan followed your hair in a dance against your skin. You held your arms close to your chest and finally met Peter's gaze.

"You-Your'e welcome." Was all he was able to reply with.

You looked away from him, and back to the street, looking down at the scenery below. "I know I just had a near-death experience and that's probably why I have the balls to ask but, why didn't you ask me out on the bleachers today?" You asked, turning to look at your savior once more with a slight smile.

"I was nervous." Peter said but then halted in his tracks. "Oh shit- I mean-"

"It's okay, I knew it was you." You said, walking to where your best friend stood. You wrapped your arms around his torso and pulled him in for a hug.

He melted into your touch, calm knowing that his secret was out and that you didn't think of him differently.

You then reached up to touch his face, grabbing the ends of his mask and staring at him with an 'Is this okay' expression before you lifted it off his head. Without his glasses and his usual dorky demeanor was Peter, whom you've known since the second grade. The same old clumsy looking Peter with that same old goofy grin and floppy hair. You instantly felt calm as you held each other staring into each other's eyes. This was where you belonged. You knew it that day at his house and you knew it now. It hadn't changed even though his identity did.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." You said, stepping away.

Suddenly, a string of that sticky spider web stuff found it's way at your side, pulling you back to Peter.

"Let me make up for earlier." He smiled, kissing you.

It was like a million fireworks lit off in your chest at once. You were finally here. You made it. You weren't expecting your first kiss to be up this high with Spiderman, but you knew it was to be with Peter at some point. You hoped it would be.

The cars honking below and the sun coming up creating an orange and purple and yellow sky illuminated Peter and his face once the two of you pulled away from each other. He looked heavenly, soft angelic features staring down at you with an adoring smile. Your chest felt heavy and your cheeks felt hot and you had to clench your hand into a fist to make sure this was real. As if he heard your thoughts, he pulled you in for another kiss, letting go of your lips and resting his forehead against yours. You listened to the sound of each other's breathing and your heartbeat was going a mile a minute.

"This is real." He said, giving you that typical Peter Parker smile that you loved so much.

omg pls idk if u did it but chapstick challenge w beomgyu would be the cutest thing ever ☹️☹️

chapstick challenge w/ beomgyu ♡̩͙ˊˎ!

your wish is my command anonnie :D

“okay,” beomgyu shrugs, throwing his phone on the couch. “anything to do with kissing you has an automatic yes from me.”

you originally thought it’d take a couple tries to convince your boyfriend to do the new, stupid challenge floating around social media, but surprisingly, it only took one puny attempt and undetailed explanation to get him on board.

of course, his reason for participation being that the ‘chapstick challenge’ involved kissing — and the simple fact that it was a challenge, and beomgyu never turned down one of those.

you blink. “oh. i wasn’t expecting a yes that quick.” you stand from the couch, pacing off to the bedroom. “let me go get the chapsticks then, big shot.” he snickers at your nickname, manspreading confidently as you eventually rush back in with a red tie and a packet of flavored lip product hidden behind your back.

once you kneel down and set your phone up on the coffee table, beomgyu takes a seat right next to you while begrudgingly tying the neckpiece over his eyes, lips perked up in determination .

as soon as the fabric is secured around his face, he starts cluelessly swinging his arms around in search of you, struggling to find your figure as your apply a grape flavoured lip balm. “yah, is this a prank? where are you?”

rolling your eyes at his impatience, you cup his cheeks to let him know you hadn’t abandoned him, giggling when he flinches and lets out a surprised yelp. “okay, ready for the first one?” you inquire.

immediately, beomgyu puckers his lips in an exaggerated manner. “i’ve been ready. c’mon, baby.”

deciding to spare some mercy and not tease, you lean in, kissing him softly. beomgyu on the other hand is more than eager to feel you; bringing you closer by your waist to deepen the kiss. at first, you believe it’s part of his strategy to win as he licks your lips innocently — but that all goes down the drain the second he playfully shoves his tongue into your mouth.

you hastily pull away, sending him a displeased glare even if he can’t see it. “beomgyu,” you scold, watching the blind idiot lean forward in an attempt to kiss you again with no avail, “i know what you’re doing.”

“what! i did nothing!” he defends in a honest tone, but you quickly catch on to the miniature, smug smirk on his now wet lips.

“you’re supposed to be guessing flavours, not making out with me!”

he pouts, sitting criss cross again. “but making out’s more fun, don’t you think?”

“gyu, if you don’t want to—“

before you can move to stand up, you’re already being pushed back down by your shoulder. “okay, okay! geez, you’re so strict,” he grumbles jokingly. “i’m gonna try for real this time, seriously.”

you sigh, reaching across the table to apply a new, fresh layer of grape chapstick. “alright then, ready?”

beomgyu nods, sitting in anticipation as you hold his arms still and bring him into another sweet kiss. you don’t move much, letting your boyfriend start his seemingly focused investigation. suddenly, he bends lower to suck your bottom lip for a few seconds, making your brows furrow in confusion.

“hmm.. what could it be..” he mumbles in a serious tone, and yet you swear you see him try to stifle a laugh.

gaining more suspicion by the minute, you raise a brow. “babe, it seriously can’t be that hard. i purposely chose an easy flavor first.”

beomgyu rudely ignores your words, much too busy resuming his hasty attack on your lips with his own. it’s messy and downright aggressive as he takes turns kissing every inch of your upper and bottom lip, tongue mischievously poking out every once in a while. at this point, you doubt there’s any chapstick left on your lips, but you couldn’t deny that all the affection you were receiving was appealing.

you take it all back when you’re abruptly hit with a gentle nip of pain. “ow!” you snap, glaring down at the boy who had just bit your bottom lip. “what the hell was that for?”

snickering, he takes off the makeshift blindfold. “sorry, just felt like it.” realising this whole idea was a total fail, you huff in defeat, watching as beomgyu licks his lips before humming in satisfaction.

you send him an unimpressed frown, “can you at least guess the flavor?”

“grape,” he instantly replies, “i already knew that since the first kiss.”

you pause, jaw dropping as you attempt to process his confession. it was truly a mystery how you ended up dating the biggest dork on planet earth. “gyu, are you kidding me?!”

even if he’s anything but, beomgyu shrugs with innocent eyes before tossing the blindfold over to you. “nope. now put this on, baby. it’s your turn to kiss me, don’t you think?”

clearly, your boyfriend wasn’t here to guess lip balm flavors. you groan, picking up the tie and accepting your defeat, watching beomgyu reach over for the chapstick with his classic, stupid grin on his face.

woops this was longer than i anticipated 😭 still not gonna add my taglist tho jshdj, if u enjoyed reblogs/comments r appreciated!

I love that idea that if you know someone’s story, it’s impossible not to love them. This is potentially hokey but incredibly true, as far as I’m concerned. 

HAPPY 39TH BIRTHDAY ANDREW GARFIELD! ⌘ b. AUGUST 20, 1983 Los Angeles, California

MASTERLIST:

I take requests! Above are the links to the fanfictions and below them are the characters I write for :) Enjoy! 💛🦐

BTS

Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook, Min Yoongi, Park Jimin, Jung Hoseok, Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin

TXT

Choi Soobin, Choi Yeonjun, Choi Beomgyu, Huening Kamal Kai, Kang Taehyun

NCT

Yuta Nakamoto, Johnny Seo, Hendery

American Horror Story

Tate Langdon

The Walking Dead

Carl Grimes

Hannibal

Hannibal Lecter

Bones And All

Lee

Harry Potter

Draco Malfoy

Spiderman

TASM! Peter Parker

DUNE

Paul Atreides

Strangers From Hell

Seo Moon-Jo

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove, Eddie Munson

Celebrities

Brad Pitt

Mads Mikkelsen