Latest Posts by hobisfavoritespritecan - Page 6

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)

HARRY POTTER

Draco Malfoy:

Nightcall: You and Draco enjoy bending and breaking the rules when it means you get to see each other. Sometimes, all you need is a night shared between the two of you to run through the halls of Hogwarts.

(Romance/Slight crack/Fluff)

THE WALKING DEAD

Carl Grimes:

Nightly Encounter: Depression comes after losing your favorite person. What's worse: the fear of dying or the fear of knowing everyone else around you will die first?

(Romance/Angst)

In-Between Days: Finding more ways to pass time becomes harder and harder as the apocalypse continues. Just a day in with Carl!

(Romance/Fluff/Very slight angst)

AMERICAN HORROR STORY

Tate Langdon:

Young Love: The sweetness of the rain allows for the feelings of love. Just some fluffy Tate :)

(Romance/Fluff)

Together Forever: Tate isn't letting you go now that he has you within his grasp. You're his and he'll do anything to remind you of that. Even if it means your death.

(Romance/Angst/Yandere)

NCT

Johnny Seo:

The Sun: You felt a certain connection when it came to Johnny Seo that you didn't feel with anyone else. After a night at Mark's place, he decides to take you hiking. What chaos will ensue on your "nature hike?"

(Romance/Fluff/Chaos)

Headcannon #1: Cute things you and Johnny do!!! Just a little drabble because I love me some Johnny Suh ( ˘ ³˘)♥

(Romance/Fluff)

Yuta Nakamoto:

Fight Club: (Part One) Based off the 1999 film Fight Club; Yuta is trying his hardest to fit in amongst the guys within the club and slowly starts to realize what type of person Johnny is. He'd always fought for fun, but Yuta is beginning to think he'll have to fight for you.

Fight Club: (Part Two)

(Romance/NSFW/Angst)

Hendery:

Coffee?: Just a short imagine featuring a very loveable Hendery and a very loveable reader! Coffee definitely does start conversation!

TXT

All Members:

Headcannon #1: Being Goth has always forced you to be seen as an outcast, but could that change with the right person?

(Romance/Fluff)

Headcannon #2: Things have always been rough for you with having to hide your identity. But what will your boyfriend say when he finds out you're trans?

(Romance/Slight Angst/Fluff)

Headcannon #3: Vampires aren't real and there's not a chance that the hot guy you met yesterday could be one. Or is there?

(Romance/Crack/Halloween)

Headcannon #4: Dates don't always have to be traditional....do they? Sometimes mishaps make more fun!

(Romance/Fluff/Crack)

Kang Taehyun:

"Can We Enjoy Our Nuggets Without the Threat of Death in the Background?": You and Taehyun fight to the death for dinosaur chicken nuggets.

(Romance/Fluff/Crack)

B T S

Jeon Jungkook:

Roses: Jungkook didn't mean to hurt you but now he finds out it's too late to get you back. Just a small oneshot!

(Romance/Angst)

Min Yoongi:

Wandering Eyes: Frat au with all of the guys but your heart seems to belong to one unsuspecting frat boy in particular.

(Romance/Very slight angst?/Fluffy)

Jung Hoseok:

Sunshine: A morning spent with your family.

All Members:

Headcannon #1: In which you must open up to your boyfriend about the hippity dippity and he's not very helpful

(Romance/ABSOLUTE CRACK)

Can you recommend some Peter Parker blogs?? I’m obsessed obsessed and I trust your judgement

Can I ever! There are so many brilliant pals writing for Peter these days. Let’s see!

@scandalous-chaos

@abibliophobiaa

@decadentpaperduck

@disartrous

@hufflepuffs-and-hozier

@liz-allyn

@marvlspideys

@petcr3

@parkerpride

@rae-gar-targaryen

@spider-starry

@sheridans-dynamos

@withahappyrefrain

@wandasylvie

@mrshipsmcgee

Some of these sweethearts are multi-fandom, but they’re all lovely and there’s some real good Peter content! 🌻💛

This just made my day omg it's so cute 💛🦐

Dog Days (TASM!Peter Parker x Reader)

Summary: You might have been ever so slightly perturbed about Peter seeing you in your underwear if he wasn’t sporting a large cut along his jawline; one that looked achingly fresh.

“Did you shave with a machete this morning?” You asked, stepping out of the doorway and making room for him to enter.

“A scythe, actually,” Peter deadpanned.

Words: 2.4k

A/N: Andrew Garfield!Spiderman; friends to lovers; heated make-out; cursing; minor injury; mutual pining; possible part 1 of 2? characters are in college & of age.

It was hot. That sticky kind of hot that clung to you and made you feel like tearing your skin off. That makes the sweat pool at the nape of your neck until it slides in a cold streak down the curve of your spine. The New York air was shimmering, alive with exhaust fumes and the output of overworked air conditioning units of every apartment on your block—except for yours. The dumbass thing had broken overnight and when you woke up at five a.m., damp and uncomfortable, you’d called your best friend knowing he’d make a quick fix of it.

But you’d gotten his voicemail, unsurprising given that he’d never been a morning person. Since you’d met him three years ago at freshman orientation, Peter Parker had perfectly offset you in every way. Where he could stay in bed until noon, you were decidedly not a night owl, often cosy in your pyjamas by ten p.m. Peter had a sharp wit and loved to tease, and though his wit brought out a sharp tongue you’d never known you had, you were infinitely shyer than he was. He was perpetually late to everything from the Christmas dinner you’d invited him to at your parents’ home to your final exam for Organic Chemistry—which he’d passed with flying colours—whereas you were punctual to a fault. And perhaps most significantly, you’d never known heartbreak in your life, never had the opportunity because you’d never given anyone your heart to begin with. Peter’s heart, you knew, had endured the worst kind of break. Though he only spoke of her sometimes, you knew his high school girlfriend had died tragically and each year you went with him to visit her resting place, holding his hand and running your thumb over his knuckles as gently as you could. The depths of that pain, written on his face and in his body language whenever he spoke of Gwen, made you steel yourself against love, afraid to give yourself to anyone in case you left them broken and alone.

There was a flaw in your plan to avoid love forever though, and that was Peter himself. As much as you’d tried to swallow them, shut them up in the deepest pits of your soul, bury them where they’d never see the light of day, your feelings for him had only grown in the last three years. At first it was a little thrill each time his eyes met yours, a tingle on your skin when his fingers grazed your own while you shared a carton of fries at a Yankees game. That had grown, exploded really, into a brilliant whirl of colours every time you heard his voice—a sort of love-induced synesthesia that turned Peter’s laughter yellow and his whispers soft purple and his calling your name the deepest, richest scarlet.

You’d fallen desperately in love with your best friend and you were resolutely not going to do anything about it, thank you very much.

“Y/N!” There was a knock at the door of your cramped apartment that drew you out of your crossword puzzle—stuck, as you were, on 18-Down. “It’s Peter!”

You’d barely heard the knock over the sound of Eminem in your headphones, but there was no mistaking Peter’s voice. You were at the door, earbuds abandoned on the coffee table, pulling it open before you remembered that you’d traded in your baggy David Bowie tee and jean shorts for a barely-there camisole and blue panties of the lightest cotton. You might have been ever so slightly perturbed about Peter seeing you in your underwear if he wasn’t sporting a large cut along his jawline; one that looked achingly fresh.

“Did you shave with a machete this morning?” You asked, stepping out of the doorway and making room for him to enter.

“A scythe, actually,” Peter deadpanned. If only you’d known he was being entirely serious—his neck having had a near miss with some villain’s techno-reproduction of a classic medieval weapon only hours ago. “It’s hot as hell in here, Y/N. Are you trying to get me naked?”

Your cheeks flushed and you made quick work of rolling your eyes as dramatically as possible, trying to distract Peter from the change of colour in your face. He was an expert at changing the subject, so much so that you’d long since given up trying to get him to talk about anything he didn’t want to, such as why he was chronically late or where he’d disappeared to that night you had tickets for the Rangers playoff game, or how he managed to find time to workout with his ridiculous school schedule and familial duties because god damn, his arms—you stopped yourself from letting that thought full form, knowing it would send you down a rabbit hole.

“Don’t think I’m not keeping a tally of every time you dodge my questions,” you muttered, moving to the refrigerator and opening it briefly to let some cool air out on your heated chest. The emptiness of the shelves reminded you that you really needed to get groceries because ramen noodles, eggs, and the rapidly decaying bananas on the counter would not keep you alive forever. “And didn’t you get my voicemail?”

“No,” Peter shrugged, “I saw you left me one but thought I’d just swing by.” A small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, though you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what the joke was.

“Well, the AC is broken,” you informed him, straightened up and facing him where he stood in your living room, his tall and lean frame a familiar sight there alongside the stacks of textbooks and novels, the record player, and the pile of throw pillows you couldn’t stop collecting. For a long moment, Peter stared at you, his head tilted slightly to the side as if he was just now seeing you since coming in. You felt much more naked than you actually were under his stare and shifted your weight from one leg to the other, your hand coming to tug down at the hem of your camisole. Peter had seen you nearly nude before, but this felt—different. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was the unfamiliar expression that flashed across his eyes. Either way, it had you squeezing your legs together as subtly as possible. If Peter noticed, he didn’t let on.

“That explains the outfit,” he grinned, tone light, though you noticed the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed hard.

“It was hardly my first choice,” you shot back, “But anyways, now that you’re here do you think you could fix it?”

“This feels like the start of a por—”

“Don’t say it, Parker,” you cut him off with a warning glare, eyes wide. Peter only laughed, though stopped almost immediately, favouring his jaw. Already it looked like the gash was healing and you wondered where he’d gotten it from—it reminded you, oddly, of the ankle he’d “sprained” while showing you a skateboarding trick last summer. You would swear up and down, on every holy text that existed, that you’d seen his bone popping out of his skin. But the next day he’d been absolutely fine and you were certain that the limp he’d had for a week was half-faked.

“Y/N? Are you alive in there?” Peter’s amused voice drew you from your reverie and you nodded, running your fingers through your hair to get it out of your face.

“Alive and well,” you reported, “So you think you can fix it?”

***

As it turned out, Peter could fix the AC unit, but he’d need to pick up a part at the hardware store down the street. While he examined the ancient device mounted on your bedroom wall, you sat perched on your bed, silky pink blankets long since tossed to the floor, watching him with interest, noticing everything about the way his hands moved carefully over the shabby metal, the way his brow furrowed when he peeked inside the unit, and the way his eyes crinkled when he announced that it wouldn’t be an issue to repair.

For his part, Peter knew your eyes were on him—he wouldn’t go so far as to call it Spidey-sense, he just knew you and he’d had an inkling of the feelings you harboured for him for quite some time, though that part probably was Spidey-sense. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the same way, because god knows he did, but he was terrified to let himself fall in love again; beyond hesitant to ever let anyone get hurt again because of him. But then there was the way you looked at him, your eyes sparkling with delight when he made a stupid joke. And the way you said his name, like it was a magic spell wrapping itself up inside him and making him forget everything other than your voice. Yes, he loved you—more deeply than he’d thought he’d ever love again—but he was afraid to be in love with you.

When he delivered the happy news that he’d be able to get cool air back into your apartment, he felt his heart swell at the look of relief on your face.

“You’re my hero, Pete,” you said earnestly, “Really and truly.”

You had no idea.

“Yeah,” he said lightly, “I’m the best.” He saw the pillow coming at him even before it fully left your hands and dodged it in a swift, graceful motion.

“That’s not very nice,” Peter grinned wolfishly at you and your heart fluttered, “Here I am helping you out like a dear old gentleman and you throw things at me.” With another two quick, almost instantaneous steps, he was at your bedside, his hands coming down to your ribcage, fingers curling in as he began to tickle you mercilessly. You couldn’t do much more than squeal, kicking gently to get him off of you, whining his name as you begged him to stop.

“Peter!” you cried out, “It’s too hot for this!” There were tears in your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks and your bottom lip was swollen from where you were biting it to try to keep control of your laughter. Looking down at you, Peter knew he was finished, absolutely doomed, to fall into the warm and beautiful void that was loving you.

His fingers paused their attack and you both seemed to take stock of the position you found yourself in; you, flat on your back in bed, hair a dishevelled mess haloed out over your head; him, legs spread so that they were straddling your hips, his arms on either side of your body, lean muscles holding him up.

“Pete—” you whispered, eyes fluttering down to where your bodies met, lashes wet with unshed tears.

He blinked once, twice, three times, a pregnant pause in the hot air before his brain supplied the two words he’d been wanting to hear, giving him permission to plunge forward. Fuck it.

“Y/N,” he licked his lips, “You—” his fingers moved from your ribs to the edge of your camisole, thumbing across its stitching, “You’re so beautiful.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and your eyes shot up to his, pupils dilated. Your lips twitched, uncertain. “Don’t do this,” you sighed, all the while your own hands moved as if of their own accord, coming to rub up and down his arms, caressing lightly over the rippling muscle.

“Do what?” he asked, hand pausing in its movement to slip under your shirt. He withdrew it immediately, hoping he’d not grossly misread the situation.

“Don’t start something with me that you won’t finish,” your voice was barely there, “I—” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, couldn’t utter those little words out loud, but you knew Peter understood. You could tell from the way he settled down closer to you, his lips running feather-light kisses along your collarbone, the way he brushed the lightly calloused pad of his thumb over your eyes.

“Y/N, I feel like I was finished the moment I met you,” he said, “And now I’d really like to give you a proper kiss, if you don’t mind.”

“Hopefully you’re as good at kissing as you are at running that mouth, Par—”

The words couldn’t finish leaving your lips because Peter’s shut them right back into your mouth. He kissed you gently at first, then ran his tongue along your lips, asking entrance which you granted easily enough. Your kiss went on for what felt like years, each of you learning the other with care and attention. His hands explored your body freely, eliciting small moans of approval that led him along a path he was memorizing and then his lips were navigating that same path, kissing and nipping at your shoulders, your clavicle, your navel, between your breasts at the edge of your shirt.

You were on fire as your hands tangled into his soft brown hair, nails gently massaging into his scalp. You knew, from the vibrations on his lips, that he liked the sensation and filed that information away for a later date.

Once he’d kissed all the way down to your ankles, Peter flopped onto the mattress beside you, watching as your chest heaved with pleasure.

“It feels even hotter in here than before,” he smirked, “I should go grab that part, yeah?”

You swatted at him, laughter on your lips. “You’re the worst, Peter Parker.”

He caught your hand in mid-air, wrapping his fingers around yours and gently squeezing your palm—once, twice, three times. Three squeezes for three little words that neither of you were ready to say yet, but that you would willingly show each other.

“I’m serious,” Peter said, “I’ll grab the part and a pizza and we can hang out, even though I’m the worst.”

You rolled your eyes again, still trying to steady your heart rate. “Like I said, my hero. How can I ever repay you?” For good measure, you placed the back of your hand against your forehead, faking a swoon.

Peter only looked at you with fire in his eyes. “I can think of a few ways.”

He was out of the room before you could throw another pillow at him. Shame.

TAEMIN  ✦  SEXUALITY  ✦  The 1st Stage Nippon Budokan

a very fond hobi clicking his jiminie’s pictures 🥺

a dilf is not a dilf if he’s shitty to his children

Promise

PAUL ATREIDES X READER

You were to remain on Arrakis to aid in destroying the Atreides family: a Bene Gesserit trained assassin working for the Harkonnen House. It shouldn't have been hard to kill The Duke Leto's son with your Crysknife, however, love can be messier than blood.

The Bene Gesserit way had always been to look out for your loved ones, but stay behind the scenes. It has always been to fulfill the duty assigned to you since birth; to continue a lineage but never to create your own legacy. It was a way of life and it was collapsible. Not only did it bring down those that followed, but it also destroyed the lives of many. The closest to its creation would be that of religion, something that died years before the Great Houses were moved from the Earth and to the galaxy.

This was the life you were forced to conform to.

Day in and day out, you were taught the Bene Gesserit age since birth; your family hoping to continue their lineage and create a legacy that would rule the galaxy once the Padishah Emperor was removed from the Imperial House. Which, of course, was what your House had been planning on since the beginning of everything. The world was supposed to burn and everyone was to go with it. The downfall of humanity.

You belonged to the House Harkonnen.

Leaving your prized planet of Arrakis- home to you since the year 10174. Going into 10191, your Uncle, The Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, had planned to wipe out the cursed Atreides family by sending them to Arrakis with the false promise of the Spice Harvest. It was a trap to convince them of a growing economy, which would lead to their deaths as they figured a spy was among them. Dr. Yueh, their prized professor was working behind the scenes and helping your family to kill The Duke Leto Atreides.

And thus, your Bene Gesserit training had come to an end and a new one began. You were to stay on Arrakis and continue the ploy under the alias "Ataraxia." You were to kill Paul in his sleep the same night Dr. Yueh betrayed his best friend's trust. It shouldn't be an issue considering your training, and you were to use one of the fabled Crysknifes known to reside on your home planet. They were made with the tooth of the mighty sandworm and needed human flesh. It had to be close to the holder's side for the duration of its use or it would disintegrate into the very sands that swept the grounds. It was a highly valuable object; the holder could not leave the planet alive with one of these. One stab to the sternum would be all it took to deal a deathly blow and end the Atreides bloodline once and for all.

The Harkonnens were nasty and prided themselves on war. You would do anything to keep the pride your Uncle had in you and to keep your beloved planet, the only place you truly found solace.

And it would've been so easy.

But Paul Atreides was nothing short of beautiful.

Tall, slender, and an angular face that of which would make many look as though they're dying, but on him it made him look like the most beautiful chiseled statues. His long and soft dark hair that glistened in the morning sun of Arrakis that anyone would be jealous of and his beautiful blue grey eyes that struck fear into the hearts of many. Always a proper aura and his drive to study the laws of the land radiated that of Bene Gesserit training. You weren't sure if it was his intelligence, his looks, or the fact that he was the known enemy that captivated you first. But what you did know was that his softness was that unlike any other.

Your first meeting day had been when their household objects had moved into your familiar but drab home. They made it seem royal and warm at the same time, a contrast of the particularly cold and clean feel that the Harkonnens left on the place. You noticed the Duke Leto painted into an ornate frame above the mantel piece dressed as a matador. Across from it above the fireplace on the opposite wall was the head of the bull, frozen in time with the blood of the Duke's father upon its horns.

Your hand grazed the edges of the table that filled this room. The Harkonnens had used it for seating and the Atreides family used it as dining. The table was mahogany and must've been hand carved due to the intricate patters that looked like whittling. You pondered the thought of some servant who specialized in fine arts sitting at this seat and working the edges of the table into a flower.

Next, you noticed that the halls were empty. Your Uncle used as many servants as he needed and they all ran around the dark and dreary hallways looking for orders to take and messages to deliver. Before you had your heart set on helping your Uncle, you had continued your Bene Gesserit training under one of the servant women. But what was her name? You tried to recall, but noticed you had been joined by someone within the house.

"Ataraxia." He said.

Turning around, you came face to face with the most beautiful man you'd ever laid eyes upon. Actually, his eyes were what you saw first; boring into your soul with those piercing icy pupils of his. His entire demeanor was that of wealth, he stood tall and stoic and had an aura of elegance. You expected him to be of royal relation to the family Atreides, but what you weren't expecting was his kindness.

"Sorry for startling you." he said, softly smiling and moving his gaze to the wooden surface below your fingertips. Something about him seemed off, however, like there was something missing that he was refusing to show you. It was cold and dark but it was hidden away in the crevices of his mind.

"You're forgiven." You stated, raising your chin to meet his gaze once more, remembering your training.

"Ah, another Bene Gesserit." He stated, running his fingers through his hair. At first, you wanted to laugh. After such a royal introduction he decided to do something so boyish!

You suppressed your giggles as you fully grasped his assumption. He was intelligent.

His intellect drew you closer to where he was standing. "How'd you figure?"

He turned away from you and walked to the fireplace that was adorned with the gold flaking your Uncle had specially imported from Castle Caladan. The home planet of Atreides. The mystery man stopped with his hands behind his back (beautiful hands, you might add) and his hair falling at his shoulders.

"No one stands with such excruciatingly painful posture on their own accord."

Now you did laugh. The man was startled at first, but he then smiled with that same expression he had once he'd entered the room.

"Now it is my turn to apologize for startling you," you said, containing yourself once more. What power did he have over you that made you feel so easy. Did he posses The Voice?

"You're forgiven." He mimicked your response.

"I thought the Bene Gesserit were women?" You asked, motioning for him to continue, "At least that is what the Reverend Mother claims."

"The Reverend Mother is a bitchass." He said.

You froze. Did he...did he just insult her Majesty Gaius Helen Mohaim? With such vulgar language?

"I- forgive me... What defines a bitchass?" You asked.

He looked frightened after his last comment until you asked him a question pertaining to his language. Instantly calm once again now that he knows he needn't be so proper around you, he drops his guard. "It's a combination of curse words." He laughs and it's like music filled your eardrums. "I'm not entirely sure of the meaning, I read it in a book on old worlds."

After the both of you laugh, you decide to ask him.

"You know my name, of course. But might I know yours?"

He stops laughing and looks at you with a quizzical expression. "You don't recognize me?" He asks.

You instantly felt your cheeks get hot. He was pleasant and intelligent, and here you were standing like a blubbering idiot.

"I'm afraid I don't, sir."

He smiles at you once again. "I believe we are the same age, no need to keep the formalities. Please, refer to me as Paul."

He was kind and beautiful and smart.

And he was the boy you had to kill.

That was your first meeting with the young royal Paul Atreides and since then you couldn't get your mind off of his angelic features and determined gaze. There was something about him that was more captivating than the Spice itself; something that tempted you to get closer to him in ways you couldn't understand. But you wouldn't fail your Uncle, no. You had a mission as a Bene Gesserit and a Harkonnen. You were going to stab him with your Crysknife and end the bloodline. Once and for all.

⏳⏳⏳

You awoke in your cold bedroom on the day that would mark your second month living with the Atreides family. Continuing under the alias, you were rising up quickly above the other servants, no doubt about that. However, you were careful with your movements. If Paul was able to gather information off you so easily it would ruin everything. And not to mention his conniving mother, Jessica. She was always giving you the side eye as though she knew there was something off about you.

Glancing around the room, you see the blank and dry walls of the server's quarters. Your previous bedroom was taken by Paul himself; you now learning how to reside in a place less familiar. Nevertheless, you made it work. Hoisting on your dark pants and plain top you made your way to the common area where the Atreides family was to be having breakfast.

"Ataraxia!" A gust of wind blew past as Paul made his way towards you in the hallway. Walking with fast strides, you slow down to allow him to catch up. Why was he taking such an interest in conversing with you? Instinctively, your hand goes to your side to feel for the comforting coolness of the Crysknife.

"Sir." You said, now giving him your full attention. He was wearing the same uniform dark pants and a dust grey colored long sleeve adorned with the Atreides crest; a red hawk emblem. Even with the dull colors he still managed to show his beauty.

"I thought I requested to drop the formalities?" He smiled and you felt your face go hot. Right, of course.

"My apologies Si- uh Paul." You managed to get out, removing your hand from your side.

He looked towards your hands and then back to your face with a quizzical expression. He was about to open his mouth and ask what it was you were hiding, but instead he smiled and took your caution as just being startled. He might've been going against his instinct, but there was something about you that put him at ease.

Little did he know you were his own personal femme fatale.

"Nothing to worry over." He said and the two of you continued your procession to the downstairs. The rest of the walk was silent except for the occasional passerby. Paul said nothing else so neither did you.

⏳⏳⏳

The room was lit with the orange sky from the outside, the sun shining down on the window panes and creating a yellowish glow on the elegant dining room you had first met Paul in. The wooden arches gave the entirety of the room an elegant feel, they contrasted against the bare walls in a way that felt both comforting and regal. This had always been one of your favorite rooms in the house, as it had been the brightest.

Paul made his way over to one of the spots at the table, fixing the hem of his shirt and pushing his hair away from his eyes. You caught a glimpse of the ring on his left hand, an Atreides crest present there as well. Even though he was just wearing simple house clothes, he looked elegant as ever.

You made your way to the other end of the room, standing against the wall to take any orders Lady Jessica or Duke Leto had asked of you. It was a servant's duty, after all. It was odd to be on the other side of the spectrum since you were usually the one to be waited on.

"Ataraxia." You heard your alias coming from the mouth of Paul's mother, Lady Jessica. Your feet were taking you in her direction before your mind had time to wonder what it was she was about to ask of you. Stopping just a few feet from her chair, you waited for her to speak.

"I'm aware you have a knowledge of this place that surpasses the knowledge of the other servants?" She asked you with dark eyes. She knew you had been a servant in the Harkonnen House since before they moved, but to her knowledge that's where all your information of the place came from. There was no way she could've figured out that a servant isn't actually what you were?

You looked at her to see if there was any sign of knowing, but there was none. She seemed genuinely disinterested in your background.

"Yes, that is correct ma'am." You replied.

"I expect you to show Paul around the place, as we are still new and he has a break from his studies this afternoon." She said, going back to scooping up her breakfast with her fork. Elegant. Poised. Royal.

It made you sick.

"Of course."

Slinking away back to your original position against the wall, you smiled to yourself.

You and Paul would be alone, you could finally make your first strike.

Little did you realize, your smile didn't go unnoticed.

⏳⏳⏳

( AN: Part Two coming soon!! Thank you to everyone who reads my fics! It means the world to me! 💛🦐)

This is so cute, omg 😭 💛💛

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

summary: when peter finds himself in another universe like his, he never expects a pretty girl on the other side to completely throw him off.

CONTAINS ‘NO WAY HOME’ SPOILERS!!

masterlist.

STOP BECAUSE HIS SMILE MAKES ME WANT TO CRY </3

andrew!peter parker x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, flustered peter, cute lil moments and that’s kind of it? let me know if i missed any :)

don’t steal any of my work, thanks!

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𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 in a dark alleyway, breathing laboured as he had been swinging for the past thirty minutes out of boredom. The thump of his feet hitting the ground from a high level echoed down the empty area, not another presence apart from rats scurrying around, savaging for leftover foods.

He stood there for a moment, catching his breath with his hands on his knees bent over. Peter swallowed hardly, pushing himself up as he realised he owed Aunt May a new box of eggs after smashing the last.

His feet began to carry him away before a glowing light appeared in the corner of his eye. His spidey sense was going wild, increasing Peter’s curiosity as the more he turned his head to the glow; the more his spidey sense tingled.

“Peter! Peter” He heard his name called. He tilted his head to the side as the ominous glow spiralled into a circle, a clear new setting growing in the middle. Peter furrowed his brows behind the mask and looked around, wondering if this was meant for someone else. When no one seemed to respond to the people waving to him in the glow, Peter took it upon himself to retreat towards the mystery.

The closer he moved to the other side of the spiral, the more these people encouraged him. Peter had never met these people in his life so how on earth did they know his identity?

As Peter edged nearer to the entrance, he noticed the lookalike teenagers panic and take multiple hurried steps back. His curiosity got the better of him as he leaped into the separate setting and earning screams from everyone in the room at his presence.

Peter’s hands waved around trying to tell the people that he was harmless and only their friendly neighbourhood Spiderman. He tried waving at the four in the room, claiming everything is okay while a pillow was thrown at his stomach by a screaming older lady.

His hand raised to the top of his mask and ripped it off on one movement before his eyes scanned the room. The lady who had thrown the pillow had sprinted to the bottom of the stairs, the only boy (excluding Peter) was standing behind the table with his hands out like he was casting a spell. Peter’s eyes drifted to a young, possibly teenage girl stood behind a defensive arm, holding the most confused expression ever. There was a person standing infront of her, like the teenager needed protecting. His eyes travelled up the arm as then landed on you- Oh my God, you.

You were so beautiful. Your hair was falling from the clip secured loosely at the back of you head, locks of hair poking out the top. Your face looked concerned. Your eyebrows were scrunched slightly and your lips were twitched up and apart, showing your teeth which Peter knew you had a gorgeous smile. Peter admired the way your cheeks were flushed a light pink colour when he tore off his mask. His instant favourite part of you were your eyes. He noticed how they softened when you noticed the lack of danger in the room, your lashes adding another layer of beauty to your already perfect face.

“Who are you?” MJ pointed an excusing finger from behind your dominating form at the stranger who jumped through Dr Strange’s portal-magic thing? Peter’s gaze was still on your, “My name’s Peter Parker.” He said slowly, making sure everyone (mainly you but…) hung onto his words and processed them.

MJ looked up to your face, yours still looking at him. “That’s not possible!” She whispered harshly into your ear, making you snap out of your glare from the man.

Peter held his mask in his sweaty palms and lifted both to indicate his face, “I am the Spiderman from my world but yesterday,” His eyes widened and began tripping up on his words at attempts to explain infront of you. “I was just here!” He spoke with uncertainty and began to walk from his stationary spot in the room.

The three of you looked at each other as ‘Peter’ admired the room, gasps leaving his mouth as the house seemed to surprise him more than anything. “Multiverse theory?” He questioned, looking at you mainly. You muttered out a small yes and nodded your head rapidly as he fist pumped the air, letting out a small “I knew it!”

Ned tapped your shoulder and the three of you leaned in, “This has to be because of the spell!” He voice wandered. A hand on your back startled you before you felt Peter lean himself over you, his head hovering above your shoulder. “The spell?” He spoke with glee right next to your face. A beaming smile spread across his face, “A magic spell?” He smiled, feeling a softening glare from you.

Ned and MJ were quick to shake their heads as their voices overlapped one and other, “What spell? There was no spell!”. His excited demure tapped his fingers on your back, “There’s magic here too?” You felt his breath tingle on your cheek as small giggles fell from his lips.

MJ tugged your body back with a pull of your wrist, feeling Peter’s warm touch slip from your back and seeing his smile drop. “Prove it.” She spoke strongly, keeping your wrist in a tight hold. “Prove to us that you’re Spiderman, Peter Parker.”

The man tapped the sides of his suit, “I don’t carry an ID with me, kind of defeats the whole anonymous superhero thing?” His nose scrunched in confusion.

MJ used the hand not holding you to pick up the piece of bread you had raised to your mouth, about to happily eat, to throw at the man in front of you. The bread tapped his chest and did zero harm physically or mentally to the man. His lips upturned and his shoulders shrugged, “Why did you do that?”

Her hand was held up in front of her in a pathetic defence. “She’s trying to see if you have the tingle thing.” You said for the furious girl beside you, thinking some man is trying to imitate her boyfriend.

Peter’s eyes snapped to yours as he heard your angelic voice for the first time, the sigh in your tone made Peter want to grab your face and kiss you so passionately (even though he’s just met you, he knows true love when he sees it.)

He swallowed down his inner voice and said “Yes, I have the tingle thing; just not for bread.” MJ wasn’t convinced.

MJ’s hand snatched to grab another piece and lifted it high in the air. “Can- can you not throw the bread again?” Peter said with confusion laced in his voice. “You’re a deeply mistrusting person,” He raised his hands and he backed away. “And I respect that.” He confessed before he jumped up and stuck his hand on the ceiling.

His legs and one arm holding his mask dangled, his eyes meeting yours and sending a subtle wink your way. Why were you blushing? MJ’s fingers pointed around the ceiling as a odd looking scowl was imprinted on her face. “Crawl around.”

“Crawl around?” He sounded almost offended. His eyes broke from yours as he shook his head with a certain, “No.”

“Yes. Crawl around.” MJ stood her ground.

“Why do I need to crawl around?”

“Because it’s not enough!”

“This is plenty.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is.”

“Nuh uh!”

“It is.”

Peter groaned, “How do I stick to the ceiling?” He squinted his eyes before another piece of bread was thrown at his chest, earning a small laugh from your beside the bickering teenager.

Ned’s grandmother tapped you on the shoulder and explained in the easiest way possible for you, “Ned’s grandma asked if you could get that cobweb in the corner there?” You asked on behalf of her with a scrunched nose, looking at the attractive man holding a face of ‘I’m done’ hanging from the ceiling.

Peter obliged to your words almost instantly as he stuffed his mask to hold in his teeth, as he lifted his body to be on all fours on the ceiling. Ned and MJ glanced at each other as he followed your rules easily and not theirs, both confused on his beg for attention from you.

He cleared the cobweb after a heartless ‘Thank you’ from Ned’s mum. Peter detached himself from the ceiling and landed on the floor directly in front of you.

His chest was close to yours and so were your faces. Your noses nudged slightly as his tall figure leaned over yours, the smile hidden behind his grip on the mask reflected your own. Tension swarmed the two of you as his hand brushed your own ever so slightly.

The unknown moment between the two of you was interrupted at both of your heads snapped towards the new voice in the room. “Wait a minute, he’s not your friend…” The new Peter looked questionably at your Peter.

A newfound silence flooded the room as the two practically had a stare off before they both webbed at each other and swiftly landed on the kitchen island.

Your Peter hopped off the counter and stood by your side, coming shoulder to shoulder with you as the two of you unintentionally blocked out most of new Peter’s words.

Your Peter’s hand grazed your fingers and lightly touched them in an invitation to hold. You opened your hand and felt his warm palm slip into yours. A smile tugged on your face at the heat rising to your prominent cheeks. Sending a teasing smile MJ’s way as she winked at Peter’s height against yours, holding your hand.

A goofy smile spread across Peter’s lips as he held hands with the pretty girl he would soon become more with.

actually love this :(

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Peter's Motivational Speech

TASM Peter Parker X Reader

This is just a short little drabble I decided to write in hopes of relieving some of my own stress 😭 we could all use some Peter in our lives, especially some of his hugs.

"There's just so much I have to do, Peter. I have to figure out my entire future right now. This is the time to be meticulous and carefully plan my life so that things go the way I want them to. I'm so sick of sitting on the sidelines and watching other people live my dream so I'm taking all the steps I can to break my cycle of bad habits and I'm sorry I-" your ranting was abruptly stopped by a hug, your nose suddenly being filled with the scent of fresh laundry and chocolate. Your boyfriend had both his arms wrapped around you, halting your movements entirely as you stopped pacing back and forth, his chin resting atop your head.

You could feel it now, the anxiety crashing over you like the waves on a beach; the negativity flooding your brain like a tsunami, unstoppable and unavoidable. Your chest hurt as you gasped for air, tears pricking in the corner of your eyes at the thought of this being all life had to offer. You wanted to be an actress but things were so difficult and you could feel everything slipping from your grasp. Why couldn't you have chosen to be a lawyer or a doctor or something with results that came with extra schooling and not just chance?

"Hey," your boyfriend moved you to look him in the eyes, one of his many tricks that he knew would calm you down, "You're right. Everything sucks."

Your eyes widen in confusion. What did he just say?

He smiles and continues. "Everything is bad and we haven't been given the best opportunities to do the things we want to do. We don't know a whole lot yet and there's so much we have left to learn. Things are really difficult right now. But we have each other. And that counts for something. I know it does. Because even if my world goes up in flames, I know that I have you and I wouldn't trade that for the years of experience that comes with the job I want to have later on. I'm willing for the bad to come in because I know that I can face it. You can face it too because I'll be right here for you every step of the way."

You stopped. You stopped thinking about all the what ifs and the why nots and you just felt this moment. You felt your heartbeat dwindling down from an anxiety attack as your body found its footing and settled itself. You stopped pulling at the ends of your hair and you wiped your sticky eyes with the back of your hands. He always knew what the right thing to say was.

"I- thank you Peter."

"You have absolutely nothing to thank me for."

He then turns from you to busy himself with something at the kitchen counter. The sunlight coming in from the window on the far right of the room gave everything a calming glow. He looked so perfect standing there and you allowed for your worries to dissipate.

"I have made quite the delicious sandwich, would you like a bite?" He asks, turning around with a grin as he held up a pickle.

Laughing, you give him a hug from behind as you watch him finish putting on the extra condiments.

"I love you."

🌻🌻🌻

AN: I wanted to use the gif at the top just because I thought it was cute, I know he's portraying a different character but I couldn't resist that smile :)

The Gom Jabbar

Heyo!!!

Just wanted to hop on here real quick to say thank you to all of you who have been supporting my writing! It means the world to me especially since I'm so inexperienced. There are so many lovely creators on this app that I aspire to write similarly to! It's crazy to me how I started reading fanfiction back in 2014 and have now gathered the confidence to write my own, post it online and get all this amazing feedback!

I also wanted to say that requests are open! If there's someone you would like fanfiction of that you're unsure if I write for, please send the request anyways!!! It keeps it fun and interesting for me to learn about characters that I don't know all too well and to write them into a story.

And again, because I'm not sure if it was entirely clear, I want everyone to know that this is a safe space. For everyone. Regardless of sexual orientation, race, identity, everyone is welcome. I don't want anyone to feel judged!

Again, thank you for all of the support and I mean that from the bottom of my heart. I'm excited to grow both as a writer and a person.

May all your shrimps be panko 💛🦐

Timmy things in movies 12/x: breakfast/lunch/dinner

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.

Bitch Onions

TASM Peter Parker X Reader

⚠️Warnings: swearing, absolute crack⚠️

Sitting on the rooftop, you look up at the vast sky ahead of you. Your eyes making out the shapes within the clouds and your heart beating slow and steady, as calm as you could be. Things were perfect this high up, the sunset making the entire world a luminescent orange and sparkling off the glass of the city buildings below. The cars honking and the various shouts of the people below.

You were on top of the Empire State building. And next to you, was the infamous Spiderman.

Said superhero was currently devouring a chili dog.

"Could you chew quieter? I'm trying to meditate," you said, pushing your loose strands of hair away from your face and fixing the sweater adorning your shoulders. You squinted at him through warning eyes and then laid down in a similar position as before. Before you could get too comfortable, Peter slides down next to you and continues to annoy you by chewing in your ear.

"Is this any better?" He asks with a knowing grin.

"You're such an asshole." You laugh, and swat the chili dog out of his hands. It was only supposed to fall but you forgot about the fact you were up so high, and, well. Physics.

"NO!" Peter yells as he watches his delicious meal fall off the roof and down to the city below. Before you could say 'what the fuck are you doing?' he jumps off the roof after it.

"Peter?"

His image is going, going, gone. Just as you thought that you had gotten left up there, he resurfaces with his web shooters and the food in his hand.

"You made the onions fall off."

say you love me

                until the end of the world

wings spread and broken flyin’ to eternity but I can’t help falling with you, even falling is beautiful

TOMORROW X TOGETHER - LO$ER=LOVER (2021)

MAKE ME CHOOSE ↳ wings or love yourself era? — anonymous

NIGHTCALL

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Here's a visualizer for the fanfiction I posted!! 💚💚

NIGHTCALL

Pairing: Draco Malfoy X Reader

Simple school life with Draco except you both live on the more dangerous side; willing to bend and break school rules for fun.

⚠️ Warnings: swearing, sexual talk, mentions of blood⚠️

Filch had caught you wandering the school corridors alone at night. Great. Although you weren't doing anything wrong and all you wanted to do was walk off a nightmare and stare out at the stars, he had been a stickler for the rules, and thus, you landed in detention.

The corridors were now full of bustling students; a contrast from the dead empty halls when the sun went down as you made your way to Professor Dumbledore's office, waiting to be given your detention assignment. Funny how being a Hufflepuff has only made you hate their usual standard of being a happy-go-lucky and lover of people. You despised basic social interaction, something that had started with anxiety in your youth and had stuck with you until now. You could always put on a brave smile and stick through a conversation, but once that was done they could count on you heading straight back to your dormitory.

You just liked to be alone.

But a particularly asshole-ish blonde boy with a daddy kink ruined that for you.

"Oi, (Y/N), why the fuck are you wearing a skirt?! It's freezing outside!" Draco stated as he ran up to where you were following Filch, most likely coming back from an intense test in potions; you inferred based off of the way he glared at Snape and how his usually gelled hair was now spiking up in odd places. Draco had a horrible habit of ripping out his hair when he was stressed; you wanted nothing more than to put one of those dog cones around his neck when his hair-ripping days got really bad.

"Because it's the fucking school uniform, Malfoy." You stated with a smile on your face. You guys always joke like this and it was very refreshing to poke fun when other students tend to be expectant of the fake nice all the time.

Draco mumbled something about how it was misogynistic to make women wear skirts in the winter for school uniforms (which he's right) as he removed his large green and silver Slytherin Quidditch sweater and forced it over your head.

Oh shit, that's hot as hell. Especially since you're a Hufflepuff.

You tousled his hair and gave him a peck on the cheek. "You'll always be my bitch."

"Mhm. I enjoy it, actually."

He laughed and offered to hold your schoolbooks to which you declined. You had to go to detention which was on the opposite side of the school to where Draco had Herbology next. You memorized his schedule. Mainly because it was the same as your own with the only exception being that he had Defense Against the Dark Arts second period and you had it last.

"Why can't I hold them, where are you going? Or is this another one of your speeches about how you're not reliant on me?" He asked with a puzzling expression on his face. Merlin, he was cute.

"I have detention!" You stated with false enthusiasm, mainly because you knew it was over something stupid. You even threw in some jazz hands in the direction of your boyfriend.

"Oh. Is it because you left my dormitory late last night?" He asked.

Filch, who was standing idly waiting for you to finish your conversation so you could continue your path to Dumbledore's office, overheard this.

"Malfoy, you had a girl in your dorm? That's against school policy and you're going to have to follow me for detention as well." Filch sneered and pet Mrs. Norris who was placed so delicately in his arms. You hated that stupid cat.

"Draco you're a fucking idiot."

"Yeah but I'm your idiot." He smiled and grabbed your hand. "Change of plans, I guess we get to hang out today after all."

***

The walk to Dumbledore's office had been fun, you'd hate to admit it, but wearing Draco's sweater with him holding onto your arm and the stares it got you filled you with an unreasonable amount of pride. Like 'fuck yeah, I'm dating Malfoy, the hot mysterious boy who hates all of you but me.'

As you turned the corner you saw the Golden Trio sitting by the foyer steps and arguing about something stupid, Hermione trying desperately to fix Harry's glasses and Ron fiddling with his robes. You were friends with Harry,much to Draco's dismay, because you had grown up in Little Winging together. You had also been unaware of the magical world so when you two both received your Hogwarts letters looking at each other like a 'what the hell is this?' you had grown a close bond.

"Hey (Y/N)! I need your help picking up a package from Zonko's later if you're not busy." He said, approaching your spot in the hall.

Uh oh.

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco sneered from next to you, looking in the direction of the tan boy with the scar glistening on his forehead.

"What's it to you, Malfoy?" Harry was immediately backed up by his friends as he stared the blonde boy down. You could tell he was a Gryffindor via the aura of unnecessary confidence radiating from him. Bright green eyes and broken glasses, you would've taken him to be the calm and composed type if you hadn't known him.

Draco flicked him in the nose, tightening his grip on your hand. "Absolutely nothing other than the fact that your ugly face disturbed my walk to detention," he gave his infamous sneer.

"Ha! Bleached blonde is going to detention! For what, being an arrogant prick?" Harry chortled with Ron laughing from behind. Hermione looked genuinely bored as she usually did and readied her wand in case this fight got serious. She knew Malfoy played dirty.

"Actually...." Draco began, "It's because I fucked your best friend." At this, he made a dramatic gesture by kissing your face roughly and flipping Harry off.

You, however, were not having it.

"And goodbye." You said as you left the boys to argue, following Filch the rest of the way towards the office.

***

Twenty minutes later, Draco sits next to you sporting a bruised cheek and a bloody lip. He looked really pissed, and now he had to spend his time sorting letters in the Headmaster's office.

"Babe, what happened?" You asked with a voice full of worry as your hand went to glide up to his lip as you assessed the damage. You were gonna yell at Harry for this later.

Draco (who was fine) saw that you were concerned and willing to baby him so he made everything sound worse than it actually was.

"You left and then Potter said something about how I didn't deserve to be with you so I got mad and then he hit me." He quivered his lip for a dramatic effect.

"Awh poor ferret." You smiled a bit and he scowled as he was used to getting called that stupid nickname.

"It was one time."

"Yeah, but that Transfiguration was funny as hell."

"Oh shut it." He said, pretending to be angry as he picked up the neglected letters on the mahogany table. He looked frazzled with his hair all messed up and a bloody lip, but it was a good look on him. Maybe it was hot, even.

***

"Potter you fuckass where are you?" You asked, stepping into the Gryffindor dormitory in response to the fight he had with your boyfriend. You were friends with Harry, sure, but you weren't about to let him mess with Draco's pretty face. Especially since you stared at it all the time.

The boy in question was sitting with his legs crossed by the fireplace, playing with the tassels on one of his House scarves. You sat down next to him and stared at him before laughing. Draco had definitely done more damage to Potter's face.

With a black eye and cut running alongside his nose, Harry looked towards you and smiled. "You're starting to sound a lot like Malfoy with your incessant swearing."

You laughed and moved his curly hair away from his face. "I would like it if you didn't destroy my stuff, Potter. I happen to like Draco's face and I would prefer for it to be intact when I see it."

Harry fake gagged at this as he rolled his eyes. "I'm more hurt than he is, and I've known you for longer." He said with a smile.

"You can handle it, you fought Voldemort once or twice, killed a Basilisk, got crushed by the Whomping Willow, Broke your godfather out of Azkaban, Won the Triwizard Tournament, Exiled Delores Umbridge......do I need to continue?" You situated your head comfortably in his lap looking at the ornate ceiling above you.

"As much as I appreciate you listing my accomplishments, I think I'd prefer a bandaid for my face."

"I'm surrounded by babies." You laughed as you went to grab your wand to conjure up a bandaid.

"Hey (Y/N)," Harry began, watching you get up, "What do you see in him anyways? He's my worst enemy."

"Over the Dark Lord?" You joked.

"Serious."

"Okay, okay," you started, sticking the small bandage onto his cheek. "I guess I like him for things you wouldn't be able to understand. You really don't know him all that well."

Harry looked at the fire tentatively in thought as he pondered over your response. What is it about the bitch that he didn't know already? Other than the fact that his blonde hair wasn't real or that he one time accidentally tripped on the way to Quidditch practice and landed in a mud puddle when he thought no one was watching? What is it about him?

"Eh sure, okay I guess I trust your judgement."

"Good." You said, going to lay back down on his lap. "When did you want to head out to Zonko's?"

***

Back at the Hufflepuff dorm, you found yourself making Chamomile tea and filling it up with coffee creamer; a delicious trick you learned from one of your best friends under the Ravenclaw house. You made one for Draco since you knew he would come visit you soon and ask for a cup before you situated yourself at the small table in the lounge area.

The Hufflepuff dorm was nothing short of beautiful. Whereas the other houses prided themselves in their luxurious architecture, the Hufflepuffs had built their home focused more on comfort and tranquility rather than perfection and style. It was a large round building with equally round windows that let in the sunlight, and was covered in plants that were sparadically placed on the ceiling. The big couches were mismatched and comfy and some of them had patches that were fixed up by the more artsy Hufflepuffs within the commons. To describe it as a smell would be to say that it is similar to petrichor- the earthy smell that follows after the rain; and sandalwood incense, courtesy of one of the Scamander children.

"(Y/N)?" You heard your name and mumbled a 'yeah' in response, holding out Draco's mug of tea and waited for him to situate himself beside you on the sofa as he always did.

He took the mug from your left hand and placed it on the side table, also placing yours beside it. Guess he wasn't thirsty.

Instead, he laid down on you in a way similar to how you were with Harry earlier except he had placed your hand on his face. "Do you want to sneak out again tonight?"

"You liked detention that much, huh?" You snarkily responded and kissed him softly on the head.

"Listen. I want to play music and run through the halls. I think it'd be fun, unless you're too much of a pussy to do it." He sneered.

"Why do people use pussy as a word to describe something that is weak and balls to describe strength? Women bleed every month with an excruciating pain equivalent to that of a heart attack, whereas you could flick a man in the penis and he would cry about how much it hurt." You said as you picked up the neglected tea from the table and took a sip.

"That's a good point." He said looking up at you.

"I know." You smiled back down at him, messing with his tie that he never knew how to wear properly so it always hung loose under his collar. He was really pretty. So you decided to vocalize your thoughts.

"You're really pretty." You said looking directly into his eyes.

"Wow, a compliment coming from your lips and not an insult. I'm not used to this side of you." He joked and booped your nose.

"Enjoy it while it lasts."

"And there it is."

And wow, were you in love. His sharp and angular face with piercing grey eyes and a soft smile to match. His hair that framed his face perfectly when it wasn't gelled back (or being pulled out) was shining under the soft glow of the sunset. He looked nothing short of ethereal, laying on your lap like this. If someone had told you in your first year that you'd end up in this position with the Slytherin prince himself, you would've laughed in their face. Now, you couldn't imagine a time where he didn't come to see you on the days you weren't swamped by homework.

"Draco."

"Yuh huh?"

"I think I'm in love with you."

He squinted against the bright light as he looked up at your face. "Well I would hope so."

"Just thought I would remind you."

***

Night fell and when everyone else was supposed to be wearing their pajamas, you were slipping on your jeans and Draco's sweater. You didn't really want to get into trouble again since you wanted to finish your episode of Euphoria after classes tomorrow instead of in a cold room sorting through letters, but you couldn't deny Draco of his idea. You were excited to spend more time with him and you realized that he was one of your favorite priorities.

"Ready to go?" He asked from the end of your bed, still wearing your sweater over his school uniform. "I feel like if we wear our robes it'll be fun since they'll flow when we run."

"How deeply did you think about this, Malfoy?" You asked tauntingly.

"Arguably too much." He stated back, rustling through his satchel.

"Relax, I'm excited too. After you, ferret." You opened up the door and motioned for him to be the first one out after you had put on your Hufflepuff robes.

Draco led you through the Hufflepuff common room being very careful not to wake anyone up. Hand in hand and adrenaline pumping through your veins, you made your way to the entrance of the hallway. Once you were in the clear, you slipped through and followed him into the brightly lit corridor.

"(Y/N)."

"What?" You ruffled up his hair and smiled.

"Tag, you're it." He grinned like a maniac and took off in the opposite direction.

"Oh Malfoy you little shit." You mumbled under your breath, making sure to stay quiet as you guys were still breaking the rules.

I'm giving you a Nightcall to tell you how I feel

He's running extremely fast, left , right, left and then right again as he makes it near impossible for you to catch up. You sprint past the open windows, the blue night sky littered with stars entering your peripherals as you make your way to Draco. The castle was such a wonder at night, it was a shame that most students would go their whole time at the school without seeing it. The candles that lit the gothic hallways were enchanted to never go out, always keeping away the dark; which could possibly be seen as a metaphor for the magic of Hogwarts itself.

One foot after the other, robes flowing around you, (Draco was right about the dramatic effect of the wardrobe change) and the red flush on your cheeks you round the corner before you're abruptly grabbed from behind and hidden behind one of the corners of the pillars by the windows. Confused, you look up to see your boyfriend very much out of breath and very flushed.

"Draco wha-"

"Shhhh. Snape."

You carefully peered out from where the two of you were situated as you caught a glimpse of the greasy-haired man rounding the corner at the end of the hall.

"Coast is clear." You said, withdrawing from Draco's grasp.

"That was a close one. I contemplated letting you get caught." He snickered.

You lightly hit him on the chest and smiled.

"You're it."

I wanna drive you through the night, and down the hills

You ran in the opposite direction of the professor and made your way to Draco's favorite spot in the whole castle: the Astronomy tower. From there, you would be able to watch the stars encircle the balcony which showed the view of the Quidditch Stadium and everything else beyond.

Draco knew where you were heading, of course. It was where you usually ended your nightly encounters and enjoyed the company of one another, laying on each other's stomachs as you pointed out constellations in huffs and puffs.

He can't remember a time where he felt this happy. He used to think his happiness came from letters from his father, or fancy gifts from his mother. He thought the definition of love was how much you were willing to spend on the other person. Now, he realizes that love is defined by the way your eyes looked at him when you shared teas at the Three Broomsticks or the way you held his head in your hands when you kissed him in his room. It was the way you got excited over the smallest things like wearing his clothes or holding his hand. It was things like the way you sneezed or how you tied up your hair when casting spells. It was you.

I'm gonna tell you something you don't want to hear

Heading up the Astronomy tower, you made your way to the top, Draco in tow.

"Got you." He said as he wrapped you in a hug from behind, giggling as you squirmed in his arms.

"Ah you fucker."

"Hey, watch your mouth, bitchass."

The two of you laid down on the cool linoleum and assumed your positions on top of each other, taking in the warm night air. You could hear Draco's heart beating at a very fast rate due to his chaotic running and the sound soothed you. Just knowing that you had him by your side was enough for this moment to be perfect.

I'm gonna show you where it's dark, but have no fear

Tracing your finger over his Dark Mark, you called him beautiful. It was a part of himself that he had concealed from you for a long time and he finally trusted you enough to be open about it.

"How is something so destructive beautiful in your eyes?" He asked with a sad smile.

"Because it's a part of you." You replied and wound your hands through his hair, kissing him and taking in his scent of cigarettes and peppermint.

***

"(Y/N). I thought you got detention for sneaking off to Malfoy's room last week?" Harry asked you in Charms as he fiddled with his quill and ink. "Or did you have doubts about being in Hufflepuff?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?" You asked, giving him a quizzical look.

Harry just laughed and you followed his eyes down to your tie that was placed delicately around your neck. With the bright green and silver stripes, there was no mistaking it for anything other than that of the Slytherin house. You must've mixed up your ties when you decided to end the night in Draco's room.

"Ah shit balls." You said as you fiddled with the knot, trying to take it off.

"(Y/N)." You heard a familiar voice from behind you and Harry slowly approaching where the two of you sat at the table.

Draco looked lovely. His hair was slicked back perfectly, trousers and shirt freshly ironed, and silver rings adorning his fingers. The only thing that seemed out of place was the bright yellow tie that was much too small for him knotted hastily around his neck.

"Draco, I'm so sorry I didn't mean-"

"Wanna switch sweaters again, too?"

His response caught you by surprise as he grinned from ear to ear. He was enjoying this attention from other people as they realized you two were wearing each other's clothes.

"You guys are gonna get detention." Piped Harry from your left which just led to Draco excessively rolling his eyes and placing his hands on his hips.

"Great, we'll just fuck there too."

"Draco!"

You felt your ears get hot but hey, everyone in the whole school had to have known by this point based on your wardrobe since this morning.

You looked towards Harry, expecting some form of shock or disgust to appear on his face, making itself known with the discovery of you and Draco's free time activities. Instead, he was laughing. Really hard.

"I'll hand it to you, Malfoy. I haven't seen her look that horrified since Ron told her in our second year that he had used her toothbrush to give Scabbers a bath."

"Annoying her is my favorite activity." Sighing, your boyfriend sat down next to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Did... Did he and Harry just agree on something?

Fortunate Misfortune (D.M x Reader) |Series Master list

Summary: Its his last year at Hogwarts and former Hogwarts bully, Draco Malfoy just wants to clean up his act and get through the year. Maybe even apply for a potions fellowship and date Astoria Greengrass. His plan seems perfect on paper except for a minor hiccup in the form of a feisty Hufflepuff girl…

“Everything feels…easier with you.” He mumbled quietly. “It doesn’t feel that way with anyone else.” 

“I know.” 

Keep reading

you (dumb, never heard of fight club): if I buy things I will be happy

me (smart, watched fight club): I’m going to punch someone in a basement

Goddamn Namjoon 💍🦆

wow he’s so fine [cr. dwellingsouls]

Fight Club

Johnny X Y/N X Yuta Nakamoto

Just a piece of advice!!! This fanfiction 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⚠️

"You're not your job. You're not how much money you have in the bank. You're not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You are not your fucking Khakis. You are the all-singing all-dancing crap of the world."

...

Part Two:

Flashback:

Going on business trips was Yuta's least favorite part about his shitty existence. Having to travel from flight to flight for his business sucked, as he would say, ass.

So another plane ticket for him would mean another night of no sleep, zoning out while someone talked about a car line they needed to recall because of safety hazards, and then back onto his flight with people he had no interest in. That's the thing about self-serving "friends." They're just people who you have the displeasure of meeting because you're both going to the same place. After you're done trying to pass the time, you never see each other again and that's that. Well, Yuta thought of it that way.

Trying to get some sleep, he rested against the very uncomfortable plane seat and closed his eyes.

He didn't know when he passed out, just that it wasn't for long. The flight attendant had already gone through with the snack tray, he figured from the pretzels other people had on their laps that it wasn't too long ago. Sighing, he shuffled around his seat so he was in view of the window. However, someone was now sitting there fiddling with the window cover. He had longer black hair and red tinted glasses taking up most of his face. A cigarette was dangling between his teeth- unlit -and he had on a pair of very tight and very leather jeans. He also had an old pair of dress shoes with a hole in the top and scuff marks along the side. This man must've gotten dressed in the dark, Yuta decided.

"If you feel that you would be unable or unwilling to perform the duties on the safety card, please ask a flight attendant to reseat you."

The Elton John impersonator finally spoke to Yuta, a cocky grin on his face and glasses slowly sliding down his nose. In his hand was the manual for a plane crash which he must've taken out of the seat pocket in front of him. Yuta didn't think that anyone actually read those.

"That's a lot of responsibility."

"Wanna switch seats?"

"No, no I don't think I'm the man for that particular job."

What was with this guy? Yuta's first thought was drugs, but then he mentally slapped himself for thinking that. 'This guy's probably just as sane as I am', he thought.

The man sighed and looked around at the rest of the passengers before staring back out the window. "An exit door procedure thirty thousand feet. Mhm. The illusion of safety." He smiled again, except this time Yuta could feel himself glued to his chair, as if his movements would lead to the plane crash Red Glasses was talking about.

"Yeah, I guess so." Yuta let out with a sigh.

Just then the man said, "You know why they put oxygen masks on planes?"

'Oh joy', "So you can breathe."

Red Glasses sighed and rolled his eyes. It's clear that he's making Yuta out to be an idiot. "Oxygen gets you high. In a catastrophic emergency, you're taking giant brain-panicked breaths. So you become euphoric, docile, you accept your fate. It's all right here." He grabs the pamphlet and opens to the page he was reading. Then, shoving it in Yuta's face, he continues his rant.

"Emergency water landing 600 mph. Blank faces, calm as Hindu cows."

The horribly computer generated pictures of people following safety protocol showed them all- as Red Glasses stated - unusually calm. At this, Yuta laughs. The man did have a point.

"That's uhm, that's an interesting theory."

After a pause in conversation, Yuta tries to talk to the man again as he realizes that this is the most interesting conversation he's had throughout his whole trip. He actually didn't expect someone with so much exuberance to be seated on his opposite side.

"What do you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what do you do for a living?"

The man's face turned into another one of those cocky smiles as he pushed a couple strands of hair away from his eyes.

"Why? So you can pretend like you're interested?"

Yuta laughed again, not sure how to respond. His textbook conversations that he had thought up earlier while sitting on his prized IKEA couch wasn't working. The conversations he saved for when he didn't know what to say. They were usually foolproof, but not with this guy. For once in his life, Yuta felt dumb.

"You have a kinda sick desperation in your laugh," The man stated as he reached for something from below the seat in front of him. Realizing what it was, Yuta exclaimed that they had the same briefcase. Odd stranger and similar taste. Interesting.

"Soap."

"Sorry?"

"I make and I sell soap." He opened the briefcase and saw the bars of soap Red Glasses was talking about. For the neat way they were packaged, Yuta could tell this guy was serious. Indeed, he made soap. They were a little deformed, but Yuta guessed the sold well. Their appearance was high quality.

"The art sticks of civilization." Yuta took the business card held out in front of him.

'And this is how I met....' "Johnny Seo."

"Did you know if you mixed equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate you can make nepalm?" Johnny said, looking directly at Yuta now.

"No I did not know that, is that true?"

"That's right. One can make all kinds of explosives using simple household items."

"Really?"

"If one were so inclined." Johnny smirked again and shut the briefcase in his lap closed. The smell of the fruity soap washed over Yuta's nose as it did, and he started to understand why people bought them. There's a sense of familiarity to the smell, Yuta couldn't tell if it reminded him of old lady perfume or bacon.

"Johnny, you are by far the most interesting single-serving friend I have ever met. See, I have this thing that everyone on a plane is single-serving-"

"-Oh I get it. That's very clever." Johnny interrupted Yuta as he was about to explain his odd correlation with people and planes. Usually, the person Yuta talked to when he boarded was someone who was desperate to get him to shut up, so they let him talk about God knows what for however long he wanted. Not Johnny, though.

For lack of something better to say, Yuta replied with "Thank you."

"How's that working out for you?"

"What?"

"Being clever."

'Who is this guy?' "Great."

"Hmn. Keep it up then." Johnny patted Yuta's shoulder and smiled again. It was 100% a half smile and Yuta could tell that his small talk was boring Johnny to no end. His observations were proved true when Johnny readied to get up to leave his seat.

"Right-O. Now, a question of etiquette as I pass- do I give you the ass or the crotch?"

...

Yuta aggressively typed on his work computer while his thoughts mercilessly tugged at his brain. Y/N was mad again, Yuta could tell. It wasn't just about the dress thing, no it was also because of the sex. She'd been pestering him about it all week, trying to lure him upstairs. Yuta wasn't sure why she was trying to play with both him and Johnny but he knew that there was something wrong.

Fight Club was also very quickly taking over Yuta's life. He dressed sloppily to work every day, not even bothering to put on a tie or button up the rest of his shirt, with blood stains from a fight the night before. He was even smoking in the office, something he wasn't used to doing but now couldn't care less about.

Throughout all of the activities taking hold of him, Yuta couldn't sleep again. His insomnia was the worst he can remember it ever being. With that thought still on his mind, he grabbed his laptop bag and walked out of the office, on his way to Joon's once again.

...

"Alright boys. It's time for another fight. This week we have Yuta and one of the newcomers."

Johnny was getting used to his position as a spectator. He'd only fought a couple of times, but he seemed to get a pass from the other members because of the position of leader he'd taken over. His poise and demeanor had changed since Yuta's first encounter with him; that cocky, arrogant smirk still resided on his face but that was all that was left of the Johnny Yuta once knew. Or so he thought. He'd only known Johnny for a few months after all.

Yuta prepared himself for his next fight. He was angry. And his insomnia was getting worse by the second- he needed someone to take his aggression out on. Pain seemed to be the only cure to his sleep deprivation.

"Alright Yuta. You're up against Ten."

Yuta stared at the tall and muscular man at the other end of the "ring". He wasn't jacked but he definitely worked out. He was fit, covered in tattoos, and was littered with piercings along the sides of his ears. This man had so many pictures etched onto his skin that Yuta doubted he could even count them all. And, he was bleached blonde. Like- really bleached blonde. Draco Malfoy would've been jealous.

Yuta planted his feet firmly to the ground, watching the strange man named Ten do the same thing. This was his first night, so Yuta would be sure to make it memorable for him. At least, from the ground.

"How much do you bet?" Yuta heard from someone in the crowd. Since when was Fight Club about bets?

"I'll give you a twenty for tattoos."

That was all Yuta needed to hear before he was filled with rage. Johnny was in on this too? This was just supposed to be the two of them. Since when was it about an underground cult? Yuta felt sick to his stomach as he dealt the first blow.

And then another. And then another. And then another.

Why wasn't Ten fighting back? Well you see, Yuta had struck him completely by surprise, rendering him defeated from the minute his ass hit the cement ground of Joon's sacred basement. Ten couldn't even stand to try again before this kid was on top of him hitting him everywhere: the jaw, the nose, the eyes, even his motherfucking ear.

Yuta was ruthless.

For once, Fight Club was silent. The only thing that could be heard was Yuta's punches and the snapping of bones and moaning of Ten from beneath him as his body contorted into uncomfortable positions. He was bleeding from his nose and mouth and his beautiful face was now going to have an incredibly large scar across the side.

Amidst all of this commotion, Johnny lit a cigarette.

"Get him off."

Yuta was pulled away from Ten who was now knocked out cold.

"Why'd you beat up Ten that badly?" Johnny asked, looking directly at Yuta with an undecipherable look. He had a beer in one hand and hair frizzled everywhere. Over the past couple of months it had grown to an extraordinary length of an inch and a half. This meant flyaway strands everywhere. Yuta was mainly just looking for anything to focus on instead of his friend's face. The humiliation of what he had done to Ten's face was enough for him. Yuta held his wrist to his chest and assessed any leftover damage.

"I felt like destroying something beautiful."

...

The streetlights were dim as Johnny and Yuta ran through the dark. The sidewalk was uneven so they'd taken to the side of the road instead, making their way to the back of a large building with scuffed up shoes and bloodied noses. Yuta had no idea why he was here other than the fact that Johnny had dragged his ass out into the cold to "make soap" or whatever the fuck that meant. Yuta knew he'd figure it out though, Johnny always had a way with turning anything into a philosophical speech.

The chain-link fence was nearing Yuta's vision as he and Johnny ran on. The lights were brighter up there, and for a second Yuta wondered if they would get caught trying to break into the place. Johnny had said it was abandoned, but that obviously wasn't true seeing as he was shimmying his way over the fence after throwing his coat up over the barbed wire. He was making fast hurried movements and Yuta followed suit, grabbing the red leather jacket and hoisting it over his shoulder once he was on the other side. An alarm rang out and they both ducked for cover behind a large dumpster.

"I thought your dumbass said this place was abandoned?"

"It is at night. Usually."

"Who's out here?!?" They heard a policeman yell, the sound of a dog nearby made them stop in their tracks.

"Shit. Guess we'll have to wait him out." Johnny said between drawls of his cigarette.

"Wait him out?! It's 26 degrees outside are you crazy?!?"

At this, Johnny smiled. "Very."

The next twenty minutes were grueling as they waited for the guard to leave. Once security was taken care of, Johnny led Yuta to another dumpster on the other side of the building. Upon opening it, he climbed inside and started rumaging through it.

"Johnny, where are we?"

"Can't you fucking read?"

Yuta looked above Johnny's head to where he was pointing. There was a giant sign that proved they were in a medical facility. Liposuction.

At Yuta's realization, a bag of said material was thrown at him and he barely caught it in his arms before it fell to the ground. The red and flesh colored goop slid around in the bag reminding Yuta of throw up.

"Here, there's a few more."

Going back over the fence, Johnny threw Yuta more bags from the dumpster as he caught them from the other side. However, one of these were a failed attempt because the Yuta had found himself lost in thought. You, in particular.

He remembered how excited you were to show him the dress you'd bought. Your happy little giggles as you paraded around in it when you had found it made his heart swell.

Wait why does he remember that? Wasn't the first time he'd seen you wear it was in the kitchen?

"Hey shit face! The lard!"

Snapping back into reality, Yuta watched the bag catch on the barbed wire and split open, releasing a flood of human fat and blood all over his head.

"Aw fuck."

...

Yuta had taken a very thorough shower. He had been washing for hours it felt like, just to try and remove that god-awful smell from his hair and his clothes. Not that the water on Paper Street was very clean, but it was better than nothing.

Once he was finished he got dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. It was already past 3:00am and he doubted he would be getting much sleep anyways, so he just got ready for work. Walking down the rickety stairs from his bedroom and into the kitchen, he was met with that horrible smell once again.

"Ugh, what is that?" Yuta asked, looking for Johnny to answer. He held his nose and made his way to the fridge where he was stopped by Johnny who brought out some of his experiment stuff.

"Ay watch it this shit burns." He said, going back to stirring whatever pot he had been fussing over previously. Johnny was wearing nothing but his pants from earlier, his shirt was lying on the other side of the counter and his jacket had been abandoned to the bedroom upstairs. Because of this, Yuta was able to see Johnny's exposed muscles as well as the scars from previous fights and other miscellaneous events in his life. Yuta couldn't help but stare. Johnny really was pretty.

"Okay." He motioned for Yuta to stand at the table that was covered with experiments and the lard from their previous adventure. Once Yuta was situated at the table with a confused expression dawning his face, Johnny smiled. This was one of those malicious ones that he put on before he fucked something up for Yuta again. Last time he'd given him this look, it was when he threw Yuta's work computer out the window of their dingy old house blabbering on about corporate businesses and the corruption of everyday society.

Johnny then grabbed Yuta's hand and kissed it.

"What is this?"

Johnny picked up a lenticular container from his left hand side and started to pour the powdery contents onto Yuta's hand.

"This," he said, "is chemical burn."

Yuta was confused as to why his wrist was being held down to the spot but then the chemical kicked in. Yuta's first reaction was to scream.

The pain was unbearable. It was the worst pain Yuta had ever felt and he was starting to wish he could die just to get it to stop. Anything to put out the flames on his hand, eating his flesh and leaving a crater in its wake. His breathing quickened as his body went into fight or flight mode, his hand shaking around in Johnny's grasp and his legs wobbling.

"It'll hurt more than you've ever been burned and it'll leave a scar." Johnny stated in a nonchalant tone.

'If guided meditation could work for cancer it could work for this.' Yuta thought as he closed his eyes and tried to envision a nice forest somewhere. His daydreaming, however, was cut short by Johnny's voice.

"Stay with the pain. Don't shut this out."

"No!" Yuta drew back from Johnny's hand and his head hit the shelf containing their unused pots and pans. He held his burning hand to his side as he waited for the pain to stop or even just dwindle a little. Yuta felt his adrenaline levels skyrocket as tears formed in the corners of his eyes.

Johnny took hold of Yuta's wrist with his burning hand once again and slammed it down on the table. Due to his thrashing, Yuta knocked a lot of Johnny's materials onto the ground of the kitchen, not caring about destroying anything and only thinking of the excruciating pain before his eyes.

"Look. At. Your. Hand! The first soap was made from the ashes of heroes, like the first monkey shot into space! Without pain, without sacrifice, we would have nothing!" Johnny stared at his friend dead in the eyes and tried to illicit a sense of fear into him.

Yuta screamed again as he tried not to think of the words sear or flesh. Nothing was working to try and calm the pins and needles attacking his body. He tried to break away from Johnny but to no avail. The man was prepared for this, it seemed.

"STOP IT. This is your burning hand! It's right here!" With that statement, Johnny slammed Yuta's hand against the counter again to try and focus his friend on his philosophical assignment. He was getting pissed now.

"I'm going to my cave. I'm going to go to my cave and I'm going to find my power animal!" Yuta exclaimed, trying to remember his sessions from support group and their ways of coping with difficult tasks. He remembered in a Leukemia group that someone had mentioned a "safe space" where you could form whatever it is your heart desires to try and make yourself feel safe in an unsafe situation. Yuta found his to be a cave with a penguin, however, that penguin has changed into his daydream of you.

"No!" Johny rolled his eyes and slammed his fist on the table to accentuate his point. "Don't deal with it the way those dead people do! Come on!"

"I get the point you're making please! Please make it stop!" Yuta managed to get out in between heavy breaths and the knot in his throat.

Johnny pursed his lips. "No! What you're feeling is premature enlightenment!"

Yuta imagined his cave once again in an effort to escape his reality. Instead of your calming face, he was met with the image of you naked while he was atop you, both of you within the icy confines of his arctic imagination. He coughed as he went in and out of his vision.

Johnny must've sensed what his friend was up to, because not seconds later Yuta was getting slapped across the face. "It's the greatest moment of your life, man! And you're off somewhere missing it!"

"No I am not!" Yuta screamed through gritted teeth.

"Shut up! Our fathers were our models for God. If our fathers bailed, then what does that tell you about God?!"

"No, no I don't-" Another forceful slap from Johnny resonated throughout the room.

"Listen to me!" Johnny threw his goggles off his head and onto the floor with the other cups of mysterious substances that Yuta had dropped.

Johnny got closer to his face to the point where if he leaned any further over the table, he'd be nose to nose with Yuta.

"You have to consider the possibility that God does not like you. He never wanted you. In all probability, he hates you. But, that's not the worst thing that can happen."

"It's not?!"

"We don't need him!" Johnny spat, and Yuta could tell that his pleading was getting him nowhere. For now, all he could do would be to endure the pain until Johnny felt sorry enough to tell him how to stop the burning. He had to know, right? He was the one who was working with the fucking chemical.

"We don't! We don't need him, I agree!!"

Johnny smiled at him from the other side of the table. "Fuck damnation man, fuck redemption! We are God's unwanted children?! Then so be it!"

Yuta flung his hand to the side with Johnny still attached, knocking over more things in their kitchen and watching as his supposed to be single-serving friend laughed through his pain.

"Listen! You can run water over your hand to make it worse, or you can- look at me! -or you can use vinegar to neutralize the burn."

Bingo. That was Yuta's ticket out of this hell. His eyes met Johnny's and he could feel his hatred for him bubbling up from his chest and into his eyes where he put everything he felt into his look. He wanted Johnny to know how he was feeling.

"There you go."

"Please let me have it! Please!"

"First, you have to give up. First you have to know, know, not fear, that one day you're going to die."

"You don't know how this feels!" Yuta screamed again in agony, watching the bubbling of his flesh on what was left of the top of his hand. Of course Johnny could sit all high and mighty on his side of the table, he had no idea how much Yuta was suffering. Was this some sort of sick joke?

Johnny's malicious smile returned once again as he raised his other hand from under the table and into Yuta's line of vision. There, on the spot Yuta felt the most pain at the moment, was a scar similar to that of a chemical burn on Johnny's hand. Ugly, big, and worn with pride.

"It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything."

Yuta's eyes met his as he started to calm down and his body adjusted to the fire on his right hand. "Okay." He said as a tear rolled down his cheek.

Johnny slowly removed the boy's hand from his grasp and watched as Yuta held his same position with his hand over the table. He was shaking, but he was determined to see this through now, knowing that it was one of Johnny's more difficult lessons. If he could get through Fight Club on the daily, he could get through this, easy. Even though the burn hurt more than any missing tooth or broken nose.

Johnny grabbed the giant jug off the counter behind him and flipped the cap off, throwing it's contents onto Yuta's hand and drenching him in vinegar. The pain instantly stopped and Yuta clutched his hand to his chest and fell to the floor, calming himself down after all of this. He looked up towards the table and saw Johnny staring down at him with that shit-eating grin of his.

"Congratulations. You're one step closer to hitting the bottom."

Amongst the spinning of the ceiling and the labored breathing, Yuta found beauty in the events of that night on Paper Street. They might not have made soap, but they made a man. And Yuta found out he was more capable of anything than ever before.

...

(Part three coming soon!)

[AN:] Thank you for reading! Please interact with your thoughts! This is somewhat new writing material for me and I would love to know if you liked it or not! Thank you! :)

yeonjun ✙ mama 2021 ‘opening performance’ intro