never not angry about how the scott pilgrim comics were like funny and well written and had scott’s character arc revolve around him realizing that he couldn’t keep going through life making up false narratives to absolve himself of blame and that he has to step up and take responsibility for his actions and how the movie completely erased all of that and made the message “scott gets a girlfriend due to being awesome and liking video games and being in a band” and now scott pilgrim is like a patron saint of the exact kind of shitty indie dude his character was a criticism of
some thoughts about love (remus lupin x nb reader)
this oneshot was based off of these two requests from my bestie mars:
so remember how I suggested maybe a few scenarios/prompts of remus? so I had a few more ideas hdahhsajhs, - gn reader painting his nails??? I mean the only difference between the usual personality of reader is just that they’re nb, - remu seeing gn reader with eyeliner on and asking if they can do his eyeliner? remus sitting on reader’s lap bc that’s the easiest way to get it done?? yes, - picnic date with remu and just a load of fluff with like flowers and books and chocolate hehe -mars:3 <3
so yk how one of the prompt ideas I gave you was abt a picnic with remus? could you maybe make it Valentine’s Day related if you ever write it 🧎🏽♂️🧎🏽♂️🧎🏽♂️-mars:D
a/n: I AM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE it was supposed to be up in time for valentine's day but uh. it's the beginning of march </3 this doesn't really have a plot, tbh idk what this is gbknashds hope you enjoy it, thank you so much for reading :)) (reblogs are appreciated)
***
Remus loved how easy it was to be around you. All his smiles came effortlessly and for once his heartbeats were even, his mind calm. Remus was easily anxious, but you were like the weighted blanket to his body, like the necessary breath to his heaving lungs. Sometimes he wouldn't know what he'd do without you.
Right now, the sunlight graced over your features in a purely angelic way. He found himself staring, he couldn't help it. Ignoring the spread of food you had preparing for the two of you, Remus gazed longingly at you, itching to hold your hand.
"Moony," you said while selecting a ripe strawberry from the container. "You're staring."
Remus quickly looked away and felt his face heat up. "Sorry."
You chewed your strawberry and smiled at him, taking in his lovely pink blush and his soft brown hair that had tinges of gold in the sun.
You set down the stem of the fruit and took his hand in yours. The gesture was one of comfort, and as Remus glanced at your face, he reckoned it felt like you were an angel putting your loving wings around him. He quite liked that image and indulged in it a bit, thinking about what it would feel like to be carried in your arms as the two of you soared over London; the weightlessness, the bliss, the exhilaration.
That's what it felt like to love you. He was okay with that scenario not being a reality, because every day he got the privilege to wake up to a life in which you were his lover and you loved him back.
Remus'd been thinking a lot about love today. He supposed it was just because today was Valentine's Day, but lately, love seemed to be all he could think about. Ever since that day at your house during Christmas break...
***
"Hold still, okay?" you said gently as you held the eyeliner pen to Remus' face. "I don't want to poke your eye."
Remus' body was as still as a statue but his heart was thumping erratically against his ribcage as if it were a wild animal trying to breach containment. Even though you and he had been dating for a while now, that rush of excitement at any closeness between your bodies never went away.
You tried your best to keep your hand steady but you were at an odd angle and you needed to be closer in order to do a good job at Remus' eyeliner.
"Okay, I'm gonna try something," you told him.
You and Remus were sitting across from each other on the bed with your makeup products spread all over the bed. You set down the pen and climbed into Remus' lap, making the latter's breath hitch in his throat as he felt every part of your body pressed against his.
You noticed his demeanor changed. "Is this okay?"
Remus swallowed and nodded quickly.
You smirked at him and kissed his nose before picking up the eyeliner pen and placing your hand behind his head to steady yourself. Your face was just inches away from his, and Remus could see up close the black lines highlighting your eyes in all the best ways. Having seen how pretty you looked with your eyeliner, he had asked you to do his to which you eagerly assented.
"Look up for me, pretty boy," you told him. Remus obeyed. He felt the careful lines of the pen tracing his skin and tried to ignore the way his entire body felt like it'd been shocked by lightning. Heart speeding, skin hot, unable to move.
After a few minutes you finished doing Remus' eyeliner and sat back a bit to admire your work with satisfaction. "Wanna see?" you asked him.
"Sure."
You handed him a handheld mirror and he took it gingerly. When Remus gazed into the glass, he almost didn't recognize himself.
The color of his honey-brown eyes, which he normally thought boring and plain, were vibrant thanks to the eyeliner which you had done a spectacular job applying. For the first time in his life, he liked what he saw in the mirror; he almost didn't notice the scars on his face.
"Wow" was all he managed to say.
You chuckled and ran your hands through his soft, fluffy hair. "You look so pretty, baby. Now do you believe me when I call you 'pretty boy'?"
Remus couldn't take his off of the mirror. "You did a really good job. I look so ... different."
"In a good way or a bad way?"
"Good," he said quickly. His eyes focused on yours. "Everything you do is good."
"Guess that means you're good too, then, huh?"
Remus' face was on fire.
***
After you did Remus' eyeliner, he asked for you to paint his nails black to match yours.
Your hand was warm and soft against the rougher skin of his own. Your work was gentle and delicate, your face calm and concentrated. The sight of you so unaware of your beauty and the admiration he had for you had Remus thinking a lot about love. The love he had for you, specifically.
If his love was a color, it would be vermillion. Warm, rich, but still bright, not too muted. Because loving you ignited this comfortable kind of warmth all throughout Remus' body. His senses were heightened, his emotions falling into place, his body burning with the feeling of safety and a state of being that felt like the triumph when you finally find something you've been looking for for a long time. He had discovered that he had been incomplete, subconsciously searching for something to bring meaning to his life and stability to his mind.
With every beat of his heart, Remus felt more and more in love with you.
He wasn't sure why the simple act of your painting his nails had him thinking so deeply about things. These feelings of such deep affection were unfamiliar to him, but he welcomed the newness with open arms. And after a while, loving you began to feel natural, as easy as blinking or breathing. And just like those functions of the body, Remus supposed that without love he would die.
Remus hadn't realized you had stopped your gentle brushes on his fingernails.
"Keep your hands still so they dry," you advised. "And try not to smudge the polish."
Remus nodded, having been brought back to reality after swimming through the catacombs of his mind.
You eyed your boyfriend carefully. "You okay, Moony? You've been quiet."
"Just been thinking a lot, I guess."
"Yeah? Is there anything the matter?"
"No," he replied quietly, analyzing the shiny, half-dried paint on his fingernails. "I'm okay."
Your eyes searched his face for a moment before deciding that he was being truthful. With a small smile, you patted his cheeks affectionately and rose from your position.
"I'm going to fix us something to eat. Try not to miss me too much while I'm gone, okay?" you joked.
"Thanks, y/n. I'll try." He meant it.
When you left the room, Remus rested his head back against the headboard and exhaled a bated breath. He felt heavy with an invisible weight settled on his chest.
"I'm fucked," he said to no one at all. "I'm fucked in love."
***
After you and Remus had finished your picnic, Remus laid his head in your lap while you read a book of poetry to him, one that you had brought from home. You held the book in one hand while playing with Remus' hair with the other. Remus would be purring if he could, he was so at peace.
He closed his eyes and just focused on the sound of your voice and the wind blowing through the trees scattered across the clearing. Distant shouts were drowned out by the perfectly composed poetry that fell from your lips. Your voice like honey seemed to wrap its arms around his body and hold him tightly in an embrace that he could melt into.
"Hey, Moony?"
Remus opened his eyes and looked up at you. "Yeah?"
"I love you."
Invisible butterflies tickled his skin, making him feel warm. He nuzzled his face into your stomach and whispered into your robes, "I love you too."
You combed through his hair and set down your poetry book. Stomachs full of fruit and chocolate and minds satiated by the cloudless, cool sky, you and Remus just enjoyed the silence provided by each other's company. Sometimes, there wasn't anything to say. Sometimes, it was nice to just exist with Remus, to just sit in a comfortable silence listening to his breathing and brushing your thumb over his knuckles.
Remus thought a lot about love and he reckoned it seemed to be the very thing that held his bones together. He felt like he was made out of love, like the atoms that composed his body held the secrets to human affection. Well, it wasn't a secret to Remus.
It was pretty clear that as long as you were alive and by his side, everything in the world was in order.
The birds chirped and the wind breezed past in reply, giving their blessing on the two of you. Telling you that it gets better. It always does.
warnings: arguing, Draco being a little bitch, Ron getting picked on, a bit of angst, but fluff too <3
anon requested: i love your stories sm ahhhh !! id love some teeth rotting fluff for ron weasley (harry potter) with male reader. i want to just let you run wild tbh, i love seeing writers just write about what they want :] have an absolutely amazing rest of your day/night, take care of yourself <3
a/n: thank you, anon for requesting this!! i've never written for ron before, so let me know how i did :) reblogs and comments are *always* appreciated !! this also contains a hint of drarry at the end bc i couldn't resist <3
***
"We wanted to write another couple of verses. But we couldn’t find rhymes for 'fat' and 'ugly' — we wanted to sing about your mother, see... we couldn’t fit in 'useless loser' either — for your father, you know..."
Draco rambled on and on, but Ron was so angry he had tuned out the rest of the Slytherin boy's monologue. Ron had heard quite enough from the prat's mouth, and he was one step away from knocking Draco flat on his back.
The anger radiating from Ron's aura was not something he tried to hide, but you knew your boyfriend well enough that you could tell his anger stemmed from a place of hurt and pride. Pride for his family that fucking Draco Malfoy had wounded rather severely.
Ron started toward Draco with a menacing look in his eyes, ready to beat the Slytherin's ass to a pulp.
And you did nothing to stop him.
"Get his ass, Ron!" shouted Hermione who was standing next to you and Harry, witnessing the whole scene. Harry stood there starstruck and secretly applauded his best friend for his bravery.
Draco scowled at Hermione and would have likely called her some sort of slur if it weren't for the six-foot Ron lumbering toward him with his hands clenched into fists. The Slytherins standing behind Draco were yelling at Draco to take Ron in a fight, while you and your Gryffindor friends were dictating to Ron where to hit Draco first.
Ron initiated the fight by snatching Draco by his robes and slamming him against the thick bark of a nearby tree. Students scattered across the clearing looked over at the scene uneasily, having heard the commotion. They whispered to each other, debating whether to get a teacher and stop the fight or to watch how the rest of it would play out.
Draco gasped for breath and looked up at Ron towering over him. He sputtered some sort of plea for mercy, but Ron was not finished with him just yet.
"Don't — you — ever —" Ron growled, "talk about my family like that, you hear me?"
"Let go of me," begged Draco, trying to play the victim card knowing damn well he antagonized Ron on purpose.
Ron set his jaw and released Draco. The latter's robes were all messed up, but there was a look of awestruck terror on Draco's face. He said nothing, just stared at Ron with wide gray eyes.
You walked up to Ron and put a hand on his chest, comforting him. Ron looked at you gratefully, and your heart melted. But he wasn't done with Draco just yet.
"Just because your parents don't give a damn about you doesn't give you the right to insult mine," Ron said in a steely voice.
Draco replied with a scowl, and Pansy Parkinson grabbed Draco's hand to pull him back toward the group of spectating Slytherins.
"He's not worth it," she said, casting a dark look at you and Ron. "Filthy Gryffindors."
"The only filthy thing here is your attitude," you fired back in defense of your friends. "Learn how to shut your mouth once in a while, huh?"
Draco turned and stormed off in the direction of the castle, his entourage quickly racing to catch up with him. Hermione remained a few yards ranting to Harry about her passionate disgust with Draco Malfoy, which Harry was only half-listening to.
Ron exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.
"Thanks," he said.
"For what?"
He shrugged. "For defending me and — and just being here. I would've beaten that Draco black and blue if it weren't for you."
"Who said that would be a bad thing?" You grinned.
He just shrugged. "Saves me a month's worth of detention, at least." Ron pulled your body into his side. He smelled good like always, a mixture of wood and something sweet that made your heart swell with affection.
"Are you okay?" you asked after a few moments.
Ron, whose eyes had unfocused as he stared out at the wide expanse of the clearing, suddenly looked at you. "Yeah," he sighed, shoulders sagging under some invisible weight. "I just — I hate it when he insults my family. He can say whatever he wants to me, I can take it. But when he makes jabs at my family, that's where I draw the line."
You nodded in understanding, and you felt sorry for him. Draco never picked on you much because you intimidated him more than anything: what with being way taller than him and ultimately more attractive and well-liked, he didn't like to mess with you out of fear. At least, that's what your boyfriend said.
But Draco and his clan never failed to enrage you with the way they ruthlessly bullied your friends Harry and Hermione and your boyfriend Ron. "He's a coward," you concluded, placing your hands on both of Ron's cheeks. "And you're too special to be put down because of some good-for-nothing rat like Draco."
"It doesn't feel like that sometimes," said Ron, almost embarrassed by his honesty. "I can't escape him, y/n. How am I supposed to feel good about myself when I've got Draco babbling in my ear telling me how worthless me and my family are every day? It's not fair."
"I know, love," you said gently. "I'm sorry that you feel that way." You sighed. "I wish there was something I could do to make you realize just how wonderful you really are."
Ron suddenly went pink and averted his eyes.
"What?" you wanted to know.
"I, um — well, there's one thing you could do to help me out..."
"Oh yeah? And what would that be?"
Ron shifted his weight from foot to foot. "A kiss. Maybe?"
You didn't need to be told twice. You brushed your thumb over the blush on his cheeks, over the freckles dotting his cheeks and nose, over his soft jawline, and you kissed him. In front of everyone on the clearing and in front of your friends, you kissed Ron who wrapped his strong arms around your body and pulled you close.
That was typical of Ron — despite being a bit shy, he'd always been a sucker for physical affection, especially hugs. Whether that entailed him sliding his arms around your waist from behind to surprise you, or you gathering him into your arms and rubbing his back affectionately, Ron loved the closeness between you and him. The warmth and the wholesome affection was his favorite thing in the world.
Ron hummed against your lips, pleased as always with the electricity that flowed between you and him whenever you kissed. He seemed to melt into your touch, becoming weak in the knees as the world quieted around him. It was like in those movies where the couple kisses and the camera circles around them while triumphant music played in the background. It was just like that, but the movies couldn't do it justice.
Ron's nose brushed against your cheek and his eyelashes fluttered in pleasure. You pulled away momentarily and looked him in his sky-blue eyes. In the sunlight, his fiery red hair gleamed like the sparks that shoot out from your wand when you command "Periculum!"
"I'm in love with you," Ron breathed, the moment swollen with heat and affection.
You laughed despite yourself. "I know, my love. You tell me all the time." You combed your fingers through his hair causing a purely happy smile to appear on his face. "And I love you too."
Ron couldn't even remember who Draco was, much less what had happened just minutes before. All he could think about, all that his world seemed to revolve around was you, you, you.
***
The Slytherins were having a field day.
"Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King!"
Ron was trying his best. Ron was having fun out there on the Quidditch pitch, but fucking Draco and Pansy had decided that whenever Ron was feeling good, they had to drag him down.
At first, he didn't understand what the crowd was singing, too focused on not letting the Quaffle in. Some weird part of him thought maybe they were cheering for him. But no, that couldn't be. Because a quick glance at the crowd told him that the Slytherins were cheering too. Why would the Slytherins be singing for him?
Then he found a break in the action of the game to really listen to the words.
"Weasley was born in a bin,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley will make sure we win,
Weasley is our King!"
His face reddened, but not in the way it did when you kissed him or told him how much you loved him. This was anger that reddened Ron's cheeks, that spread like a rash all over his neck. Everything disappeared around him as his senses honed in on the lyrics to the cruel, jeering song.
Suddenly, the Quaffle came soaring toward him, but Ron was too distracted by his anger and the noise of the crowd to stop it from going in the hoop.
Immediately, tears welled up in his eyes and he thought about quitting mid-game. He thought about dismounting his broom in the middle of the air and splattering all over on the ground. Maybe that would hurt less than the sound of all the spectators in the crowd cheering for his demise.
Ron didn't know how he managed through the rest of the game. The Slytherins won, obviously, as Ron's head was clearly unfocused. He let Quaffle after Quaffle into the hoop and he thought there wasn't a single person in the world more pathetic and hopeless than him.
But there was still you. You, there for him through his best and worst times, you who saw him cry and loved him anyway. The Slytherins were laughing and shouting at Ron as all the players flew to the ground and huddled up to discuss the results of the game. But Ron, knowing he was going to get chewed out by his teammates and the captain, made his way over to where you were seated in the stands.
You saw the look on his face and quickly climbed over a couple of students to race over to a dejected-looking Ron.
As soon as you were close enough, you gathered your boyfriend into your arms and let his tears soak into your robes.
"Why can't I do anything right?" he sobbed quietly into your shoulder, gripping onto you as if you were his only source of life.
"Shh, it's okay, my love." You rubbed his back just how he liked it and whispered calming things in his ear. You didn't try to stop him from crying, knowing he needed to let it out in order to feel better, so you just stood there and hugged him and told him he was okay, that it would be okay.
Ron couldn't bear looking in your eyes, so he rested his head on your shoulder and tried to steady his breathing. "I'm sorry you have such a pathetic loser as a boyfriend," he said.
"You know I don't think that of you," you consoled. "You know you mean more to me than anyone in the world."
But still, Ron repeated I'm sorry, I'm sorry into your shoulder although he never pulled away from your embrace. You and he stayed like that for a while, and when you saw Hermione and Harry walking over to you and Ron, you shook your head discreetly to let them know Ron wasn't ready to see anyone right now. A look of understanding passed over Hermione's face. She grabbed Harry by the arm and led him away promptly.
"Hey," you said once Ron's sobs quieted to choked breaths and finally silence. You pulled away and placed your hands on either side of his neck so that your thumbs could brush over the underside of his jaw.
"I'm a failure," he said.
"You're not a failure," you protested.
"Why do you even stay with me?"
"Because I love you, Ron."
"You shouldn't."
"And why not?" You crossed your arms but you weren't mad at all. You were determined, determined to make your boyfriend change the way he viewed himself.
"Because — because I'm —" Ron stumbled over his words, trying to find reasons other than his being pathetic to use to prove you wrong.
"Listen to me, and listen close," you began, silencing your boyfriend's useless attempts to degrade himself. "Just because you make mistakes doesn't make you any less of a person. And it will never make me love you any less. Okay?"
Ron didn't seem convinced and struggled with himself for a few moments before finally nodding his head. You wiped away the remaining tears on his face and traced the lines that they left in their wake. But even though your actions and disposition were gentle and loving, a wildfire of anger rooted itself in your stomach, swelled in your chest, and spread all throughout your body.
Draco and his clan were not going to get away with this. Not that easily.
***
As you and Ron navigated the throng of students filing into the Great Hall for lunch, you quickly noticed where Draco and his friends were sitting.
You squeezed Ron's hand, which was grasped in yours, and looked at him. "I'll be right back, okay?"
Confusion passed over his face. "What are you —"
But you were already making your way to the Slytherin table.
"Hey, Malfuck," you said, approaching the table. Draco turned around at the clever nickname. But when he saw that it was only you, he regarded you with a bored expression before turning back to his meal.
"I'm talking to you."
Pansy nudged Draco and inclined her head in your direction with a knowing expression. Draco just rolled his eyes and pivoted in his seat so that he was facing you. He looked you up and down as disgust contorted his face.
"God, you reek of Weasley."
"Stand up," you commanded harshly. Draco tried not to let it show that he was surprised at your tone.
Draco obeyed and rose from the bench of the Slytherin table. By this time, all the eyes of the Slytherin students were on you and Draco, who was looking up at you with a clearly fake display of arrogance. You knew he was intimidated by you. And you would use that to your advantage.
"Tell me something, Draco —" you began stonily.
Draco blinked, his pale face somehow becoming more pale.
You leaned down so that your face was just inches away from his. "—who the hell do you think you are?"
Draco swallowed and said nothing. You smirked at his timidness.
"If you bully my boyfriend again; if you speak about him; if you so much as even look at him again, I will not hesitate to make your life a living hell. You stop singing that goddamn 'Weasley is our king' song and you stay the fuck away from Ron and me." You watched as Draco's lower lip quivered as he was unsuccessful at hiding his fear. Good. Serves him right.
"Have I made myself clear?"
It was a rhetorical question, though Draco wouldn't have been able to answer anyway. He backed away from you but found that his calves were pressed against the edge of the bench, trapping him.
You took Draco's silence as affirmative. "Good," you decided, stepping away from him. "Next time you try have another go at the Weasley family, remember my face and think again."
With that, you turned away and sauntered back to the Gryffindor table with a victorious grin.
But Draco wasn't done just yet.
Driven by some newfound burst of courage, Draco took wide steps to catch up with you and shouted at your back, "M-my father will hear about this!"
"Your father can suck my dick," you replied over your shoulder. Fred and George and all your friends who had overheard the conversation filled the Great Hall with laughter.
Draco's face went whiter than freshly fallen snow. Pansy tried to soften the blow by placing a hand on his shoulder, but Draco shrugged it off and ignored anyone who even tried to talk to him.
You came up to Ron who hadn't sat down to eat yet, still smiling from your triumph. Ron enveloped you in a tight, warm bear-hug before pulling away to say, "Why did you do that?"
"It's high time Malfoy got what was coming to him," you stated, tracing the outline of his smile with your fingertip. "And I think I scared him off for you. He shouldn't be bothering you anymore."
Ron sighed in relief, and his eyes sparkled with pure admiration for you. A thousand different expressions of gratitude passed through Ron's mind, but for once he stopped thinking. And he pulled your body right up against his and leaned in to fit your lips together as if you'd done it a thousand times. Well, maybe you had. But this time was no less special than the times before.
You kissed him back eagerly and smiled against his lips when Fred and George began cheering for you and your boyfriend, getting the Gryffindors to join in. You pulled away and took a bow while Ron just stood there somewhat awkwardly and blushed at the praise.
Fred raised his goblet and declared, "To true love!"
And George echoed, "Whatever that means!"
Hermione handed you and Ron goblets of drink which you raised in toast. Ron sipped his drink and peered at you over the rim of the cup with a suggestive raise of his brows.
You furrowed yours, unsure of what he was hinting at.
He whispered, "You wanna know something?"
"What?"
He contained a good-natured laugh. "I think Draco's jealous of us."
"You think so?"
He nodded. "Probably just upset that he doesn't have a sweet, caring, unbearably handsome boyfriend like I do. That's why he bullies me so much, I think."
The thought pleased you and in jest you turned to Harry. "You hear that, Harry? Draco's looking for a boyfriend. You wanna volunteer?"
Safe With Me | Peter Parker x Male Reader (Andrew Garfield)
Warnings- Some gore, blood, and nothing else really
Requested?- Yes, "Sorry if im a lil late sire but remember when you wanted to write an adrew Garfield spiderman fic? Allow me to flood your inbox with crappy ideas<3 okay so- 1. Reader is a villain working for an even bigger (unimportant) villain and after reader and spiderman had a big epic fight spiderman later finds him injured and close to dying because his boss had kicked him out for not being able to beat spidey?? And then their just fruity ig😩 im runnin outta space but hmu if u want more ideas💫💫"
Words- 2.5k
Pronouns used- He/Him
A/N- Thanks for 300 followers!<3 Sorry to the people who have requested stuff that I have yet to finish, I've been a bit burnt out lately with school and work, but I'm back in the writing groove so expect more fics soon! Also, I hope you like this @meowkinq!:)
~~~
Panicked vibrations came from your phone in your pocket. You discreetly pulled out your phone to check it—holding it under the desk to try and skim the texts you were getting without being caught by the teacher.
'Need you at the stash house. It's urgent.'
'I'm at school. Is it really important?'
'Yes.'
With a sigh, you whispered-yelled to the brown-haired boy sitting next to you, your desks only a few feet apart. "Psst, Peter!"
Peter looked over to you and nodded his head to signal he was listening attentively. "I gotta go—family emergency. Take notes for me?"
He agreed, and you let out a rushed 'Thanks' while packing up your things. Within minutes you were in your car and on your way to your boss's hideout. Parking your car not too far away, you walked into the stash house and were greeted by your boss and his goons. Although, there was someone new among them. That in itself would never be weird—he brought on new people all the time, but with your boss's relocation coming up, it was certainly strange.
The looks on their faces—or at least the faces you could see that weren't covered by masks—weren't exactly helping the strange vibe. They were almost expectant, like a dog waiting for you to return home. Except, you're the dog, always doing whatever other people tell you to do. You'd never let people treat you that way, but it's for survival.
"(L/n), about time you showed up." Your boss's voice was deep, so deep you wouldn't have been surprised if it caused the stacked crates of various substances in the stash house to topple over. You wondered what it would sound like without that voice modulator he used.
A look of sorrow spread across your face, "Sorry Mr. Boss, what do you need me to do?"
"A new shipment of explosives came in down at the harbor, go get it." You nodded your head in agreement as you headed for the exit, thinking of how this was just another example of him treating you like a dog. He was damn near telling you to 'go fetch' with those words.
You reached the exit, but his words stopped you in your place before you could leave the building. "Oh—and we're expecting Spider-Man to show up, don't forget to bring him back with you this time."
You let out a miserable sigh, Spider-Man eluded your capture every time. Not only that, he often stole back whatever items you were sent to retrieve–err, steal. Surprisingly, your boss was forgiving of every time you failed, except the fourth time. That's when he finally lost it.
Hopefully, Spider-Man will let you get off scot-free this time around.
***
The whirring of your grappling hook was never pleasant, and your boss never bothered to get a new one for you. So you were stuck with a shoddy grapple whenever you used it. You touched down on the deck of the boat and started scanning the area. There was no sign of Spider-Man or any crew members, so you entered the ship's under-deck.
After a bit of searching through the maze of crates, you found the crate filled with explosives. While things were going smoothly, it all started to derail when you heard someone else's voice come from across the under-deck.
"(V/n)!" The wall-crawler called out to you, jumping over crates and bales of multiple sizes to get closer to you.
"Spider-Man! Good to see you!" You warmly expressed, arms still wrapped around the small crate. Your possession of it didn't last long, though. With a quick web shot to the crate, he had easily pulled it out of your grasp. A 'thwip' could be heard as he attached the crate to himself with his webs so he didn't have to worry about holding it while fighting you.
"Yoink! Thanks for that, buddy!" He shot a web up to an exit in the ceiling and started pulling himself out of the under-deck. You rolled your eyes, "Come on, Spidey. I know your tricks."
You reflexively pulled out your grappling gun and fired it at Spider-Man. It clung itself to him and pulled you along with him as he pulled himself out of the under-deck. His actions caused you to follow suit, with you landing close to him on the deck above. Both of you landed gracefully, and the wall-crawler wasted no time in trying to web you up.
It was easy to dodge the first few shots, but he must have upgraded his web-shooters since the last time he and you fought as a big web ball escaped his wrist. It expanded during its journey towards you and wrapped around you, knocking you to the ground, stuck in his webs.
You tried to play off your capture coolly, "Those new?"
"Yeah, I made them myself! Pretty cool right?" Spider-Man playfully nudged your side as he helped you to your feet. He shot a web to the underside of the bypass of the upper deck before attaching it to the back of the bundle of webs tautly woven around you. It pulled you up some, causing your feet to dangle a few feet off the ground, making any way of escaping vanish into thin air.
Spider-Man was still on the ground as you glared at him with a raised eyebrow, "You're not taking me to the police? What if I escape?"
His response was odd—because there wasn't one. While you were sure he said something, it was indiscernible to your elevated ears. With that, he swung away, fumbling with the crate as he nearly dropped it while making his exit. It wasn't usual for him to not reply with something quippy, Spider-Man always had something to say. You were pulled out of your thoughts when you saw something interesting.
Out of the corner of your eye, you could see someone walking up to the ship as everyone else was occupied further down on the dock—it was the new guy. He was wearing a uniform similar to that of a police sergeant, but without a hat. Since there was a significant gap between you and the nearest surface your feet could rest on, he had to move a few crates nearby to allow him to get up to your level. The sergeant's uniform had a utility belt to help him keep a knife within his reach, which he promptly used to cut the web that held you up. You thought he was going to remove the rest, but he kept the webbing on you as he escorted you back to the stash house.
"Mr. Boss isn't gonna be happy about this one, (L/n)."
***
"Well, (Y/n). It looks like you failed... again."
"I—" You tried to speak but were cut off by your boss continuing. "This is the fifth time I sent you to retrieve something for me and this is the fifth time that item has ended up in Spider-Man's hands." You stood there, motionless as you were sandwiched between two goons that gripped either side of your shoulders.
You've seen things like this before, except you were one of the goons. And usually, none of the people standing in your spot were wrapped in webbing to be a spider's prey.
"Now, if that were to happen once or twice... I'd call it a coincidence. After all, everyone makes mistakes. But five times? That sounds like we may have a mole in our midst, someone who deliberately fails to help our enemies." A pit the size of a black hole formed in your stomach, sucking up everything inside you so it could be replaced by the feeling of nervousness. Your boss's words caused your mind to race with ideas of where he could be going with his speech.
"(L/n), I truly think this has been going on too long. I feel as though it's time we ended this arrangement of ours," Your boss backed away from you, moving back over to his desk only to open a drawer on the very top. "After all, we don't need you anymore. Kravinoff can easily take your spot."
"Boys, give him a goodbye present, then show him the exit. Oh—and don't forget to record it for me." Laughter erupted from your boss as he rifled through a drawer in his desk, looking for a camera and throwing it over to his goons once he found it.
***
From rooftop to rooftop, Peter swung, going about his usual nightly activities in New York. He turned down 73rd avenue, and his Spidey-senses hit him harder than a brick wall ever could. Peter puts a halt to his swing and lands on the ground as quickly as possible, scanning the area before finding someone in a nearby alley. He ran over to them, only to see the suit of (V/n) connected to the head of (Y/n). You were sprawled out on a blood-stained mattress with cuts all over your body.
Peter's heart rate quickened, and his eyes welled up. He took off his mask, bent down next to you, and started trying to get you to wake up, "Hey, (Y/n). Come on, get up. Please..."
It didn't take long for tears to start their descent down his face, shimmering as much as they could in the dim alley light. He just kept shaking you, hoping you'd wake up. With a few more shakes of your unresponsive body, you shot awake, frantically looking around before your eyes landed on Peter's. For a few seconds, he made you forget the events that caused you to end up in an alley on an old mattress.
Everything flooded back to you, though, and the origins of your injuries made them feel worse than they already felt. Your boss's goons landed hit after hit on you, some causing you to bleed and others only leaving bruises.
"(Y/n)? What—what are you doing in an alley? And why are you wearing this? Please, please don't tell me you're—"
Your voice was weak, but you wanted to be honest with Peter at that moment, "Yeah, I am."
"Let me take you to my place, I can fix you up there."
Peter snaked an arm underneath your back and used his super strength to easily lift you to your feet. "You okay to walk?"
You nodded. In response, he guided you out of the alley with an arm over your shoulders to help support you. "We're gonna swing back, okay? Just hold on to me as best as you can."
You clung to Peter as best as you could, your face pressed against his chest with his arm still wrapped around you as he swung with you back to his house. You would've been lying if you said you didn't like the position you two were in at the moment.
After one incredibly fear-filled web-slinging ride, Peter reached his house and clung to the siding next to his window. He supported you with that one arm while opening the window to his room with his other. Carefully, Peter helped you get in through the window before entering himself. You plopped onto the bed as he shut the window and immediately rushed to the bathroom to get first aid supplies, disregarding the fact that he was still in his Spider-Man suit.
He came back with some antiseptic-doused bandages, a cloth, and a bottle of peroxide, clearing the mess off of the table next to his bed before setting the items down. The spider moved over to his closet and pulled out some of his own clothes for you to wear instead of your bloodied suit. He set the clothes on his bed and sat next to you, grabbing some of the first aid items off the table to use.
After a semi-painful cut-cleaning process, you changed into Peter's clothes and sat back in the same spot on his bed. The two of you were sitting across from each other, legs crossed over one another. Peter noticed your demeanor changed after most of the overbearing pain had decreased and was replaced by a look of irritation.
You looked away from Peter, nervous to ask him the question stirring in your mind. "Why didn't you just take me to the police? I would've been safer there-"
The words came out harsher than you expected, but you still wanted to know. Unfortunately, Peter cut you off before you could finish asking him.
"What?! You're safe with me!" He realized he said it somewhat loud enough for Aunt May to hear, so he lowered his voice, leaning in closer to you, "You're safe with me... I'd do anything to protect you from your boss, his goons, and the rest of bad that's out there."
You couldn't help the heat rising to your face as your legs touched his when you scooted closer to him, "Why? Why would you do that for me when you barely know me?"
He scoffed in disbelief, "What are you talking about? I do know you."
"No, you don't. And this is proof enough," You reached over to suit your boss made for you and held it up to him, showing it as a reminder for why you were in this situation in the first place.
Peter shook his head, taking it and tossing it to the floor. "That doesn't matter."
"Why not?"
"Because every time we hung out, every time we talked at school, even the little things—they all just feel so much better with you. After long nights of patrolling as Spider-Man and dealing with school, you are one of the only things I look forward to."
You looked down to your hands, fidgeting with them as he complimented you. Peter was always a nice guy but this felt different. You looked back towards his eyes, trying to think of something to say, "Peter... I-"
Peter cut you off again during the conversation, but it wasn't to talk about why he was helping you. Instead, he decided to show his feelings for you by leaning forward to connect your lips with his. It overwhelmed your senses, the odd lack of taste, your pulse quickening in record time, the softness of his lips, his hand on your burning cheeks, all of it was exciting and so much to take in. The simplest way you'd describe is great—no, perfect. It was perfect.
Peter pulled away with the goofy grin on his face you'd seen a million times before as you rested your foreheads against each other. A smile spread across your face, "Honestly, Pete, I think this is gonna be great."
request summary: reader has religious trauma and can’t go to church with matt (+ reader is a workaholic) and he comforts reader
i don’t have anything against any religions, only the people who use their beliefs as ammunition against those they don’t understand. aka dumb bigots
A/N: okay so he wasn’t on my characters list because i haven’t watched dare devil in a long time, but this made me start rewatching it and i got to know the characters again so that i could write this (which is No trouble because he is SO FIIINE and it’s an amazing show) & i’ll probably be writing general hc’s for him at some point lol. also it is so heartwarming to hear that this is a comfort blog for u @sleepless-spencer <3
word count: 1.1k
Matt approached you in the office; he could hear your heart, smell your cologne. He stood behind you for a moment, waiting to see if you'd notice him. When you continued sifting through the papers on your desk, he smiled and leaned down to kiss your cheek.
You flinched a little, but relaxed and exhaled. "Hey Matt," you said, looking at him behind your shoulder. Your face greeted you in the reflection of his dark glasses. You always loved those glasses. When he paired them with a suit and his smooth voice, he looked refined, sexy.
"Hello, handsome."
"You can't see me," you scoffed, but you were smiling. You turned back to your papers.
"I can just tell these things. Don't question it." He moved forward and turned your chin with his hand. He grinned privately at the way your heart increased. "How long have you been working?"
"That's none of your business."
He tilted his head. He took his glasses off.
"You can't get me with puppy dog eyes, okay?" You waited for a moment before you broke: "Fine, it's been a while—but I've been sifting through the information we got on the person our client is up against, and—yeah, you don't care, do you?"
"I care," he said honestly. He settled on the edge of your desk and leaned against his walking stick. "I just care more about you, and whether or not you're overworking yourself."
"Well... that's sweet, thank you. But I cannot seem to stop myself. I think you might have to drag me out of here."
"I'm sure there's something I could offer that would make you leave voluntarily," he teased.
You swiveled your chair towards him more, raising your eyebrows. "Oh? What might that be?"
He couldn't help but smile, and he leaned forward. You guided his face towards yours and kissed him sweetly. He pulled away and kept his face close, about to say something else flirty, when Foggy and Karen made their grand entry into the office.
Foggy declared, "Four coffees for four hard work—oh, bad timing?"
Matt backed away from you coolly and smiled at his friends. He heard your heartbeat increase and he rubbed your shoulder with a steady palm.
"Sorry, that was unprofessional," you rambled, "uh, coffee, yes, thanks." You took it from Foggy's offering hand.
"No sweat," he said. "So. This is definitely a thing now. Got it. I will be on the lookout for people making out in the office so I can avoid it."
"Foggy!"
"What? It's not like I wasn't prepared—Matt's been flirting with you for months."
You looked at Karen for help, but she shrugged as she set her bag down. "I mean... I can't argue that. But you guys are great together, so ignore him. He's just annoyed that you're in a relationship and he's not."
"Hey," Foggy defended light heartedly, "I have stuff lined up. I'm just choosing to... focus on work," he shrugged.
"Right."
. . .
"You know," Matt said, ambling into the kitchen, his torso bare, "my electric bill has significantly increased since you've been sleeping here."
"And the amount of sex you've been having has significantly increased,” you retorted. “I'd call it even."
He cocked his head, a proud smile donning his face. He found your body, where you leaned against his kitchen counter in just a t-shirt and boxers, and ran his hands over your hips. He kissed you slow and deep. You set your coffee mug behind you in order to wrap your arms around his shoulders.
"Why, may I ask, are we awake so early?" you said against his mouth.
"It's Sunday. And, uh... I was hoping you'd come to service with me."
You sucked in a breath. He easily noted the stiffness of your body and the sudden irregularity of your heart. As he frowned, his furrowed eyebrows silently asked you to say something.
"Uh, I—I think I have some work I need to get through, and I don't, um–"
He knew you were lying. "Do you not want to come to church with me?" he asked softly. "What, all of your suits are at the drycleaners? Because I know for a fact that you look very nice in my clothes."
You laughed nervously. "It's not—it's not that."
"I don't know, I thought it might be nice to take you. I wanna share more of my life with you."
That sentence made your heart ache, and you kissed him again. "I want that too. I like increasing your electric bill," you laughed, "and making the office an unsafe space for Foggy."
Matt rolled his eyes with a smile. "We don't kiss that much. He's just dramatic. But, he can't blame me for getting one or two smooches in, can he?"
You lifted your shoulders, but quickly added, "uh, no," when you remembered. "I shrugged," you admitted.
"Mm. You're really good at changing the subject, you know," he said.
"One of my many talents." You looked down, and Matt took your hand, rubbing slow circles with his thumb. "Uh, okay. I have some bad experiences with the church, with religion." He could hear the anxious smile in your voice. "I mean, shit I've gone to therapy for. Like, bad stuff. Trauma. Which doesn't diminish your good experiences with it, but—" you floundered for words "—I just can't go, Matt. It'll bring up too many bad memories."
"I'm sorry," he murmured. He kissed your forehead and left his lips there, so his chin bobbed against it when he spoke: "They would be accepting of us, if we–"
"No, Matt, I'm sure your church is great, but—" Your voice grew watery and stiff "—I just can't go, okay, I'm sorry."
"Hey, hey, shh." He wrapped you in his arms and rested his cheek on your head. "It's okay. You don't have to. Just breathe. I'm not gonna coerce you into going to church with me," he chuckled.
You sniffled. "Sorry, I don't know what—I just haven't talked about it in a long time."
"And you don't have to. But if you want to, I'm always here. I know that religion, or the way it's yielded, has the infamous ability do more damage than good, so don't worry about, I don't know—offending me. And you don’t have to come, okay?”
“Mhm.”
He peppered your face in kisses until you laughed, and he cracked a grin. He held your jaw in his hands, using his thumbs to feel the smooth rolls of your smiling cheeks, and the way your mouth curled up.
y’all talk about desexualizing breasts until its about trans men. im tired of transmasc artists getting accused of fetishizing trans men when they’re only portraying accurate trans bodies. making a transmasc oc is so much more than just slapping top surgery on them.
im sorry some trans men don’t want to be in constant pain of wearing a binder from hours on end. im sorry some trans men feel comfortable with their natural bodies and even proudly post about their tits online, but trans men don’t owe you shit and just bc someone drew a transmasc oc that isnt the typical “white skinny short trans boy bean 🥺🥺🥺” doesn’t mean that they’re fetishizing trans men. accurate representation of trans bodies is more needed than you realize and these type of assumptions are harmful as shit. idk why you act like trans men can’t be sexual.
Hanukkah starts tonight (november 28th), at sundown and will last until Monday, december 6th at sundown. Happy hanukkah to all of my jewish mutuals and followers!
i hope every young trans person goes to bed tonight knowing they have a bright and happy future full of a joy they can’t even comprehend coming their way. it doesn’t always hurt this much, you’ll find joy and happiness in who you are
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