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finelinevogue · 1 year

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take a break

summary - you and harry arrive at your nyc hotel for a little getaway

warnings: swearing? alludes to sex but nothing much, bit of kissing, just fluffy really?!

word count: +1.9k

pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader

It had been a long flight to New York City, but you’d made it.

The first getaway of the year and you’d chosen the city that never sleeps as your destination, because not a minute of this trip would be spent not immersed in the wonders of New York.

"You don't know where you're going, do you?" You asked condescendingly, as Harry walked you down a street you'd walked down twice now.

"H, baby, you're so main character that there are about 10 million fanfics written about you with many people fantasising that they were me." You told him, hoping he would understand that you couldn't be arsed to aimlessly walk around anymore.

"Ok that's weird." Harry turned to face you with a scrunch of his nose in distaste.

He hated being reminded of who he was to millions of other people that weren't you. One night he'd even told you that he was considering running away from it all - building his own island if he had to - just to spend the rest of his life loving you and embracing normality. You'd told him he was crazy, but when he asked whether you'd run away with him you had not hesitated in saying yes.

"It's true. I’ve read some." You chuckled as you remembered those that you had read. Harry as a gang leader. Harry as a painter. Harry as a tattoo artist - that one, you had to admit, had been hot.

"'Course you have," he laughed at you and pulled you a little as he prompted you to cross the road, "You just love me sooo much."

"Obviously." You rolled your eyes at how he could think anything else of you.

It was twenty minutes later that you were stepping out of the lift with all your belongings.

You were so looking forwards to room service and bed, beginning to think about what you could have to eat; toast, eggs, raspberries. It was the kind of hotel where if you ask, no matter how bizarre, you receive.

Harry, after much persuasion, had offered to pay for a room in a luxury hotel he knew in Soho called The Dominik - more specifically the penthouse. You felt terrible for Harry to be spending so much on you, you also knew your budget wouldn't even let you stay in NYC let alone in a nice apartment in Soho. You had asked Harry what you could give him in return, which ended in you dropping to your knees and giving him something to remember.

"After you, love." Harry used the key card to swipe the door before letting you in first, like the gentleman he is.

"Thank you." You gently replied, walking into the grand room and immediately feeling small at the top of the city.

It took no time to notice the sparkling lights of New York shining up at you through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the far end of the room. You were higher than any building around, getting the perfect view of the city as its heart beats.

You wheeled your suitcase to the foot of the neatly made bed, leaving your bag next to it and jumping onto it to be absorbed into its fabrics. You smiled, face down in the bed, at the thought of you finally being in the one city you'd forever dreamed of visiting. Work commitments and money had been cruel to you and you'd given up hope in ever being here, but alas here you were.

Not expecting Harry to jump on top of you, you let out an ugly squeal as you felt his body flatten against yours.

"This is nice." Harry sighed happily, finding comfort in having you so close and paying no attention to the fact your insides were soon to become your out.

"Get off, y’fucking lump." You struggled to speak against his weight, but laughed nonetheless. He didn't listen fully to your request and instead just dropped his head off your back and onto the mattress beside you. Your felt his breathe against your neck and so turned your head carefully.

Met by the eyes that captured your heart so long ago, you smiled.

Waking up each day you had to remind yourself that he was even yours, like you were his, because it seemed so fantastical. The perfect man beside you smiled when he caught sight of yours, always saying it was his favourite feature about you.

He moved the mess of hair off your face so he could lean in to kiss you once, twice, three times. You hummed as his lips melted against yours like butter. His hand snaked around to cup your cheek and force his lips deeper onto yours, making you lightly moan against him.

"Harry?" You whispered as you pulled away, kissing the small cross inked onto his hand just the once.

"Yes, m’love?" He didn't look into yours eyes, solely focusing on your lips and how plush they looked after him leaving his mark. He even kissed you again, not being able to resist himself. You were too divine for him to not cherish every moment.

"Thank you for making me happy." You said, getting all mushy on him for a moment. New York felt like a good place to tell him that he was your source of happiness - something you would be forever grateful for.

"Thank you for letting me make you happy." He replied, to which you knew he was talking about those moments that he would humbly pay for things, when you couldn't, and all those moments that didn't involve money and instead, just his love. "Now shush and let me love on you a little."

He smiled and moved to lean in closer to you, but you stopped him with your hand.

"No, I want food." You said, pushing his face fully away so you could move yourself up and off the bed. You watched as he groaned in frustration, like a baby, and huffed as he flopped his back down on the bed.

"You're choosing food over me? Unbelievable." He tutted, moving his head away from you in pretend annoyance. He had been with you long enough to know it would always be food over him. No, seriously.

"Shut up you big baby," you laughed and picked up the menu, flicking through it to try and choose what you wanted, "you want anything, H?"

"I want you, is what I want." He grunted again, making you chuckle under your breathe.

"Alright, go hungry then." You rolled your eyes at his childlike attitude, punching the numbers into the phone to order.

"I wouldn't go hungry if I were allowed you, now wouldn't I?" He smirked at his words and looked over to see you blushing red like a fresh Pink Lady's apple. He and you both knew how flustered you could become by just his words.

"I will cut off your bal- oh hello?" You were surprised as the person from reception suddenly picked up, stopping you from threatening Harry's private parts. "Yes, thank you I would just like to order some room service please? Um, can I have the loaded nachos please but can I swap the olives for extra bacon please? Thank you, yeah. And a portion of your fries? A bowl of strawberries and a jug of water please. Thank you so much, okay, yeah!"

"You ordering for the thousands, love?"

"No. I just know that you'll eat half of my stuff anyways."

Harry was notorious for claiming that he wasn't hungry, or he wasn't in the mood for food, and then would proceed to eat half of whatever everyone else was eating. You both had big appetites for food but even bigger appetites for each other.

Harry reached into his bag and pulled out his phone charger with the adapter already attached, before walking back over to the bed and plugging in his phone.

"Can't eat too much, though." Harry told you as he pulled his t-shirt over his head, exposing his gorgeously tanned bare chest littered with pretty pictures created from black ink.

"And why's that?" You asked, curious to see where this was going.

"Gotta save myself for you later." He was so quick in reply, shimmying off his trousers and socks and throwing them on the bed to take care of later. He grabbed a towel off the bed and it was now clear that he was getting ready to go have a shower. He walked to his phone to check his notifications as you stood there flustered red.

Whilst he was preoccupied, you took your t-shirt off too and wriggled out of your leggings that you'd worn for comfort on the plane. You picked up a towel, walking straight past Harry and into the bathroom.

"Um, what do you think you're doing?" He asked, putting his phone back down on the bedside table and watching you walk further into the bathroom.

"What do you think i'm doing? Room service could be up to an hour, the lady said, so i'm joining you for a shower. Problem?" You asked, frustrated beyond reason now. He looked too fine standing there, with his boxers exposing his v-lines and hairs running down his tummy. He was so hot without even trying and it made your heart pound loud against your chest you were worried next door could hear it.

Harry shut and locked the door behind him, dropping his towel, and then his boxers, onto the sink beside him. He walked over to you, watching how you were stuck to the spot.

You were waiting for him to initiate something - anything. He pushed some hair behind your ear and kissed it softly afterwards. Your head was so close to his chest that it would've been wrong not to place a kiss against it. He hummed in appreciation, before moving his hands up your arms to help remove your bra straps from your shoulders. As he was delicately removing your more intimate clothing he whispered close;

"No. No problem at all." Harry smirked, knowing he had won this game.

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ficthots · 7 months

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Tracking

A/N: Wow, just yeah. I know it's been a long while since I posted for Peter, but like I promised, I was working on things for him and here it is! Now, I'll crawl back into my cave until my next writing is ready. As always let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Word Count: 6.4K+

Time is a fucking thief. Really, it is. Waking up with the rising of the sun, getting ready to go to a job you despised, remaining in a windowless cubicle for eight hours, making dinner, then time to sleep again. Watching the clock as each passing minute was taken from you over and over again. Now when you throw being a superhero into the mix, it makes it even worse.

Holding down relationships, careers, any and all of the important things in life were always seemingly snatched away when it came to the personal life of crime fighting vigilante Spider-Man. That’s why when you entered his life it was like getting another opportunity to engage with time he had never experienced before.

Looking forward to coming home and eating dinner, stopping by on patrol nights to give you a goodnight kiss no matter what, to Peter Parker, he would do everything in his power to devote as much time as he possibly could to you.

Perhaps you were the time thief in his life now. Either way he didn’t mind when it came to you.

Were there times when it just simply wasn’t possible to shovel all of his waking energy towards you? Of course! The problems came when it had been that way for months. Yeah, you read that right.

In the span of four months, Peter had become so ravaged with his other entities responsibilities that his time with you was drastically rescinded. Unanswered text messages for days, not a peep from him for a week at a time, no more windowsill kisses. It was like he had vanished into thin air.

You understood at first. Hell, you had been dating the man for three years! What was happening, though, was unlike anything he had ever dealt with before. A group of men, identities undisclosed, were wreaking havoc throughout New York City. For months on end, like clockwork, every other week a crime would occur.

Each more gruesome than the last.

Peter had never really been on a deadline like this. Knowing that with each ticking second it was growing closer to the next attack. Spending all nights on the streets, trying to spot whoever could be responsible for this.

The worst part was that he had no leads. A few locations that were all pointless distractions. No semblance of an inkling as to who was committing all of these atrocities. In the span of time since their starting, over eight lives had been taken. A mind boggling number for such a short span of time.

Police were just as useless and he had decided to not take up any more time than necessary with them in tow simply because they weren’t taking this as seriously as they should have been. Instead of confronting the public, reminding them to be careful and not to wander alone past sunset, they were sweeping it under the rug.

Not wanting to cause a public disturbance. No need to fear monger they had told Spider-Man. Assuring him that all of those victims were tied to a gang in one way or another and it was criminal activity work. Something that he shouldn’t spend too much time dwelling on.

That was not a good enough answer for Peter. He didn’t believe them. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure it was a group behind all of this. It could have been a serial killer that was on one hell of a spree.

There was no pattern with their victims either. Randomly selected from the streets. What you didn’t understand was why Peter was involved with all of this. Of course, you knew he wanted to do all in his power to save as many lives as he could, but you warned him to be careful after the initial police warning.

Sticking his nose in places it didn’t belong was not going to end well. It had been the first time you two had argued to that extent. Shouting at the top of your lungs you weren’t ready to lose him and that’s what you were afraid was in the works.

He called you silly for thinking such things. That you needed to have more faith in him than you were giving. It still didn’t answer why he was so invested in this. You knew there were details he was purposely not giving you. Maybe he didn’t want to frighten you or maybe he thought you wouldn’t be able to handle it, but to you, you were a partnership, a pair.

All you wanted was to have Peter back around. Who knows, you might be able to actually help him if he came to you and showed you what he did and did not have. Instead, he hid it from you. Becoming cold and aloof. Distant and consumed.

If there was something you knew about Peter it was that he did not like being bested. Truly holding himself to a standard that was near impossible. Knowing he was above average intelligence, to put it lightly, when people tried outsmarting him, it was always a humorous effort. No one bested Spider-Man.

This time, they were.

Following that night of your monstrous bickering, you hadn’t seen or heard from Peter in over a week. Honestly, you weren’t making much of an effort yourself. Having no interest in being around him when he was in a head space like this. Knowing that there really was no way to help him if he presented nothing to you.

Peter on the other hand was not okay with you going dark on him. Despite knowing that the clock was dwindling down before their next attack, it was the first time in weeks you had been at the forefront of his mind. The little voice in the back of his head was telling him he needed to smooth this over with you or he would regret it.

Which is why he was climbing into your living room window with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, opting to take the night off even though it could be a crucial turning point. He ended up convincing himself it would be alright because if he didn’t have a direction to go in an hour before arriving at your apartment, then hunting tonight was pointless.

He didn’t have a direction.

Even though you hadn’t spoken to Peter, your thoughts were consumed by him as well. What was the bit of information he wasn’t giving you? Was there even anything he was leaving out? There could be the slim possibility he had actually divulged all he knew to you. But you knew better than that. Peter was hiding something, you just couldn’t figure out what it was.

The notes.

Discovered next to each of the victims he had come across. Given he was the only individual to find them and when he tried bringing it to the attention of the police, they had shrugged him off. They were trying to get to him.

Sheets of white printer paper, the typical horror movie fashion of assembly. Varying letters from magazines, newspapers, old letters, all taped and pasted on the paper in a note. Each one was different, but told in a fashion of a word problem. Some were like riddles.

Either way, with each new victim that appeared, so did a new note. It was one of the things he dreaded the most. Seeing what possibly innocent person had been selected in order to deliver the paper to him. His stomach turned just at the thought of it.

Tonight was not for that, though. Instead he chose to bury it in the back of his brain and spend some much needed time with you. So why weren’t you home?

If there was one thing Peter knew and loved about you was that you were a schedule person. Totally type-a, your day planned to perfection and given it was just after six o’clock that evening, you should’ve been in the kitchen plating your dinner.

Except, there was no you in the kitchen, there was no music or television playing in the background, it looked as though nothing had been touched all day. Until he stepped further into the kitchen.

When his eyes darted over to the corner of your counter, partly covered by your fridge, he froze. There it sat. An uneaten bowl of cereal. The milk on the counter next to it, the cereal box still opened and there.

As he approached it, observing the contents, you hadn’t even gotten a spoon out yet. It was filled to the brim, more so than you would’ve liked, but given it hadn’t been touched some of the cereal had inflated from the milk.

“Bug?” His voice, calm and collected echoed out into the quiet flat. Finally prying his eyes away from the alarming sight he had just seen, he was stumped. Everything else in the living room and kitchen was exactly as it should have been.

Maybe you were running late this morning and didn’t realize until after you had made your breakfast. Yes, of course! That’s exactly what it was.

Peeking into your bedroom, his heart rate decreased, a sense of relief and ease settling over him at the entirely bogus reasoning he had used to calm himself down. Until the most unusual sight of all was spotted.

Your phone sitting soundly on your nightstand, still connected to the charger. His hand rubbed at his closed eyes, trying to will his breathing to return to a normal rate. Tapping the screen, it lit up with dozens of texts. Some from Peter, some from coworkers, a few missed calls from work.

Never would you ever forget your phone. Never would you ever not put the cereal back in its place. Something was wrong.

His trembling hands removed his own phone from his pocket, before entirely losing any semblance of sanity, he dialed your boss’s number. It picked up on the third ring and Peter did his best to sound as normal as he could.

“Hey, Guy! It’s Peter Parker,” he was instantly cut off by his chipper voice on the other end. “Peter! How the heck are you?” He sighed, a shaky laugh escaping him. “Great, great. I just have a quick question for you,” as Peter asked if you had made it into work today, Guy responded fast.

“No, actually she didn’t today or yesterday. Didn’t even call. It’s not like her at all. I think a few of her team members tried texting her and didn’t hear from her either. Everything okay?” It was the worst thing he could have been told at that moment.

Clearing his throat, he tried to remain calm. “Mhm, yeah, yes. She’s just, uh, very sick. It might be a few days before she’s well enough to get back to the office. I didn’t call earlier because I wasn’t sure if she had or not.”

Guy’s laugh of relief was palpable. “Whew, thank goodness! Okay, well tell her to rest up and we’ll see her when she’s all better.” Thanking him and quickly ending the call, Peter tore your apartment upside down.

Any clues he could think of, any sign of forced entry, anything at all. But there was nothing. It was all still in the pristine condition it had been left in. Not a single thing out of the ordinary despite the two big red flags. Even going through every app on your phone, just in case, but it was fruitless.

Alarm bells were chiming in his head, he knew something was wrong. He knew you were in some sort of danger. He collapsed on your couch, wracking his brain for anything that could have given him something to work with.

Then he saw it. Out of the corner of his eye. A small piece of white paper stuck to the tongue of a running shoe you never wore. Turned on its side. He couldn’t remember if he had knocked it over during his rushed search of your apartment, but as he picked it up, his blood turned to ice.

Taped to the shoe were the letters he dreaded seeing. Had been haunting him in his sleep for weeks. When he could sleep that was. Unlike the others, it was almost a clue as to where to go next. His eyes quickly saw the time and knew they were going to strike again soon. Far too soon.

One step forward, three steps back, find her quick before she’s the next attack

It was an anger unlike anything he had ever felt before. Not when his parents had died, not when uncle Ben died, it was so overpowering, Peter truly didn’t know how to control it. Darting out of your window, knowing he was on limited time, he began his search.

A near pointless search. A pill that was hard to swallow. Knowing the chances of actually finding you were so slim. He had the list in the back of his mind, places he had scouted previously that he knew they had used at one point or another.

That was the only thing he could think to do. Which is exactly what he did. Searching one by one individually, spending no more than thirty seconds to one minute at each location before going down the list. Did he destroy some of those places during his searches? Absolutely.

He only grew angrier with each location he arrived at that you weren’t in. His hope was running out. Knowing he was at the last two possible places you could be at that he knew about. It was an abandoned warehouse by the river. The first place he had ever tracked them to, but it was far too late when he made his discovery. They had been out of there for over a week by the time he found it.

They were always just a few steps ahead of him and it drove him mad. His masked face searched the premises from what he could see. Through one of the partly shattered windows, there appeared to be a figure on the far end of the building.

A single light shining on them, their back facing where Peter stood. Sitting in a chair, only a wisp of a shadow, no identifying features to be made out. Assuming it was going to be a fight he was about to step into, Peter broke the remainder of the window and launched himself in.

Eerily silent. No noise in the entire building apart from the howling wind outside. It was beginning to become mid-fall in the city and it was always your favorite time of year. No one was enjoying the crisp autumn air that evening.

It was unbearably stuffy in there. No fresh air had swept through the place in years. The stale scents made that abundantly clear. Peter hesitantly approached the figure, the lighting just so he couldn’t make anything out until only a few hundred yards away.

The minute he saw the tied hands behind the back of the chair, his heart soared. “Bu-bug!” His voice shouted, relief flowing off of him in waves, but they came crashing down just as fast.

He wasn’t even sure if it was you. Incredibly deformed from obvious beatings, your face was swollen, bruised, and bloody like he had never seen before. The zip tie around your wrists had cut into the skin, pieces of flesh hanging from it.

As he looked down, the sticky floor was a deep crimson, continuing to pool from your countless open wounds. No shoes were on your feet, they too were cut and dangling from your seated position, totally limp.

He wasn’t entirely sure what was in your mouth as a makeshift gag, but whatever it was had been there so long, your skin was raw and bruised around it. It was the first thing he removed and as he did, your chipped teeth entered his view.

A blanket was draped over you that was covered in things Peter did not even want to begin to imagine. It was the next thing he went to remove, but he halted the moment it was off your body.

There, stapled to your bare chest, was his next note. The same haunting letters, covered in either your own or someone else’s blood. Based on the missing fingernails, he assumed it was a fight you had given which made him silently pray it was someone else’s, yours already spilled too much.

It took him a second longer than he realized to see that your toes were mainly all facing the wrong way. Your arms bruised from newly broken bones, legs in the same condition.

His trembling voice was the first thing you heard as he cut the tie from your hands, whimpers and choked cries trying to escape your hoarse throat. Immediately going limp, Peter caught you. Your body was convulsing in ways he had never seen, unable to open your eyes and see that Peter had found you.

His tears made heavy tracts on his sweat riddled skin. His gloved hands smoothed over the inflamed sections of your face. “I’m-I’m here bug, I got you. I found you, baby. I got you, okay? It’s okay now, baby.” Despite knowing how difficult and incredibly painful his next actions were going to be, he had to get you out of there.

Medical attention was the only way you were going to be able to survive. That meant Peter was going to have to carry you to the hospital. No possibility of emergency services being able to get to you before it was too late.

He was right. Had he waited for emergency services you would have died. You had been in the hospital for three weeks now. Finally in a state where you were fully conscious, despite the pain that never subsided, you were doing better than everyone thought.

It was unclear how long you had been in their “care” before Peter had found you. Based on the little memory you had from the snatching, it was assumed you had been with them for at least forty-eight hours, possibly more.

Peter hadn’t left your side since. Growing tired of hearing the nurses and doctors praise Spider-Man for having found you and saving you when he did. Hardly. He had hardly saved you.

In fact, this was his fault. It was the conclusion he had made. His careless and reckless behaviors had led them straight to you. He hadn’t spoken to you in a week and look what they had done. They thought they had killed you. There hadn’t been another attack yet. It meant nothing though.

No, the note left for him said otherwise. You’ve made it three steps back, how long until the grand final act?

Peter was frightening you. Since you had been awake and aware of what was happening, he had hardly spoken to you. The deep purple bags under his eyes were only growing worse, skin a sickly gray you had never witnessed in a human before, face hollowing out from lack of rest and food.

All he did was write in his notebook.

Curled up in a chair, he stared at the pages for hours on end. Occasionally writing and scribbling in it. His eyes never rested, constantly darting around the pages. It had been weeks of this. Total silence from him, not sure how to talk to him when he was like…this.

It was another late night in the hospital, having drifted in and out of painful sleep all day. Based on the lack of staff and visitors present, you assumed it was the middle of the night. The hospital floor just outside your door was quiet. An easy night for the staff, you thought.

Trying to figure out how to eat a pudding cup, one of the only things you could keep down, was your current task at hand. The tv playing with hardly any sound, it being the only main light in there, Peter silently re-reading whatever was in that book. That was the current mood of your room.

Eating was difficult. Only having three working fingers on your non-dominant hand, luckily one being your thumb, you struggled to pick up the spoon, also knowing you couldn’t move your arm to bring the spoon to you or bend over to get closer to consume anything. Just trying to move to secure the spoon in your mangled fingers had you on the verge of tears, losing your breath along the way.

You could do nothing without help. Not wanting to ask Peter for any assistance because of how poor his mood was. That was where you two currently sat with one another. Scared to speak to him more than absolutely necessary. Hardly speaking since being here.

His eyes briefly glanced at you before realizing what you were trying to do, throwing his notebook onto the side table. “Hey, hey, hey! What are you even trying to do, bug?” His voice was soft, a slight laugh in his voice, exhaustion evident with each word spoken. Taking the spoon from your hand, he pulled his chair closer to the bed, beginning to bring it to your lips.

It was silent until your eyes darted back at the book, deciding to take a leap. “Whatcha writing?” Your cracked, gravelly, and weak voice echoed through the silent room.

It made him want to revert to a blind rage attack. Your voice that was usually so full of life and excitement. Strong and loud that could command an entire room with only a few words. Now, he could hardly hear you, understand you, look at you. Jaw clenching at the question, his teeth grinded together.

When he closed his eyes, he saw visions of you beaten in that warehouse, left for dead. The immense pain you had been suffering through ever since then. Scars that would never fade, both physically and mentally meant he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. Not until he found them.

Your face was doing better, still black and blue, but healing. Able to open your eyes and look at him despite the popped blood vessels. Bandages littered every inch of your skin, wrists tightly wrapped with special medicine for the skin loss.

“Notes,” he murmured, eyes darkening as you asked your question, obviously not wanting to speak about it more. Changing the topic as your pudding came to an end, his hand brushed through your hair, knuckles lightly brushing against your cheek. “What do you need? Anything?”

It was silly. A simple question to see if you really did need anything. It didn’t stop the tears from hurriedly falling down your face. “Yo-you, Peter. I need you. I don’t know where you’ve been, but it hasn’t been here with me. I feel like I’m healing on my own. Like you’re not even here. You sit in that chair, staring at that notebook for days on end. You’ve hardly looked at me, spoken to me, listened to me. Please, just come back to me. Please, Pete.” It was borderline begging, but months of pent up frustration had broken the dam.

Peter’s heart continued to crack with each additional word you said. Realization of what he was doing to you, slamming into him all at once. He nodded, chin resting on one of the side rails, sniffling himself. “I’m here, bug. Whatever you need. I’m so sorry.”

Your only non-fully broken hand you extended towards him, wincing in pain from the movement. Scared to touch you, he only placed your hand back down, removing the side rail to get as close as possible to you.

The rest of the night, you two sat chatting ,watching whatever movies you wanted. It was a glimpse at the man you had seemingly lost all those months ago. Peter was back.

You were released from the hospital just shy of a week later. Peter’s plan to nurse you back to health was his moving in with you. While it was just supposed to be while you recovered, you two ended up enjoying it so much, he was now permanently living there.

It felt like your relationship was shooting by leaps and bounds, spending time together like you had never experienced before. Him being there when you went to bed at night and his face being the first thing you spotted when your eyes opened was a treat you didn’t know you needed.

Feeling content, cared for, respected, and loved like never before. Peter admitted, with your confession to him in the hospital about how distant he had become, tore him apart. He had never seen you moved to tears in such a way, especially over him.

He didn’t realize how deep he had been sucked in until that moment. From then on, Peter swore to keep his other persona on the sidelines for a bit whilst you healed and needed him. Did that mean he was going to stop being Spider-Man in the meantime?

Of course not. It meant that side of him was reserved for the span of time from when you fell asleep to about forty minutes before you would wake up in the morning. Absolutely clueless as to the fact that he had been out all night.

Hunting. Stalking. Tracking.

It was the first night in which you didn’t need him to help lay you down in bed. Peter knew his sleep schedule was already fucked, each time his eyes would drift shut all he could see was you strapped to that chair, nearing death.

And the fact that he hadn’t caught them.

Keeping him up at night, when he could sleep it was plagued by nightmares. Peter knew that there was no opportunity for him to rest while these scumbags were still wandering the streets, looking for another prey to select for their sick games.

Which is why he was doing this without you knowing. Not wanting to worry you and cause you further stress. No, Peter could do this. Would do this. Had to do this. He had made amazing moves. Truly spectacular given the place he had been stuck in before.

They had no idea he had found them, watched their every move, plotted what he was going to do to them. Honestly, when he first spotted one of the three he had discovered had been involved in your…incident, it took every ounce of strength he had to not murder the man right then.

He had to remind himself that all he had to do was provide some patience and the reward would be unlike anything he imagined. And imagine he did.

It was what plagued his thoughts every single day as he watched you hobble around such short distances that only offered pain and tiredness from. His eyes would drift over your still bruised skin as he helped you bathe and it was like witnessing it all over again.

Your hand would tip his chin up, forcing him to lock eyes with you. It was nearly impossible to not see the sadness and hurt in his eyes. Disappointed in himself for letting this happen to you. It didn’t matter because what had happened was now in the past and all you were looking forward to was healing.

The emotional and traumatic scars left on you were not easy to mask. Perhaps that was another reason why Peter was so furious as well. If he moved too quickly behind you, you jumped and a small scream would follow. Trembling for upwards of an hour before settling down. Peter would have to tell you small things to gather your thoughts.

Feel my hand? I`m right here, bug. Here, I want you to use the remote and put on whatever you want. You feel the couch under you? You’re home, baby. You’re safe.

If it weren’t for Peter, you weren’t sure what you would do. He was your rock, your other half, offering reason for unreasonable thoughts. He was your Peter.

The rain was pattering against the window, a sort of white noise you weren’t expecting tonight, but were grateful for it nonetheless. It helped you drift off to a dreamless sleep, exhaustion from trying to do some basic things today taking too much out of you.

Peter was already out of the house before he knew you were soundly asleep. He couldn’t risk being late. Tonight was the night.

Weeks of following them, understanding and breaking their odd patterns, he watched as they went according to plan perfectly. A construction sight for a new high rise. This was their new rendezvous sight for the next attack.

There wouldn’t be another attack.

Counting silently in his head, as he saw a flicker of a small light near the top floor, his count was perfect. They entered exactly on schedule. Crawling down the side of the building and using the thunderstorm to his advantage, he shattered a window a few floors up.

There was no other way that he knew of other than how they had entered and that was far too risky as they had all other doors blocked. As he slowly descended the staircase to scout the floor and determine which room they were in, his hair stood on end as a voice hit his ear.

Three of them. All there. The monsters who were behind your attack. Simply waiting for him.

Except, they didn’t know they were waiting for him. No, tonight was a setup night. Preparation for the coming days of their next plan. Peter had determined fairly early on it was not going to be their final act like they had claimed.

The door was kept slightly ajar with a cinder block, no handles on them yet meaning if it closed, there was no way out for them. Which was their plan for their next victim. Leave the poor soul trapped here with no means of getting out alive.

Peter’s skin was crawling, every instinct shouting at him to just do it. End them now. It would be so easy. He shook off those thoughts, knowing his plan was the correct one.

He dropped to the floor behind them, one of them catching him out of the corner of their eye, a smirk taking over his face. “Spidey boy finally found us, boss.” The thick accent made him hard to understand. Peter kept silent. Very silent.

The other two turned to face him, matching looks on their hideous faces. “How’s your girl? You otta be more careful next time or she could get seriously hurt.” A chuckle escaped them. Peter still didn’t move, watching them from a few paces away.

Quickly deciding they weren’t a fan of the silent treatment, the largest man in the center who Peter knew to be their ringleader drew his gun. In the blink of an eye, web flew towards the gunman, pinning the weapon to the wall behind him.

“Come on now, you didn’t think I knew what you have on you? Just like how I know tweedledee over here is about to throw a knife at me,” Peter ducked out of the way as the blade hurdled towards him. “Now how about we all play nice and introduce ourselves?”

An over exaggerated sigh escaped Peter’s lips as the three men darted towards him, but he acted quickly, webbing them to the surrounding walls, letting one approach him to fight him. “Guess not. Okay, then. I guess I’ll be the one making the rules tonight then.”

Peter grabbed the three chairs from one of the corners of the room before leisurely strolling towards the door and pushing the cinder block from the opening. He whistled a made up tune as he removed them one by one, webbing them to the seats to the point of them not being able to move an inch.

“You know, it’s such a shame sometimes that I wear this mask because I would love you guys to see how big of a smile I have right now. Scouts honor, I am overjoyed that we finally get to do this!” He took his own seat directly across from them.

His head scanned them before pointing at the one on the right. “Let’s start with you bumblebee. What’s your name?” His black and yellow striped shirt was what appointed him his nickname. “You think we’re going to talk? I have nothing to say.”

Peter nodded at his words before looking at the other two. “Same goes for you two then, I assume?” When they didn’t respond, instead only seeing spit hurl towards him, he dropped his head, shaking it. “Such a shame. Alright, last chance. Just give me a name.”

Silence.

A shrug. “It brings me no joy to resort to this, fellas. I’m truly not a violent person. I pride myself on being as gentle as I can be. " He began pacing around, his chair discarded behind him now. “Igor, Viktor, Sasha.” He pointed at each of them individually as he divulged their names.

He gave himself a small satisfactory pump into the air at his success. He could tell he was correct by the little one on the lefts eyes growing slightly wider. It was just the start. As Peter continued on, he got tiny tidbits of information. Only when he presented to them what he knew. Which at this point was everything.

Names, date of births, addresses, spouses, children, education records, dental records, you name it, Peter had it. It still wasn’t enough to get them talking like how he wanted. Instead, Peter fell into the second part of his plan earlier than he had expected.

With seven toes, five fingers, three teeth, many beatings, and an ear, they were beginning to squeal. The leader, Igor, was suspended from the ceiling by his bound hands submerged in webbing. He was entirely nude, body cut up in ways that had blood spilling from him ferociously.

Viktor was webbed entirely to the floor, his entire body covered in fluid despite only one singular nostril. He was the one who cracked first which Peter expected after his reaction to his grandmothers home address in his tiny village in his home country. It was quickly discovered that he was mainly an action man, simply doing what he was told, not a mastermind of any sort.

The other one, Sasha, was who most of the beatings had gone towards once Viktor had divulged it was him who had mainly been the culprit in your beating. Webbed to the wall with no chance of escape, Peter mimicked all the injuries you had sustained on him and then some. Just missing a few fingers and toes now as well.

As the night drew to a close, Peter admired the work he had done. He wiped his gloved hands in a motion to signify he was wrapping up. They were hardly conscious enough at this point to understand what was happening to them. To understand the fate they had drawn themselves to.

There was just one final thing he needed to do. Grabbing the needle and thread he brought with him for tonight and tonight only, he walked slowly towards the nude man. “Did you know that I sew all of my suits? Crazy right! How in the world does he have the time to do this, you might ask. It’s a valid question, but you know what, if I took it to lets say a seamstress, I would be unbelievably broke. Not to mention, how does one drop off the Spider-Man suit without drawing suspicion. First world problems, am I right?”

The man didn’t respond, but as Peter pierced the needle into his skin, his yelp rang in Peter’s ears. “Ah, ah, ah, don’t be moving around now, you’ll make my stitches go all out of wack here.” Peter took his time, but as he finished he admired the handy work.

Sewn into the man chest was a letter of his own. Crafted just for them. A message curated specifically for their enjoyment.

“How time flies, boys. Suns coming up here shortly. Time for me to be heading out.” He smashed a window, ready to crawl out, but he remembered one final thing he needed to do. Walking back over to Igor, he pulled his head back by the hair on his scalp, making him look into the bug eyed mask.

The whimper that fell from the grown man was laughable to Peter. “If you or your dogs come near anyone I love again, our next visit will not be as enjoyable as this one. If you get out of here, I mean.” Tears fell from the corner of his eyes as Peter released his head to fall back into its resting position.

“See you later, guys! Make better choices!” He called out behind himself as he crawled out the window, webbing it shut behind him before making his way home to you.

It was the first time in months that Peter felt like he could breathe. Taking in the fresh morning air, just minutes before the sun began to peak on the horizon, signaling the arrival of a new day. His lungs expanded with the deep breath of air, wanting to sob at the weight removed from his shoulders.

As he made his way back into the apartment, he spotted you in bed. Still curled up in the comforter, sound asleep, none the wiser of his whereabouts the night before. The brusing getting less and less noticeable by the day.

When he crawled into bed next to you, he refused to fall asleep, not tired in the least. No, instead as the sun began to shine through the curtains, he watched you. Watched as your chest rose and fell with each breath, grateful you were taking those breaths.

Because Peter knew that it wasn’t long ago where those breaths weren’t guaranteed. Now, he counted each one, to make sure you were okay. Of course you were okay now. Peter just needed to make sure.

It wasn’t too long after when you began stirring, eyes blinking open to see his golden eyes staring down at you with the softest gaze Peter had ever had. “Morning,” you mumbled, he whispered it back to you.

“You sleep okay?” He asked, to which you nodded, asking him the same. “Of course I did.” You smiled, getting up and ready to start your day.

You just needed to pretended you didn’t see the bruises adorning his knuckles. “What’s for breakfast?”

#ficthots #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #andrewgarfield!spiderman #andrewgarfield!peter parker x reader #tasm fanfiction #peter parker andrew garfield #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter fanfiction

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midnightexpressproductions · 9 months

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Demo (TBA)

Content warnings (This IF has situations and themes that might be distressing to others): mentions of death, depictions of bodily harm, body horror, gore, anxiety/panic attacks, stressful scenes, claustrophobia, violence, car crashes, amaxophobia, astraphobia, use of weapons (guns, knives, etc.), explicit language, and sexual content though this is optional.

Dark smoke curls all around you, the black ash clogging up your nose and choking your throat. The sound of sirens is muffled in your ears. The base of your skull feels like it's split in two, a sharp pain blooming on the back of your head. Your eyesight is blurry but you can just make out the body writhing around on the ground.

You're hurt and blood seeps out of your wounds. You should be dead. You shouldn't be able to move, but here you are struggling to breathe. The acrid air in your lungs burns. Your vision tinges red. You can't help but watch as the body across the street from you sits up, rotten eyes fixed on your own.

It's jaw unhinges as it lets out an unearthly scream. It's hungry– no not hungry, ravenous– filthy drool dripping down it's chin. In a flash it descends upon you.

Starving.

Yearning for something to eat.

Desperate.

Yearning for food.

Famished.

Yearning to tear your flesh apart.

------------------------------------------------------------------

In your senior year of high school, you remain the sole survivor of a brutal car crash that kills your father. Grief stricken, your mother decides that it's time for a fresh start. You soon find yourself shipped away to the other side of the country in bustling New York City; a completely different world from your previous rural Louisiana town.

A fish out of water, you're content with staying in the comfort of your own bedroom, living out your life in complete solitude. However, fate has other plans and after four years of isolation, you are forced to leave your room and venture into the outside world.

You just had to pick the day when everything goes to shit, didn't you?

The dead have begun to rise, violent and angry and desperately ravenous for human flesh. Finding yourself separated from your mom, you team up with an unlikely group of survivors as you begin your journey across a ruined New York in hopes of safe haven.

Who knows what might happen when the dead wake?

Play as male, female or non binary; you have the chance to set your own pronouns.

Play as straight, gay, lesbian, bi/pansexual, demi/asexual or aromantic.

Customize your MC's personality and appearance.

Choose from five RO's (plus a sixth RO who you'll meet at the end of the game) to romance or befriend. Or betray.

Build up your stats.

Make alliances or enemies with rival gangs.

Steal a cop car.

Adopt some dogs.

Your choices matter. You and other characters from the main cast can die.

Javier Delgado | he/him | 23 | ISTJ-T | Puerto Rican American

Javier has short, dark brown hair that curls just slightly around the edges. His down turned eyes are light brown and speckled with green. His golden tawny skin is lightly smattered with freckles across his cheeks. Javier is 5'10" and he has a thin, lanky build which makes him seem much taller than he really is. A pair of plastic-rimmed, light green glasses sit on his hooked nose. He says that they're just for reading but in truth, his eyesight just really sucks. His thick eyebrows are almost constantly furrowed, causing people to think that he’s always upset. Javier favors more muted, earthy toned colors in what he wears. He's not particularly fashionable however, wearing whatever is clean and comfortable.

Carmen Bautista | she/her | 23 | ESFJ-A | Filipina/Brazilian American

Carmen has long, wavy hair that stops just below her shoulder blades. Her hair is dark brown turning into a blonde ombre the further down it goes. She normally keeps it pulled back into a low bun or a French braid. Her wide eyes are almond shaped and dark brown. Carmen’s olive skin is completely flawless. Her full lips seem to be set in a perpetual smile, showing off the deep set dimples on her cheeks. She is 5'9" and has a plump, hourglass figure. She can normally be found wearing jewelry. However, Carmen doesn't wear rings, saying that she prefers to keep her hands free of any obstructions. She does have her nails painted a bubblegum pink though. Carmen favors pastel colors and soft clothing that she can easily move around in.

Max Friedman | she/they | 22 | ISTP-A | Jewish American

Max has wildly curly, dark copper hair that reaches just below their ears which is choppy since they cut it themself. Their eyes are a pale stormy gray and droopy, giving them a sleepy appearance. However, paired with her thin lips that seem to be constantly set into a scowl, it only highlights Max's less than friendly demeanor. Max has pale skin with warm undertones. She's covered from head to toe in freckles. They have a small cut on the right side of their upper lip. Their nose is slightly crooked, having broken it from a skateboarding accident. She's the shortest out of the group (not including Gwen), standing at 5'2" and she has a lithe build though the baggy clothes she wears make it seem that Max is skinnier than she really is. They carry around a skateboard wherever they go.

Eun-Woo Park | he/him | 20 | ESTP-T | South Korean

Eun-Woo has short, pencil-straight black hair that's been styled into an undercut, his bangs left longer than the rest. Thick eyelashes rim his monolid eyes. The irises are a brown so dark that they're almost black. Eun-Woo's milk white skin is spotted with moles, the most notable being the two that sit underneath his left eye. His hands are covered with old calluses and jagged scars mar his knuckles. Eun-Woo stands at 5'7" and has a sinewy, toned build. His ears are double pierced and he has a helix piercing on his right ear. Eun-Woo's nails are painted black. He likes wearing black clothing however, he always wears a red SSG Landers cap along with a NY Yankees letterman jacket.

Derek Campbell | he/they | 24 | ISFP-A | African American/Caucasian

Derek has dark brown, shoulder length dreads. The ends are dyed a light honey brown though he's constantly changing the color. He normally keeps his dreads tied back in a loose ponytail or bun. Their full lips seem to always be set in a sweet smile. Their dark brown eyes are round and wide set, emphasizing their friendly demeanor. Light stubble softens their sharp jaw. Derek has light brown skin, having two scars on his face: one that runs down the corner of his left eyebrow and the other running across the bridge of his nose. He's the tallest of the whole group, standing at 6'5" and his chubby, thick-set build seems imposing at first. They're really just a big marshmallow though. Derek seems to favor more athletic wear, though they'll wear whatever feels comfortable to them. They like bright colors, especially pink and yellow.

Elijah/Elizabeth Watts | he/him or she/her | 26 | ENTJ-A | African American

Eli has dark umber skin with cool undertones. Jagged, old scars crisscross all over their body. They have a full sleeve tattoo of a snake surrounded by lotus flowers on their left arm. F!Eli has long, tightly coiled black hair which she normally keeps tied back into a low ponytail or a braided bun. M!Eli has short, tightly coiled black hair that's cut into a fade, his coils either left free or tied back into cornrows. Even if they're not upset, Eli's eyes seem to be constantly narrowed, the warm honey brown irises standing out against their dark skin. Their full lips hide a gap-toothed smile. Both M!Eli and F!Eli stand at 6'0". They have a toned, muscular build. They wear no makeup or jewelry, other than the dog tags that they keep hidden underneath their clothes.

Gwen Nguyen | she/her | 10 | Vietnamese American

Gwen has warm toned, honey skin and wide, black eyes. Her chubby cheeks are dusted red, only further highlighting her innocent appearance. However, the sneaky rude gestures and hidden eye rolls show that she's much more cheeky than she looks. Gwen likes to wear anything soft and pastel colored. She always has her favorite pink bear plushie with her. Gwen is also deaf, so she wears a pair of sparkly hearing aids. Other than using sign language, she also communicates with a small whiteboard that she keeps tucked away in a pastel yellow backpack.

Pa and Ma Hazel:

Pa is a 10 year old German shepherd and Ma Hazel is an 11 year old cocker spaniel. Pa is short coated and his fur is a dark sable color with his underside being a honey brown. His muzzle is also lightly streaked through with gray. Ma Hazel is medium coated and her fur is a brown roan. Her muzzle is also slightly graying and her nose is spotted. In lieu of collars, Pa wears a forest green bandana around his neck. Ma Hazel doesn't wear a collar at all.

#if wip #if game #interactive fiction #when the dead wake #upcoming if

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inspiredwriter · 1 month

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Guys, listen to me, the TMNT Bay version has Leatherhead!

(Remember this green guy?)

So recently I downloaded the video game "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Brothers Unite", the plot of which is that the bad guys (mutant pigeons, roaches, porcupines, street thugs and several mysterious ninjas) for unknown reasons take over all the pizzerias in New York, and the task of the turtles is to move around locations and beat their butts. I would like to note that Bebop and Rocksteady also take part in all this villainous chaos, but this game does not show how they became mutants (most likely this game appeared before the 2 film). Donnie even takes blood from Rocksteady's hand for analysis and becomes convinced that all these pigeons, porcupines and roaches are the same mutants as he and his brothers, only the mutation, for some unknown reason, made them more aggressive and uncontrollable.

Leatherhead only appears at the end of the game, so the player does not get to fight him in the final battle, but it can be concluded that he has been following us throughout the game.

This mutant alligator calls the turtles traitorsss because he saw them fight with other mutants (he probably doesn’t know that this mutation drove them crazy) and disappears without a trace, using a smoke bomb.

Master Splinter says that there are still many mysteries in this city that they have to solve.

And that's all...

Unfortunately, this game did not receive a sequel and it's terribly sad because I was hoping to hear at least a little more about Leatherhead. After all, he’s not even a villain there, he was probably recruited into the Shredder gang (In the game, leaflets also appear on the floor with the headings “Shredder is back?”)! But what I'd most like to see is his friendship with Mikey develop.

Because SHELL SHOCK, Mikey's friendship with Leatherhead was the most ADORABLE thing about the TMNT 2012 series to me! Seriously, they could have come up with something similar with Bay verse Mikey. I think this would be something INCREDIBLY CUTE!!💚

@swagreecrow @kawaiibunga @sivy-chan-blog @narwals14 @angelcatlowyn @dai-su-kiss @janet-the-dark-queen @turtle-babe83 @foxflamewarrior @cowabunga-doll @turtlesmakemehappy @zowise2912 @wolfroks @aeempress @neocelticavalon @androidships007 @iheartchv

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #inspired writer #tmnt #tmnt video games #tmnt leatherhead #bay leatherhead #Michelangelo amd Leatherhead friendship #Mikey 2012 is so small compared to Leatherhead #cute💕

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k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9 · 1 year

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The Warriors (1979) directed by Walter Hill

#The Warriors #1979 #The Warriors (1979)#70's #70s #American action thriller film #action thriller film #cult movies #New York City street gang #The Baseball Furies #Bronx #Coney Island #released in the United States in February 1979 #my gifs #gif #my edit #edit

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bess3714 · 25 days

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If I were in charge of DC here's what I would do to the Batfam comics in no particular order:

Batman and Robin:

I would send Bruce and Damian on a sabbatical/road trip across America. They of course keep running into crimes wherever they go and solve them, leading a couple of FBI agents to start investigating them for committing the crimes. One FBI agent will remind people of a chihuahua, and the other of a St. Bernard. Also Damian has his permit so he can drive, and since Bruce currently doesn't have a hand in comics I'd add in a plotline where they help an alien who grows back his hand as a reward but he does it wrong and now Bruce has an extra finger.

Batman:

With Bruce and Damian gone, I'd make Tim Batman and Stephanie Robin. They fight crime and bicker like old ex's, leading to some interesting rumors about Batman. I'd make a directive that Tim isn't allowed to be drawn as a twink anymore, but has to be drawn with the rippling muscles he had in the 90's and 00's. Stephanie also gets rippling muscles. Part of the b plot for a while is Stephanie's rivalry with her next-door-neighbor who turns out to be a drug lord, but the drugs he sells are like, insulin and ADHD meds that he and his gang steals because he's a doctor who lost his job for reporting some ethics concerns and now he's mad about the medical system. Stephanie gets mad because in hindsight all the clues were there that he was literally in a gang, and she didn't notice because she thought he was just an asshole. Also they definitely make out at one point.

Detective Comics:

I love what Ram V is doing right now but I think when he's done I'd put Duke Thomas in the main story investigating systemic corruption in Gotham, shining a light (because he's the Signal) on the worst parts of the government. At some point he's accused of murder and the police are all trying to arrest him so he blows up some cop cars and Batman calls to yell at him but he hangs up on Batman. Montoya has a dartboard in her office with a picture of his face on it.

I'd add in an ongoing run of a comic that resembles the original batman comics in style and content. Then I'd have a a bunch of stories with some lesser-known characters, like the Psyba-Rats. I'd really use Tec as a playground to experiment with unusual team-ups, fresh stories, and inventive artstyles.

Birds of Prey:

I like the current lineup but there needs to be 30% more queerbaiting between Barbara and Dinah. There's an issue where Barbara and Dinah pretend to be lesbians to get this himbo to leave Dinah alone because she's trying to let him down easy because he's so damn nice she doesn't want to hurt him. (Has anyone watched Rizzoli and Isles, coincidentally?) I'd also add Helena Bertinelli to the team but she has an eyepatch for inexplicable reasons (the reason is it looks cool). The eyepatch will be dropped without any recognition a few issues later. Barbara drops both Batgirl and Oracle and gets a new identity as the Cloud. Only the Birds of Prey know it's her; everyone else thinks the Cloud may or may not be an evil AI working for Lex Luthor.

Outsiders:

I'm not reading Outsiders so I can't really comment on what I'd do for that one, but if you guys have any ideas let me know and I'll do the opposite, inciting fan fury and starting a Twitter war.

Nightwing:

I would send Dick to live in New York and also I would make him broke and homeless. I thought about making him lose his memory too, but that's already been done so instead I'd give him violent visions of murder and assault so he thinks he's losing his mind but then it turns out to be a secret policy from the new mayor of New York City to quietly round up all the homeless people by releasing gas into the streets at night to knock them out, but Dick has had too much exposure to drugs and poisons for it to work right on him, so instead he gets hallucinations!

Batgirl:

That's right, you'd get a Batgirl ongoing from me! Cassandra Cain would be the main character, and in the first arc I'd have her join a dating app, but then every date she goes on turns out to be with a criminal who she then sends to jail, and just when she's about to give up on dating, on the very last date she goes on the guy tries to force a charter pilot to help him escape by plane but Cass takes him down and the pilot is like "so that was cool. Can I get your number?" and they start dating. After that Cass accidentally joins a gang but she keeps getting gang members sent to jail and no one suspects it's her, only at some point she actually becomes the gang leader. There's then a crossover with Batman where her gang beefs with Stephanie's next-door-neighbor's gang and Cass ends up giving her gang to him peacefully.

Batwoman:

While I'm at it, I'd launch a Batwoman comic. I'd get Chuck Dixon to write it and it would be both wildly homophobic and also the gayest thing you'd ever seen, but eventually ol' Chuck and I would have some creative differences and he would depart, and instead we would have a rotating cast of guest authors. I don't really know much about Batwoman but luckily knowing about a character in order to write them isn't a requirement at DC. I think we need some ghosts so there would be an arc about Batwoman getting haunted by a bunch of angry, vengeful spirits who she thinks are trying to kill her but who are actually trying to lead to their killer. One of the ghosts is a really hot woman and they share a passionate kiss before the ghost girl disappears after Kate gets them justice. The arc would be lauded in some articles as a 'major reversal of the bury your gays trope' because at one point Kate has to dig up their bodies to look for clues, while in other news outlets it would be decried as a 'vile depiction of the desecration of queer final resting places.'

Red Hood and the Outlaws:

Jason starts a club/gym for a group of teenagers where he teaches them cool stuff like 'how to throw a punch' but also 'how to buy and cook groceries'. The gym is threatened by various forces like gangs, developers, the city government, plus the kids all have personal problems they have to deal with, like mental and physical disabilities, generational trauma, homelessness, and poverty. The teenagers call the gym "The Saloon" and themselves "The Outlaws" because Jason always has a TV playing reruns of old western shows. There's a running joke where various people think Jason looks like a dead relative.

Poison Ivy:

I'm a few issues behind but this one I would leave alone. I don't think I could improve on it. Unless I made Janet from HR and Croc an item. That could be fun.

Harley Quinn:

Another one I'm not reading so I don't know what's going on there but it could be fun to have a crossover storyline with Poison Ivy where they grow and sell shrooms to rich college students and then influence them to do stupid stuff and get them arrested. You know, fun date night activities!

Conclusion:

My time in charge of Batman comics would be one of mass outrage and general fervor. My directives would be so unpopular amongst fans that petitions would be started to have me removed and violent death threats towards me would be de rigueur online. I would depart after a few short months and my replacement would almost immediately retcon all my creative decisions away into a dark universe that would then be blown up by Lex Luthor. Ten years later, a dedicated fanbase for the comics produced under me would emerge, and they would be so loud and annoying and insistent that fans would then clamor to get me back in charge of DC once again, but unfortunately by then I will have retired to start drama on Twitter and write a memoir after a failed attempt at starting my own comics company called Big M Comics and getting sued by McDonald's

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agirlnamedbone · 10 months

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from Morris Huberland's "Girl Gang" series // 1940s/50s // New York City

#op #vintage photography #girlhood #girl gang #morris huberland #new york city #street photography #street portraits #outdoor portrait #black and white photography #film photography

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workingclasshistory · 10 months

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On this day, 14 July 1970, Puerto Rican street gang-turned activist group the Young Lords occupied Lincoln Hospital’s major administrative building in response to the city’s indifference to the health needs of Puerto Ricans and Black people in the South Bronx and the deplorable conditions of health care delivery at Lincoln Hospital. The Young Lords' actions at New York hospital were an extension of the group’s activism around issues of public health in East Harlem. Their health activism included the Garbage Offensive, which protested against irregular sanitation services; the launch of breakfast programs for poor children; the Lead Offensive, during which they conducted door-to-door medical home visits in collaboration with progressive nurses, medical technicians and doctors to test local children for lead poisoning and adults for tuberculosis, and the takeover of a city operated tuberculosis truck. More information, sources and map: https://stories.workingclasshistory.com/article/8579/the-young-lords-occupy-hospital https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=661833952656490&set=a.602588028581083&type=3

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arachnoia · 10 months

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formula 1 | [1] | across the spiderverse

in which you turn suspicious of your cousin Miles and follow him, only to find out he’s part of a racing gang.

love triangle between hobie, miguel, and you a/n- HI! So basically this is a repost but I wanted to updated it with more ! i really want to make this into a series and am very hyped about it ! i thought that it was too short last time!

(will include Spanish that is not translated! ty!)

1998 | New York City.

Your eyes flickered as you were met with the smell of your Tia’s cooking.

Empanadillas. Your favorite.

Your back hurt from lugging some of your uncle’s car parts yesterday. You barely got home at 3 for helping your uncle Aaron with some client that needed an oil change.

You got up and stretched as you went to brush your teeth and wash your face. You felt tired as fuck.

You made your way to the kitchen where you saw your Tia Rio running around the kitchen, trying to make sure things aren’t burnt.

“Hey, Tia! Are those empanadillas I smell-“

“Ay, bendito! Get up, Y/N! Wake your brother up!” She pushed you towards the hallway and went back to flipping tortillas.

You groaned and went to Miles’ room before you knocked it down and hit him with a throw pillow on his chair, “DESPIERTA, ‘MANO!”

Miles pushed you and covered his face with his pillow, “2 more minutes, please!”

“Nope! Tia wants you up already. And yes, Unc already left in case you want to ask.”

As you left, you heard Miles mutter a little ‘yes’.

You went back to your room and dressed for the weather; a cropped white cami, black cargo pants, and some Jordans.

Summer vacation barely started and you felt exhausted.

You had a part-time at your uncle’s mechanic shop where you help with cars. And right now, thanks to Tia Rio, you had somewhere to stay. Miles wasn’t actually your brother but you just called him that.

You wanted well for Miles. You practically considered him a brother and never would want him in stupid shit that would involve him doing something detrimental to himself.

You worried a bit when he started to come back late home and you had to cover for him. You thought he just went out with Ganke, his friend from school. But you weren’t always sure sometimes because he would come home with some scratches or would be hurt. You tried asking but always got hit with “Oh it was Ganke’s cat” or “Nah I just fell on the way home. I was studying” so you quit it.

But as long he’s okay, you’re okay.

You stayed with Rio since your parents lived back in Chicago and you went to school in New York.

All you had now were Tia Rio, Uncle Jeff, Uncle Aaron, and Miles. But that didn’t matter. You were happy.

You got 2 empanadillas before you took a scoop of rice and swiftly left the kitchen, “Ya me voy, Tia!”

You took your skateboard, and your canvas bag, and went to Aaron’s since he needed your assistance again for work on the AC.

Skateboarding while occasionally glancing at graffiti or some posters was your favorite thing to do and listening to your current favorite cassette on your Walkman (currently 'Fantasy' by Mariah Carey).

You felt old since you've had it for a good few years.

Your major was currently in business in case you wanted to start up something in the future

“What’s up, Unc!” You dabbed up your uncle as he laughed. “What’s good, man? We’re gonna have to work on this AC. They want it done by 4. Think you-“

“Yes, I got it.”

You cracked your knuckles as you got to work, picking up the roof of the car and working on the AC.

It didn’t take long to finish. You did auto shop in high school and it was easy to fix. You also added a new air freshener because you felt nice today.

After working on a few other cars and their issues, you noticed it was getting dark out and felt tired.

“Imma clock out. Bye, Unc!” You said your goodbyes and took your skateboard to go back to Rio’s.

Until you saw Miles, walking around the street.

“Hey, what’s up”

You stopped before you saw Miles looking around the street and sneakily going to an alley.

This part of New York ain’t pretty and you were not pleased to see your 17-year-old cousin sneaking around. It was 7 p.m too which was even more strange since Miles' studying ended at 3.

You dropped your skateboard and started following Miles. You didn’t care, you had 4 other skateboards and it was old anyway.

You couldn’t believe this! Was he doing drugs?

It wasn’t until Miles took a turn to an abandoned warehouse, near a bodega you used to go with him.

“Just what the hell are you doing Miles..?”

You slid through the fence opening and hid behind a blue barrel, just watching.

Miles then went into the warehouse and a few minutes later, he popped out with a car.

Since when did Miles have a car?! A Ford Mustang Fastback to be exact.

It looked like the same one Aaron had but never used. Your Uncle Aaron has a collection of cars and never paid attention, but you did.

You knew Miles could drive because you taught him how to back in Chicago when he came to visit.

He came out of the car and went inside the warehouse where you followed him again.

Right when he was going to enter, you had enough, “OYE MILES!”

Miles froze and turned around facing you. He looked like he saw a ghost.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?”

Your face shifted to a confused face. Miles always has called you by your nickname, never by Y/N.

“Miles what’s going on?”

“Noth-“

Your voice turned stern as you grabbed his shoulder to look you in the eye, “Miles, what the fuck is going on?!”

“Y/N…”

“Answer me, Miles.”

“Y/N!”

“JUST ANSWER ME!”

“I-I don’t think you should be here…”

Your eyebrow raised at your cousin’s words.

“Says who?”

Miles' face shifted from distraught to scared.

You felt a tap on your shoulder from behind you, sending shivers down your spine as you felt claw-like nails scratch the material of your shirt as the man tapped you. His voice only sent more shivers.

“Says me.”

The man had a black wifebeater, dark blue jeans, a gold chain, and a noticeable spiderweb tattoo on his bicep.

Miles looked at him and gave him a scared look.

“Oh shit.”

The voice’s owner looked serious.

If he didn’t look like he’d shoot you, you would totally ask him out for some drinks at a bar but considering your circumstances right now, it was the last thing on your mind.

Your heart raced as he looked at you, his red eyes piercing into yours before shifting his gaze to Miles.

“Mira, Morales. What did I say about bringing girls here?”

Miles’ eyes widened as you pursed your lips, “Did he just say, girls? As in plural? Miles, I swear to god I’m gonna beat your ass and all of these bitches-”

“Yo sis-” Miles kept shaking his head frantically as if he was petrified, which he looked like he was.

“How could ya keep this from me? I taught you how to drive, how to”

The man then looked at you and raised his eyebrow, “Look. You either shut your pretty little mouth or we get into problems, and I won’t hesitate to involve your hermanito either.”

He held your chin to face him up even more until you saw a tattooed arm with a punk spiked bracelet. You looked over to the man and he winked at you before having a staring contest with the other man holding you.

“Hands off the girl, mate. If she taught Miles how to drive, then maybe we could use her to some advantage…”

The man with the bracelet gripped at the other’s hand until he finally let go of your chin.

Bracelet guy peered at you and smiled again, “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself! The name’s S-Punk, but you can just call me Hobie and this scary grump is Miguel.”

You slightly smiled at him due to his cute British accent in which he returned the smile.

Miguel glared at the sight and scoffed, “How in puta madre is this little girl going to help us? Prolly doesn’t even know what horsepower is-”

You glared at him and scoffed, “This little girl has worked with over 500 cars in her 23 years of living so don’t think for a fucking second that I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt to face you and felt his minty breath against your lips. His nonchalant face slightly shifted with him pursing his lips at how close you two were.

“Come and try me, little boy.”

Miles stared at the sight in shock and grabbed you by the arm, “Yo I needa talk with her. I’ll meet back with y’all soon.”

You looked back to Hobie chuckling while covering his mouth and Miguel rolling his eyes, regaining his calm composure. You heard Hobie talk but didn’t know if you heard Hobie correctly: “She sure had an effect on you, mate.”

What the hell?

Miles fastened his pace and led you to the side of the warehouse where he then put his hands on his face and yelled.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!”

You put your hand on your hip and raised your eyebrow, “Oh I know you did not just talk to me like that?”

Miles looked at you annoyed, “That guy you were just talking to? Miguel? He’s so- UGH! You should’ve just shut up!”

“What the fuck do you mean he’s so?”

His face grew concerned.

Miles began pacing back and forth and held his head down before he looked up and scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“Y/N, look. He’s dangerous and I don’t want you-"

“MILES! IF YOU KNEW HE WAS DANGEROUS THEN WHY DID YOU" You took a deep breath and calmed down to hopefully get a reasonable answer, “Okay, why is he so dangerous?”

Miles looked shocked from your change in demeanor and took a deep breath, “Sis, don’t get mad, okay?”

You looked at him and glared, “Why would I?”

Miles sighed and held you by your shoulders tightly, “Miguel is a leader of a racing gang…he’s dangerous because he’s one of New York’s fastest racers. And one of the most lethal…”

Your blank expression became even more evident and you froze, “So Miles…you’re in a racing gang?”

Miles gulped and sighed again, “Yes…BUT IT'S FOR THE MONEY. Mira sis, imagine all the shit we could do with that money if I win a race? You can be a mechanic-“

You held your finger against his lips to shush him, “Don’t bring my ambition into some bullshit. Miles, how could you? What if you get killed? You just said Miguel-“

“Miguel can help me. Look, you taught me how to drive and you met Hobie, he considers me a good driver!”

You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes, “Then where the hell is the money?”

Miles flashed a sheepish grin and pointed down to his feet.

He happened to get some new Jordan 13s.

“So what happened to the whole ‘Oh sis! I’ll pay for your dreams!’ when you just-“

You gripped your temple and sighed.

“Hey, I gotta look fresh for the ladies! But some of these races can bet up to 10 grand…”

Miles stopped as he looked beside your shoulder to find Hobie, leaning against the wall and smoking some blunt, “Yo Morales, Miguel wants to see you.”

Miles nodded and left you frozen before Hobie spoke again, pointing at you with his blunt.

“Bring her too.”

He raised his eyebrow in confusion, “Why does Miguel want to see Y/N?”

Hobie smiled as he blew smoke from his blunt, “Oh so that’s the girl’s name? Y/N…it’s pretty.”

Your face shifted to an awkward look as you and Miles gave each other a confused look.

“Hey, Hobie? Hello?”

Miles said, trying to wave his hand in front of Hobie’s face but he kept gazing at you with a mischievous smile.

“Just so you know babe, I’m 20. So if you’re feeling lonely one day and you wanna fu- I mean, hang out.”

“Stop hitting on my cousin. It’s embarrassing to see and it’s gross cuz she’s MY COUSIN.” Miles rolled his eyes and started walking,

He took a hit of his blunt and blew the smoke into Miles’ face, “Why don’t ‘cha shut up, can ya? I don’t know but he said he wanted to see her too.”

Hobie puckered his lips and blew air kisses to you, making you smile sheepishly and laughed.

The three of you walked into the warehouse.

On the outside it looked like it was abandoned but on the inside was a whole other story. You’d expect some machinery for a factory or loads of crates.

You weren’t wrong as they weren’t for manufacturing, but car parts for different people in the gang.

“Welcome to the Arachnids’ hideout, sweetheart,” Hobie whispered. your ear being tickled by his breath against it.

“The Arachnids, huh? Cool name.”

The place was also splattered with spider graffiti. You looked beside Hobie who smiled at you before taking another hit of his blunt and throwing it on an ashtray placed on someone’s table full of mechanic tools.

Hobie was actually pretty attractive. He had multiple piercings, with snake bites, nose piercings, eyebrow, industrial, and several on his ear. He wore the same tattoo as Miguel along with others and wore a simple black t-shirt, dark blue jeans, and an eye-catching vest with several pins and patterned patches.

“So you like The Cure?” You said, pointing at his pin.

“Yup, and you?”

You nodded, “I have ‘Disintegration’ on cassette. My favorite is ‘Pictures of You’.”

Hobie smiled, “Yeah that’s a good song-”

“Are you guys done?”

Miles raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms. You weren’t paying attention to where you guys were going but noticed that you sure as hell wasn’t in the same bright place where the colors and cars resided. It was a dark hallway with you guys in front in.

Hobie knocked on the door and groaned, annoyed, “He’s here.”

“Come in.”

You saw Miguel counting some dollar bills as 2 girls were smoking some cigarettes and talking, a Bachata song playing in the background.

Hoja en Blanco? Rio liked to put on those songs while she cleaned.

Hobie smirked and laughed, “You look like a pimp, mate.”

Miguel looked up and glared at Hobie, “Porque no te callas?”

He glanced at you and raised his eyebrow, “Morales, what’s this girl’s name?”

Miles stiffened. You noticed that whenever Miguel talks to Miles, he just gets intimidated. “Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. She’s my cousin…”

You raised your eyebrow and took a step forward, “Why the hell do you want me here?”

Miguel rested his head on his palm and chuckled, “You’re a mechanic, aren’t you?”

You felt intimidated by his tone and slight accent. The fact it looks like he’s judging you by just looking doesn’t help.

“Yes? Why does that matter?” You crossed your arms and felt a bit of false confidence, which made Miguel widen his eyes and smile a bit.

“Whatever they pay you, I can pay you triple that amount. We do need a new mechanic since Peter is on paternity leave.”

One of the girls smiled, “God I miss MJ…She truly lived up to her name.”

You frowned and tilted your head, “Hey, I didn’t say I was going to work for you-”

Miles grabbed your shoulder and gave you a cautious look.

Miguel stood up from his seat, slamming the stack of money on his desk, “Are you declining my offer, Y/L/N?”

You leaned closer towards him, “What if I am?”

Before Miguel could speak, Miles grabbed you by the arm and Hobie grabbed you by the other, “Hey man, I think we should speak with her before things get…hasty.”

Hobie nodded frantically and opened the door in order to go, holding you back from wanting to say more.

“We’ll see ya tomorrow, mate.”

Once the door was shut, Miguel looked at his side and sighed.

“Damn Miguel, she has the guts to talk to you like that,” Lyla laughed. Jess opened a bag of some Hot Cheetos and chuckled, “Yup. I’m surprised you haven’t pushed her against the wall and went crazy!”

Miguel rolled his eyes and glared at the two women who were currently laughing their asses off.

“She doesn’t realize that just made a huge mistake…”

…..

“You just love to test his ass, don’t you?” Hobie said, his expression reminiscent of Miles’ a few minutes ago before all of this. He opened his Coke and took a sip. He cringed from the sharp feeling of the fizzy feeling on his tongue.

The three of you dipped from the warehouse and were walking back from raiding a near-by bodega.

“Listen, as much as cool this whole Arachnids thing is, I don’t want to be involved in this shit. I’m not even that ‘good of a driver’ so y’know. Plus, why does Miguel want me to be a mechanic for you guys?”

Miles shrugged, “I mean, you told him you’ve worked with ‘more than 500 cars’ oooooh,” He said mockingly.

You rolled your eyes.

“I had to say something?”

“Maybe say something that doesn't make you sound like a conceited bitch-?”

“WHAT WAS THAT??”

Hobie laughed and titled his head back.

“I mean, Miles is a pretty good driver and you taught him. So maybe…or also plus maybe he wants to get with you? Shit, I would too.”

Miles cringed and glared at Hobie, “Man what the fuck?” earning another laugh from Hobie.

“Okay but man I don’t know…”

You felt horrible and hypocritical but the money sounded tempting.

You know. You yelled at Miles for this but you were a mechanic! You’d still work for Aaron as a day job but the money sounded tempting.

You could be able to buy your mom all the perfumes she wanted and fly your parents out to New York.

As you guys were walking, you felt someone tap you on the shoulder behind you.

Thinking it was Miguel, you slapped it and turned behind you, getting the attention of Miles and Hobie.

It was Aaron.

He gave you a concerned look and widened his eyes.

“Uh you good? You left your bag at the shop and I was gonna give it to you. You look like you saw a ghost, man.”

You sighed in relief and grabbed your bag, “Thanks, Unc. I was just thinking you were someone else. I’m sorry!”

“No you’re good. What the hell are you guys doing late at night? Miles, don’t you got summer studying in the morning? And who the hell is this?”

Aaron pointed at Hobie who nervously looked around and smiled.

“Oh! Uh-?” You looked at Miles to give and answer before you felt Hobie’s arm around your shoulder.

“What’s good? I’m Y/N’s boyfriend, Hobie. Nice to meet ‘cha,” he said, holding out his hand to a stunned Aaron.

“What’s up, man. I’m Y/N and Miles’ uncle,” Aaron said, shaking Hobie’s hand.

You stood there as shocked as Miles. He looked like he wanted to bang his head against the nearest brick wall to get himself out of this situation. His racing mentor with his literal cousin?

“Well, Imma go so it was nice seeing you guys. See ya tomorrow, Y/N. See ya, Miles!”

Aaron turned around and left back to his apartment, leaving you, Miles, and Hobie to figure out what just happened.

Hobie then felt his pager go off, “Bloody hell…”

He looked at it, read the message, and rolled his eyes as he showed you and Miles the green letters saying “Bring her tomorrow”.

Hobie looked at you and shrugged, “Guess he wants ya tomorrow,” earning a nod from you and an aggravated sigh.

Miles looked at you tensed, “Sis, are you sure-“

You tried to think about this and nodded. You could be able to protect Miles with this. You could watch over him and could be able to earn more money to support your family out of state.

“I’ll go tomorrow…I have to see what that bastard wants.”

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #hobie brown #miles morales #sol (not de janeiro)#miguel ohara x reader

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 2 months

Note

Prompt request: Dark Raphael x Reader.

Him saving Y/N from having got caught in between a gang battle/a street fight, then the two share a moment together (fluff).

The Streets of 2107 (Angst/Fluff)

Dark Raphael x reader

A/N: Gotta love the dark turtles🖤 Here ya go❤️

Warnings: Street gang being pricks.

In the bustling streets of future New York City, the dark turtles ran through the streets, looking for the Street Phantoms, knowing they were up to no good. The neon glow of the city's lights danced across the pavement, casting long shadows where danger lurked in the deep alleyways, making the four Kanabo clones more alert. After Bishop’s warning, telling them about the new weapon the Street Phantoms had gotten their hands on, they were slightly on edge, knowing all too well what distruction it could cause. They needed to stop the good for nothing gang, before they managed to do anything stupid.

But you knew none of that. As you walked through the streets of New New York City, with your newest earbuds in, listening to your current favorite song, you had no idea about the dangers that could be hiding around the corner, or the four clones that was looking for it.

You turned down one of the streets, not minding your surroundings, before you suddenly found yourself directly in front of a van, a group of men trying to move a big amount of boxes into it at a fast speed. You knew those cloaks. You had seen them in the news before - the Street Phantoms.

They saw you, yelling out and pointing in your direction. You had seen them and what they were doing. They couldn’t just let you go like that. So they dropped their boxes, getting ready to jump you. You had no idea what they thought of doing to you, but to your luck you would never know what they had in mind.

Out of nowhere, the four kanabo mutant turtles appeared, standing just behind you, making you turn in shock and confusion.

“It’s the turtles!”, yelled one of the Street Phantoms. “Quick! Get the weapon!”

Caught in the crossfire of a relentless street brawl between the dark turtles and the Street Phantom, you found yourself like a deer caught in the headlights. You stared in absolute bewilderment as the turtles rushed forward, trying to disable the gun-like weapon before the street gang could use it. But of course they managed to fire a shot, although it missed you and the turtles. But to your utter shock, the gun didn’t shoot mere bullets, but fiery explosion, causing the dumpsters behind you to erupt into a ball of fire. Your heart pounded in your chest as you scrambled to find cover, the sounds of combat echoing through the narrow alleyway, as the dark turtles began their attack on the Street Phantoms.

As you darted between abandoned crates and discarded trash, a sudden explosion rocked the ground beneath you. Before you could react, a powerful arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the safety of the shadows.

"Stay down", a deep voice rumbled, sending shivers down your spine, feeling his muscles flex as he pulled you closer to him. You glanced up to see the face of the red turtle towering above you, his yellow eyes gleaming with intensity.

"Th- Thank you", you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. You had heard of the turtles, but you had never been this close to one of them.

Raph grunted in response, his gaze never leaving the chaos unfolding before him, watching as his brothers captured one Street Phantom after another. But the one with the weapon was still not caught. With a swift movement, Raph pulled you closer to his side, shielding you from the violence that raged on, ducking into the alleyway.

Time seemed to stand still as you huddled together in the darkness, the sounds of battle fading into the background. You instinctively grabbed on to his broad frame, hiding your face against his hard plastron as another explosion shook the word around you. But that wasn't the only thing that rocked your world in its place. In that moment, you felt a strange feeling at the touch of the mysterious turtle who had come to your rescue. It was something warm, that spreaded from where he was holding you and throughout your body. It was a pleasant feeling, and you could not deny that you were enjoying it, even with the street shaking from another explosion.

"Are you alright?", Raphael's voice broke through the silence, his tone surprisingly gentle, making you look into his yellow eyes once more, a hint of concern swirling in them.

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his eyes. "Y-Yeah, I think so”, you said, finding your mouth and throat had gone almost completely dry. “Thank you for saving me".

A faint hint of a smirk tugged at the corners of Raph's lips, a rare display of emotion from the usually stoic turtle. "Just doin’ my job", he muttered gruffly, his gaze softening as he looked down at you.

As the chaos outside the ally began to subside, the explosion ceased when Dark Leo, Donnie and Mikey had managed to catch the leader of the group of Street Phantoms, taking the weapon in order to bring it to Bishop, Raph reluctantly released his hold on you, letting his eyes linger on you for a moment.

"You should get out of here. It's not safe", he growled, his concern evident in his voice.

You nodded, offering him a grateful smile, looking briefly at his arms, hoping that he would wrap them around you again, wishing to feel their warmth and the flex of his muscles once more. "Thank you again," you whispered.

Raph gave you a smile, too wishing to stay with you for a little longer, but the calls of his brothers told him he had to go. And with one last smile your way, he disappeared into the night, he and his brothers going straight to President Bishop with the now confiscated weapon and the detained Street Phantoms.

You stood back in the dark alley, watching as they became one with the night, the world around you falling silent once again. Or as silent as New New York City could get. And with that, still slightly shaken from what had happened, you started to walk down the street once more, just like you had done before running into the Street Phantoms.

As you made your way home, you couldn't shake the memory of the mysterious turtle who had come to your rescue. Once again that warm feeling came to you, making your cheeks rush red as you did a small bite on your lower lip, thinking of how comfortable you had felt in his arms. You wouldn’t mind feeling them around you once more.

But unbeknownst to you, somewhere in the shadows, Raph watched silently, ignoring the calls of his brothers for a moment as he watched you walk down the street, his heart beating at every step you took. What is strange of him, to hope that he would be meeting you again one day?

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