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604to647 · 3 months

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Safest with You (Ch. 13 - The Birthday)

6.1K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: You and Din attend Boba Fett’s birthday gala.

Warnings: Brief description of violence (I won't tag it to avoid spoilers, but the action happens within the chapter and isn't an past incident being described), brief description of blood/wound (nothing explicit or too descriptive), fluff, established relationship, pet names as usual (pretty bird, baby, sweetheart, etc.), reader is described as shorter than Din and he lifts her off her feet once.

A/N: I made the title picture and did my best to crop and filter the dress so that it remains as inclusive as possible. As a new writer, being inclusive with the written word isn't something I have very much practice with, but much like writing smut, in order to get better, I will have to practice. I'm trying to be more mindful (ex. avoiding blushing) and it is my intention to go back and edit previous chapters to be more inclusive; at the very least, I'll be tagging more descriptions if needed. Thanks for being patient with me as I learn and improve and as always for reading!

Series Masterlist

"How are you single?"

It’s not a serious question; you and Din have already shared your respective dating histories, including lessons of love lost, lessons learned, hopes renewed. You pose the question, completely unserious, an enthusiastic response to his suggestion that the two of you turn on the Korean dating show that you had been watching at the nail salon. You and Lala had gone to get your nails done after brunch, and Din stopped by to pick you up, bringing both you and Lala, and your manicurist, coffees. He patiently sat next to you as Mary polished your tips, and you and Lala chatted while watching the foreign language reality show the salon had selected. From the corner of your eye, you noticed that Din had become engrossed in the show as well, but never said anything. Apparently, since leaving the salon mid-episode, you’ve both been equally eager to find out who the contestants chose for their “Paradise” dates.

“Just your luck, I guess,” he quips, planting a quick kiss on your nose as you unlock your front door.

Al looks up from the couch as you come in, and deducing that you’re coming his way, decides he doesn’t need to dignify getting up for pets. Flopping down on the couch and vigorously rubbing your dog’s head, you turn on the TV and scroll to the part of the episode you were watching when your nail appointment ended.

Din throws his arm around you so he can give Al some scritches as well, and says, nonchalantly, “And I suppose there hasn’t been anyone that I thought would pass Boba’s inspection.”

“Boba’s inspection?” you exclaim, aghast.

“Well, no, not like an inspection, more like he likes to meet the people dating… well, really anyone in the family, to see if it’s a good… fit,” his voice trailing off at the end when he sees the horrified look on your face.

“I have to get a mob boss’ permission to date my boyfriend??!?!”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘permission’.”

You look pointedly at Din, “So like, his… approval?”

Din tries a different tactic, “I don’t know why you’re worried, pretty bird. How could he not love you? You’ll pass with flying colours.”

“Pass??! Is there a date set for this test?”

“… no?”

Sitting up straight, you tilt your head in annoyance, “Din Djarin.”

“Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to be my date to Boba’s birthday party gala in two weeks. It’s a big event, hundreds of people are invited, very formal, very fancy. I thought it might be a nice time for the two of you to meet.”

You don’t say anything, mind already swimming with anxiety.

“There will be dancing. Lots of dancing,” Din pokes at you, “and it’s a white party, so maybe you might like it if I took you shopping for a new dress?”

You make a silly face at Din, because you know he already expects your response, “No, no, I can pay for my own dress, Din. It’s formal… like black tie?”

Din can see your brain already switching to planning mode, “Yes, I think that’s what it’s called? I have to wear a white tuxedo jacket and a black bow tie.”

“Have to?”

“Yes, Fennec had a meeting with all the Mandos about dress code yesterday,” grimaces Din, “Just because you’re working the event doesn’t mean you will look like staff.”

You giggle. Din’s told you about Fennec Shand before; Boba had saved her from the brink of death after some coward shot her point blank in the stomach after a mugging. Boba had also tracked down the punk and made him pay tenfold while she was still in the hospital recovering from surgery; a surgery that Boba paid for. Once fully recovered, Fennec declared her intention to fulfill what she considered a blood debt, and became Boba’s right-hand woman as he rose to power. Fiercely loyal with a strategic mind that rivaled most army generals, she was the decisive and fearsome consigliere that Boba needed. She was also secretly, his wife. Din told you in confidence that Boba and Fennec had quietly fallen in love and married years ago, though few knew about it. Din only knew because his father had been the witness at the courthouse nuptials. Outwardly, they maintained the stoic, no nonsense appearance of boss and advisor for their own privacy and also for their protection, removing the temptation for anyone to use their relationship against them.

You have to admit, you’re sort of curious to see this dynamic for yourself. And the prospect of seeing Din in a tux holds its own special appeal. “Ok, let me see if any of the girls want to go dress shopping with me on Wednesday,” you pick up your phone and start typing as Din presses a loving kiss to your head.

You step out of the cab in front of the Coruscant Plaza Hotel, careful to gather the skirts of your dress so you don’t step on them as you make your way to the carpeted entrance of the hotel. As your heels touch the covered staircase, you drop the fabric and let the soft satin pool at your feet and flow outward as you walk towards the host at the podium. You give a little wave to Paz who’s standing sentry at the door before handing your invitation over to the man checking your name off the guest list; he uses a blacklight to reveal the invisible bar code on the back and scans it to finish your check in before welcoming you to the party. You immediately bound up the rest of the stairs to hug Paz.

“Looking good, Lil’ Lady,” says Paz, as he envelopes you in a big bear hug.

“Same, same to you,” you grin.

Due to the importance and scale of tonight’s event, Din’s help with security was required and you weren’t able to arrive together; in fact, you haven’t seen him all day, so by now, you’re vibrating with excitement to see him all dressed up, and for him to see you in your dress. Paz nudges you gently and whispers, “Turn right at the front desk and he’ll be in the big ballroom at the end of the hall.”

You give him a quick peck on the cheek as thanks, and tell him you’ll see him later as you head in. The lobby of the hotel is filled with people, all dressed beautifully and very on theme: the women in elegant and expensive looking white outfits and adorned with bright, sparkling accessories, the men all very dashing in white formalwear. You yourself have on a minimalist white satin gown, with a wide off the shoulder cuffed neckline; the pleating around the middle flatters your waistline before flaring out elegantly into a full skirt. The skirt is free flowing and light, concealing your favourite part: a mid-thigh slit that runs up the middle front; only on display when you’re moving swiftly, say, when dancing. It’s actually a wedding dress, but you won’t tell Din that. After describing to the girls what you were imagining for a dress, Rory had told you to just come down to her work as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, which in retrospect, it probably was. No one aside from her closest friends and co-workers would be able to guess that the gruff and intimidating Rory was actually an incredibly successful bridal consultant, one of the most sought after in the city, in fact. Just from listening to you detail what you wanted once, she was able to pull the exact dress you’re wearing tonight from the rack, get you in for a fitting the next day, with the alterations done within the week. When you told Rory she was your hero, she had brushed it off like it was nothing, which to her it probably was; but to you, this dress is everything.

Din spots you before you spot him, such is the advantage of having the high ground. The ballroom is grand, easily accommodating a thousand people; half the room has been set-up with round dining tables with opulent centre pieces and fine dinnerware, ready for the guests to feast. The remaining half is left open for stand-up cocktails and schmoozing and for dancing later; at this end of the room there is live band playing light jazz at the base of a double staircase that leads up to the second floor. These symmetrical staircases connect at an elegantly railed landing that serves as the entry point for the second-floor mezzanine balcony that encircles and overlooks all of the ballroom below. It’s on this landing that Din currently stands, chatting with Boba, Fennec, Poe and his wife Lisa; Woves and Brian stand guard a little further behind, and although out of sight, Bo and Santos are also on the mezzanine, ensuring that no one tries to come in via the locked second floor entrance. From this vantage point, Boba can see everyone who comes in, who they’re with, and who they’re talking to, which is of course, the point.

When Din sees you, he feels the breath knocked out of his lungs by how stylish and stunning you look; to him, you're easily the most beautiful the woman in the room. He watches you stride effortlessly across the ballroom floor like you’re used to attending grand events every day, your dress floating around you in an almost dreamlike fashion, turning heads as you go by. The dress fits you perfectly. Your alluring curves accentuated by the garment’s simple design, enticing him even though you’re not showing much skin; save for the flash of leg that peeks out through a high slit that he’s only now noticing as you move through the crowd scanning for him. He can’t take his eyes off of you.

“Go to her and bring her up here with us,” says Boba, a knowing smile at seeing Din so awestruck. Din is gratified by Boba’s request, bringing a non-family member up to the private gathering normally a security risk he himself would advise against; Boba’s invitation is an extension of his trust and love for Din, and how eager he is to meet the woman Din is clearly besotted with. Just as Din heads down to collect you, you’re turning your pretty face up and smiling at the group. Poe has been waving enthusiastically, both of his arms gesturing wildly over his head, and you had caught the movement out of the corner of your eye, leading you to look to the top of the staircase. But it’s Din that holds your attention once you spot him.

He's wearing a white tuxedo jacket that’s fitted to his frame perfectly, sharply hugging his broad shoulders and hard chest. As dashing as this jacket and his pressed black dress pants make him look, it’s really his tousled curly hair falling across his forehead and slightly askew black blow tie that have you forgetting how to breathe for a moment. He’s a fucking dreamboat. When you make eye contact, a devastating smile spreads across his face, framed handsomely by his salt and pepper scruff. You don’t care how it looks to the dignified guests that are milling around the ballroom, you gather your skirts to pick the fabric off the ground and make hurry towards the staircase, so eager to be with him. Din sees you break out into a semi-jog and quickens his steps down the stairs to meet you, not wanting to wait a second longer than necessary to feel you in his arms.

You meet just two steps away from the bottom of the stairs, your arms flying up around Din’s neck, his hands meeting your waist; you’re lifted slightly as he gives you a little twirl before setting you down gently and pressing his lips to yours, “You look beautiful, pretty bird.” You beam at him and place both your hands on the sides of his face, running your thumbs through his facial hair that you love so much, “You’re a total knockout, Din.” He blushes a little at your compliment. Holding one of your hands above your head, he gives you a little spin, accompanied by a low whistle before offering up his arm for you to hold, “You’ve been invited up. Are you ready to meet Boba?”

A look of sheer panic flashes over your face before you take a deep breathe, compose yourself and take Din’s arm; he places his hand over yours and walks you up the stairs. You whisper, “What happens if he doesn’t like me? Do we have to break-up?”

“Yes,” Din whispers back, grinning.

You punch him in the shoulder with your free hand, and he laughs loudly but drops his voice to reassure you, “You don’t have anything to worry about, he’ll love you. I love you. Poe loves you. Look, he’s talking you up right now.”

You look up in horror, “I’m doomed.” Din leans over to kiss you and the two of you share a chuckle in this final private moment before reaching the landing.

Din makes the introductions and you shake hands with everyone except Poe who gives you a big hug; you try not to let his hug linger and give his wife what you hope is a friendly smile.

Boba is… impressive.

Size wise, he’s shorter than Din, roughly the same height as Poe, but he’s… solid. Built like a rugby player; you can tell he’s a wall of muscle under his tuxedo and he has the presence of a man who dominates and commands. More than that, he exudes a quiet but authoritative charisma and carries himself like a man that’s listened to. What strikes you the most though is the resting expression of his face. He seems weathered. Experienced. And his eyes are wise but not unkind. When his face finally changes, it’s to an expression of curiosity, which shouldn’t seem intimidating, but somehow is. Like he’s studying you, trying to find the answer to a question you didn't know was asked, and you somehow know that whatever answer he arrives at will be acknowledged as truth. The thing about Boba that makes you the most nervous though, is not any of this, and not even that he’s a mob boss (something you don’t think you really understand anyways), but it’s that he is a father-like figure to Din. This is a man who helped raised Din. He trusts Din and Din trusts him. He’s a big part of who Din is today. And yet, these very same thoughts are also the ones that calm you, and immediately endear him to you.

With a rush of warmth towards the man, you wish Boba a very happy birthday, and shyly produce a small gift box from your purse, no bigger than a ring box. Din is surprised, as is Boba; gifts aren’t expected from guests, but when they are given (and many do give), they’re usually opulent and extravagant, often monetary in nature. Din didn’t know you had prepared anything. Amused, Boba lifts the lid of the box and pulls out a small jade figurine.

“Din told me that you rescue pit bulls, so I had this carved from some jade that I’ve held on to for something special. Some say jade protects and heals, promotes balance and harmony, so I thought it might be nice for your birthday,” you finish, uncharacteristically timid. Din is looking at you with astonishment and something close to veneration.

Boba holds up the little dog figurine to the light and admires it; Fennec leans over to look at it too and says, almost with wonder, “Looks like Mochi.”

“It really does.”

You nod, “Din showed me a picture of your dogs. Mochi is the littlest one? The white one? I asked them to use him as reference.”

“Mochi is the smallest, but he’s been with me the longest,” says Boba fondly, “Took him out of a fighting pit myself. Scrappy little guy. Total love bug.”

Boba looks at the carving wistfully for a moment longer before placing it gently back in the small box and placing it in his pocket; his eyes are bit shiny when he holds out his arms to you, “Thank you, my dear. I love it.” You look over Boba’s shoulder as you embrace him and see Din smiling brightly at you. Boba invites you stay on the landing with the group, and you find yourself becoming more and more charmed by the man. He asks you about Al, Din clearly having shared some information about you, and you bond further over your mutual love of dogs. He takes great joy in pointing out interesting guests filtering into the ballroom below; you’re dizzy from the caliber of the guests: there’s the mayor and several city council members, the chief of police, bankers, partners from big law and financial firms (Do you see your boss’ boss’ boss?!), several members of the city’s professional baseball and hockey teams, and you think you even catch a glimpse of a few pop stars. Poe has stories about every notable guest and regales your group non-stop so you’re all laughing, even Lisa.

When it grows close to the dinner hour, Boba sees Paz standing at the foot of the stairs and announces that it’s time for him to go down and hobnob with a few guests before food service starts; as he, Poe, and Din move to descend to the main floor, Din places his hands gently on your face and leans in to tenderly kiss you, letting you know he has to go with Boba, and asks if you’re okay to stay here with Lisa. You nod, just now remembering that Din is working tonight.

You and Lisa chat amiably as the men weave through the crowd, Boba glad handling guests and making everyone feel welcome. When you feel like she’s warming up to you a bit, you tell Lisa how nervous you were to meet Boba, and her expression softens, “You’re doing totally fine, hun. Honestly, when he saw Din running down to you, it was a done deal. Boba loves Din like a son. Poe loves him like a brother. We haven’t seen Din this happy in a long time.” You smile gratefully at her, feeling yourself getting emotional. This cinches it for Lisa and she decides to take you under her wing, pointing out some of the other guests the men hadn’t mentioned earlier and giving you the tea on the whose who of the family, how they’re related, if they’re related, past and present petty feuds, and tidbits of any scandal. You’re having so much fun, the two of you gossiping and giggling like old schoolmates, you don’t even notice that Din has returned until his strong arms wrap around your waist and his scruff is tickling you behind your ear as he presses a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Come on, pretty bird, it’s time to eat.”

You turn to head down the stairs, but Din chuckles and takes your hand, leading you towards the mezzanine, “You eat up here with us, baby.”

Hidden second floor doors are opened to reveal several large but intimately set rooms, all interconnected, each hosting beautifully set dining tables and fully staffed bars. People that you assume are close friends of Boba or somehow part of the Fett family (you try very hard to correctly recall the details of everything Lisa shared with you) file in and greet each other like old friends before selecting their seats. Boba holds court at a large table at the centre of the room you’re in, laughing joyously and raising his glass over and over as Fennec sits poker-faced by his side. You sit at a table with Din, Poe, Lisa, Paz and a few guys that Poe seems to know well. Always appreciative of a familiar face, you wave when you see the other Mandos standing guard, or filtering in and out the rooms and between tables, and you hope they get a chance to eat too. The food is incredible, Boba truly spared no expense; delicious plates of appetizers, salad, pasta, grilled meats, seafood keep appearing, a never-ending parade of delicacies. When you see poor Jimmy practically drooling at the T-bone that Poe leaves untouched on his plate, you take to buttering some bread and slipping the rolls to the Mandos that walk by. Dinner is lovely, the company and conversation is lively; you really couldn’t feel more comfortable, especially with Din non-stop doting on you.

When the main dinner service is finished and the dessert carts start making their rounds, you hear the music downstairs kick up in volume and finally, the hungry Mandos take turns sitting down at your table shoveling food into their mouths from plates piled high. The atmosphere is relaxed, the mood of everyone in these private rooms is festive and merry, though lowkey compared to the wild sounds of partying you can hear floating up from below. Full and proud of yourself for having not spilled on your white dress, you’re tapping your spoon on the top of your crème brulé when you feel, rather than see Din stiffen next to you; the hand that had found the slit of your dress, pressing down on your thigh where it had been casually resting.

“Pretty bird, get down,” he whispers. To your eye, there’s nothing amiss with the scene, you see a few people standing around the room chatting, drinks in hand. Several people are at the bar, others lounging back in their chairs or milling in between rooms. Everyone is smiling and looking like they’re having a great time… wait, not everyone…

You slide off your chair down to your knees the second that Din requests, never questioning him, and he immediately yells, “GET DOWN!” Din and Paz stand in unison and move as one unit, years of partnership and trust kicking in as they wordlessly communicate where the danger is and what needs to be done. Every Mando in the room moves a split second later, following their fearless leaders in flawlessly executing maneuvers to identify, subdue, protect without any verbal commands to do so. Paz heads straight for Boba, with Jimmy, Woves and Bo following; the shooter gets one shot off just as Paz tackles him to the ground, puts up a futile effort to wrestle for the gun before the submitting to the Mandos that pin him to the ground. The second shooter doesn’t even get that far, not even raising his arm to shoot before Din takes him out from behind; Din’s elbows and fists make quick work of the intruder, bringing him crashing to his knees before Din’s strength forces him to release the gun with a yelp. Din swiftly kicks the gun away before restraining the gunman on the floor, knee on his back, arms held and secured. The whole thing is over in a manner of seconds, no one screams and the party downstairs doesn’t even register the gunshot, music still playing loud and uninterrupted.

Din looks over at you, panting as he pulls the offender to his feet; you give Din a little nod and what you hope are soft eyes to let him know you’re okay. You see the relief in his eyes before he starts to haul the struggling man out of the room, following Paz and the other Mandos. You’ve never seen him in action before and frankly… it was extraordinary. Sure, you’ve seen Din spar in the ring at the gym, but that was nothing compared to the display of speed, determination and force that you just saw. The way he knew exactly what to do and wasted no movement, every strike and application of strength purposeful and effective, and even the way he sensed that something was wrong before anyone else did, you can see why Din had been Boba’s top enforcer for so many years. You find yourself filled with awe and pride.

After helping Lisa to her feet and leaving her with an amped up Poe, you hurry over to Boba’s side when you see a red stain blossoming on his upper left shirt sleeve, “Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry, dear. It’s just a scratch,” he smiles when he sees your dubious look.

Fennec reappears with a first aid kit in her hand, but doesn’t sit or open the kit.

“You can go with the Mandos, I know you want to,” says Boba softly.

Fennec hesitates, eyes shifting between Boba’s arm and the doorway through which the Mandos had dragged the would-be assassins, torn.

You hold out your hands for the kit and volunteer supportively, “I can help.”

Boba gives Fennec a small nod, and she cautiously hands you the first aid kit before leaving to join the Mandos.

Opening the kit to see what you’re working with, you say to Boba with a little bit of embarrassment, “I think we’ll have to get that arm out of your shirt.”

To your surprise, Boba nods and then proceeds to rip the sleeve clean off of his shirt with his other hand, leaving his bleeding arm bare.

“Well, I guess that’s one way to do it,” you chuckle. Finding an unused dinner napkin still folded in its pretty crown shape, you wet it with water from the pitcher on the table. “I’m just going to clean away all the blood first, sorry if it stings,” you say as you hold up the cloth to Boba’s arm.

“No worries, darling girl. I’ve had worse.”

“Oh, I bet. Are people always trying to kill you?” you ask in what you hope is a teasing voice.

“Probably. But the Mandos don’t let usually them get this close,” ponders Boba, “Din and Paz have trained them very well.” You smile at this, and when Boba sees the proud look you have on your face, he smiles back too, “Whoever did this took advantage of the party, the crowd, everyone having a good time.” You nod as you lean back to survey the wound now that all the excess blood has been cleaned off. It’s not too bad, a graze, really. A deep graze, but it doesn’t look like it needs stitches. It needs a good cleaning, some pressure and then you think a thick covering of gauze should stop it from bleeding through to Boba’s white dinner jacket. You let Boba know the game plan as you open an antiseptic wipe, “This is going to sting for sure.”

“I’ll be fine, thank you. You’re quite adept at this. Does Din have you stitch him up?”

Lightly laughing, you shake your head, “No, he doesn’t really like me to see him hurt. I think he thinks I have a tender heart.”

Nodding with an air of understanding, Boba says gently, “I think you do. That’s what makes you a good match for the boy. He doesn’t look it, but Din has a tender heart, too.”

You look up at him and beam at that, “He really does. I feel like he’s always taking care of other people. He takes such good care of me. I’m still getting used to it, to be honest.” You finish with the wipe and open a large-size sterile gauze pad to place over the wound, “Put some pressure on that please.”

While you wait for the bleeding to stop, you look around the room. It’s fairly empty now; most of the Mandos left earlier of course, leaving only a few still standing guard (Brian, Woves, Iggy), but the remainder of the guests seemed to have filtered out as well, putting some distance between themselves and the incident, rejoining the party that you can hear is still in full swing.

“Do you really think I’m a good match for Din?” You’re not sure why you’re asking a man you barely know for his opinion on your relationship, except that you know this man means a great deal to the man that you love.

Boba looks thoughtful at your question, “Din’s a natural leader, he’s strategic, good at understanding the nature of people and seeing the big picture. In our line of business, this can be an asset but also spell trouble, or at least lead to people handling power very poorly. But not Din, he never sought power. Too selfless. He’s always put family first, and understood that being the head of the pack just means taking care of the pack. Not a lot of men would have given up their position in an organization like ours to take care of their father, but for Din it was a no brainer – he’s always taking care of others."

"His father and I used to always worry if it was possible for Din to meet someone who was just as selfless as him, who would take care of him equally and ease some of the burden he takes upon himself being responsible for so many others – or if he would ultimately settle for quite happily taking care of his partner like he does so many others.”

You can’t help it, a few tears prick the corner of your eyes. Yes, Boba is describing your Din to a T; your Din, always being the giver, the caretaker, the protector, and not expecting or requiring the same treatment back. A tear escapes and rolls down your face and you look down to brush it away quickly under the guise of looking through the first aid kit for the gauze wrap.

When you look back at Boba to remove his hand from his wound, he’s smiling at you and your poor attempt to conceal your emotions, “Yes, I think you’re the former. Yes, I think you’re a good match for him.”

Welp, that does it. Your tears spill over, fast and overflowing so that you cannot wipe them away quickly enough while pressing a new pad to the wound and wrapping it to Boba’s arm with the gauze roll. So you don’t. You just smile softly while focusing your attention on dressing Boba’s wound, letting the tears slow and fall more gently down your cheeks. “Thank you,” you say in a quiet voice.

“No, thank you,” returns the older man, just as quietly and you know he means for more than bandaging him up.

You’re just securing the ends of the gauze when Din bursts back into the room; he must have been expecting a different scene than what he comes upon, because he instantly relaxes when he takes in the quiet room, only to become alarmed at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks.

“What’s the matter, pretty bird?” Din looks so concerned as he kneels down beside you, you can’t help as a few more tears fall at the sight of him being so caring and protective, exemplifying what you and Boba had just been discussing. You try to give him a reassuring smile, “Everything is fine. Well maybe not Boba’s arm, but it should be soon.” Din looks up to find the mob boss giving him a similar smile, “What do you have for me?”

Din stands up and leans in to whisper into Boba’s ear. You don’t hear what he says, but you catch Boba muttering, “Crymorah?” while furrowing his brow in confusion. Din steps back when he’s done, “Fennec’s still in there. They’re ready for you.”

Boba gets up and you do as well, instinctively you grab his tuxedo jacket from the back of his chair and hold it up for him; he slips it on easily, though you can tell it’s not without some pain.

He pulls his lapels taught and puffs his chests out, looking at you, “How do I look, my dear?”

He’s trying to make you laugh, and it’s working, “Absolutely ferocious. Blood-thirsty. Not at all shot.” Your eyes shining with mischief.

“Perfect.” Boba gives your arm a little squeeze, then nods to Din, “You two go back and enjoy the remainder of the party. Keep an eye on the perimeter, and let anyone know who’s asking that I’ll be out to rejoin the party in 20 minutes. And above all… have fun.” After Boba exits with Woves and Brian, Din sweeps you up into his arms and rests his head against your forehead, “Are you really okay, baby? Why are you crying?”

You tell the truth, “Boba and I were just talking about what a good guy you are.”

“A mob boss telling my girlfriend that his former head enforcer is a good guy? I don’t know if that’s a reliable source,” jokes Din.

“I dunno,” you say, unable to bite back a grin, “he seems like one of those trustworthy mob bosses.”

“You like him,” Din marvels.

“I do. He’s kind. Like you,” you smile adoringly up at Din as the two of you start to head back to the party.

Before you descend the stairs, Din turns you towards him, placing his hands affectionately on either side of your face and leans in so you can hear him over the music, “Pretty bird, how are you feeling about what happened? I know you must have been scared.”

You close your eyes and tilt your head up for a kiss, which Din happily obliges. When you open your eyes, you’re nothing but honest, “I think I should have been. But I wasn’t really. You told me to get down, you took care of me and even though I didn’t know what was happening, I knew I was safe because you were there. Din. You were incredible. How did you move so fast? And you took care of that guy like it was nothing. He never even stood a chance.”

Din blushes at your praise, and rubs his hand on the back of his neck, bashful, “Was lucky. Don’t move as fast as I used to.”

You won’t let him have any of that, “Luck had nothing to do with it. You were in total control of the situation the moment you sensed something was up. You were… magnificent, Din.” You exhale and look at him with admiration your eyes. Din feels overcome, your praise means everything – even though you had an idea of what he did as a Mando, he had secretly feared that you would recoil from the type of violence he saw regularly if you were to ever encounter it yourself, or worse, recoil from him if you saw him inflict it. But here you are, telling him he makes you feel safe and not letting him brush over his capabilities and skill. He pulls you in for a deep kiss, not ever wanting to part his lips from yours, imploring you to open your mouth to his so he can show his appreciation for you, and how you understand and love all of him, through the way his tongue worships you.

*Woooooooooo!!*

Breaking apart, you look down to see Poe and Lisa grinning up at you from the bottom of the stairs, Poe cheering and Lisa waving her hands at the two of you to come down and join the party. Laughing, you and Din readily join in the fun and dance to the fast tempo number and the next and next, the incident upstairs pushed to the back of your mind.

Later, after Boba has come down to rejoin the party, and Fennec and the Mandos having reappeared to mill around the perimeter of the ballroom, you sway in Din’s arms to a slow song, tired; Din whispers in your ear, “See, told you Boba would love you. Everyone loves you.”

“Not everyone,” you murmur.

“Oh really? Name one person who doesn’t like you.”

“Ummm… that guy in the grey suit who spilled coffee all over himself at the coffeeshop the day we met.”

“Hmmm yeah, ok, that guy. You know, if I ever see that guy again…”

You rest your chin on his chest and look up at Din, eyes twinkling.

“…I’m going to buy him a coffee and give him the biggest thank you. If it wasn’t for him, we might not have ever met.”

Snuggling back into his chest, you nod, “If you can catch him. He’d probably run, road runner style if he ever saw you again.”

“Was I very scary that day?”

“A beast. Terrifying. A Mythosaur come to life,” you chide, but soften at Din’s imploring face, “but not to me. I knew immediately I was safer with you there, even though I didn’t know you yet. I never told you that?”

“Never. I’m glad you felt that way. I’m always going to keep you safe, pretty bird. I love you so much.”

“I know, Din. Love you, too.” You close your eyes and nestle back into his chest, enjoying the music and the strong flex of the arms holding you.

#din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #modern!din djarin #modern au #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #no y/n

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rwrbmovie · 10 months

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RE: casting

Quotes from interviews on #RWRBMovie about the casting process

This post will be updated as content is released

Click here for the other roundups

Notice something missing? Here's my inbox

Last updated: August 9

From Vanity Fair

Then there was the matter of finding his leads, roles that have been fancast since the book’s 2019 release. For Henry, a man born to privilege and often spiteful of that fact, López sought someone who would “protect” the character. “Without realizing it, Nick taught me that I was in search of someone who would take care of Henry,” he says. “It felt very safe putting Henry into Nick’s hands.” As for Alex, the rowdier of the two, it was about casting an actor who could “transform himself” over the film’s two-hour run time. “Taylor’s a little more like Alex than Nick is like Henry. But Taylor is not as much of a human cannonball as Alex is,” López says. “And to watch Taylor in the audition process become that reckless and energetic creature was actually really, really fun.” Now, he says, “I genuinely cannot imagine any other two actors other than these two playing these parts.”

From People

Of Perez and Galitzine, López, 46, says, "They each embody their characters so perfectly while also working effortlessly as a team." "Nick brings a tremendous amount of vulnerability and dignity to Henry, and Taylor turned himself into a human cannonball in order to bring Alex to life."

From Deadline

Casting was something “perfectly within my purview as a director. … I know the rules, don’t worry,” López assured. He spent five months “auditioning hundreds of actors” searching for his two leads. “I kept seeing them, then I’d go to other people. Then I’d go back to them. It was also important for me to see as many actors as possible … especially for the role of Alex. “You don’t get many opportunities to cast a lead role in a studio film with a Latin actor, so I wanted to make sure that I saw everyone that I possibly could, mostly from the United States and throughout Latin America and Mexico,” the director and writer now relocated from New York to London told me. “I saw hundreds of guys for this role, which was heartening actually. It was Taylor, once I met Taylor. Then it was putting them together in a chemistry read and praying that they had chemistry.”

From What to Watch

I think there’s a point at which, once a project starts to actually get some forward momentum, then it starts to become a lot easier to convince people to be in the movie, and by the time we got Uma, I was like ‘great, who else wants to join the fun wagon?!’ Stephen took no convincing whatsoever, that was such a happy thing for me, because I thought ‘well, there’s a very slim chance he’s going to say yes to this’, you know, I’m sure he’s busy, I’m sure he’s not going to want to do it, it’s too perfect, and then he said yes straight away, and I felt so happy." "And then Sharon, I honestly was just like — when I knew I get to cast a fictional UK prime minister, I was like ‘well, let’s go for the most hopeful version of what we’d love to see in a prime minister’, and when they asked me to think about it, I was like ‘oh! Sharon D Clarke — ask her if she’d come in and do a day for us’. It’s the same thing with Sharon as with Uma, the first thing I said for each of the President and the Prime Minister was ‘would you vote for that actor to actually do that job?’ I can’t vote in the UK, but if I could, I would vote for Sharon!"

From Tatler

The character was originally supposed to be a queen – 'Queen Mary' is the head of the family in McQuiston's book – yet none of the grand dames were interested when casting calls went out. 'I think, at that stage of Her Majesty's life, none of the Dame Judi Denches, Helen Mirrens and Julie Andrewses of the world wanted to do something like that,' says López. Fry, however, jumped at the chance. 'He said yes right away,' says López, pausing to laugh. 'Of course, he is friends with His Majesty. I never asked him what he thought the King might think of Stephen playing a fictional British king.' Perhaps Fry's friendship with the monarch is why he was so well-versed in decorum and royal protocol. 'He didn't even have to be told,' says López. 'He just rattled it off. He was like, "Can I say this instead, Matthew?" I was like, "Yes, fine, you're Stephen Fry, you can do whatever you want."

From TV Times

López says he was delighted to not only get Hollywood star Uma Thurman to play President Ellen Claremont, but also to persuade Stephen Fry to portray the British king! 'It was really important to create a lot of daylight between the fictional royal family in the movie and the actual royals - they aren't the Windsors, ours are completely made up,' says Matthew, 46. 'But when Stephen walked on set in that double-breasted suit, I think everyone in the cast and crew stood to attention!'

From PinkNews

Due to the ongoing Hollywood strike, neither actor is able to promote or discuss the film, but López describes, Galitzine as more “robust, less fragile” than Henry, while Perez is quieter, “a lot less rambunctious” than his character. But it all still worked. “I couldn’t have asked for better or more different actors than the ones that I got,” López raves. “I felt Henry was this very fragile thing, and I placed him inside Nick’s hands, and Nick cared for him throughout the process. Taylor really turned himself into a human cannonball in order to become Alex.”

From Observer

So much pressure [to get casting right] that I actually told the producers that I wouldn’t make the film if we didn’t find the right Alex. It wasn’t enough to find the almost right Alex. I had to find the perfect Alex. I think that Taylor is pretty much anybody’s idea of a perfect Alex Claremont Diaz. We saw quite literally hundreds and hundreds of young actors for the role of Alex alone, over the course of about five months. I spent Christmas 2021 looking at audition tapes. Then I met Taylor, first from his audition tape, and then on a series of Zooms I did with him, auditioning him once while I had a really bad case of COVID. He kept reemerging. He wouldn’t be denied. It became very undeniable that it was going to be Taylor.

We were running the casting process simultaneously. The cast is pretty much split between Americans and Brits, so the first decision I made was a British casting director for the British roles and an American casting director for the American roles. Bit of a divide and conquer. So they were they were happening simultaneously. Nick was very much in the mix around the same time that Taylor became in the mix. I had photos of all candidates up on a big wall. You want to pair them up and you look at the pictures together, which is the most rudimentary form of a chemistry read. Nick and Taylor visually made sense to me right on the big board. Once we got them on a Zoom together, they were undeniable. It was incredibly important that we find the right people and I wasn’t at all certain we would. Once we found two leads who were stunningly perfect, not just individually but together, I knew we had a movie and it was only up to me to screw it up, which I hope I didn’t.

From OutSFL

I adore her [Uma Thurman]. She was so very happy to be in this movie, which was so wonderful. She really understood Ellen. She and I had so many wonderful conversations about her before production. I involved her in a lot of costume design decisions. She was really wanting to understand this woman holistically. That scene was just so beautiful. By the time we shot it, she and Taylor had really bonded, and they had shot a lot of scenes together at that point. It was the loveliest, warmest environment on set. I mean, it was a very lovely, warm environment on set every day, but that day you can just see in that scene the genuine affection that these two actors have for one another. It was real.

I've always been such a fan of his [Stephen Fry] and really admired him greatly. We had had some sort of communication through other people over the years because he had seen “The Inheritance” in London. He got word to me, through our producers, how much he loved it. I had been working at one point on another film that I thought I was going to make, and when he found out that I was working on it, he was like. “I’d really love to be a small part in it if you have anything.” But I never talked to him and never met him. When this role came around [laughs], we thought, “Let's see if he really means what he says!” He jumped at it! It didn't take long at all for him to say, “Yes.” That was fun. Just to watch him and work with him is just a great thrill and a pleasure. It was for everybody. Everybody was really excited the day that he came on set.

From The Fresno Bee

“We spent about five months casting this film and looking at hundreds and hundreds of actors for these parts,” said López. When López first met Chicago native Zakhar Pérez and British actor Galitzine, “they both really, really stood out very quickly as real possibilities.” That chemistry sparked when the two met via Zoom for a script reading. “It took a long time to find them, but it was very obvious that they were our guys.”

From Windy City Times

Taylor is just a dream. He's a special person and a wonderful performer. He understood Alex implicitly. He's very different than Alex, and is shy. There's a sweetness to Taylor. He could turn himself into a human cannonball. I love that guy, and there is something about him that is so warm. It is hard to take your eyes off of him. - Matthew López

Uma came in so prepared and so eager to be there. She was happy to be a part of it and we just had the best time with her. It was a very happy set and that is thanks to Uma in many ways, too. She worked with one of the best dialect coaches in the business and she came to me with that. It was so much fun. - Matthew López

She's [Rachel Hilson] the greatest, and so much fun to work with. She had a very specific idea about who Nora was, and we got to play around with the character. She's a special talent. - Matthew López

#rwrb #rwrb movie #red white and royal blue #matthew lopez #taylor zakhar perez #nicholas galitzine #uma thurman #stephen fry #sharon d clarke #roundups

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betweendisorders · 2 years

Text

very bored again. mari thoughts time

the only really obvious trait we get for mari in-game is her perfectionism. i do think that this is a key part to disentangling her personality, but it’s easy to hyper-focus on this and miss everything else that makes mari who she is.

i find it interesting that, as far as i know (it’s been a while since i played omori so correct me if i’m wrong here), there’s no real obvious evidence of favoritism in the case of mari. sunny’s father completely disowns sunny after he kills mari, either because he knows what happened or because he thought sunny was a part of pushing her to suicide (this is unclear), but it’s not shown to us whether he did this because he cared more about mari than sunny or if he would do the same if the situation were reversed.

mari does put a lot of pressure on herself, and it’s clear her parents put some on her, too. the only obvious example of how strict the elder suzuki’s can be is basil’s little comment in the photo album, when mari and hero are sleeping together on the couch. “i hope they don’t mind the photo. mari’s dad might be kind of mad if he saw it...”

there’s also the detail of mari taking extra classes to prepare for college, which means she has less time to spend with sunny. this is what spurns on the whole practicing together thing. sunny feels lonely, and wants to spend more time with mari. offers to practice with her-- to play violin with her. to put together a duet.

sunny’s violin is precious to him. the time with his sister is, too.

playing the violin, though, is not something he enjoys. well-- maybe he doesn’t hate it, but he’d rather spend time with his friends watching tv.

and. ok, there’s a can of worms about this next statement, but instead of opening it just yet, i’m gonna say this;

mari is a wonderful sister. i honestly, truly believe this. mari is an amazing sister-- she adores sunny. you can see this plastered all over basil’s photo album.

but mari is also perfect. or, she’s supposed to be. she has to be.

this is the part where we get on to conjecture. ready? ready.

mari knows from an early age that she’s going to college. it’s kind of just, on the list of things she’s going to do. she doesn’t hate the idea. she might even like it. she might want this for herself. but it’s her parents that first bring it up. it’s an expectation, not a wish.

mari is smart. mari is sporty. mari loves playing softball - mari reads so late into the night that she falls asleep with a book in her arms. she likes being smart. she likes being helpful. she likes being perfect.

she’s so gifted - or so everyone tells her.

from an early age she latches onto sunny- takes care of sunny. her little brother. i think if sunny is a nickname, mari gave it to him; because he’s her sunshine. her golden light. her everything.

“the sun shined brighter while she was here”

she’s so mature, all the adults tell her. you’re so smart, all the other kids tell her. “you’re the only one for me,” hero tells her-- and mari tells him to knock it off. “that’s not what i like about you.” and yes, this is in headspace, but i think it’s still something we can draw on for her characterization.

what does she like about hero?

...maybe that he’s the only one that treats her like a real person? who knows what it’s like -- to be the smart one, the gifted one, the mature one. who doesn’t just fall over themselves praising her, who doesn’t expect her to be perfect.

or maybe it’s something completely different! who knows. maybe she just likes hero for who he is, and it has nothing to do with how he acts towards her. maybe there’s a line about it somewhere i missed.

mari is perfect.

...what is she, if not perfect?

(disappointing.)

mari is going to college. it’s not her choice. she’s smart enough to get in. her parents have it all planned out-- they’ve saved up all the money and everything. there’s no debate about it.

they’re doing what’s best for her future.

how could they be the bad guys, just for making sure she’s successful?

mari would never voice that, and they would never question it. because mari is successful. mari never shows how much the pressure weighs- mari’s grades don’t drop below a’s. she doesn’t get angry. she doesn’t get moody.

she’s perfect.

there’s no obvious display of favoritism.

but mari is the one taking extra classes for college, and sunny is the one who’s daydreaming.

remember that can of worms i said i was gonna open? here it is;

“Your fingers were shaking in pain... practicing over and over... but you still make mistakes after mistakes. This was all a bad idea.”

“MARI was yelling at you. You couldn't understand what she was saying. She didn't understand you at all... She didn't understand that you just weren't good enough. The only thing you hold onto was your anger. This pain... was it her fault?”

“MARI blocked your path. She says that she isn't finished talking. She tells you not to run away... but why not? You did this all for her! Why was she yelling at you? You didn't understand... “

(you lose all sense)

(you push her down the staircase)

these are lines that are technically cut from the full game. these lines are in code. these lines - technically - are not canon.

they are also bloody fascinating, so i’m gonna talk about it.

this is so goddamn frustrating. y’know why? because it’s unclear if the pressure here is from sunny, or from mari.

“she didn’t understand that you just weren’t good enough”

“she tells you not to run away... but why not? you did this all for her! why was she yelling at you? you didn’t understand...”

(”she didn’t understand that you just weren’t good enough”)

what does this fucking mean? does sunny mean that mari expects him to be that good - that she’s yelling at him because he’s not doing well enough?

or does he mean that she’s yelling at him because he thinks he isn’t good enough? yelling at him because he’s putting so much pressure on himself, pressure that she might not want on him - “you did this all for her!”

“she tells you not to run away”

“why was she yelling at you?”

would sunny be confused here if mari was yelling at him for not being good enough? he already knows that. he gets that.

and let me ask you another question-

why are they at the top of the staircase, when the piano room is downstairs?

did sunny come up here just to throw his violin? the description says he “was overcame” - that he “threw it in a fit of rage.” did the fit of rage include him... running up the stairs?

because, if not... he was... practicing in his room. or in the bathroom. while mari was asleep.

they weren’t practicing together.

or maybe they were!! maybe he ran up the stairs to get away from the practice room - we know he wants to run anyway!

and if sunny was practicing alone -- if mari just came out of their room to confront him -- why is she on the left side and sunny on the right, if their room is on the right side??

the game leaves this so fucking unclear.

was he practicing with mari?? or was he practicing on his own?? i haven’t seen ANYONE talk about this, and it’s driving me fucking crazy!!!

mari is wearing clothes that, at this distance, could be for practicing or could be a white nightgown! sunny’s at the top of the staircase, which seems odd if they were practicing together (if he was running away, why wouldn’t he go outside? if he wanted to destroy his violin “in a fit of rage,” why not just throw it on the ground and stomp on it or smth?) -- but mari is on the left side, which seems odd if she just left their room that’s to the right to confront him!

PLEASE tell me if there’s a line somewhere that clears this up, because i’m so stuck on this, and it’s so important to mari’s character.

...could she get to the point where the pressure to succeed matters more to her than sunny’s happiness?

could she get to the point of yelling at him for not doing well enough?

i don’t want to think so, but i can’t fucking tell!!

...sorry. ok. back to characterization stuff.

mari is also humorous. she tells her puns and flirts with hero. she’s smug, and maybe even a bit self-important, though if so she keeps it subtle. she’s incredibly kind, and very good with kids four(?) years younger than her. she takes basil’s camera, which is absolutely adorable.

there’s also the detail of her “bad knee.” an old injury, presumably, that stopped her from playing softball. a part of me wonders how bad this was when it happened - a part of me wonders if this contributed to mari’s pressure on herself. if she sees this as a failure.

part of me wonders if her parents approved of her playing softball.

mari’s a wonderful character, and i’d love to make a post about her better side sometime, because this one’s already long enough and i can’t fully get into how much i love her and how kind and good she is, so--

i hope you enjoyed.

#mari #omori mari #omori spoilers #long post #character analysis #omori #analysis #analyzing #rambles #idk how to tag #omori sunny

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

Miller Morales Mechanic Shop (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Part One of Miller Morales Mechanic Shop

Summary: Something is wrong with your car. What, exactly? You have no clue. So you bring it in to some professionals- who also have a toddler running around the shop.

W/C: 2.3k

Warnings: language, Frankie is a dad, brief mention of divorce and trauma bc poor Frankie, there is a child heavily involved in this so if you don’t like kids this isn’t for you :)

A/N: WELCOME TO PART ONE EVERYONE! This is such a cute AU and I’m BEYOND excited to start sharing it with you all! I don’t know how many parts this will be or anything but I can’t wait to take it and run with it.

Marisol Morales behaves for very few people. One of those is Ben Miller. Unfortunately, she has decided to break her own rules today.

Frankie loves summer. He loves his little girl playing outside in her baby pool, taking her for walks around the neighborhood with their three-legged dog, all of the fun parts. The hard part is when the nanny goes on a vacation and Mari has to come to work with him.

Benny and Frankie, ever since the chaos that was the Lorea mission, run a small mechanic shop together. Miller Morales Mechanic Shop isn’t necessarily the busiest place in town, but they make enough to get by and have some disposable income too. Mari loves to hang around the shop with her daddy and uncle. She’s there more than Frankie would like, but he supposes it’s not the worst thing in the world. When Frankie and Jules split and Frankie won full custody, he’d hoped a nanny would take care of most everything when Mari is home all day in summer. Sadly, he was in for a rude awakening when no Mary Poppins showed up on his doorstep.

It’s normally not too bad; Benny hung the moon in Mari’s eyes. If she won’t do something for her daddy, which is still somewhat rare, she’ll always do it for her Uncle Benny. That makes the day run much smoother. Mari has a whole host of quiet-time activities and toys to play with, and the men generally trade off periods of either working on the cars or being with the little girl.

Her favorite activities at the shop include drawing on the concrete with thick sticks of chalk and playing with her toy helicopters and planes. Benny insists tanks are cooler, but Mari prefers flying her Polly Pockets in the chopper, running through the garage and making flight noises. She’s a smart little thing; for her age, she’s picked up big words and can make sentences out of three words, which is quite a stretch for a baby just over two years of age. She calls for Benny and Daddy and knows the names of his tools: wench, scu-dwive, and her favorite, win-seeled wipe fwuid. She loves to babble at customers while they get their oil changed.

Being shit with cars is no fun. It only increases the anxiety when some light flashes on your dashboard. The lights can mean so many things that you find it ridiculous; “check engine”? Check it for what? To save yourself the anxiety, you find your nearest mechanic and pay them to deal with it.

Today, as you pull over into a gas station, you check your phone and find that the nearest shop is a place you haven’t heard of. It must be new. Miller Morales Mechanic Shop, 0.6 miles away. The name implies something more local and homegrown. You’re more than willing to support a place like that, so you start up the engine, pray you don’t explode, and make your way over to the shop.

It’s nearby, like the map indicated. The outside is a quaint little place, tucked in a strip mall next to a coffee shop, a dentist, and an insurance agency. The three car bays are empty, and knowing next to nothing about how these shops work, you pull inside and park your car, letting it run as you wait for an employee. The bell dinged to let them know you were here, so you stay patient and listen idly to the hum of the talk radio show from your car’s speakers.

After a minute or two pass, you realize that maybe this wasn’t the right place to be. Maybe you were supposed to go in the front or something. Concluding that you probably aren’t where you’re supposed to be, you turn off the car and get out only to be greeted by the sound of buzzing lips.

You can hear a baby’s voice, mimicking some kind of vehicle’s sound, and for a second you’re worried this place must have you hearing things. Then, from a swinging door to the front comes a little girl, running and babbling to herself about her toy helicopter.

She has a head full of dark brown curls, tied back into two puffs with pink scrunchies, and matching pink leggings and a t-shirt far too big for her, the back emblazoned with the shop’s logo. She’s barefoot, tiny feet slapping against the cold cement.

“I told you I had to piss, Fish!” A man’s voice shouts from one end of the garage.

“No you didn’t, dipshit!” Another man shouts back. Being caught in the middle of their argument is quite comical, if you’re being honest with yourself. “She’s fucking two! You can’t leave her alone like that, man!”

The first voice is matched to a person as a tall blonde man emerges from the customer service side of the shop. “Marisol Morales, come here,” he insists sternly as he rolls up the sleeves of his jumpsuit. “Come on, you’re gonna trip.” Ben is embroidered on a patch over his heart.

She pouts at him before stumbling forward and continuing to run, stopping as she sees you and looking up in confusion. Her lower lip sticks out in a pout as her eyes scan your face, as if she’s trying to remember if she knows who you are. “Hi,” she finally concedes as you bend to her level.

“Hi there,” you smile and hold out a hand. “What’s your name?” You pick her up, holding her on your hip so that she doesn’t trip, like Ben so desperately feared.

The second, unknown voice shouts for the little girl again before boots clunk on concrete up to you, rounding your car and stopping. This must be the girl’s father, you realize, as you rake your eyes up his body. He wears the same navy blue jumpsuit as the other man, though it’s unsnapped over his chest, exposing the white t-shirt beneath. The patch on his chest reads Catfish. He wears a ball cap and warm brown curls peek out from under it. He has scruff and a hooked nose that perfectly matches the one on the little girl. “I Mari,” she introduces herself proudly.

“Hey, leave her alone, Mar,” the man shakes his head as he hoists her up to hold her on his hip. “I’m so sorry about that,” he says with an embarrassed smile, showing a dimple beneath the scruff on his chin.

“No, it’s not a problem,” you laugh then set her down and tell the little girl your name. “Aren’t you just the cutest?” You chuckle as she looks at you. She blushes and buries her face in the man’s chest, giggling shyly.

He looks down at the little girl then up at you again. “Well, uh, hi. I’m Frankie, and you’ve met Mari already.”

“Your daughter?” you ask as you look at the pudgy little girl, who now stares at you in awe.

Frankie nods and adjusts his ball cap, pushing his hair back with it. “Yep. Our nanny is on vacation, so she gets to hang out around here,” he chuckles and kisses her head, setting her down. “Go see Benny, yeah?” He asks her. She happily waddles off towards the blonde man, who gives you a wave then heads into the back. “What brings you in?”

“Would you laugh if I told you I don’t really know?” You admit with a shy smile. “My check engine light came on while I was on the highway. I don’t know the first thing about cars, so I was hoping you’d figure out what that meant.”

“Nah, no laughing here,” he nods and gives you a genuine smile before looking over at your car. “Shouldn’t be too much of a problem. I’ll have you pop the hood for me and I’ll give it a look?” He asks.

“That would be great. Thank you,” you tell him, the desperation for his help in your voice. Now that you get the chance to really look at him, he’s quite attractive. His eyes are deep set and a beautiful brown, and they crinkle when he smiles. Facial expressions only accentuate the lines in his face, but he’s certainly not old. His eyes still hold his youth.

“No problem.” He leads you to the car and you pop the hood open before getting out. “Could I take your keys?” he asks you. “Just so I can turn it on and off and all that good stuff.”

“Yeah, of course,” you nod frantically and hand them over to him. “I’ll… be in the waiting room?”

“That’s how we usually do it,” he chuckles as he takes the keys from you. “Just shout for Benny if Mari annoys you again.”

That makes you frown. “She’s not annoying at all. She’s adorable,” you smile as you look over your shoulder and see her and the blonde man playing together.

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive,” he laughs and points his wrench at you as he walks to the hood of the car.

Shaking your head, you can’t help but laugh as you head back to the waiting room. You walk in and Mari perks up, turning to look at you. “Hi! Playing helicopter,” she tells you in her stunted speech as she holds up the toy.

“You sure are,” you nod and sit next to her. “Can I play?” You ask, looking up at Benny, silently asking him the question too.

He nods and Mari squeals happily. “Friend!” She shrieks and hands you another helicopter. “Go pew pew, okay?” She drags them across the toy mat like they’re cars, and you follow suit.

“Okay,” you laugh. Looking up at the blonde man, you extend a smile his way and introduce yourself. He’s busy repairing a Barbie dollhouse with a screwdriver.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Ben, Benny, whatever you wanna call me.”

Driving your helicopter around the ground, following Mari’s lead, you chuckle. “No preference?”

“Fish calls me Benny.”

“Fish?” You ask and tip your head.

“Frankie, whatever. We’re buddies from the service. His code name was Catfish,” the man explains with a shrug, testing the hinges of the plastic door.

That makes you smile down at Frankie’s daughter. “Really, just buddies? Could’ve sworn you’d be brothers,” you tease the blonde, blue-eyed man. “Does Frankie know how to do his daughter’s hair?” You ask and fiddle with her two pigtails.

“Yes, he does,” Frankie insists as he walks out to the front, cleaning a wrench. “But just barely.”

You look up at him, embarrassed. “Her pigtails just look a little messy. Then again, she was running around like crazy,” you laugh and watch her rush over to Frankie, insisting he pick her up.

Bending down to grab her, Frankie groans at the ache in his joints. “She was. I could use some pointers, if you’ve got ‘em.”

“Of course,” you nod and stand too, brushing the dust from the concrete floor off on your pants. “What’s the verdict on the car?” You ask.

Frankie turned, watching as Benny walks out to the shop, but he turns back to face you. “Oh, right. The engine was misfiring, and unburned fuel was being put into the exhaust system, and that damaged the catalytic converter.”

You nod as you listen to him, really staring at his face more than anything. He’s just so damn pretty, you note as you admire the curve of his nose, his slightly sunken and dark eyes. His lips look beautiful and soft, even though they seem a little chapped. When he stops talking, it takes you a second to process it. “I don’t know what that means,” you admit with a shy smile. “I told you. I don’t know shit about cars,” you laugh, playing it off like you were lost when you were really lost in his eyes.

He shakes his head and laughs, bouncing Mari on his hip. “Your car is gonna need some work. Couple hours,” he shrugs. “If Benny and I get to working on it together, an hour and a half, maybe?” He admits.

“Yeah, that’s great. I can watch Mari,” you offer.

Frankie would never be this trusting normally. You’re a straight-up stranger, but your demeanor is good enough for him. Besides, you’re right here. He can check on the two of you every so often, and Mari seems to love you. “That would be great,” he smiles. “You really don’t have to.”

“No, I have nothing better to do,” you chuckle and look at the little girl. “You wanna play?”

Mari nods excitedly and Frankie sets her down. She rushes back to her toy mat and you watch her go. “Thank you, again, for fixing all this.”

“Just doing my job,” he nods. This time, it’s his turn to admire you. He stares at your face, examining the curves and angles that make you up. Your eyes are kind and warm as they follow the little girl, and he can see that he’s making a good choice here.

When you sit down, Mari comes and sits cross-legged across from you. “What are we gonna play?” You ask her, looking at her wide variety of toys. Her pile includes dinosaurs, Matchbox cars, lots of toy helicopters and planes, Barbie dolls, and a plastic tea set.

“Tea party!” She says and hands you a tiny plastic cup and a felt muffin.

“Oh my goodness,” you gasp in a fake accent. “How delightful!”

Frankie peeks over his shoulder at the two of you. He could really get used to that sight.

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @deltadebelleza @tacticalsparkles @queridopascal @wintermuteway @maievdenoir @dobbyjen @beskarboobs

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startanewdream · 3 years

Text

Don't drink and kiss

For @everythinghasreason. Happy (early) birthday! 🎈🎉

(Link on AO3 later)

Rated T; 2.5k.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You didn't kiss me last night," Lily says, the words leaving her lips before she can control herself, very much like everything she remembers saying the night before.

Specifically an impromptu admission of exactly how she feels about her fellow Head Boy, who looks at her now with a startled expression on his face, the grin he had been spotting ever since she had first seen him in the morning slowly melting away from his lips. He watches her face as if he is trying to read her thoughts—and isn’t happy with whatever he is seeing there.

For a moment she thinks James will turn his back to her, ignoring her altogether, but then he shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets as if to keep him from messing his hair, and his face rearranges its features in the most carefree expression he has ever spotted.

"You were drunk," he says as if she needs a reminder, as if her head hasn't been buzzing all morning.

"So?" Her voice is still relenting on a strange bravado. Lily wonders if the alcohol is still fuelling her. "So were you."

"So I was," he agrees slowly. "And perhaps I'd rather snog someone who will remember it the next day."

"I would have."

James blinks, unsmiling. "I don't think so."

"I remember talking to you. And I… I said things, James. I know I did."

His eyes flash with something she doesn't understand. "That bit about how you can't stop thinking about me? Pretty sure you were talking to the firewhiskey."

His tone is teasing, but Lily hears the heaviness and while she'd thought that James would find some joy in hearing her confession, a sudden fear grips her heart. Perhaps she misunderstood everything: their banter, their conversations, their distracted touches. Their flirting. Perhaps he was never flirting back with her.

Shame floods her. Now she understands why he hasn't kissed her. Gods, how foolish did she act?

"Yeah, I drank too much," she agrees, voice dry, accepting his easy way out. "I will pay more attention next time."

He takes a second longer than necessary to answer her. "Already planning the next hangover, Evans? I am actually impressed."

She laughs, humourless as it is.

"One can never promise something they won't fulfill, Potter."

James looks at her, eyes searching for something in her face that Lily doesn't understand, before he takes a step back.

"You are right on that," he says, chagrinned, and with a nod from his head, he turns away from her.

She can’t help but feel as if she disappointed him somehow.

______

Lily picks up piece by piece what happened that night.

It's like solving a jigsaw puzzle. The borders she already has, all those pieces that remind her how loose she had felt with the first taste of firewhiskey, fuelled by a desire to do something daring.

James is there in those pieces, telling her to go easy even as he is already tipsy with his own shots of alcohol. It was his cautious caring warning that made her get her second taste, urging herself to just tell him how she felt.

By the third shot she called him for a dance, though they didn't dance as far as she remembers—the alcohol was enough for getting her the nerve to do it, not the ability. She remembers how they mostly tripped over each other, laughing and falling on a couch.

There is a gap between the fourth and the fifth shot, but she remembers that by the sixth shot they were together in a corner of the room, and staring at him, the words spilled out of her. The alcohol had acted as some kind of protection, a barrier against any fear, as Lily told James exactly what she had been feeling for him for a while now.

That's how far Lily has, so she collects the other pieces by hearing conversations, asking nonchalant questions to her friends, to his friends.

No one seems to know all the details, but from Mary she gathers how they slowly danced at some point that Lily attributes to the fourth or the fifth shot. Remus mentions watching James returning to their dorm very late in the night, grinning as if he had just won the Quidditch cup. Dorcas asks her if they are going out because she saw them holding hands at the end of the party. Sirius grumpily tells her she is a fool and refuses to say anything else.

Lily has a good picture by now, incomplete as it is. If her jigsaw puzzle was a painting of Hogwarts, she would have the lake and the forest already, but the castle, the center of the puzzle, it's still blank.

Then her dreams help her.

They don't make sense and at first Lily blames her imagination for just shaping everyone’s comment into what she wants. From Mary's comment, Lily dreams of her arms around James' neck, playing softly with his hair while he holds her waist, their feet moving together though they aren't really moving. Dreams aren't supposed to be this sensorial, but she swears she wakes up feeling his musky scent, the softness of the curls of his hair, as if he was there with her.

From Dorcas' tale, Lily dreams of steady hands, of feeling the callousness due to years of Quidditch practice, of a warmth that ran from his body to hers as they experimented holding hands, fingers intertwined together. He holds their joint hands, raises them and places a kiss at the back of her hand. Then he brings their hands over his heart; it’s beating fast, and it's because of her.

Neither Mary or Dorcas' tales were so colourful, so vivid, but Lily dreams of it and the edges of the castle are visible by then.

But no one tells her anything else and still Lily dreams more.

She thinks of hazel eyes shining with her confession, a hand touching her face, putting strands of her hair out of her face and leaving a trace of fire where he touches her.

She thinks of a sigh, hand falling back and a hopeless voice. You are just drunk, Evans, you don't mean that.

But she does, and she tells him and she makes a dangerous promise. He stares at her for some time, still unsure, but she knows there is only truth in her face. Then he believes in her, leans closer very slowly, still giving her plenty of time to draw back, to give up, to say she doesn’t want this.

Lily doesn’t remember much from that night, but she knows she wanted that kiss. She wanted him, long before she got her first taste of alcohol.

Her puzzle is almost complete, only two or three pieces missing that she can’t seem to place right. It feels as if she is assembling that puzzle in the dark, hoping the pieces will fit but unable to see the whole picture. She thinks of soft lips and warm hands, taste of firewhiskey and a musky smell, her name in a sigh, being held in place to keep from falling apart and she knows she would if not for him.

Her heart quickens when she realizes there is only one last piece missing, and a longing for something she should remember, but can’t, floods her.

A week after the first Quidditch match—a week during which, almost displicently, James avoids her—Lily seeks for him at last.

His friends are there in the Common Room, talking quietly to each other, but James isn’t in sight. She approaches them carefully; Remus and Peter nod at her, but Sirius frowns unhappily, giving her the same hard look he has thrown at her all week.

“Hey,” she calls, keeping her voice light. “Do you know where James is?”

“Why?” Sirius asks, crossing his arms and ignoring Remus’ nudge. “Decided to mess up with him a little more?”

Lily bites her lip. “No, the opposite.”

“Quite late for that—”

“He went for a fly,” Remus says, cutting Sirius. “You might find him in the Quidditch pitch.”

“Thanks,” says Lily, looking outside. The sun is setting. Then she glances back at Sirius. “I really want to fix this.”

“Then stay sober,” he says, and Lily flinches, but she supposes Sirius is right.

The walk to the Quidditch pitch is long, and her heart paces up with each step Lily takes. She knows what puzzle she is finishing by now, and she knows what piece she is missing, but despite her best efforts, she can't find it.

It bothers her a lot.

No wonder James is mad at her.

She doesn't see him flying in the Quidditch pitch and she is almost going back to the castle when she spots a lonely figure in the benches. She would recognize that messy hair anywhere, so she ventures the stairs to reach him.

James doesn’t turn to look at her, not even when the benches crack under her weight, doesn’t blink when she sits next to him and she wonders if he could recognize her from a distance as well.

“No more flying for today?” she asks, her voice light, eyeing the broomstick next to him.

He shrugs. “I didn’t actually fly. Thought about it, but then…” He grabs a bottle on his other side, lifts it in a mock salutation. “Drinking was better.”

And to prove his point, he takes a generous sip of the bottle.

“Getting drunk alone? That is just sad, Potter.”

There is a soft sight that could be scornful, but just sounds sad. “Tried getting drunk together. Didn’t work for me.”

She swallows dryly. “No, I guess not. I...I really messed that up, didn’t I?”

At this, James finally looks at her. His hazel eyes sweep over her face, in search of something that he doesn’t seem sure about, because he asks: “Did you remember after all?”

There is the faintest hope in his voice and Lily hates herself for being unable to give him the answer she wanted to have. “No.”

“Oh.” He runs his hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, his face shines with guilt and regret. “Look, Evans, there is something—”

“We kissed,” she cuts him off, nodding, knowing it even as her mind is unable to actually grasp that memory.

James tilts his head slightly to the side and Lily wonders if he did the same while they were kissing. She has been wondering a lot these days, hating that blank space in her mind that she wishes more than anything she could fill.

“We did,” he admits, but there is none of the particular happiness Lily would associate with it. James looks just miserable. “And I am really sorry about it, I didn’t want to take advantage of—”

“You didn’t,” she assures him, fidgeting with her hands, fighting back an urge to just hold his hands.

“You don’t even remember it, Lily.”

“I remember enough. I remember telling you how I felt.”

“That was the firewhiskey talking, not—”

“The firewhiskey gave me courage, not words. What I felt—what I feel—had nothing to do with how much I drank.”

He shakes his head stubbornly. “Still, I should have known better. I shouldn’t have—”

“There is only one thing I’m truly sorry, James. And that’s for promising you I would remember and then—”

“You didn’t.”

“I broke my word,” she agrees, sorrowful. “Can… can you forgive me for that?”

He blinks, staring at her for a long minute before grabbing the bottle next to him and reading the label. “Maybe there is some kind of insanity essence here.”

“What?”

“I can’t believe you’re saying you’re sorry for forgetting it, not for what we did. I spent this whole week feeling horrible for leading you—”

“Is it so hard to believe that I fancy you?”

His gaze strays back to her.

“It depends. What have you drunk today?”

Lily smiles softly. “I haven’t had a sip of alcohol today.” She hesitates a second before sliding on the bench, closer to him. “I can let you get close to check if you want.”

James almost smiles too. “I’ll trust your word.”

“James—” she touches his hand now, watching him carefully for any sign he is repelled by her, but she finds none. His eyes fall to her hand and he watches with fascination as her hand traces his fingers, climbs over his arm, reaches his neck. She touches his hair, sees him shuddering under her touch; his skin is warm with the alcohol. “I really like you. And I would very much like to kiss you again for the first time.”

He sighs, his smile tender now. Lily expects him to move even closer, to close that annoying breach between them, but instead all he does is hold her hand, leaning into it and closing his eyes, before he kisses softly her wrist, over her pulse. His lips are warm.

When he opens his eyes, James just shakes his head. “I’m seeing you double and while it’s actually very nice seeing two Lily Evans, I think I should go.”

“Sure,” she says, hoping to not betray her disappointment. He rises, swinging dangerously on the spot, and she takes a step closer. “Help?” she offers.

James nods, accepting when Lily places her arm around his waist, steadying him.

The walk back to the castle is silent, but Lily doesn’t think it’s heavy. For all his silence, James seems to be only thoughtful. They ignore everyone else’s look and because he doesn’t complain, she helps him get back all the way to his dorm, until he is sitting on his bed.

James holds her hand as she is turning to leave him alone. His eyes are burning, but if anything, he looks only resolute.

“Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?”

“Is this alcohol talking?” she asks teasingly. He grins.

“You know, alcohol gives courage, not—”

“Not words,” she finishes for him. “I’d love to go with you. With one condition.”

“I don’t throw up over you right now?”

Lily laughs. “That would be nice, yeah, but actually, I would reinforce a non-alcohol policy.”

“Only butterbeer,” he agrees, beaming. And then before she can say anything, he approaches her face, tugs strands of her hair behind her ear and places a kiss at her cheek, his lips barely touching the corner of hers.

For the warmth that spreads from where his lips touch her down her body, Lily feels drunk again.

“See you tomorrow, Evans,” says James, laying more comfortably against the pillow in his bed, lips curved into a hopeful smile.

“I’ll wait for you with a Hangover Potion,” she promises him, watching him fondly.

“And that’s why I love you,” he whispers, sighing, and he closes his eyes, falling into a quick sleep.

Courage, she thinks. Not words.

Hopefully he will remember this little declaration the next day.

#Jily #Sentence Starter Prompts #Jily Fanfiction #There are so many lovely fics with tipsy Lily #and James is all chivalrous #wanted to write one where things happen #but not in the traditional way #well let me know what you think

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quicksilverownsmysoul · 3 years

Text

Lifeguard on Duty

Summary: Warren was supposed to be looking for a summer job but when he sees you on the beach he decides to become a lifeguard. And hopefully confess his feelings for you

Word count: 2,376

Warren and Spencer were sitting at the lifeguard station spending lunch together. Warren had his legs kicked up in the small desk and Spencer leaned against the back wall, taking a deep breath of the shared joint. He was messing with the life preservers that lined the wall, he exhaled the smoke before passing it to Warren, moving to lean on the desk, staring out at the crowded beach. “Warren, why did you even take this job?”

“Cause I like the ocean.” Warren hummed, inhaling deeply and letting his eyes flutter shut. He wasn’t really supposed to be smoking up here but he was the only lifeguard on duty today. So goody two shoes Lance Norris, the posterboy for lifeguards couldnt rat him out. He flicked the rolled up stub out the window, watching as it sizzled out in the sand below. He stood up, exiting the booth and Spencer followed him. “Plus the view isn't bad.” Warren looked out on the women sunbathing in skimpy bikinis and the men swimming in insanely tight speedos

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Pervert.” Warren winked at him, turning back to face the beach crowd.

Warren wouldn't admit it but there was another reason he had taken the job. You. His dad had been hounding him to take a summer job so he had been out on the boardwalk picking up applications. He was planning on lying and saying he had gotten a job and then blowing all summer with Spencer but then he had seen you. He had stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you, he watched as you took the ramp down to the beach and made a beeline for the lifeguard station.

You greeted them with a wide smile and passed up a basket filled with lunch for the two lifeguards on duty. He felt himself smile as he took you in, watching as you made polite conversation with your friend before sitting down on the beach, a book in hand. Warren came to the boardwalk for a week after that to see if you’d return. And sure enough you came everyday to sit in the same spot and read. Watching the waves roll in before leaving a couple hours later. And every friday you brought lunch up to the lifeguard station, there were other days when you bought snacks for them. He figured out that you brought lunch on Fridays because your friend Mary had a shift that day, so you would bring something for her and her coworker.

So Warren applied and got in after passing the entrance exam and acing the physical. It wasn't too hard considering he used to do sports and much to the disapy of Lance, the head lifeguard, he made the force. He even had the dumb luck of working on the friday shift with your friend Mary. He was really nervous to talk to you and spend his first few shifts hiding away when you came to see your friend. But after a while Mary had had enough of his endless questions about you and introduced you both. He had nearly died when you said his hair looked pretty in the afternoon sun.

After that he tried to talk to you when he could. Making small conversation here and there and asking a million questions, but you didn’t mind. Answering every one and asking some of your own. After a few weeks he developed a friendship with you, though he wanted more. He had wanted more since the moment he had seen you if he was being honest.

He loved your beautiful (y/s/c) skin that soaked up the sun and the way your (y/h/c) shinned and blew in the wind. He loved listening to you talk about your latest book and even tried reading some of them so he could talk to you about them. Though he preferred to hear you talk about them instead.

But he was too much of a coward to voice his feelings so instead he hoped you would catch on, maybe take note of his flirting and longing looks for more. But it seemed you thought of him as just a friend. So he let the summer slip away, there were only a couple weeks left and still he was too nervous to confess. Wondering what would happen when summer ended.

Unknown to him you had developed quite a crush on the curly haired lifeguard. Even bringing him lunch when Mary wasn't there and slipping in little treats here and there. You walked down the beach, your wicker basket in hand, Warren saw you coming and leaned over the rail to the point where you thought he was going to fall over. His loose Hawaiian shirt fluttering around him, open exposing his suntanned chest to you. He whistled at you, making you laugh. “Hey, pretty thing.” He called out, as you got closer you could see him smirking at you from his perch.

“Hey you.”

He lowered his sunglasses giving you a coy wink. “What’s for lunch today?” He asked, reaching down to take the basket from your outstretched hands.

“Turkey club with a side of chips and a slice of cake for dessert.”

He licked his lips, rubbing a hand over his stomach. “You’re too good to me honey.”

You giggled, flushing at his pet name. “I know.” You both smiled at one another, so invested in your own little world you didn't even notice someone else was there until Spencer cleared his throat. You turned to look at him, breaking away from Warren who let out a groan at the loss of attention. “I’m sorry, I didn't see you there. I’m (y/n).”

“I’m Spencer.” He gave you a small wave and you returned it.

“It’s nice to meet you Spencer.” You both exchanged polite smiles. “I’m sorry I didn’t know you were going to be visiting Warren for lunch. If I had I would have brought lunch for you too.”

Spencer opened his mouth to reply but Warren cut him off. “Don’t worry about him babe he was just leaving.”

“I wasn’t-”

Warren shot him a pointed look with a tight smile. “Just leaving.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I get it.” Spencer shoved his hands into his pockets and pushed past Warren to go down the steps to the beach.

“I’ll see you later man.” Warren called out to Spencer's retreating form.

“Whatever.” He replied.

“He seems nice.” You said, shielding the sun from your face with your hand as you watched Spencer walk away. “Kinda cute too.”

Warren scoffed “Not cuter than me I hope.”

You smiled, crinkling your face up at him. “Maybe.”

Warren held his hand up to his chest faking hurt, as if your words had physically wounded him. “You’ve wounded me babe.”

You just laughed. “Well anyway I better let you eat lunch, I’ll see you around Warren.” You moved to leave.

“Wait!” Warren’s voice made you turn back around. He cleared his throat, lowering his voice back to its normal level. “Would you maybe wanna eat lunch with me?”

“But I only packed lunch for you.”

“I’m not that hungry ,anyway, I had a big breakfast. Maybe we could split it.” He gave you a nervous smile.

You pursed your lips, pretending to think over his offer. Warren was watching your every movement, waiting for your answer. “Alright.”

Warren’s face split open in a wide smile, he helped you up the steps and made a big show of pulling out his only chair for you. As you turned away from him he quickly shoved his trash out of view, kicking discarded candy wrappers into the corner and covering them with a bucket. “Wow, you really do have the best seat in the house.” You mused, taking in the waves and the way the sun bounced off the water.

Warren leaned against the counter, his back to the ocean, his eyes trained on you alone. “I really do.”

Talking with Warren was alway made time fly. He was so passionate about his interests that you could listen to him talk for hours on end. And he could say the same, he loved watching the way you talked with your hands and the way you talked faster when you were excited about something. Lunch had been finished long ago and the sun was already starting to set on the horizon.

“I’ve noticed you’ve never gone swimming.” Warren blurted suddenly. His eyes widened when he realized his statement could come off as rude and he quickly tried to take it back.

“No it’s okay.” You laughed. “I just never learned how.” Warren started at you with his mouth hanging open. “What?”

“You never learned how to swim.” He asked, a smirk twitching at the corner of his lips.

“I know I know.” You looked out at the ocean. “I always wanted to though.”

“Why don’t you let me teach you?” Warren proposed. “I’m a pretty good swimmer if I do say so myself.”

“Is that so?”

“I mean that’s what my lifeguard certification says.” He pointed at the hanging frame. A picture of warren hanging next to a sign that said certified lifeguard, and underneath in black sharpie, and an excellent swimmer.

You giggled. “Very impressive.”

“Seriously let’s go for a swim.”

“Aren’t you on duty Mr. Certified lifeguard?”

“Yeah but there no one here.” You looked out at the beach and Warren was right. The beach was basically empty, everybody leaving for home as soon as the sun had begun to set. “Come on, you know you want to.” Warren poked at your side playfully. “Come on, come on…” Warren poked you with every come on until you swatted his hand away with a laugh

“Alright fine!”

“Yes!” Warren took your hand and dragged you down the steps, tossing his Hawaiian shift over his shoulder to hand on the wooden handle of the lifeguard station. You both got to the edge of the water, the waves tickling your feet.

“I don’t have a swimsuit.”

“You don’t need one.” Warren wiggled his eyebrows suggestively making you rolled your eyes and hit his chest. You blushed as you undressed, nervous at how he would perceive you. But when you turned to face him his eyes were wide with wonder taking all of you in. “You’re beautiful.” He whispered, more to himself than to you.

You blushed, pulling him into the water. “Let’s swim already.” He laughed taking hold of your hand. He squeezed it as he felt you tense, the water now up to your waist. He tried to lead you further but you stopped, feet digging into the sand. He moved closer to you, putting your arms around his shoulders. “I got you.” You let him pull you further out, your feet leaving the ground as you both ventured deeper.

Warren tread through the water, his arms moving you both as you clinged onto him for dear life. Your eyes were squeezed shut, afraid that if you opened them you’d panic and struggle against his hold. Your legs were tangled with his, trying to imitate his movements. After a while you opened your eyes, Warren starring at you with a soft smile. You returned it, letting your head fall onto his shoulder, completely at peace in his arms,

“(Y/n)?” Warren asked, wetting his chapped lips. You hummed against his shoulder in response, encouraging him to continue. His heart was thumping in his chest but he knew if he didn’t say anything now he’d let the rest of the summer slip away. He took a deep breath,“I like you.” He blurted it out all at once, almost too jumbled for you to make out. But you heard it, head snapping up to meet his gaze. He watched your face for a reaction, but you just tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him close. Warren’s eyes widened as his lips collided with yours, melting into your touch. Your lips still tasted like the chocolate cake from lunch, and it made the kiss that much sweeter.

When you pulled away you rested your forehead against his, breathing in his summery scent. “Does that mean you like me too?” Warren asked in an unsure voice.

“Of course I do you idiot.” You leaned your lead back to look at him clearly. “I’ve liked you since I first laid eyes on you.”

“Ditto.”

You rolled your eyes. “How romantic of you Warren.”

“Come on.” Warren mused, his lips brushing yours. “You know you love it.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” You pulled him close again, your lips molding perfectly into his. Your fear of swimming melting away as you floated in the water with him, knowing that the rest of the summer would be spent like this. In his arms under the soft glow of the summer sun.

Taglist: @xxspqcebunsxx @coffeeandteaintheevening @kitwalkerangel @xmaximoffic @livingmybestfictionallife @evanmybeloved @shlutnutt @rottenstyx @cursedandromedablack @nightlockcornucopia @usuck @tatesimper dm to be added to Taglist

#warren lipka aka love of my life #warren lipka fanfiction #warren lipka x y/n #warren lipka fluff #warren lipka x reader #warren lipka x you #warren lipka headcannon #evan peters #evan peters fluff #evan peters x you #evan peters characters #evan peters x reader #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #tate langdon fluff #tate langdon x reader #Tate Langdon

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 3 years

Text

The Stars Were Bright Above | Peter Parker

✦ pairing — Peter Parker x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 12k

✦ fake dating AU

✦ summary — in an attempt to make your best friend Harry jealous, you accept to fake date Peter who needs to cover up his big secret.

✦ request — I just read your Harry series and I was wondering if you could do something similar where reader is in love with Harry and she fake dates Peter and falls for him?

✦ warnings — angst, family issues, mentions of food and alcohol, language, reader and Peter are in college, brief depictions of anxiety, sexually suggestive content, drama between friends, fluff.

✦ author's note — whew, this one was supposed to be a quick one shot that’d help me get back into writing after days with a horrible migraine and then I completely lost control of it. I managed to find a compromise in 12k words after an excruciating editing process. Hope it’s coherent and that you like it!

════════════════════════

“I would love to stop and chat,” you told Peter as you looked for your keys, “but I’m in a hurry.”

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

If only you could find the stupid keys first! Oh, well, you’d check your backpack once you were in the parking lot.

Peter could have used the time it took you to cross campus to tell you whatever it was he wanted to say. Instead, he fiddled with the straps of his backpack and walked beside you in complete silence.

“I need a favor,” he finally said when you stopped in front of your car. As though it hadn’t been obvious.

“Peter,” you sighed, trying to hold your open backpack against your knee. A horrible idea, really. “My mom will kill me if I’m late for lunch.”

He took your backpack in his hands and held it for you. “I... it’s embarrassing.”

“We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“It can’t wait!”

His tone made you lift your head. “Are you alright? Is your aunt sick or something?”

He shook his head. “It’s about May in a way... oh, that rhymed.”

“Focus.”

“Right, right. Uhmmm she thought I was hiding something from her—“

You interrupted, “Were you?”

“Kind of,” he admitted. “So I told her I have a girlfriend.”

“I didn’t know you were dating anybody.”

“I’m not.”

“So why did you—“ You groaned. “Oh my God, you’re an idiot.”

“I deserve that one.”

“You want me to convince Gwen?”

“Gwen? Why would—“ He shook his head. Avoiding your eyes, he said, “I told her it was you.”

“And she believed you?”

“I’m as shocked as you are!”

“So you want me to lie to your aunt and tell her I’m dating you.” You closed your backpack, having had no luck finding your keys.

“More or less.” Peter continued holding your backpack, patiently waiting for you to retrieve it. “I was thinking more along the lines of lying to everybody and tell them we’re dating.”

You brought a hand to your hair, lightly gripping it for a moment. “I’m not a good actress.”

“I think your keys are in your hoodie.”

You palmed the front pocket where the sound of metal against metal let you know he was right. Introducing your hand, you withdrew the keys. “How did you know?”

“I heard them.”

“You have amazing hearing.” You reached over to take your backpack.

He handed it to you. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”

You unlocked the car and opened the back door on the driver’s side. Leaving your backpack onto the backseat, you heard Peter ask, “So... are you helping me?”

Standing straight, you turned to peer at him. You had to squint as the sun hit your face. “Can we talk later or tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Text me. Please.”

Peter had always been considerate with you and this time was no different. He patted your back before walking away on the opposite direction.

You bit your bottom lip. “Hey.”

Peter turned around. “Mmh?”

“Want me to drop you off?”

“Sure.”

It was nice to have some company in the car after a pretty lonely day. Gwen was nowhere to be seen and you didn’t share classes with Mary Jane. You had other friends, but they didn’t make you feel complete like Gwen, Mary Jane, Flash, Peter, and Harry did.

Harry...

You couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “Did you tell Harry?”

He didn’t sound surprised. “I was waiting for your answer. I told May she was the first person to know.”

You hummed. “What would I have to do?”

“She’ll want to confirm it’s true so you’d have dinner with us and then we would act like a couple in front of everybody.”

“Like a couple?”

“Just holding hands and hugging,” he clarified. “Maybe the occasional kiss on the cheek to throw people off their rhythm. Oh, and pet names!”

“You’ve got everything planned, huh.”

“My life depends on this,” he said dramatically.

“Do I get to know your secret if I say yes?”

He considered your question for a moment. “Eventually.”

You couldn’t believe you were doing this. “When should I come over for dinner?”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Probably this weekend. I’ll ask May and text you.”

“Cool. I’ll talk to you later, then.”

He nodded. “Be safe.”

“You too.”

You pulled over a few blocks from your family home to put on some makeup, that way you would avoid the chastising that came every time your mom saw the bags under your eyes.

Wondering if Peter could tell the reason behind your helpfulness, you got rid of your hoodie and slipped a sweater on.

Doing this every time you visited after school was tiring, but it was better than putting up with meaningless fights.

Your mom was losing her patience when you arrived, you could see it on her face. She glared at you as you approached her to kiss her cheek. This and the fact that you couldn’t stand pretending so many aspects of your personality, were what lead you to choose to live on your own.

She hadn’t been too happy about it, but she was busy with the family business, her social life, and your sister to complain. Your dad always did what any of you wanted, mostly to make you three shut up.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry! Peter needed help with something.”

You sat down next to your sister who lifted an eyebrow.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him lately,” your mom suspiciously pointed out.

Oh, so she was keeping tabs on what you did on your free time...

The truth was there had never been anything between you and Peter.

You met him on his first day of college. He was the new kid everybody was intrigued by. Harry hated him at first and although you didn’t, you didn’t speak to him until Harry decided to stop being an asshole.

Now Harry was too busy with Liz, his gorgeous girlfriend, to care about you, his best friend.

It hurt, it really did. You befriended Harry when you were kids and had been inseparable up until now. Of course you had to put up with his weird flings, but he had never cast you aside for them.

You had harbored hope that he was secretly into you, but the less he spoke to you the more you realized he hadn’t found the one until he met Liz. That hurt even more — you were supposed to be the one.

Everything had played out in your mind from the moment you realized you had a crush on him. You would start dating in high school or college, get married, have kids, be a happy family...

But ever since he left you by yourself at a party when he was supposed to be your ride, you realized he hadn’t cared as much as you did.

Peter walked you to your apartment that night and made sure you drank plenty of water. He didn’t have to do it, Gwen and Mary Jane had already offered to do it themselves, but for some reason he felt like it.

You took a sip of water, realizing your mom and your sister were waiting for an answer. “He’s nice,” you opted for saying.

“Nice, eh,” you sister teased you.

“Yeah, nice. Is there a problem with that?”

You knew that attitude would only make them believe they were right in their assumptions. It was what Peter needed from you either way.

Truthfully, Peter wasn’t always nice, but you knew he tried.

“Are we waiting for dad?” you asked.

Your mom nodded. “He’ll be home any moment now.”

Your mom never complained when your dad was late, or when he was too busy to come home for lunch. You were used to it, she was biased in his favor — she had been since you were a child.

You checked your phone to keep yourself entertained. The Notification Center showed multiple badges, but the messages one caught your eye immediately.

Gwen💛: Missed you today.

You unlocked your phone to reply that you had missed her too when another text came in.

Pete: May said it would be cool if the three of us had dinner on Saturday.

You answered Peter first.

Sounds good to me. Just tell me what should I bring.

Your presence is more than enough, you’re our guest.

You huffed a laugh as you typed. Look at you trying to be cute.

I’ll have you know I’m extremely cute all the time.

Yeah, yeah. Should I bring dessert?

You don’t have to bring anything if you don’t want to.

I will strangle you the moment I see you, Peter.

Just say yes or no.

Maybe.

I hate you.

That’s not the proper way to treat your boyfriend :(

You could picture the glint in his eyes as he tried not to laugh.

You went along with it. I’m sorry, babe :(

I forgive you because I’m a nice boyfriend.

Won’t happen again. <3

Now let’s hope we can talk like that in person.

Are you daring me to sweet talk you in person?

Yes.

Your mom called your name. “Your dad asked you a question.”

You lifted your head. “Mmh?”

“No, no, continue texting,” he said sarcastically, “I have all day.”

You quickly typed TTYL and locked your phone. “Sorry.”

Your dad shook his head. “You and Harry always do this.”

“I wasn’t texting Harry,” you felt the need to explain. Harry didn’t deserve credit for this. “What did you want to ask?”

“I asked,” he remarked the word. “If you would be busy this weekend. Your sister won’t be.”

“I— uhmmm... I’m having dinner with Peter and his aunt on Saturday.” You saw your sister purse her lips beside you. “Did you need anything?”

“To spend time with my family.”

“I guess I can come over on Sunday or Saturday morning.”

“I was thinking about going out of town for the weekend,” he clarified.

“The three of you can go if you don’t want to wait another week,” you assured them. “I already told Peter I would have dinner with him and his aunt so I can’t cancel. I also have projects to do.”

════════════════════════

You rested your head on Gwen’s shoulder as both of you waited for Mary Jane in the cafeteria. They never made you feel like a third wheel even though they were dating so you never avoided spending time with them.

Mary Jane arrived accompanied by Peter. He looked extremely serious but he didn’t say anything as he stood across the table, staring at you like a child scared of saying what they had been up to. She elbowed him on the side before sitting down.

Peter got closer to you. “Can we talk?” he asked. “It’s important.”

You nodded, lifting your head off Gwen’s shoulder. As you stood up, you felt her hand squeeze yours which prompted you to turn and look at her.

She gave you a playful look that made you realize she wanted to know every detail once you were done. As your eyes crossed Mary Jane’s, you saw a similar sentiment in them.

“I’ll be right back,” you told them to pacify them.

He guided you to an empty area which wasn’t such an easy task. You ended up resting your shoulder against the wall, facing Peter while he looked around.

His eyes landed on you as he spoke in a hushed voice. “Can we start today?”

You mirrored his tone. “Fake dating?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay...”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“Well, you’re changing the plan,” you explained. You hated changing plans, even more so when you weren’t sure you were the right person to execute them.

“I know. Just a day earlier, though.” He unashamedly pouted.

“Okay,” you said, this time sure. “Any particular reason?”

“There’s this freshman who thinks I flirt with her just because I’m nice to her and she’s creeping me out. I feel like she follows me around.”

You sighed. “She just has a crush on you, don’t be a baby.”

“Please?”

“I already said yes, you baby.”

“You kinda like calling me baby, don’t you?”

You playfully shoved him “You’re so annoying.” However, before he could leave to do whatever it was he did in his free periods, you grabbed him by the wrist. “Does Mary Jane know about your plan?”

“No. Why?”

“You arrived together.”

“Ah. No.” He shook his head. “I was looking for you and asked her if she had seen you.”

“Makes sense.”

“Yeah...”

You shifted on your feet. “So what now?”

“Do you have class next period?”

“Sadly.”

He chuckled. “I’ll walk you to class.”

“Wanna hang out with us for a little bit?”

“I gotta talk to Flash.”

You wiggled your eyebrows. “Gonna ask him out too?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m never telling you who I find attractive ever again.”

“Good. Don’t wanna make your girlfriend jealous — do you, babe?”

Peter leaned over. His breath fanned on your face as he said, “Don’t worry, baby, I only have eyes for you.” He then kissed your cheek. “I’ll be right back. Wait for me with Gwen and Mary Jane.”

You nodded, hoping you didn’t look as stunted as you felt.

Both your friends stared at you, desperate to hear an explanation. You understood why, but you were still trying to come up with an excuse as to why you were so flustered over a kiss on the cheek.

You checked your phone, but there was nothing worthy of your attention.

Mary Jane spoke first, “What did Peter need?”

“We are a thing now.”

Gwen hummed. “But what did he need?”

“Permission to make it public.”

Mary Jane scratched her cheek. “Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

“You think he’d be a bad boyfriend?”

“I think you shouldn’t use him to make Harry notice you.”

That was harsh. Perhaps you deserved the reminder that Harry couldn’t care less about you, and perhaps you also deserved to feel bad for trying to use Peter against him — you would’ve preferred if the reminder didn’t come from your best friend.

“I’m not,” you partially lied. “I genuinely like Peter.”

True to his word, Peter walked you to class. You didn’t hold hands, it didn’t feel right, but he sweetly told you that he’d be waiting for you after your last class.

You saw Harry across the hallway, talking to Liz and one of her friends. For a second you thought he would walk towards you, the way he held your gaze had been almost cruel.

But he didn’t, he just gave you a nod and walked in the opposite direction, hand in hand with Liz.

You had better things to worry about. Your classes, your family’s expectations, helping Peter — reciprocal things to an extent. So why couldn’t you just get over the fact that Harry didn’t care about you?

Somebody poked you on the arm with their finger. Turning to the side, you found Flash who shot you a smile.

“What’s up?” you greeted him.

“We have a project to finish.”

You cursed under your breath. “Are you free on Sunday?”

“Nope.”

“Tomorrow?”

He tilted his head. “Yeah. I’ll drop by your place.”

“At what time?”

“Like 2 or 3 in the afternoon. Don’t wanna wake you up by mistake again.”

Peter laughed behind you, having caught that last part.

You ignored Peter. “I have something to do after 5. Why don’t you come over early? I promise I’ll be awake.”

Flash shared a look with Peter and then patted your shoulder. “Cool. See you tomorrow, sleeping beauty.”

Peter snickered, standing beside you now.

“Stop laughing.”

“I just can’t believe you’re that grumpy in the mornings.” He started walking towards the exit.

You walked beside him. “You don’t know the whole story.”

He opened the door for you and then followed your steps. “You can tell it tomorrow at dinner.”

Craning your neck go look at him, you asked, “You want your aunt to laugh at me?”

“I’ll defend you.”

You suddenly remembered that you didn’t know what you were supposed to do or say in front of his aunt. You had met her before, but that fact made this situation even more bizarre.

You tried to start with an easy question, “Should I wear a dress for tomorrow?”

“You can wear whatever you want,” he assured you.

Well, that wasn’t helpful at all.

════════════════════════

You checked the time on your phone and realized you had a message from Flash. He was on his way.

Looking around your bedroom, your eyes fell on the bed where a pile of clothes laid. The sight stressed you out, and even more the fact that you didn’t seem to be able to set your mind on an outfit.

You anxiously waited for Flash at the door, pulling it open the moment you were aware of his presence on the other side.

He lifted both eyebrows. You usually took your sweet time to answer the door.

“We sh—“

You interrupted him. “I need your help with something else first.”

Flash softly dropped the materials he had been carrying onto the couch as he gave you a skeptic look. “I’m not disposing of a body for you.”

You took him by the wrist, dragging him to your bedroom. It wasn’t an abnormal occurrence by any means, he honestly should have had expected it.

“God, not again.” He sighed as his eyes fell on the pairs of shoes scattered around the room.

“Come on, just tell me if I should wear that skirt.” You pointed at the black skirt on top of the mountain of clothing. “Or jeans.”

He opened his arms, unsure as to what to tell you as his hands stayed in an awkward angle.

“What would you want me to wear if I were meeting your family?” you encouraged him to help you.

He cocked his head, looking at you through his lashes. “A straight jacket.”

“Please take this seriously.”

Inhaling deeply, he set his eyes on the pile of clothes. “Is the skirt more comfortable than the jeans?”

“I’m not thinking about comfort.”

“Well, you should. You know May will make you squirm with her questions.”

“No skirt, then.”

“It’s just dinner,” Flash reminded you, “wear something casual.”

”Yeah,” you sighed, “just dinner.”

What an easy thing to say. You knew so few details that you might as well make a fool of yourself in front of May.

Flash ignored your semblance even though you knew he took note of it. He reached his hand into one of the bags he had been carrying then handed you a paper bag. “I brought breakfast.”

“Why didn’t you say so when you arrived?”

He glared at you. “Why don’t you get us something to drink instead?”

You ate breakfast sat on the living room floor while discussing your project. Flash wasn’t the most responsible person ever, but he was by far the best partner you ever had for a project.

However, his comment from earlier made you wonder something. Unable to hold it anymore, you asked, “How did you even know about the dinner?”

“Peter told me,” he answered simply.

“He did?”

“Why are you so shocked?”

You shrugged. “I thought we would wait a little bit longer.”

“Yeah, but it was bound to happen.”

“Don’t,” you warned him.

“Why not? I told you you’d end up having a crush on him.”

“Flaaaaaaaash!”

You hated to prove him right and although this was different, you wouldn’t lie and say Peter wasn’t attractive or crush material.

“Peter’s cool.”

“You don’t have to convince me, I’m already dating him.”

“I’m just pointing out that he’s an upgrade.”

There it was.

Flash took a dislike towards Harry when Harry started dating Liz which was normal because she was his ex, but it turned into vitriol really quickly.

Both Flash and Harry put Peter in an awkward situation the first few months. Now you didn’t know much about it — Harry complained about it with you at first, but he stopped.

“It’s different.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?”

You frowned, looking into your half-empty cup of coffee.

“I can see through you.”

“Mary Jane told you her theory, didn’t she?”

“She thinks the same?” You nodded. He pensively hummed. “She didn’t tell me, to be honest. I’m only trying to look out for you and Peter.”

“I like him, I don’t know why you think I don’t.”

Flash didn’t spare you as he reminded you, “Because you said the same about your ex.”

“Yeah and look how that went!”

“(Name).”

“What?”

“Stop comparing guys you like to Harry and I promise you things will go well.”

He really could see right through you.

“I’ll stop. I promise.” Not knowing why, you added, “It’s not even that hard, Peter is... Peter. You know what I mean? Like how can you compare him to other people or other people to him?”

“Yeah, I get it.”

Oh no. “Do you like him?” you blurted.

Flash laughed softly. “Not in that way, no.”

“You sure? I don’t want things to be weird.”

“Peter might be handsome and cool,” he admitted, “but we wouldn’t work as a couple.”

“You think Peter and I would?” you incredulously asked.

“You will, yeah.”

You were truly nervous now. Not because of May’s potential questions or because you would have to lie — actually, you didn’t know where the nerves were coming from.

You just knew that Flash’s words resonated with you. He went from hating Peter to being his close friend which in your eyes meant he knew Peter better than anyone.

Did Flash know what Peter was hiding? Perhaps that was what he was alluding to when he assured you Peter and you would work as a couple.

The day went by extremely quickly. You weren’t mentally ready when Flash left or when you were on your way to Peter’s for that matter.

Peter was waiting for you in the lobby with hands in his pockets and shifty eyes.

“Is she like mad or something?” you asked instead of greeting him. You were ten minutes early so tardiness couldn’t be the issue.

He made a face, jerking his head as he gazed at you. He looked confused. “She’s just worried.”

What if she got angry at you when you hadn’t done anything? Peter told you to act normal, but normal you wasn’t madly in love with him.

As you approached the apartment, you found yourself thinking you were either going to ruin this or find out you deserved an academy award.

Peter opened the door and allowed you to come in first. May smiled at you before giving you a side hug in greeting.

“I brought dessert,” you told her as you parted from her.

“Oh, honey, you didn’t have to.”

Okay. Not angry yet.

She placed the dessert onto the table and motioned for you and Peter to sit.

Peter and you grabbed the chair at the same time. He opened his eyes wide, making you withdraw your hands immediately. He took the chair out for you.

Peter could be polite when he wanted, but you were getting worried. Since when did he treat the people he dated like this?

Nonetheless, you sat down.

May didn’t waste time and touched the subject pretty quickly. The moment she served dinner, she said, “I thought Peter was messing with me at first.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he defended himself.

“Sure you wouldn’t,” she said sardonically.

“I thought he was messing with me when he asked me out, so I get it.”

Peter looked at you in shock and you unconsciously smiled at him.

May cooed. “I don’t understand why you two hid your relationship for months when you’re so cute together.”

“I didn’t want it to be awkward with our friends,” you quickly lied. “What if it didn’t work out or something?”

Your answer would have made sense if your relationship with Peter was real and that would be your strategy from now on. He couldn’t have a secret that would need you to lie that often.

May was so happy with your answers that the conversation deviated from you and Peter to everything but your love life.

You felt a little silly now, having expected the worst when Peter had already told you she was just worried.

He walked you to your car at the end of the night, something you guessed would become a common occurrence.

Things had gone well with May so you had no reason to think things wouldn’t go well with your friends.

You gnawed on the inside of your bottom lip. “Are things going to be awkward now?”

“Between us?”

You nodded. “I mean... saying shit is one thing, but you know...” God, you felt awkward already.

Peter frowned for a moment. “Give me your hand.”

Shifting on your feet, you asked, “You want your hand to be under mine or on top?”

“I don’t mind. You choose.”

You slid your arm under his, opening your palm but not touching him yet. He took the initiative and pressed his hand against yours.

“Is this okay?” he softly asked.

“Yes.”

He intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing a little bit. You huffed a laugh.

“This too?”

You nodded.

“Well, that’s the only thing that’ll change between us. We already hug pretty often.”

Oh, Peter gave the best hugs. Although Gwen was a close second, you preferred his because he was always warm. He also smelled good, but you had to give it to Gwen and admit she did too.

“I’ll see you on Monday, then, boyfriend.”

“Drive safe, girlfriend.” Before you could say anything, he added, “Text me when you get home.” Yet he didn’t let go of your hand immediately.

════════════════════════

Harry didn’t take the news of your relationship with Peter that well. The moment he saw you holding hands, he made his way towards you.

Peter squeezed your hand, easing your nerves. He was there, nothing could go wrong with Peter there.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” Harry drily asked you.

“In twenty minutes or so,” you softly answered.

“Well, can I talk to you?”

You turned to Peter, hoping he’d save you from an awkward conversation. Sure, you wanted a reaction from Harry, but not an angry one!

“It’s okay, baby.” Peter kissed your hair as he let go of your hand. “I’ll see you later.”

With a shaky sigh, you motioned Harry to lead the way.

He immediately asked, “Why Peter?”

You stuttered. “I... things just happened.”

“Did they have to happen with my other best friend?”

In a twisted way, they had to. But you couldn’t possibly tell him that. “You didn’t care when Gwen had a crush on him, why is this any different?”

His eyes sharpened. “It just is.”

Many things just were. That didn’t mean anything. You wished you had the courage to reply.

As always, you gave him the upper hand and allowed him to make another question. “It’s not serious, right?”

What were you supposed to say? The thing that’d make him angry or the thing that’d pacify him? How selfish of you to be thinking about making Harry jealous when Peter needed this to be believable.

“It’s too soon to know.”

Harry hummed, softly nodding. “I’ll walk you to your class.”

You frowned. He had never done something like that.

“You’re coming to my birthday party, right?”

You almost tripped as you answered, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Cool. I’ll see you there.”

Thirteen-year-old you was right when she thought boys were confusing, but Harry surely took the cake. You assumed he’d ask you to hang out more often given his reaction, but there he was telling you —on a Monday— that he’d see you on Saturday.

Harry’s attitude soured your entire morning. If classes were already unbearable, he made you want to skip each one of them. Your friends noticed, but nobody said anything.

What a horrible morning and what a horrible week it would be until his stupid birthday party rolled around and you’d have to see him show his girlfriend off.

Your friends decided to go to the coffee shop near campus after class and although you weren’t in the mood for socializing, you would rather suck it up than be by yourself.

Besides, coffee shops were always a good place to do homework and you had quite a few projects accumulated.

Peter rested his head on your shoulder in the same way you always rested yours on Gwen’s. You threw your arm around his shoulders as you rested your eyes.

“Are you getting sleepy?” you whispered in case he was.

“No,” he mumbled. “But I don’t wanna move.”

“I have to pick up my sister from the mall in a couple of hours so you’ll have to.”

He whined.

“Who would’ve thought Peter would be a clingy boyfriend,” Gwen teased.

“Literally anybody who has ever seen him drunk,” Flash continued teasing him.

Peter was red. He shifted, trying to hide his face on your shoulder.

In all honesty, you didn’t mind if he was clingy or not. You had been told you were a little too effusive when it came to affection so you had a soft spot for people who were similar in any way.

You withdrew your arm from his shoulders in order to continue typing on your computer.

Peter went back to his previous position, facing your computer too. “You made a typo,” he told you. “Third line on the second paragraph.”

Mary Jane arrived late and she seemed to be in a bad mood so Gwen made up an excuse in front of your friend group as though she knew something you didn’t —she probably did— and took her home.

Looking at the time, you realized it was time for you to get going too so you started to put your things away.

‘I’m leaving with Flash,” Peter reminded you. “Text me or call me if you need me. I might not answer quickly because we’ll be playing video games but just try for a second time, okay?”

“Okay.”

He kissed your forehead. ”Drive carefully.”

You hummed. “Have fun, Pete.”

“You too, baby.”

Your mom didn’t give you many details when she asked you to pick your sister up. You didn’t even know with which friends she was hanging out with or why they were at the mall on a Monday and not somewhere more fun.

There you were, judging her like you hadn’t followed Harry like a puppy when you were her age.

She texted you that she was on her way to the entrance you were waiting at, telling you she had been all the way across.

It was probably a lie, but you’d let it slide.

Your sister tugged the door open and got into the car in silence, putting her cellphone away as she got comfortable.

“Did you have fun?”

She nodded and smiled at you.

You snickered and poked her cheek. “You have dried lipgloss all over your mouth.”

Your sister bashfully looked down.

You handed her a tissue. “Hey, it’s okay. There’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

She stayed silent for a small moment before worriedly asking, “Are you telling mom and dad?”

“No. But I’d like to know who it was.”

She whined. “Do I really have to tell you?”

You tried to put yourself in her shoes. You didn’t know how embarrassing it would have been for you to talk about your first kiss —or kisses— with a family member because nobody really cared when you started dating classmates.

But it didn’t sound fun so instead, you asked, “Are they your age?”

“Yup ”

“You promise?”

Realizing the question was serious, she nodded for emphasis. “Yes.”

“Cool. That’s all that matters.”

Your dad was home so you were forced to stay for dinner which again, was better than being on your own.

You couldn’t wait to either get together with Harry or over him. As things were going, you could only admit it would be the latter.

“Did your friend have a good birthday?”

Your sister looked at you before answering. “Yeah, we saw a movie.”

“What was the movie about?”

Your dad really tried to get along with both of you, you had to give him that. He was bad at it most of the time, but he tried.

Your phone started ringing. As you stared at the screen, you frowned. Unknown numbers rarely called you.

Hesitant, you answered, “Hello?”

“Hi, (Name),” May tried to speak sweetly. The moment you heard her voice, you stood up from your seat on the couch and left the living room. “Peter isn’t answering his phone, can you put him on the line for me?”

You walked into the adjacent studio, weirded out by her request. “He told you he’d be with me?”

“Isn’t he?”

“He is,” you said hurriedly, “I was just curious.”

“Can I talk to him now?” May laughed nervously.

“He went out to buy food and left his phone here. I’ll tell him to call you as soon as he’s back.”

“Thank you.”

You texted him multiple times as soon as May hung up.

May called. Where are you?

She sounded worried.

I had to lie and say you had gone out to buy food and forgot your phone in case she asks.

Hey.

Pete?

Dude, you’re scaring me.

PETER

Come on

Istg I will lose my shit if you’re messing with me

It’s not funny

You made your way towards the bathroom, needing to splash some water onto your face or something. Anything.

He couldn’t be so immersed in a video game as to not answer multiple calls or texts.

Why would Peter tell May he was with you when he could easily tell her he was with Flash? Was he not at Flash’s anymore?

Perhaps Flash would reply!

You texted him and called him dozens of times before giving up. You didn’t want to think the worst, maybe they were out buying something, but they could be in danger too.

Your hands started shaking pretty quickly when the idea of something happening to him overpowered your thoughts.

You needed to get out of that bathroom and back to the living room where a distraction could meet your anxiety before you went crazy.

So you splashed your face and bolted.

Back in the living room, you caught pieces of your dad’s conversation with your sister. He was boring her with business talk.

You had been in her place many times, and although his tone was more lighthearted with her because the expectations to follow in his footsteps were on you, it was clear he was trying to get her interested in things she didn’t even understand.

Your phone dinged. You immediately looked down.

Pete❤️: I’m okay

What the fuck, Peter?

Where were you?

Busy, sorry.

Did you call May?

Yeah.

Ok.

You didn’t know what else to say. ‘I had a shitty day and you almost gave me a panic attack’ didn’t sound appropriate. It would be truthful, but you couldn’t do that to him.

Where are you?

At my parents’.

He didn’t reply anymore so you locked the device and rested your head on the arm of the couch.

What a fucking day. If your week would be half as exhausting, you were ready to give up on the entire month in advance.

Remembering you were meant to ask if Mary Jane was okay, you unlocked your cellphone again.

As you finished typing your message to Gwen, one from Peter came through.

Can you come out for a few minutes?

Yeah. Give me a moment.

You took a deep breath, fixing your outfit as you slipped your phone into your pocket. You rounded the couch as you attempted to take the path towards the front door.

“Where are you going?” your sister asked.

“Outside. I need to give something to Peter.”

“Don’t take too long,” your dad told you.

You said a meek yes as if you were going to listen to him when you needed to inspect Peter from head to toe just to make sure he was truly okay.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak as Peter slowly approached you. To his credit, he looked fine so he hadn’t lied.

He spoke first, as he should have, “Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” you mumbled.

He gave you a look.

Clearing your throat, you opened your arms only to slap your hands against your thighs in defeat. “You had me worried sick.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you going to tell me where were you?”

“I can’t.”

You scoffed. “So I have to cover for you without even knowing what the hell I’m covering?”

He whispered your name, placing his hand on your cheek as he tried to make you look at him.

You closed your eyes. “I don’t mind lying for you,” you softly said, meaning it like you had never meant anything else in your entire life. “But don’t I deserve to know why I’m lying?”

He brought you onto his chest, holding you tight against him. “You do deserve to know,” he admitted. “And I’ll tell you everything, but not tonight.”

You were scared to ask why.

════════════════════════

Peter draped his arm over your shoulder, holding you close to him as the two of you stood with your group of friends.

You hadn’t been in that place in a long time but still remembered where every room was. You also knew in which one Harry would fuck Liz at the end of the night.

You took a sip of alcohol. It didn’t taste like much — a bad sign.

Your eyes fell on the beer pong table. A guy you didn’t recognize and Harry were playing against Mary Jane and Flash. That was a bad sign too.

“I’m gonna refill my cup,” you whispered in Peter’s ear, “do you want me to refill yours?”

He shook his head. “I’ve still got plenty.”

It took you a moment to move and he didn’t make a sign to having found it weird.

The kitchen was quieter, not by much but the change was nice. Something you had always disliked about Harry was his taste in music.

You crashed against a thin body.

Liz took you by the waist and you awkwardly placed your hand on her hip, each of you steadying the other. “Sorry,” both of you apologized at the same time.

“I was distracted,” you insisted.

She took her hands off you and you did the same. Liz extended her hand so she could refill your cup for you.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said as she refilled your cup. “Harry thought you wouldn’t come.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “You know how he is.”

You didn’t. Not anymore. You took your cup from her, thanking her before bringing it to your lips.

“Well, we’re all here,” you said in pretended optimism. “And we’re all having fun.”

She smiled, looking as pretty as ever. “Damn right we are!”

You went back to Peter while Liz took off to talk to some of her friends. Once again, he threw his arm over your shoulders, hand almost brushing your chest as it dangled.

Mary Jane was back, bored of playing. Flash asked Peter to team up with him. Peter removed his arm from you, telling you he’d be back.

You focused on Peter as he rolled his sleeves on his way to the table.

Feeling something move in your pocket, you took your cellphone out. Your dad was calling.

“I need to take this call,” you told your friends.

The air was cold in comparison to the inside of the house. You let your dad call again and answered the phone, already expecting some kind of bad news.

To his credit, he sounded disappointed while telling you the plans the family had made for the next day were cancelled. He said your mom was upset.

As a child you often heard excuses for his absence. He was busy, his success depended on sacrifices, he tried his best so you and your sister could have everything you wanted.

Harry always told you to be grateful that you had loving parents. You weren’t sure you had the same definition of love.

You still assured your dad you weren’t angry and promised to spend the day with your mom and sister. His silence as an answer to your offer was a reminder that he didn’t believe you were capable of fixing meaningful problems.

You didn’t show how much it hurt you, there was no point. He meant well, your mom and sister did too.

Leaving the party sounded appealing, but your friends didn’t deserve it. You sucked it up and went back to the house.

Peter and Flash were bumping fists when you approached the area. They had won the game.

You went directly to the couch, not in the mood for dancing. Peter walked towards you, fixing his hair.

Sitting down, he twisted his upper body. “Is everything okay?”

“My dad just cancelled tomorrow’s family plans and said mom’s kinda upset.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Neither am I.” You changed the subject, “I’m surprised you won that game, though.”

“You don’t have faith in me?”

You swiped your tongue across your bottom lip. “I never said that. But you have to admit you’ve never been one for taking part in games. Last time I saw you play something, you got your ass handed to you by Flash.” Twisting your mouth, you tilted your head. He looked down. “You’ve never played sports, right?”

He didn’t answer.

You insisted, “Right?”

He hummed, nodding at the same time as though it made any sense.

“Were you even listening?”

“No,” he quickly admitted. “Can I kiss you?”

Oh. He had been looking down at your mouth.

He caught you off guard. You couldn’t say no, though, you didn’t want to say no. “Yes,” you answered him.

He started slow and sweet, with his hand on your cheek as the other rested on his lap. You didn’t know what to do with your hands, so you just closed your eyes and kissed him back, following his rhythm.

He slowly build the kiss up, sucking your bottom lip between his. Gripping the front of his sweatshirt, you boldly bit down his bottom lip in return.

Peter wrapped his free arm around you then he brought you closer, flush against him. His tongue tried to pry your mouth open in the exact moment you were about to do the same. Your tongues clashed together and instead of turning it all awkward, it only prompted you to grab him by the hair.

Peter hummed on your mouth and continued kissing you. Now he had both hands on your body, holding you tightly by the waist.

Maybe you could take him to another room, maybe you could feel his hands on you without the burden of your clothes.

His vice grip on you made you feel like floating and you suddenly wondered why you hadn’t made out with Peter before. It didn’t have to be anything serious, it didn’t have to go past messing around.

He was attractive, so were you. Why hadn’t you seen it before? Why had you denied yourself this when he was so good at kissing and his touch was so rough you were sure he would leave marks? And you wanted him to do it, you wanted him to let himself loose on you.

Fuck, you were getting horny over your fake boyfriend.

And as if he knew exactly what was going on inside your hazy mind, he attached his lips to your neck. It was over, you were done — it would be a failure if you didn’t manage to take him to a private room or back to your apartment.

Resting a hand on his thigh as you pushed yourself over, you felt the vibration of his throat as he whimpered while you kissed him.

Something buzzed under your hand, prompting both of you to part. Panting, you stared at each other for a moment. His hair was a mess and he had never looked prettier.

He withdrew a hand from your body to take his cellphone out. You knew the mood had completely been killed when he sighed and locked the device.

“I need to do something,” he announced as he stood up. “I’ll be back.”

What? You didn’t have a chance to react, he just left you there, hot and bothered.

════════════════════════

You padded your way toward the kitchen for the second time since you had gone to bed. Sleep wasn’t necessarily elusive that night, but you found yourself waking up every hour.

Turning the lights on, you looked at the time. Almost 4:00 am. You filled a glass with water and slowly drank it.

You knew the tough day you had with your family was still doing a number on you even though you had left early, you also knew you should have been used to it by now.

Tapping against glass took you out of your mind, bringing you goosebumps. As the sound continued, you realized it was coming from the living room.

You considered going back to your room and locking yourself up which sounded safer, but curiosity overpowered logic.

A figure loomed over the windowpane. You wondered if your mind was tricking you — you lived in the fifth floor.

The figure became clearer as you got closer to the window. You let out a relieved sigh. Spider-Man waved. You tilted your head — why would Spider-Man want to visit you?

Maybe he was hurt and needed help.

You opened the window. “Can I help you?”

He nodded upward, letting you know he needed to come in. You let him, moving to the side.

He took the liberty to close the window once he was inside. You stood before him, assuming he would verbally tell you what he needed.

He wasn’t hurt from what you could see. He walked just fine, his breath wasn’t ragged... You were more confused now.

Reaching to the back of his head, Spider-Man took the mask off. Brown eyes bore into yours.

“You wanted to know what I was hiding...” Peter trailed off.

“You’re joking.”

He stepped closer to you. “I’m not.”

He had to. His sense of humor wouldn’t match a joke like this, but he had to.

The suit didn’t look like a cheap costume, but there had to be another explanation. Yes, it made sense — every time he disappeared out of nowhere and worried you sick, those days he sported black eyes or cuts on his face... but you didn’t want this to be the truth.

You dragged your finger down his arm to feel the texture of the suit.

Peter took a deep breath.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“It’s okay, baby,” he huskily said. When he got no answer, Peter added, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you baby.”

You inhaled deeply. “I get it, you’re getting used to it.”

He hummed, eyes on you as he sighed.

You placed your hand on his bicep. “Are you okay, Pete? I’m not going to tell anybody if that’s what worries you.”

His hands found their place on your waist. You leaned closer, seeking his warmth. Peter opened his mouth to say something, then decided against it.

He leaned in and kissed you, tentative as he gave you time to push him off you. But you didn’t, why would you?

You ran your hand through his hair as you kissed him back, already familiar with the shape of his lips and the warmth of his mouth.

He pushed you onto the wall as he shoved his tongue inside your mouth. His kiss became sloppy while his hands started wandering down.

He gripped your thighs, bringing your legs up so you’d wrap them around his waist. Both of you ground against the other, sloppily kissing. You could hear the sound your mouths were making and feel his hot breath on your face.

He was driving you crazy.

Peter didn’t stop there. Giving you room to breathe, he lowered his mouth to your neck where he took his time to find your sweet spot.

You felt his fingers up your thigh, where he played with the edge of your sleeping shorts.

He kissed, sucked, and licked his way up to your ear. “Is this okay?”

You hummed against his mouth before kissing him again pawing at his suit, desperate to feel his skin under your fingertips. Frustrated, you broke the kiss. “How do you even take this thing off?”

He chuckled and gave you another kiss. “I’ll teach you.”

“Are you gonna strip for me?” you joked. Why were you making jokes right now?

Peter tilted his head. “Is that what you want?”

The idea wasn’t bad at all, yet you answered truthfully, “I just want to touch you.”

He didn’t deny you anything that morning. You couldn’t remember the last time you enjoyed yourself that much with a sexual partner.

You didn’t leave an inch of his body untouched, relishing in his reactions. He wasn’t ashamed to tell you if he liked something, or to ask you to touch him firmly.

Peter didn’t hold back either. All he wanted was you and you weren’t complaining. He gripped you tightly and sucked on your skin as much as he was able to.

There would be bruises on you by the next day, and there would be scratches on him if his powers didn’t heal him quickly.

You liked this side of him, the side that fucked you into the mattress and groaned above you. He wasn’t scared of breaking you or hurting you — for a moment you wondered how it would feel if he did it.

He came on your belly then cleaned you up afterwards which was more than appreciated. You weren’t even sure you could speak properly when he asked if you needed water.

He brought you a glass either way, of course he did.

The sun was up when you were done, too tired to move and too spent to complain. Peter was back on the bed, warm body pressed against yours.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No,” you tiredly answered. “I’m good.”

He held you tighter, laying his head on your chest.

You lazily dragged your fingers down his spine. “Is everything okay?”

“It was a long night,” he told you in a low voice.

You chose to believe he had visited because he thought you could provide him comfort, and you also decided that you always could — that you were okay with doing so. Even if most things about your relationship were fake, this one didn’t have to be.

════════════════════════

Peter and you never talked about it, and although you would have liked to hear the reasons behind his actions that night, you didn’t need to because it continued happening.

Having sex made pretending easier. He always had an arm around you or a hand on your body around your friends and by now you not only were used to his touch but sought it.

You often woke up next to him, sometimes clothed and sometimes naked. He always woke up before you, but he never left immediately. You wanted to know why.

Flash had been right to assume you’d develop a crush on Peter and now you had a sinking feeling that it wasn’t just a crush anymore.

You worried about him and wanted to be around him every second of every day, you liked hearing him tell you about his classes and his day — you liked that he always asked about yours, that he was willing to drop things for you because you would drop everything to be there for him.

Covering for him became a reflex. You had an inkling that May knew you were lying sometimes, but she never said anything according to Peter.

Your friends were happy with the development of your relationship which would have been lovely if this was real. But now you worried that the supposed breakup would disrupt your friend group.

It was hard not to think about it. The day would surely come and you’d be by yourself most of the time again. As if that was the only problem.

And problems continued rolling onto you. The last person you expected to see was at your door.

Harry gave you a smoldering look as you stood speechless. “Are you letting me in?”

You did.

He sat down on the couch, making himself at home even though he had barely visited your apartment.

“I thought you were sick,” he said in reference to the fact that you cancelled plans with your friends the day before.

“I was busy.”

Disgust contorted his face as his eyes fell on your neck. “Busy fucking my best friend?”

You flinched at his tone.

“I should’ve known you were only spending time with him because you wanted to get him into your bed.”

He said it as though you were the type of person to fuck anybody you met, as though you hadn’t rejected people because they weren’t him specifically.

“Believe it or not,” you coldly lied, “I started dating him months and not days before your birthday. You would’ve known about it if you talked to me.”

“Rubbing it on my face, aren’t you? Do you know how embarrassing it was to hear you were making out with him at my house after I told my friends multiple times that you were off limits?” He was seething, expelling droplets of saliva as he reproached you.

“Why would you do that in the first place? You knew I’d end up dating somebody who goes to the same school as us.”

“Why would you go for my best friend specifically? Don’t you care about my relationship with him?”

“Is this what our friendship has come to be? A reproaching fest?”

“You’re the one who crossed the line.”

“Harry, you didn’t have a problem when half our friend group drooled over him!”

“Because that’s different. I know Peter, he’s not right for you.”

You incredulously scoffed. “Funny how you’re the only one who says that.”

“I’ve never been wrong about the guys you’ve dated.”

Well, you couldn’t argue against that. But Flash was right, those guys hadn’t been the problem — the fact that you compared them to Harry was.

“Let time prove either of us right.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“What?”

“You promised nobody would ever be more important than me.”

You both promised a lot of things as kids... that you would never bring dates to an event you could attend together, that you would attend the same college, that you would be part of the same friend group your entire lives, that you would tell each other everything...

“I’m not saying Pete is more important than you, I’m j—“

“Break up with him, then.”

“You’re making it sound like I have to choose between you and him.”

“Because you have to.” When he didn’t get an answer, he added. “I’ll give you time to think it through.”

You wanted to do anything but think. You wanted to have your best friend back — you didn’t care if he was jealous anymore, you never should have. You weren’t Liz, it was okay, he liked her and you liked somebody else.

“Harry, come on...”

But Harry walked himself out and forced your words to die in your throat.

You never thought he would be as angry as you wanted him to be. You got your anger and your jealousy and your dilemma. He had it all clear, you were the idiot who had to get into this mess.

A shower and a portion of your comfort food later, you decided that you couldn’t be inside your head right now and left your apartment.

It was drizzling. Such a perfect weather to be inside doing everything or nothing alike.

You loved being by yourself at your place. The plan for the day had been just that. But as always, Harry made you change them.

Chastising yourself for forgetting your phone at home, you knocked on the door in front of you.

The door opened and you were greeted with a smile.

You wished you could’ve smiled back. “Hi, May, is Peter home?”

She motioned for you to come in. “He’s in his room. Do you want something to drink?”

“Not now, thank you.”

You knocked on his door, hoping he would answer before May could tell something was wrong with you.

Peter yelled for you to come in. You were an idiot, he probably had heard you talking to his aunt.

Pushing the door open, you stuck your head in. “It’s me,” you softly said just to make sure you had his permission to come in.

“Come in, baby.”

God, not that pet name. Not now.

You closed the door behind you before facing him. He was sat at his desk, writing something down on a notebook as he looked at the computer screen.

Approaching him, you leaned in to see what he was doing. You didn’t understand much of it, science was his thing.

He rotated the chair to face you. “What’s up? You didn’t text me...”

“Forgot my phone at home.”

Peter frowned and dropped his pen on top of the notebook before standing up to move towards his bed. “Are you alright?”

Did you look that bad? You weren’t wearing makeup, but he had seen your bare face plenty of times to be weirded out.

“Can I have a hug?”

Now sat on the bed, Peter opened his arms and legs so you’d make yourself at home between them.

And you did. You hugged yourself to him as tightly as you could, afraid he would let go at any moment.

He didn’t let go, you should have known he wouldn’t — your mind was playing tricks with you, that was it.

“What happened? Why are you upset?”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him. Not yet, not when you were scared he would cut you off from his life just because Harry thought it was for the best.

“Had a long day yesterday and didn’t want to be alone today,” you mumbled.

“Why don’t we watch a movie?” he offered. “I’ll let you pick which one we watch while I go get some snacks.”

You whined. “I don’t wanna move.”

“It’s just like ten minutes. We’ll cuddle the entire runtime.”

“You promise?”

He kissed your forehead. “I promise.”

It amazed you how easy it was to trust him, to like him, to want to be with him no matter the moment or the activity.

It took you longer to pick a movie than it took him to come back. You didn’t want any snacks, but you still took them because you didn’t want him to worry too much.

You would worry on your own later.

Peter hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. His hands rested on your belly as he watched the movie, giving you butterflies every time he laughed against your skin.

How were you supposed to give this up when it felt so good?

════════════════════════

Mary Jane sat across from you, playing with the glass between her hands. She was listening to you, but by the way she was tapping her fingers against the glass, she was dying to interrupt.

You went on and on because you still couldn’t believe Harry would make you choose between him and somebody else. It didn’t even make sense when he had thrown you and Peter to the side when he started dating Liz.

When her time came, Mary Jane spoke, “You shouldn’t care about what Harry says.”

“I care more about the fact that I ran to Peter like a fucking idiot.”

“He’s your boyfriend.”

You knew she was trying to be the voice of reason, but no, he wasn’t. That made it worse. “But doesn’t it make it look like I already chose?”

“Kinda,” she conceded. “But that’s not a bad thing necessarily.”

“Harry and I grew up together.”

“And Peter fucks you stupid. They have different roles in your life.”

You remained silent. Your cup was already empty and you didn’t need more caffeine. In fact, a soothing tea would have been a better choice — you needed to drive after this once your sister was done with her friends.

“Do you still like Harry or something? I will kill you if you say yes.”

You got that from her tone, she didn’t have to tell you. “I don’t know.”

“But you like Peter more... Right?”

“Yeah, I do.” Maybe liking was selling it short at this point.

Peter didn’t make you choose, and if anything between you were real he wouldn’t make you choose either. You were so sure that you would’ve bet your own life on it.

That fact was a problem. Why couldn’t Harry be like Peter?

“Maybe I need another opinion,” you mused out loud.

“Gwen will tell you the same.”

“What about Flash? Maybe if he had all the details...”

“Flash will try to convince you to kill Harry in his sleep.”

“You think so?” Of course he would, but you were desperate.

“He’s team Peter all the way. Honestly, I would think they have something going on if Peter wasn’t so into you.”

You avoided looking at her. “What should I do?”

“What do you want?”

“Just... I don’t know. About what? From what?”

“Do you want to choose?”

“No.”

“You could choose neither of them.”

“But—“ You shook your head.

“No, say it.”

“I can’t.”

Mary Jane wouldn’t pressure you to talk, she wasn’t that kind of person.

“At least tell Peter about it before Harry does,” she advised.

“I’ll tell him once I’m done here.”

It was late when your sister met you at your table. Mary Jane had left two hours earlier and you had even entertained yourself looking around a few stores and come back.

You drove in silence, allowing her to talk if she wanted to. Maybe asking something would’ve been better, but you didn’t have the energy to find out who your sister was dating or why she had decided to hide it.

Enough was already on your plate, and you needed to trust her, unlike your parents.

Stopping the car, you waited for her to get inside. Your mom hurried outside the moment she opened the door and walked towards your car.

She made you a sign with her hand, asking you to roll the window down.

With a sigh, you indulged her.

“Dinner tomorrow,” she drily told you. “You should bring Peter, I think it’s time your dad meets him.”

“Mom, I’m not marrying him or something like that.”

“I don’t care. Bring him.”

Great. Another fucking problem you had to deal with now. Your dad had always been clear on the type of person he wanted for you and Peter was not it. A shame, really.

“I’ll ask if he isn’t busy,” you compromised.

She looked happy with that. Your mom wished you a good night and turned around. You watched her get inside the house, wondering if she truly wanted you there the next day or not. You never knew with her.

You didn’t get to talk to Peter that night. Instead of telling him you wanted to see him so you could talk in person, you told him your parents wanted to have dinner with him.

Peter said yes immediately and asked about the dress code. God, you didn’t even want to think about clothes.

And with good reason — it wasn’t fair that everything suited him. There was no color or style Peter couldn’t pull off.

But it was probably for the best, he’d make a good impression that way.

You wanted your dad to like him and your sister to trust him and your mom to laugh at his lame jokes. You wanted them to see the person you desperately wanted to be in your life until your last day alive.

Truthfully, you didn’t care if he had feelings for you like you did for him. You enjoyed being around him, his friendship was enough.

The surprise the two of you got when Norman and Harry stood up to greet you was extremely hard to hide.

Norman gave you and Peter a warm smile. “I told Harry to bring his girlfriend, but he didn’t listen to me.”

You shifted on your feet, using Peter as leverage to ground yourself by squeezing his fingers between yours.

Your mom smiled tightly. “Next time it will be.”

Much like Flash did with you, Norman talked wonders about Peter to your parents.

You avoided looking at Harry with the pretense of being polite by gazing at whoever was speaking. Such gesture didn’t sit well with him and he showed it by standing up and walking towards you.

Harry inhaled deeply. “Can we talk in private?”

Unconsciously, you turned to look at Peter. He patted your thigh in encouragement.

“Sure,” you feigned enthusiasm.

You walked across the house in silence, wishing he would tell you to forget about what he said before.

Harry stared at you as you looked around the backyard. Not only were you avoiding speaking first, but you were confused as to when the lighting fixtures had been changed.

The spot you were awkwardly standing at had witnessed many secrets being exchanged between you. Perhaps it would be witness and accomplice of your fallout too.

“So you’ve made your choice.”

“Harry...”

His furious eyes bored into yours. “Why the fuck did you bring him?”

“I wanted to,” you confessed. “Mom told me I should and I agreed.”

“We never bring dates tho dinners like these. We promised,” he reminded you.

“He’s not just a date, this is different.”

“I didn’t invite Liz because I keep my promises.”

“You didn’t invite Liz because you didn’t want to.” You hated that he couldn’t own up to his mistakes with her when he loved her so much. “Stop holding a stupid promise I made when I was six against me.”

“You wouldn’t have liked it if I brought her here while you were single.”

“You stopped talking to me the moment you started dating her. I would’ve expected it.”

“So you went and tricked my best friend into a relationship.”

Was that he thought about you? That you manipulated or forced people to be around you?

“Your best friend? You barely talk to him anymore, Harry. And don’t you dare tell me it’s Liz’s fault.”

He ignored your first comment. “Now I will get in trouble with her for not taking her here if she sees pictures.”

“Call her and tell her the truth. Or blame me, I don’t care.”

“It is your fault,” he bitingly said, “you brought him to something special for us.”

“I didn’t even know you’d be here! And honestly, you should be happy for me.”

“I would be if he wasn’t my best friend.”

“Again with that...” You sighed, hoping you could find the right words. “I don’t want to choose, Harry, and it fucking hurts that you from all people are putting me in this situation God knows why.”

“I’ve told you before, it’s because Peter is—“

You interrupted him, “Peter being your best friend doesn’t matter, he’s not going to drop you like you dropped us.”

“I know I dropped you for a while, but Liz needed my attention.”

You didn’t blame him for focusing more on her, or for wanting to spend most of his time with her, but you knew for a fact that Liz made time for her friends; Harry could’ve done the same.

You started tearing up There was the problem, Harry couldn’t make time for you or Peter or Gwen even when he was free.

Harry stammered, but not a single word came out of his mouth after that. It only made you cry harder. Did he not care even a little bit?

“I’ll give you a moment alone,” he finally mumbled.

You walked further down the backyard, cursing yourself for crying and for wearing uncomfortable shoes. You were supposed to look pretty and taller, not to ruin your makeup and walk around furniture and plants.

You sat on the couch before deciding to lay down on your side. You used to do that when you were a kid too. You’d wait for the pool to be ready in that position and you would lay on your back when you wanted your mom to ask if something was wrong.

Right now, you weren’t sure what you wanted. You definitely didn’t want to talk to whoever the approaching steps belonged to.

You still looked up as a figure stood before you.

Peter crouched down and reached over to wipe your tears. The gesture made more tears come out.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, placing a hand on your waist and slipping his other hand to your back to make you sit up. He sat down beside you. “Come here.”

Peter brought you closer, making you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I don’t understand why he’s making me choose between you and him,” you lamented.

“He is?”

Fuck. You had assumed Harry had told him and that was why he was there. “I didn’t know how to tell you...”

Humming, he rubbed your arm up and down. “You can tell him the truth if you want.”

You lifted your head off his shoulder, searching for his eyes. He didn’t seem to mean it in a bad way. You shook your head.

“Are you sure? I can tell him if you want.”

“It would be pointless.”

“I don’t like seeing you cry.”

“We should change the subject then.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. I just...” Peter pursed his lips, second-guessing his next words. “It pains me to see you upset.”

“Peter,” you pleaded, “don’t do this to me.”

“Don’t do what?”

“You’re making everything more difficult than it already was.”

He slanted his head, taken aback. “Because I care about you?”

“Because I think I’m in love with you.”

Peter blinked rapidly before his eyes started dancing all over your face as though he was waiting for you to say something else.

But you didn’t have much to say anymore. All your cards were on the table. Although you had to admit his lack of response would drive you insane if he continued looking at you like that.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you lied. “I’m okay with being just friends. I just thought you should know.”

“No, no, no.” He shook his head, taking himself out of his self-absorption. “I feel the same, I promise! But... I don’t want to ruin your friendship with Harry.”

“So you’re making me choose too?”

“No. I just don’t want you to regret being in a real relationship with me because you lost your best friend.”

“It wouldn’t be your fault.”

“Yeah, you’re right...” Peter looked up at the sky and huffed a laugh.

You mirrored his movement. The sky was clear, allowing you the privilege to gaze at the stars.

“Remember that night I walked you to your place and we stopped in the middle of the street to look at the stars?”

You giggled. You had been on the verge of crying that night after Harry ditched you for Liz if it hadn’t been because Gwen distracted you. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Should I have kissed you that night?”

You weren’t sure, it was hard to know if you would’ve kissed back or not. You wanted to believe you wouldn’t have, but who knew. “Does it matter?”

“No.” Peter twisted his body and cupped your cheek so you’d look at him. You softly smiled at him and he gave you a small kiss. “Not anymore.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x plus size reader #peter parker

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blackspoon99 · 3 years

Text

The Empty Hearse Pt. 3

Sherlock x Female! Reader

TW: Mentions of Death and Blood

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Monday - 12:26 pm

Meanwhile, you were meeting up with Mary for lunch to congratulate her on the engagement. A simple lunch with a friend seemed mundane compared to what had just happened. It was a welcome change from the ludicrousness of having an old friend literally come back from the dead. Mary truly had been a breath of fresh air since Sherlock had died left. She was one of the people who had helped lift you out of that dark place. You were selfishly thrilled that the engagement meant she had a more permanent future in your life as well as John’s.

You walked into the café to find her already waiting for you at a table near the window.

“Oh Mary, congratulations!” you cried as she pulled you into a hug. “You and John are just made for each other. I can’t imagine anyone better, truly, I can’t”

The lunch began with you and Mary discussing the early plans for the wedding, whether she should get married in May or June, possible venues, and other pleasantries. Mary really had wanted to know one thing from you since you arrived, and she was getting tired of waiting. Finally, she let out a groan and interrupted you just as you were giving your two cents about wedding flowers.

“I’m sorry Y/n, but enough stalling. I have to ask. How are you? You know, after Sherlock?”

“Mary, I love you, but can’t we just enjoy lunch without talking about him? He’s not my whole life you know… well not anymore.” You mumbled the last part.

“I know, it’s just that John used to talk about how happy you were back in those days. I’ve never brought it up before because I was respecting your boundaries but now that you have the chance to get even some of that happiness back…” She gently reached across the table and placed her hand on yours. “I just can’t keep my mouth shut anymore.”

“I don’t know Mary. How is anyone supposed to be okay after something like this? I don’t really know what to feel.” You looked up at your friend and your face softened. You knew Mary meant well. “Maybe you’re right Mary. I can’t deny I was happy during that time with John and Sherlock. But my life back then was…ugh I’m trying to find a better phrase than ‘downright mad’!”

Mary let out a light laugh. “I’ve only ever heard about it from John, but it seems like it. Why don’t you tell me a little about it? Please? John’s not one for details.”

It had always been hard to talk about the happy memories because of the nature of Sherlock’s death. Although you were the most confused about your emotions around Sherlock than you had ever been, it couldn’t hurt. “I suppose I could indulge you in a few stories”

You sat in the café and recounted some of your favorite memories with Sherlock. A particular favorite of yours was the first time John invited you over for tea after you’d met him through a mutual friend. Sherlock had burst through the door covered head to toe in blood carrying a harpoon. Later, you’d learn the blood wasn’t human, but it was still quite an eventful first meeting.

Mary watched as you spoke with more light in your eyes than she’d seen as long as she’d known you. This was a new person altogether. Mary decided then and there that she would do whatever she could to bring the happiness back to you. She tried to conceal a knowing smile as she realized she’d witnessed two people coming back to life in a single week.

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

Monday 4:24 pm

Later that afternoon, you returned to work. Even though it didn’t pay too well, you loved working in a bookshop. The perks were many: the quiet, your favorite café being just across the street, and all the books you could want at a generous employee discount. Today, a new shipment of bestsellers had arrived, so you spent most of the day sorting, organizing, and reading the first chapters of some of the books while the owner wasn’t looking.

You were struggling with a full box of books when you heard the bell at the door ring. “Welcome! Let me know if I can help you find anything!” you yelled over your shoulder in the general direction of the customer. As you turned around, a corner of the enormous box clipped a bookshelf, and the box went tumbling sideways. Before the books could come clattering to the floor, someone caught the other side.

“Need some help?”

You looked up to see none other than Sherlock Holmes, large as life, dramatic wool coat and all.

“This isn’t space, Sherlock,” you said coolly, yanking the box back and moving around him.

Sherlock caught up to you and reached his arm out and leaned against the wall in front of you, blocking your path. “Have dinner with me”

“What?”

“Come on, have dinner with me, y/n.” He flashed you the smile that always made you melt

You sighed and placed the box on a nearby table. Your heart felt heavy all of the sudden. You knew you part of you still wanted to. You knew an even bigger part of you felt the same way for Sherlock as you always had. But whenever you looked at him, all the good memories of him were mixed in with the pain you’d felt when he left. You wanted to separate them, to forget everything and give in, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to.

“I can’t Sherlock, I’m sorry”

“Why not?”

“I told you I needed space. I need more time, Sherlock. You didn’t listen to me.”

“I don’t understand. I thought we were alright.”

Sherlock looked like a kicked puppy. Although his face was still calm, you had learned to see through his exterior years ago. You knew he didn’t fully understand why you were rejecting him. Suddenly you felt guilty.

“I know, and we are, it’s just-” You turned your head away as it had suddenly become difficult to meet his gaze. “You jumped off a building, Sherlock. Then you let me believe you were dead for 2 years. You don’t understand what that does to a person.”

Sherlock stood in silence. His features were slightly contorted. You could feel your face beginning to heat up. Why did this hurt so much?

“I still care about you, Sherlock. But as much as I want them to, things can’t just go back to the way they were. At least not yet.” You tried to give him a sympathetic smile. “I can’t forgive you right now, but I promise I will try.”

“Well, if not dinner, how about chips? I know a place.”

You laughed in spite of yourself “You never did know when to give up, did you?”

“Come on, I’ve got a terror threat on. No better time for chips, the world is ending.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”

“Want to find out?”

He got you. “Fine. After my shift, I’ll come and meet you at Baker Street. Let’s give it a try.”

“Looking forward to it.” Sherlock turned to leave.

A warm feeling spread through your chest. Little by little, the good was coming back. It was more hope than you’d had in a while. You decided that you were looking forward to it too.

A/N: I indulged my own escapism fantasies and made y/n work in a bookstore. In another life…

The rest of this fic will probably be a mix of actual scenes from season 3 with some made-up ones like these

Taglist: @the-chaotic-cow @amoeebaa

(I also apparently didn’t know how to properly tag people on Tumblr. Sorry taglist friends it should work now)

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #bbc sherlock #sherlockxreader #sherlock imagine #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes x you #Sherlock Holmes x Reader

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thebeebi · 3 years

Text

your little games pt. 11

pairing: Jungkook x reader

warnings: fluff in later chapters, smut, non-con, mention of r*pe attempt, implied murder and many more! Read only if you are okay with these topics!

genre: historical AU, 18th century?

word count: 3k+ [part 11]

a/n: Hello! I hinted this and I am so excited to say that we are finally going to see what is Jungkook thinking (well to some extent). I hope you will like this chapter and are excited as much as me! ♥ Love you and enjooooy :)

taglist: @njrwifey @danietoww04 @kaithezaftig @she-is-dreaming [If you want to be added, just let me know :)]

You ran away from the man who tried to take an advantage of you. You stabbed him and escaped. Escaped to the arms of the handsome captain who was even worse than the man you just killed.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10

You quickly shook your head and got nervous because his hand on your cheek started burning your skin. You knew that feeling and softly pulled yourself away. He knows that he has this kind of effect on me, yet he does it anyway. You thought about how close he was. He knows how much his touch scares me, yet he... You closed your eyes, trying to calm down. He was everywhere, surrounding you. At first, you almost paid no attention to his thighs but the soft touch on your cheek reminded you how close he actually was. “This one,” Jungkook pointed at one of the sketches. You opened your eyes and looked over to the side, curious what kind of dresses he likes. “It will look good in the golden colour. My wife will look beautiful in it.” Then he looked over other sketches, putting one aside noting that it looked too cheap. He chose another five dress and rejected two of the designs Mrs Dubois strongly recommended.

You were watching him speechless. He picked everything you would have chosen and what he rejected, you would have also rejected. It was like he was reading your mind. Jungkook then stood up and walked around checking out different dresses. He picked a few more and then returned to Mrs Dubois, paying her for all of them. You were surprised by how many dresses he actually got you. It was way more than you expected. You would have never chosen that many, not even if you were rich enough to do that. It felt surreal that he was this generous after what he told you before. “Do you agree with all of the dress I chose for you, my dear?” He asked you smiling but you knew it would not matter if you agreed or not. He bought the dresses for his own satisfaction and entertainment, so he could see you in dresses he liked. But you agreed with all of them anyways, you liked them. How could you disagree when he picked out the most beautiful ones?

You nodded. “You are really generous.” Jungkook looked at you from above, having a clear sight on your showing bust because the dress you were wearing was too revealing. Before he would love to see you in them but now it was different. He wanted to touch you right there and then but he reminded himself of his warning and promise. He looked away, making his way to Mrs Dubois. “I need one more,” he sighed. “ A dress my wife could wear right away.” Mrs Dubois looked around the shop thinking. Out of nowhere she randomly gasped and smiled. “Oui, monsieur, I have the perfect one I finished yesterday!” With that, she disappeared behind the curtain and brought back the dress. “Something like this?” You could hear her voice before she appeared once again. She showed Jungkook the dress that was made of sky blue velvet material. “Yes, pack them up for us. Now we will go look for some accessories to compliment the dresses we bought. Mrs Dubois, we are leaving in a week so I expect you to have everything ready by then.” The dressmaker opened her mouth to protest. “But, sir, that is impossible! At least a month please!” Jungkook shook his head. “I am sorry but we are leaving in a week so I will bring my wife back here in three days for the last measurements. In a week, I want everything on my ship. If you will make it till then and the dresses will be in good quality, I will pay you double, if not, then it is your loss. Do you agree?” Mrs Dubois could not let such an offer go free, so she nodded and shook Jungkook’s hand in agreement. “Very well, Monsieur Jeon. We have an agreement.”

The shops were full of well-dressed ladies and elegantly dressed gentlemen, that were pushing through each other to get to the place they wanted. They reminded you of yourself when you used to go happily to these shops with your father as a little girl. Your mood got suddenly better since the thoughts of childhood were always nice. You talked to the shopkeepers smiling, trying on the different kinds of accessories, laughing at yourself in the mirror, seeing how funny you looked. You were walking from one side of the shop to the other, charming everyone with your personality. Jungkook did not say anything, just nodded at the sellers whenever you wore something he liked. Well, he bought basically everything you tried because he liked how it looked on you.

He did not say anything even when you touched him and pulled him to another shop. He did not protest, he just let you guide him wherever you wanted. You never asked him for anything though, you never expected him to buy you anything. You just felt happy enough to be able to try on different accessories and to look at everything. You were watching all those charming ladies walking in front of you and laughed at their not-so-fit husbands that were trying to follow them. The smile on your face was genuine, you really enjoyed it because you felt like there were no worries in the world at that moment. You turned around, looking at different props of the shop that were decorating the interior and your hair was flying behind you whenever you turned too quickly. The men in the shop, even though they were attending to their wives, could not take their eyes off you.

The sun almost set down, once you stood still in front of the window of the shop. You were silently looking at the wooden crib. You softly touched the glass, as if you wanted to feel the connection with the crib behind it. You bit your lower lip and turned to Jungkook. He walked closer to you and looked at the crib. “I have a better one at home.” He told you. “It was mine but it is still in great condition. Mary always wanted me to have a child and use it as soon as possible.” You opened your mouth nodding then furrowed your eyebrows confused. “Mary?”

Jungkook smiled at the name. “Yeah, a woman who is taking care of my household.” He answered. “She had been working for our family even before I was born,” Jungkook turned to the main road and waved at the carriage. You walked closer to him and he continued. His voice was different than it was a few seconds ago. It was rough and you did not like the change one bit. “Mary was waiting for me to get married and become a father” He looked at you from the corner of his eye, head still looking ahead. “I am sure she will be happy once she sees you. When we come to my hometown, you will be pretty big.” You pulled the cloak that was on your shoulders around your belly. “You were supposed to get married once you came back. I am sure Mary is going to hate me for this.”

“She will not.” The tone of his voice did not allow you to ask any more questions. He looked at the incoming carriage. You weren’t sure why she would not hate you for what they…and you did to Jungkook. Something felt off but you weren’t sure what. When the carriage stopped in front of you, Jungkook told the carter the name of the tavern you were staying at, he put into the carriage all the accessories he bought for you and then he helped you get on. You slowly sat down and it felt like all the exhaustion came crashing down on you. The shopping was tiring and now all you wanted was to get to bed and sleep. You closed your eyes once you saw that Jungkook sat next to you.

Jungkook was looking at your head that started leaning on his broad shoulder. He softly took your head and placed it on his chest. You were softly mumbling in your sleep and your hand was falling into his loin unknowingly. Jungkook held his breath. The colour of his face disappeared and was cursing himself, for letting you have this kind of effect on him. You were driving him crazy. He was feeling as he were a virgin, who is preparing to have his first experience with a woman. One second he was feeling hot and was sweating, then in the other the blood in his veins froze and he could not move. Jungkook was the type of man who could get any woman he wanted without any bigger effort. He used to have sex for his own entertainment so this kind of feeling he is feeling right now is something new for him. You were too inexperienced and he was barely holding himself back from pulling you to his embrace. Where are my sanity and self-control? Where are they? Have they jumped down the dwell when I threatened her that I will never treat her as a husband? Am I acting like this because I realised I cannot touch her and that is why she became so desirable? He asked himself yet he knew it was not the case. He wanted you even when you disappeared and he thought he would never see you again. What are you doing to me, Y/N? You are almost not old enough to carry my child, yet you are here. So close. Jungkook’s inner fight was strong. His thought and reasonings could not deny the fact that he wanted to touch you, that he wanted to make love to you. He wanted you right there and then, he did not want to control himself. How long am I going to last with you by my side? How long am I going to last while watching your naked body without actually touching it? He sighed and clenched his jaw. He could not do anything with you even though he wanted it. He could not simply forget his threats. He swore he would make you pay for everything you did to him. No one is going to blackmail me without punishment. The pride will not let me do that. She is just a woman and they are all the same. I will get my mind off her once I see someone else. I have never met someone I could not get out of my mind. He reasoned within himself. But Y/N is…different. It would be unfair to her to say that is is not. He thought about all kinds of women that he slept with. They were all willing and very passionate when it came to love. They knew what they were doing but you were different. You were innocent, pure and he took your virginity by force. He was well-aware that you knew nothing about the men and love. And now you are his wife and are expecting his child. Only that reason is enough to say you are different. How could I forget the fact you are my wife, little one? That reason alone is enough to say you are different than them. He said looking at your sleeping figure. He was about to caress your cheek but the carriage abruprtly stopped in front of the tavern.

“Y/N?” he whispered softly with his lips almost touching your hair. “Should I carry to the room?” You moved your head that was leaning onto his chest. “What?” You asked while still being half-asleep. “Should I carry you to the room?” You opened your eyes, still in a daze. “No,” You answered but you did not even attempt to stand up. Jungkook smiled and covered your hand with his. “If you want, little one, we can ride around the town for a little bit more.” With a squeak, you sit straight up and pulled your hand from his. When you saw his smirk, you blushed and would love to die right away without feeling so much embarrassment. You jumped up and passed him by to open the door of the carriage. You almost fell out but Jungkook quickly held your waist to save you. He pulled you in the carriage and sat you up on his lap. “Did you want to kill yourself?” He asked coldly. You covered your face screaming “I hate you. I hate you. I HATE YOU.” Jungkook’s expression changed to even colder one. “Oh, I am sure you do.” He said sarcastically. “After all, if you did not meet me, you would still be living with your wonderful aunt while being treated like a rug and hiding your nakedness underneath the dresses that were ten times bigger than you needed. You would be hiding in the hellhole as an old virgin and you would never get to experience what it feels like to be a mother. Yes, how cruel and hateful of me to take you away from that wonderful place. You were so happy there and I should be struck with a bolt of lightning to actually take you away from such a peaceful place.” He stayed silent for a bit just to continue even more harshly. “You do not even know how many times I regretted that I let you seduce me with your looks and did not find out you were just a kid. Now I will have you around for the rest of my life and just thinking about it makes me mad. Oh only if I castrated myself before meeting you, I would have lived my life in peace!” Your shoulder drooped down and you let the tears you were holding out. You covered your eyes with the back of your arm and cried like a lost child. You never wanted to be a burden. You never wanted to be hated and unwanted.

When Jungkook saw how is your petite body shaking, the itch to hurt you disappeared. He frowned and the smirk from earlier disappeared. His chest felt heavy while looking for a handkerchief in his pockets. “Where did you put the handkerchief?” He sighed. “I cannot find it.” You shook your head while he was still holding you in the embrace. “I don’t know.” You replied in-between the sobs and panting for air. You wiped your tears into the hem of the dress while Jungkook was looking through your pockets. Meanwhile, the carter hopped down from his seat and walked to the open door. He looked inside asking unsurely. “Can I do something for madam?” He opened the door wider. “I heard the cry and it breaks my heart whenever I hear a woman cry.” Jungkook looked at him still frowning and kept looking for the handkerchief. “Thank you for the offer but my wife is upset that I will not let her mother live with us. When she will realise, that tears are not going to change my decision, she will stop.” The carter smirked at the remark. “In that case, I will leave it all up to you, sir. I should have been this straightforward when I got married too. I wouldn’t have been living with a witch now.” With that, he returned to the horses and Jungkook finally found the handkerchief that was hidden near your right breast. He pulled it out and wiped your tears, then let you blow your nose. “Are you feeling better?” He asked. “Can we go to the room, now?” When you nodded, Jungkook put the handkerchief back to the place he found it and let you stand up. Once you did so, he patted your butt and walked down the stairs of the carriage to help you down.

The tavern was loud, full of shouts of drunk sailors. Jungkook was pulling you through the tavern up the stairs to your room, hiding your red puffy face from the sight of the others. Jimin was sitting near the fireplace when he saw you and his captain, he jumped up and quickly followed you. When Jungkook opened the door to let you in, Jimin stood still in front of him listening to all of his commands. Jimin nodded and left to carry them out. With that Jungkook entered the room and closed to door behind himself, looking at you standing in front of the small sink, washing your face.

“Jimin went to grab food. I will not eat here today and I would like you to not go out of the room. I don’t think it would be safe without me. If you need anything, Jimin is going to be in front of the room. Ask him to do anything you want,” You looked at him over your shoulder whispering a soft: “Thank you.” Without any other words, Jungkook turned and left the room. You kept on looking at the closed door sadly.

The soft movement was like a swing of butterfly’s wings and it was so gentle, that is almost felt unreal. You were laying still underneath the blanket in the bed. You were worried that if you moved, the movement inside your belly would stop. You smiled once you felt it again but this time it was stronger. Your hand slid down to cup your belly and suddenly all your thoughts cleared up a little. Even though Jungkook was right, it was not easy. You would not get out of your aunt’s house to enjoy yourself. She would have watched you for the rest of your life if Jungkook did not take you away. You felt the movement again.

I will be a mother now and he will hate me for making me become that. But does it really have to be like that? It is hard to show him gratitude and affection when I know that he hates the ground I am walking on and the air that I breathe. He said he regretted meeting me. He would rather not be a man than to have me by his side. He was nice so far even though he hates me. I have to show him how grateful I am, I have to show him I am not a kid anymore but is not going to be easy. You were scared. Scared of him, his touch and things he is making you feel. But you wanted to try.

Chapter 12

a/n: The important question is: Did Y/N overreacted or nah? I am just curious about your opinion. Also, we are slowly but surely getting to the middle of the story! It is a long series I know! HAHHAA I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Love you all ♥

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

Arinn (Vοσταλγία Winter Blurb)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Arinn: fireplace, hearth (Old Norse)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: Winter Blurb #4. Pillowtalk and annoying priestess soft Ivar, that’s about it.

Word Count: 1312

Warnings: nope, just fluff and my writing lol. Teeny tiny bit of suggestive whatevers towards the end.

A/N: Yeah, idk what this is, but I’m Marie Kondo-ing the shit out of Nostalgia atm, so, since it sparked joy, I wrote it, and now imma share it cause why not, hopefully it sparks joy in you!

“Ivar?”

There’s few things Ivar likes more than his name on your lips, the way your voice forms around the short word, the still notable accent present even then. But, right now, it is not something he wants to hear.

But you are nothing if not insufferably stubborn. Determined, you’d call it, but Ivar prefers to call it by what it is.

“Ivar?” You move closer, and though he keeps his eyes closed you pay no mind. Your hand on the side of his face is soft and slightly cold. Again, waking up to your soft touches and your body pressed against his is something he’d kill for…but on the morning, not the middle of the night. You insist, voice breathy by his ear, “My love?”

“What.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I can,” He retorts, still refusing to open his eyes. “Let me.”

“Do you still believe it?” You ask him, and Ivar bites back words of how it is the middle of the night and you both should really be sleeping, and instead turns to lay on his side with a sigh. He opens his eyes to find you wide awake, a slight furrow in your lips that tries and fails at hiding a smug smile. By all the Gods, the things he puts up with for you.

“Believe what?” He questions, not caring about stopping himself from reaching for you, trailing up and down your arm with the back of his fingers. You are always slightly cold to the touch, and at his weakest he thinks it fitting that you feel like relief from burning flames under his touch.

“That it was Fated, that…that the Gods somehow intervened for us to meet.”

“Do you?” He asks instead of giving an answer. You notice, of course you do, that he is deliberately choosing not to answer your question, but past a look that tells him he hasn’t fooled anyone, you don’t mention it.

He wants it to be true, if he is honest. On nights like these, especially now that these nights are not promised to one day be remembered as a relic of the past that has long since left him amongst those flames your cold skin saves him from; he almost believes it to be true. It seems impossible otherwise, that you are here now, that you love him and you chose him, if it wasn’t somehow mandated by the Gods that heard him too many times curse his weakness while pleading for reprieve.

If somehow the Gods sent you to him, as a reward or something else -a punishment, his sleep-addled mind complains-; then it is easier to accept it is something he can keep. The idea that it was something he did that made you stay, that made you choose him, is strangely terrifying, even if the alternative leaves him powerless, because it means there is something he can do to make you leave, to make you choose a life without him in it.

You reach with your hand for the amulet of Thor that hangs from your neck, a habit you haven’t let go of even if it is no longer your Gods that are represented in your pendant, as you consider his question.

“I don’t know,” You muse, voice quiet. Ivar lets his eyes fall closed as he offers a quiet hm of his own, a prompt for you to continue. Your voice, warm and comforting, washes over him as you say, “I was taught that the Gods may choose what happens to us, but we decide if or how we let it change us. That is something the Fates cannot decide for us.”

“Your Fates…Moirai?”

“You remember.” You whisper, almost to yourself. He hears the smile in your voice, and it fills him with pride to be the reason behind that softness in your tone, behind that openness in your smile.

“Mhm. The three women.”

“They are three women for you too, aren’t they?” He replies with another sound, something that he thinks sounds vaguely affirmative, and lets you continue talking. “Bend to the Fates, but don’t let them break you. My mother and father told me that, one of the only lessons I remember from them.”

“What is it supposed to mean?”

“I have no idea.” You reply honestly. Ivar chuckles tiredly, and you offer a breathed laugh to accompany it.

“Since there aren’t lessons to answer it…what do you believe, hm?”

He almost wants to ask himself at which point he decided he was the one after answers instead of you, but he doesn’t much care for it. He does care for your answer, though.

“If the Gods, if…if Freyja or Despoina are the reason I am here…it doesn’t matter,” You find your resolve halfway through your words, and Ivar can feel his lips pulling into a faint smile. You adjust in your place, quickly regretting it when you let a cold breeze under the warm furs, and so move closer to him. He likes it when you do that, when you burrow close to him and seek his warmth. It makes him feel…powerful, in some roundabout way. Like you need him as much as he needs you, like you can trust him to take care of you. You pull back slightly to look at him, and he blinks past the lure of sleep and forces his eyes to focus on you. You offer a small smile, “They are not the reason I stay.”

He finds himself smiling back, like the lovesick fool that you’ve made out of him; but after a breath narrows his eyes and points out,

“We could talk about this come morning.”

“We are already talking about it,” You retort, shrugging one shoulder. “We ought to finish the things we start, my love.”

He takes a deep breath. He knows that just by retorting with something he will be doing exactly what you want him to, which is staying awake and keeping you company, but he is too tired to think of a strategy around it now.

So, he insists, “Not really.”

“You were the one telling me to finish what I start a couple of nights ago, if I remember correctly.”

Ivar knows what you are talking about, mostly because he can identify that smug little tone in your voice. In the dim light of the morning, he had your legs wrapped around him and you were moaning quietly against his lips as you tasted yourself on his tongue, but you were interrupted and you just…left. Ivar grew increasingly frustrated during the rest of the day, and he is certain -even if you deny it- that at some point near the afternoon you noticed, and you started making it worse by lingering more than usual on your touches, putting a bit more force in your kisses. He knows at some point during the night, when he finally had you to himself, half-mad with lust he grunted by your ear how you better finish what you start. He still remembers the way the dark and hoarse laugh you let out made a shiver run down his spine.

He grits his teeth, and insists, “Not the same.”

You remain silent for a couple of breaths, and it is enough to intrigue him into opening his eyes again. He finds you smiling a little wickedly, and can’t help the thrill that look sends down his spine.

Another little shrug, and you offer, “It could be.”

Ivar rolls his eyes, “Go to sleep.”

“Sex would help me sleep.”

“Would it help you stay quiet?”

“I don’t know if you want that. You always say you want to hear me m-…”

Ivar interrupts you, leaning forward to capture your mouth in his, cupping the back of your head and bringing you closer to him. He pretends not to feel you smiling smugly against his lips.

____ ____ ____

Thank you for reading, hope you liked it!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss @itsmysticalmystery @revolution-starter @the-a-word-2214 @fae-sedai @crazybunnyladysworld @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside @aprilivar @msrawog

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar #νοσταλγία masterlist

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

Text

Love and Medicine ~ 3

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,600ish

Summary: The beginning of your intern year continues.

Warnings: man parts (lol) and talk about rape

You really tried your best, but you couldn’t get the image of a naked Dr. Steve Rogers on the floor of your living room out of your head. You had decided one night that, to help get the image out of your head, you needed roommates. The house that you had inherited was big enough and the longer you lived there, the lonelier it became. So, you created a ‘roommates wanted’ sign and posted it in the locker room before your shift.

You had several interns come up to you explaining why they would be the perfect roommate for you within the first few hours of your shift. It was annoying and you turned every single one of them down, being very particular about who was going to live with you.

“Why do you put up posters for roommates if you don’t want roommates?” Val asked as you, her, and Scott walked down a corridor.

“I do want roommates,” you defended.

“And why can’t we be those roommates?” Scott wondered

“We’re just together a hundred hours a week, you want to live together too?”

“No,” Natasha responded, walking up to the group. “Ooh, you’re bringing bribes now?” She motioned to the cup of coffee in your hand.

“I need a place to live,” Scott rambled. “My mom irons my scrubs. I have to get out of there.”

“It’s not a bride,” you told Natasha before turning to Scott. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“But I can’t put down last, first, and deposit,” Scott argued.

“It’s totally a bride,” Natasha scoffed.

“I can cook,” Val added. “And I can clean.”

“No,” you stated. “I just want two total strangers who I don't have to talk to, or be nice to, and it's not a bribe, it's a mocha latte.”

“Clint, you’re running the code team,” Gamora ordered as you all walked up to her. “Y/N, take the trauma patients, Natasha, deliver the weekend labs to patients, Val, you’re on sutures, and Scott, you’re on scut.”

“Dr. Gamora,” you called. “I was hoping to assist you in the OR today, maybe do a minor procedure? I think I'm ready. Mocha latte?” You held the cup out for her.

“If she gets to cut, I want to cut too,” Natasha added.

“Yeah, me too,” Val joined in.

“I wouldn’t mind another shot,” Scott shrugged.

“And if everybody else gets one, then I do too!” Clint said.

“Stop talking,” Gamora demanded. You all fell silent. “Every intern wants to perform their first surgery, that's not your job. Do you know what your job is? To make your resident happy. Do I look happy? No. Why? Because my interns are whining. You know what will make me look happy? Having the code team staffed, having the trauma patients taken care of, having the weekend labs delivered, and having someone down in the Pit, doing the sutures.” She swiped the mocha latte from your hand. “No one holds a scalpel until I'm so happy I'm Mary freakin' Poppins.”

“Mocha latte my ass,” Natasha grumbled.

“Why’re y’all still standing there? Move!”

Everyone moved, you heading to the elevator with a few files. You paused in your steps when you noticed who was waiting at the elevator. Dr. Steve Rogers. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, before making your way to stand and wait next to him. When he noticed you, he tried to hide the pleasant smile that wanted to take over his face.

“New York has ferry boats,” he stated.

“Yes,” you replied, a bit confused.

“I didn’t remember that. I grew up here then left, now I’ve been living here for six weeks, and I didn’t remember there were ferry boats.”

“Well, Manhattan is an island.”

“Hence the ferry boats.” The elevator arrived and the two of you stepped onto it. “Now I have to like it here. I wasn’t planning on liking it here. I just moved here from the country. I’m supposed to not like big cities like Manhattan. But I have a thing for ferry boats.”

The elevators doors closed, leaving them alone in the elevator. He was leaning against the wall behind you as you stood in the middle, holding the files to your body. You hoped that he couldn’t hear your heart pounding in your chest.

“I’m not going out with you,” you blurted. You don’t know if you were trying to tell him that or if you were trying to convince yourself that you weren’t interested.

“Did I ask you to go out with me?” He questioned. He paused before asking the next, “Do you want to go out with me?”

“I'm not dating you. And I'm definitely not sleeping with you again. You're my boss.”

“I'm your boss's boss.”

“You're my teacher. And my teacher's teacher. And you're my teacher.”

“I'm your sister, I'm your daughter,” he joked.

“You're sexually harassing me.”

“I'm riding an elevator.” He stepped towards you, you could practically feel him breathing down your neck. You spun around to face him.

“Look, I'm drawing a line. The line is drawn. There's a big line.”

“So, this line. Is it imaginary, or do I need to get you a marker?”

You stared at him for a second, basking in all his attractiveness. It didn’t take you very long to go ‘screw it’ and drop the files you were holding and kiss him. Steve was a tad surprised but caught on quickly. When the elevator dinged, you quickly crouched down to pick up the files and rushed out of the elevator. Steve stood there, looking amused.

“We’ll talk later?” He called after you. You ignored him and he chuckled to himself. “Definitely, later.”

~~~

In between taking care of patients, you had interns begging you to let them be your roommate. You were slowly regretting the idea of roommates the longer the day went on. Thankfully, your pager rang and requested you down in the ER.

“You the surgeon?” A nurse asked as you entered the room.

“Yes,” you replied.

“We’ve got a rape victim. 21-year-old female found down at the park, status: post-trauma, she came in with a GCS of 6, BP 80 over 60, head trauma, unequal breath sounds, right pupil is dilated, and she's ready for x-ray. You ready to roll?” You were listening but also focused on the girl’s shoes. They were the same ones you had worn to work. “Hey!”

“Uh, sorry,” you stumbled. “Yeah. Call it in to clear CT, let them know I'm coming, load up the portable monitor, call respiratory for a ventilator, I'll get x-rays while I'm down there.”

You quickly learned that the girls name was Mallory and, just by you reading the scans alone, she would be needing surgery. Dr. Banner and Dr. Rogers were both called in while you were allowed to watch and hopefully assist.

“She’s going to spend a hell of a lot of time in recovery and rehab,” Dr. Rogers stated.

“If she survives,” Dr. Banner added.

“What is she, like, 5'2", a hundred pounds, she's still breathing after what this guy did to her? If they catch the guy, they should castrate him.”

“See how shredded her hands are? She tried to fight back.”

“Tried to?” Dr. Stark repeated, walking into the room. “Rape kit came back negative. She kicked his ass.”

“So, we have a warrior amount us, huh?” Rogers questioned.

“Hell yeah we do! I just came in to tell you about the rape kit and to see if you needed me anytime soon. Can’t have the poor girl be reminded of the incident with so many scars.”

“Mallory,” you interrupted. “Her—her name is Mallory.”

“Mallory,” Rogers and Stark repeated.

“I think I may have found the cause of our rupture,” Banner said, pulling out a piece of flesh. “What is this?” He held it up. “Does anyone know what this is?”

“Oh my gosh,” you gasped, with Dr. Stark snickering from the sidelines.

“What? Spit it out, L/N.”

“She bit it off.”

“Bit off what?”

“That’s his…” You swallowed. “His penis.” Shocked groans filled the OR. “She bit off his penis.”

“Told you she kicked his ass!” Stark exclaimed as Banner couldn’t toss the piece of flesh into the try fast enough.

~~~

After the surgery, the penis was placed in a small cooler. You were tasked to bring it to Fury for the police. You knocked at the door of his office, where an older woman is in there.

“Hi, is the chief in?” You asked.

“He’s on his way,” she responded. “Is that it?”

“Can I see it?” You looked down at the box and then up again. “No, forget I asked.”

“Y/N, it’s good to see you,” Fury greeted as he entered, going to his desk.

“You too, sir,” you responded with a nod. “Listen, so they said to bring this to you,” you lifted up the cooler. “So…?”

“Yes, for the police,” Fury responded.

“Right.”

“When did the police say they'll come?” Fury asked his assistant.

“You know how slow they are,” she answered. “So, she’d better take it with her.”

“What?” You questioned.

“You have to take it with you.”

“Chain of custody rules,” Fury explained. “All medical matter in a rape must stay with the person who collected it, until it's placed in police custody.”

“You collected the specimen, so you have custody.”

“Custody of a penis…” You said.

“Yes,” Fury answered. “Until the cops come for it.”

“Okay. Well, what am I supposed to do with the penis?”

Fury simply shrugged before excusing you. You huffed, leaving the office with the cooler. You wandered the halls until you saw Clint working at a desk. You walked over, setting the cooler down and causing Clint to look up at you.

“What’s that?” He pointed to the cooler as he asked.

“Don’t ask, you don’t want to know,” you responded.

“I do want to know. Really.”

“You really want to know?” Clint nodded. “It’s a severed penis.”

“Okay… I didn’t really want to know.”

“Told you.”

“I didn’t know why I have to be the one who gets hugged,” Natasha complained to Peter as they walked up.

“Because, I don’t do that,” Peter replied. “Besides, you're the ovarian sister here.”

“Did you just call me an ovarian sis— an ovarian— since when has the possession of ovaries become an insult?”

“Y/N’s carrying a penis around in a jar,” Clint interrupted.

“Oh, from the rape surgery?” Natasha looked around.

“Yeah,” you answered. “And it’s not a jar, it’s a cooler.”

“Talk about taking a bite out of crime.” Natasha chuckled as she left.

You were suddenly lost in your head, unable to stop thinking about Mallory’s shoes. They were the same as yours. You had worn them to work today, which was weird. You never really wear them.

“You okay?” Clint asked.

“Yeah… it’s just… Mallory's shoes. The rape victim, Mallory, her shoes. I have the same ones. In my locker. And I normally never wear them, because they're not comfortable, but today I did, and she was wearing the same shoes, and it's just… stupid, and I'm tired, and forget it.”

“You know what you need?” Clint stared at you.

“No. It’s stick and twisted. We said last time was the last time.” Clint looked away. “You’ve been doing it without me?”

“Nancy Reagan lied. You can't just say no. Come on.”

“Do you know what would happen if anyone knew?”

“I'm doing it. You can come with me… or you can stay here, and be miserable.”

“Fine,” you tried to hold back a smile as you followed Clint.

He led you to the nursery, where you two stood at the window and watched the babies. You laughed as Clint did some baby talk.

“You are such a woman,” you laughed.

Clint’s pager beeped before he could retorted. “It’s a code,” he sighed. “I gotta go.”

He left, leaving you to sigh as you watched the babies.

“You are really cute,” you whispered as you looked at them.

As you watched them, you noticed at one of the babies was struggling. His face was slowly turning blue. You quickly entered the nursery, setting the cooler to the side before checking the babies chart. Then you sided your stethoscope to check on the babies heart.

“What are you doing in here?” A Peds Intern asked, walking into the room.

“There were no tests ordered,” you answered. “And the baby has a murmur.”

“I know.”

“He turned blue.”

“You're surgery, you're not authorized to be in here. Do you know how much trouble you can get into for this?”

“Are you going to do any tests?”

“It's a benign systolic ejection murmur. It goes away with age.”

“So you're not going to do any tests.”

“He's not your patient, he's not even on your service.”

“Are you sure it’s benign?”

“I'm a doctor too, you know. You should get out of here.”

Deciding you’d rather not get in trouble, you grabbed the cooler and left. You were stopped along your wandering by more interns who wanted to room with you. After having listened to three of them, you walked away, still unimpressed, and went to Mallory’s room. You were looking at her through the window when Dr. Rogers came up.

“Y/N,” he greeted. “I've called every hospital in the county. Sooner or later, the guy that did this is going to seek medical attention, and when he does, that penis you're carrying around is going to nail him.”

“Where is her family?” You asked.

“Doesn’t have any.”

“No siblings?”

“No. Both parents are dead. She just moved to New York three weeks ago. Welcome to the city.” When you didn’t give a response he turned to look at you. You were lost in your thoughts. “Y/N, you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I just… I just have to do something. I have to go.”

“Right. I’m going to sit with her.”

You nodded before rushing away to find Dr. Banner.

“Dr. Banner?” You called when you saw him.

“Mmm?” He hummed, turning to face you.

“There's a baby up in peds, I saw him have a tet spell, and I think I hear a murmur.”

“Mmm. Did peds call us for a consult?”

“Actually, no. They’re not doing anything about it—“

“So you want me to what?”

“If you could just go up and look at him—“

“Mm-hmm, not without a Peds consult.”

“Yeah, but—“

“I’m a busy man, L/N, and there are rules. Look, it’s not like I’m the Chief or something.”

Then he stocked off, leaving you frustrated.

“Stupid rules.”

~~~

Eventually, you found a spot in the lobby to sit. Just waiting for the cops to show up.

“What’re you doing down here?” Natasha asked when she came across you.

“Just sitting here with my penis,” you responded. “What about you?”

“Hiding from Peter.” She sat beside you.

“I kissed Steve.”

“You kissed Steve.”

“In the elevator.”

“Oh, you kissed him in the elevator.”

“I was having a bad day. I am having a bad day.”

“Oh, so this is what you do on your bad days. Make out with Captain McDreamy.” You both stood up.

“Well, that, and you know, carrying around a penis just makes everything seem so shiny and happy.”

“Mmm. Clint said Mallory was wearing your shoes.”

“Yeah. It’s weird, right?”

“I think it’s weird that you care.”

“I think it’s weird.”

From outside, a car swerves. You and Natasha could hear it from inside, causing you to rush out. A man staggered out of the car, clothes soaked in blood, mainly around his crotch. He collapses. Other doctors and nurses followed you out and immediately began checking on him. You immediately knew that the guy was the owner of the penis you had been carrying around all day. The other doctors brought him into a trauma room. You followed, quickly calling security.

“So, what’ve we got?” Gamora asked as she entered.

“Take a look,” you responded.

“What?” She leaned closer. “Alright, let’s get him to OR 1. Y/N, you call the Chief and let him know we got the rapist.”

~~~

You and Natasha were in the OR with Gamora and Stark. They were working on the rapist.

“I saw Mallory,” you said, eyes on the operating table. “You can’t believe the beating that she took. And then to see this…”

“It's like that old saying, you should see the other guy,” Natasha said.

“Okay, kiddos, why are we not attempting to reattach the severed penis?” Dr. Stark asked.

“Teeth don’t slice, they tear. You can only reattach with a clean cut. If she wanted to slice him off with a knife…”

“Besides,” you continued for Natasha, “the digestive juices didn't leave much of the flesh to work with.”

“Right,” Gamora agreed, “so what do we do?”

“Sew him up minus a large part of the family jewels,” Natasha answered.

“And his outlook?”

“He'll be urinating out of a bag for a very, very long time,” Natasha added.

“Oh, too bad.”

“Shame.”

“I can’t imagine not having sex,” Stark commented. “I think that I would just end my life if I couldn’t do a round every day.” Everyone looked at him. “What? It shouldn’t be that surprising.”

“No wonder, Dr. Potts keeps turning you down,” Gamora said.

“I’ll get her one day. Just you wait. I’m going to marry that woman if it’s the last thing I do.”

~~~

You met with the police after the surgery where they told you that they couldn’t send their crime scene guy down for hours. Annoyed, you searched for your intern friends. You found them in the empty corridor, sitting on the beds.

“So, the police say that they can’t send down the crack crime scene guy for hours,” you told them as you entered, sitting down beside Natasha. “So I have to spend the night with a penis. Peter, don’t say it.”

“Ahh, it was too easy anyway,” Peter responded.

“Who here feels like they have no idea what they’re doing?” Scott asked. Everyone of you, but Peter, raised a hand.

“I mean, are we supposed to be learning something?” Clint wondered. “Because I don’t feel like I’m learning anything.”

“Except how not to sleep,” Val added.

“It’s like there’s this wall,” Natasha said, “and the attending and the residents are over there, being surgeons, and we’re over here, being—“

“Suturing, code running, lab delivering penis-minders,” you grumbled.

“I hate being an intern,” Peter stated.

Gamora walked into the hallway, looking expectant. All of you interns quickly got up and took your leave. All the others had things to do, so you found yourself in front of the babies again. As you looked at the baby you’re so worried about, you noticed the parents. Taking a deep breath, you decided to go up to them.

“Hi,” you greeted with a soft smile.

“Hi,” the mother greeted back.

“Is he yours?” You nodded to the baby.

“Yeah,” the mother smiled.

“He’s adorable… Have you noticed anything that would concern you?”

“No,” the father responded. “Have you?”

“Earlier today I noticed him turning blue.”

“Blue?” The mother repeated.

“Yes. I checked him and I heard a murmur.”

“We were told that the murmur was benign,” the father stated.

“I don’t think it is. I think—“

“You are so out of line,” the Peds Intern interrupted.

“She says the murmur might not be benign,” the father said.

“I think we should do an echo, to check,” you suggested.

“This is your career,” the intern said, going to get her resident.

“There’s really no reason to get alarmed,” you told the parents.

“What’s the problem?” The resident asked, coming back with the intern.

“If our baby is sick, we want him treated,” the mother ordered. “Now.”

“Who said your baby was sick?”

“Her,” the Peds Intern answered, pointing to you. “The surgical intern who has no business on our service.”

“Who authorized you being here?”

“I was just,” you began, “actually—“

“I did,” Dr. Banner came up from behind you. “Could you excuse us for a second?” Dr. Banner took the resident to the side, but not far enough for you to not hear. “Are you messing with my intern, Dr. Keener?”

“No, sir,” the resident responded.

Dr. Banner turned back to you and the other intern. “Give me the chart.”

“There’s nothing wrong with him,” the intern said, giving up the chart, “I checked.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You can guarantee that he is fine, you are 100% sure.”

The intern looked hesitant.

“How sure are you?” The resident questioned.

“I don’t know,” the intern responded. “75%.”

“Not good enough,” Banner said. “He’s my patient now. That okay with you, Dr. K?”

“Absolutely,” the resident responded.

“He can take our patient?” The intern asked.

“He’s an attending.”

“Which means I can do whatever I want,” Banner replied before heading to the parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, I’m Dr. Banner, head of cardio. We’re going to run some tests and give you an answer within the hour. Excuse me.” He turned to you. “L/N.” He motioned for you to follow, which you quickly did. “I want an EKG, a chest x-ray, and an ECHO. I don’t have all day.”

“You’re a busy man.”

“I’m a busy man.”

You quickly ordered the tests then wandered the hospital more, since you weren’t allowed to do anything while you were watching the penis. After a little while, you found Dr. Banner again.

“Well?” You asked as you walked up to him.

“It’s a birth defect,” Dr. Banner replied. “Tetrology affirmed lower pulmonary artresia. You were right. I'm booking the OR for tomorrow.”

“Thank you for backing me up on this.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait, whoa. You were right. But if you ever pull a stunt like that again...going to the parents behind a doctor's back? Trying to steal a patient from another service? I will make your residency year hell on earth.”

He walked off and you smiled slightly to yourself. You made your way back to the babies, where you watched, from the other side of the window, Banner talk to the parents.

“His heart surgery is scheduled for the morning,” the Peds Intern told you. “I really did think I was right, you know.”

“I know. We almost never are. We're interns,” you responded. “We're not supposed to be right. And when we are, it's completely shocking.”

“Are you— I mean, being an intern, do you feel…”

“Terrified. 100% of the time.”

“Good, it’s not just me.”

“No.”

You decided, after finishing up with the babies, to go check on Mallory. When you arrived, you realized that Steve was still in there.

“How is she?” You asked, standing in the doorway.

“No change,” Steve answered with a sigh.

“Have you been here all night?”

“Mm-hmm. Yup… If I was in a comma, I’d want someone to be here. I know I would have people there. Having no one? Can’t imagine that.”

“I can.”

“Don’t you have any family?”

“I do. Just… I don’t think they’d come.”

Steve watched you carefully before speaking again. “So… we’re kissing but we’re not dating?”

“I knew that was going to come up.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I like the kissing. I’m all for the kissing. More kissing, I say.”

“I have no idea what that was about.”

“Is it going to happen again? Because if it is, I need to bring breath mints. Put a condom in my wallet.”

“Shut up now.” Steve laughed. “There was this baby up in the nursery. He's brand new. No one's neglected him or damaged him yet. How do we get from there to here? She's wearing my shoes and someone's beat the crap out of her, and she's got nobody.”

Suddenly, Mallory’s machine’s began beeping. You quickly hit an alarm on the wall.

“Her ICP’s double, get an OR!” Steve yelled. “Put her in for a craniotomy!”

~~~

You waited outside the OR, still watching over the stupid penis, while Steve operated on Mallory. You were nervous for her and felt bad that no one was there for her. Once the surgery was over, Steve exited the OR, walking past you. When he noticed you were there, he turned back.

“Hey,” he greeted. “I, uh, I had to leave her skull flap off, till the pressure in her brain goes down.”

“She’s not going to make it, is she?” You asked.

“She’s going to be fine.”

“If she ever wakes up.”

Steve nodded. “If she ever wakes up.” You nodded, biting your lip as you looked away. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Your pager went off. You looked down to see it was the Chief. “I’ve gotta go. That’s the Chief. Maybe I can finally get rid of this thing.” You lifted the cooler slightly.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled. “Good luck.”

~~~

“So here is where you put the signature, down here, the initials,” Fury’s assistant pointed out on a paper.

“Mmm,” you hummed with a nod, taking the paper and pen from her. “Okay.”

“It just says that the penis was never out of your sight.”

“Of course.” You sighed and handed over the paper. “There you go. One penis.” You glanced at the clock and realized that it was time for the baby’s surgery. “Am I all done here? I kinda want to go watch a surgery.”

“Sure.”

You tried to rush, but not rush, to the OR Dr. Banner was working in. When you arrived, you found a spot in the back.

“We'll be using a medium approach for a trans-ventricular repair with a right ventriculostomy,” Banner explained. “Let’s open him up. L/N!” He looked around for you.

“Yes, sir?” You replied.

“Go scrub in. When we've finished cracking the baby's chest, I'll let you hold the clamp.”

“Seriously?” You tried to contain your excitement.

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

You rushed to scrubbed in. And, let’s just say, holding onto that clamp was a rush and just what you needed to help brighten your shift. After that, you went to watch the babies, Val, Clint, and Scott all joining you.

You let out a sigh. “Okay, fine,” you relented. “You guys can move into the house.”

“Yes! Yes!” The guys shouted.

“I can’t believe you caved!” Val laughed.

“I can’t believe it either,” you mumbled, trying to hide the smile.

~~~

You changed out of your scrubs and stared at the shoes in your locker. You couldn’t stop thinking about how weird it was that you had decided to wear those shoes today. With determination, you shut the locker on your shoes and went to the elevator. Steve was there waiting.

“So… it’s intense…” he started. “This thing I have for, ah, ferry boats… I mean.”

You smiled at him. “I’m so taking the stairs this time.” You walked off.

“No self-control,” he called after you. “It’s sad. Really.” He chuckled to himself as you continued to walk away. “Wow… this is so—“

“Weird. It’s weird,” Dr. Stark came up, ready to go too. “Like I said before, that look is bad news. And you—“

“Didn’t I already tell you to shut it Tony?”

“Fine.” Tony held his hands up. “But, seriously, don’t come crying to me when it all blows up in your face.”

next chapter >

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clearlynotjanus · 3 years

Photo

Moceit Appreciation Week :: Aftermath

Read on Ao3

Art by @nonchimerical

tag list: @sanderssidesangsttrash @catalinaacosta @whatishappeningrightnow @the-snekwhisperer-world @varthandi @the-dead-and-the-decaying @serpentinesomebody

CW: Alcohol/Wine mention, food mention, insinuated swearing Word Count: 5646 Genre: Hurt/Comfort Rating: Teen Ships: Moceit, implied Loceit, implied Intruloceit, implied Dukeceit, implied if you squint Prinxiety

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“Well,” Janus started, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Seems like things worked out after all,” Here it comes, he thought, another round of the Blame Game. “Guess I was wrong about everything,” It didn’t matter that they had just come to some sort of understanding; after years of passing the buck between them, Janus was awfully accustomed to Patton saying his input was wrong -- Especially in a situation like this, where evolving circumstances made his advice seem moot.

“You and I both know …” Patton’s soft voice interrupted Janus’ bitterness. The tone caught him off guard, though as far as he knew, the sentence would end in a crushing you’re wrong. It was best not to get his hopes up, but the silence dragged on too long, and Janus’ defenses fell with his racing thoughts. “That’s not true,” Patton finished finally and Janus couldn’t help but to look over at the wistfully pensive expression that accompanied Patton’s admission. Perhaps it was just a sense of victory he felt, but humorlessly, his lips reciprocated.

“Is that--” Janus began only to be comedically interrupted by the vagrant and imaginative impression of Leslie Odom Jr. With a heavy sigh, the specter was dismissed and the sounds of Thomas with his friends began to fill the apartment.

Awkwardly, Janus and Patton stood next to each other. Sidelong, Janus caught Patton’s expression softening as Thomas laughed loudly at something Lee just said.

“Well, even if things did work out,” Janus started again, chin raised like he expected a fight. Patton blinked and turned his head, wearing a curious expression as though he had actually been content standing in silence together. “You should still consider what Logan and I said today.”

“Oh, well, yeah,” Patton said like that was a given. The sentence trailed off in an unusual and nervous way that made it feel like he had more to say, but more never came. Janus resigned himself to being content with that. Patton had seen the repercussions of his actions; there was little more he could do now besides press the issue when need be.

“Good,” He paused, nodding slightly. Speaking of Logan, the thought crossed his mind that he should check on him, given how their bargain had gone. “At any rate, I suppose I’ll … see you another time.”

Patton forced a smile, pulling at the fabric of his shirt anxiously. “Yeah! See you around, Jan,” The old nickname slipped out and Patton cleared his throat.

A week later, Patton squeaked an, “Oh,” as he walked into the Light Side kitchen. “Hiya, Janus,” He greeted in a pitchy, nervous voice. A weird feeling blossomed in his stomach and he thought he might be getting sick.

“Hello, Patton,” Janus gave a half-lipped smile as he finally reached into the fridge, having stood here for the better part of an hour.

“Didn’t expect to see you over here,” Patton’s anxiety was evident; just holding the cup he had come to place into the sink was a gamble given how shaky his hands were suddenly. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, just peachy,” He responded sweetly, tipping the freshly retrieved carton of milk into his now cold cup of tea. “We were just out of milk you see,” He explained, holding the carton up as evidence before sliding it back into the fridge.

“Oh, okay,” Well, that made sense, as long as Patton didn’t think about it too hard. Brushing his hip against the counter on the far side of the kitchen, Patton placed his cup into the sink and promptly turned back around. “Well if that’s all, I’ll--”

“There was one more thing actually,” Janus interrupted, absentmindedly opening a drawer to borrow a spoon. He turned to face Patton, expression unreadable. “Just while I have you here, of course.”

“S-sure!” Patton stuttered. “What’s on your mind?” He gripped the lip of the counter he leaned against, knuckles soon going white.

“Well I was just wondering,” Janus continued slowly as he stirred his tea unnecessarily. “If you had any, oh I don’t know;” his tongue clicked with a shallow, one shouldered shrug. “Dilemmas, problems, maybe some quandaries of poor Thomas’ that you needed to … bounce ideas around for?”

Patton gulped and quickly shook his head. The lively feeling in his stomach suddenly felt unpleasantly warm. “Nope!” He laughed humorlessly as he pushed himself forward and started to stumble backwards out of the kitchen. “None at all! Thomas has, hah, Thomas has been doing just great lately! No problems here!” The air sweetened and Janus lost his appetite for his overly sugared cup of tea. “If that’s all--”

“Yes, yes, whatever then,” Janus raised the spoon out of his cup and waved it dismissively with a sigh, flicking drops of tea on the floor.

Patton hopped the last two steps out of the kitchen and was hardly down the hall when he heard a new voice. High pitched and nasally, it was unmistakably the Duke’s. Patton’s body froze in fear.

“Janny! What’s taking you so long?” Janny? Patton questioned internally. That’s … actually kind of a cute nickname…

“Remus,” Janus sounded annoyed and surprised. “I told you to wait.”

“I was waiting! For like, a whole hour! How long does it take to get milk?” The frustration in Remus’ voice grew and Patton’s brows furrowed. An hour? Janus was … in their kitchen for an hour?

“However long it takes,” Janus mumbled and Patton got the sense he wasn’t talking about getting milk anymore. Suddenly the clattering sound of Janus carelessly tossing his teacup into the sink rang in his ears; until then, Patton didn’t realize how hard he was listening, or how quickly his heart was beating. He squeaked, too loudly, and then the voices in the kitchen stopped as he threw a hand over his mouth.

“Who the fu--” Remus abruptly stopped. Patton’s ears twitched, going red. He could almost make out the sound of a whisper. Fear set adrenaline lose in his blood and he silently sank out.

Later that month, Patton and Roman sat on the couch, watching some show together. Between Roman becoming distracted with the notebook in his lap and Patton dreamily staring out the window, neither of them really knew what was happening on screen; but that much didn’t really matter. Patton enjoyed sitting there, listening to Roman’s scribbles, and Roman enjoyed not being holed up in his room, burning his candle at both ends. It was a pleasant afternoon, for all intents and purposes.

“I’m going to grab a Coke,” Roman said with a stretch, setting his notebook aside. “You want one?”

“Huh?” Patton blinked, “Oh yeah, sure. Thanks!” He said with a typical smile.

The cushions had hardly risen from Roman’s absence before the couch was jostled again. “That was fas--” Patton started before registering who had actually taken Roman’s place. “Oh, J-Janus, hello,” His voice hitched and the television suddenly felt muted.

“Hello, darling,” Janus greeted warmly, an arm over the back of the couch.

“What’s up?” Patton questioned, taking a deep breath. Nerves wracked his stomach familiarly and a warmth made the back of his neck itch. “Everything alright?”

“Splendid, of course, thank you,” Janus charmed and paused. With curiosity, he reached for Roman’s notebook between them.

“Oh, you shouldn--” Patton started but it was too late; Janus had flipped open the cover and started admiring the haphazard yet beautiful doodles on the first page.

“So I was thinking,” Janus began, thumbing to another page. His eyes glazed over the curly cursive writing. Patton glanced anxiously behind Janus; if Roman walked in right now… “Have you noticed anything … off about our dear Thomas lately?”

“Off?” Patton echoed. He tried to think; ever since the reconciliation he had with Lee and Mary-Lee, things had been … better. Patton had been trying to lay off of reacting to things so quickly and he thought he was doing well with it. “N-no, I don’t think anything specific’s been wrong,” He surmised slowly. “Why do you ask?” Had Janus noticed something he didn’t? His stomach tightened uncomfortably now.

“Just wondering is all,” He dismissed with a curt smile. A pause ensued and Patton could hear Roman hum-singing to himself in the kitchen. Janus placed his palm on the couch and stared at Patton from under his lashes after a moment. “Though that brings up an interesting question, don’t you think?” His voice was low and provocative. Patton had to listen closely to hear anything at all, which made him lean towards Janus unconsciously. He felt like a useless fly; did that make Janus something dangerous? Something that’d burn him or swallow him up if he got too close?

“D-does it?” Patton stuttered, trying to keep his voice as quiet as Janus’. Admittedly, he wasn’t exactly following; too paranoid about Roman coming back, too nervous about what Janus was about to say, too flustered from suddenly being this close. Butterflies cut up the inside of his stomach.

“Mhmmmm,” Janus exaggerated, “Tell me,” He batted his eyes and Patton’s cheeks warmed. “Would you even let me know if something was wrong? ... Would you let me help in that case?”

Patton’s mouth opened like he had a response immediately, but no words followed; only a rush of warm air that blew sweetly in Janus’ face. He didn’t have an answer to that question, and thankfully, he wouldn’t need one.

“One Coke for the Marvelous Morality~” Roman sang as he rounded the kitchen corner, two filled glasses in his hands.

Patton blinked and Janus was gone, making him wonder if he had imagined the entire thing. Roman slid the drinks onto the coffee table and plopped heavily back on the couch with a gruff sound. Patton straightened his back as Roman reached for his notebook.

“Hm?” Roman’s brow furrowed, “Did you open this, Pat?” Patton struggled with his words for a second before Roman laughed. “If you wanted to read what I was working on, you could’ve just asked! Here,” Roman flipped through the pages, ignorant to the dumbfounded expression on Patton’s face, “I’ll read this much to you, but prepare yourself; it’s a little rough,” Roman said with grandeur before clearing his throat several times.

If asked, Patton couldn’t recall what Roman had read to him then. Janus’ words kept repeating in his ears until Patton was so dizzy, he felt faint.

The warm month of May shifted impatiently towards the sweltering Flordian heat of June. Even as the sun set, the summer continued to loom with heavy, humid air. Realizing that the apartment showed no signs of cooling off any time soon, Patton went to his room with the intent of changing into something lighter than his usual khakis. His heart stopped and all traces of a coherent thought process came to an abrupt halt, however, as he spotted someone on his bed.

“Oh hello, dear,” Janus purred as though this was a chance meeting. He was lounging back, head resting against Patton’s pillow, one leg crossed over the other. His hat was placed on his stomach, revealing a crooked hairline that seemed to be pushed back by the encroaching scales on the left side of his face; a sight Patton had caught glimpses of by now, but not one he was altogether familiar with.

“J-Janus!” Patton managed through the shock, a hand clutched the fabric of his shirt at his chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack!” He panted, forcing himself to take a gasping, deep breath.

“Apologies,” Janus offered a half smile, but hadn’t yet looked at Patton for more than a glance. Instead, he was focused on flipping through the rectangle shaped memories in his hands. Patton recognized them, once he gathered his senses enough to register the scene fully.

“You ... came to look at those?” Patton assumed, leaning to the side with a raised chin to peer at the one Janus was now staring at. It was an old memory that had begun to go grayscale at the edges. From Patton’s point of view like all of them, it showed Janus; smug at all of ten years old in an oversized hat that fell lopsided on his head. He looked as smart as any actual lawyer might as they won their case. Janus could tell Patton had been smiling when this memory became dear enough to actualize here, in his room.

“In a way,” Janus admitted. Unlike prior conversations, his voice was soft and now he, too, wore a rather endeared smile -- at least for a silent moment, as they both appreciated the memory. Soon he sighed and flipped to the next. The color of this one was vibrant and tinged in an idealistic, soft pink; the color of a schoolboy’s blush. Janus, now perhaps thirteen, reached over with a puzzle piece in hand. It was one of the last few Patton needed to finish the border he had been working on all afternoon. He remembers having begun tearing up, frustrated at not being able to complete something like that. But then Janus walked in. He had simply blinked between Patton’s watery eyes and the pile of pieces, sat down, and began to rifle through them for a moment before locating the one Patton needed. He pressed it into place easily and smiled. It hadn’t been his usual egotistical or knowing smile. It was one that made Patton’s little teenage heart race.

Janus sighed with finality and placed the pile of memories on Patton’s bedside table. As he sat on the edge, he put his hat back on. “Mostly I wanted to see if my own memories lined up,” Janus said as he stood, busying himself with adjusting his clothing. “You’ve been so obstinate lately, I had begun to think we never worked well together.”

Patton’s heart sank and so did his head. “We used to,” He whispered at the floor.

“We did,” Janus said, bittersweetness on his tongue. He shrugged and took slow steps around Patton. “It’s a shame you won’t just let us be like that again,” Janus shrugged a flimsy wrist, sounding mockingly disheartened. “But,” He amended as he reached the door behind Patton. “You’ve had everything handled without me for years now, so,”

“Yeah,” Patton agreed, instantly regretting how loud his voice was. “I have had everything handled! This whole time!” He spun around and Janus’ hand froze on the doorknob. “Without you! and now you’re trying to be around, acting like we can just go back to how it was, assuming that the others will just -- just -- get over it or something,” Patton’s voice gained an exasperated and humored edge despite finding absolutely none of this funny. “Roman nearly had a breakdown at just the idea of trusting you! Virgil can’t be in the same room with you! I just -- I don’t,” Patton’s anger began to fizzle out into despair.

His breathing caught up with him, now heavy and quick. The hand that had been pointing with accusation at Janus’ back fell with the intent of gripping his shoulder, but as though Janus saw that coming, he pulled away.

“I see,” He said, after a silent moment with an unreadable tone. “You have a lot to worry about,” Janus released the door knob. “Don’t let me keep you then,” and as fast as Patton could blink, Janus was gone.

One night, a little over a week later, Patton couldn’t sleep no matter what he did. Supposing he deserved a cookie for his trouble, he wandered into the kitchen, only to find the light already on. He froze and blinked sleepy eyes at the scene; was that … Janus? and Logan? Sitting at the small table by the bookshelf together? Patton gulped and the pair noticed him before he could digest much more.

“Patton,” Logan greeted curtly, sitting up as he seemed to notice how far over he had been leaning. “It’s late. What are you doing up?”

“Well I could say the same thing to you!” Patton joked, but his tone was off. The three sat in awkward silence and Janus busied himself with retrieving the nearly empty bottle of wine from the floor between them. “Wh--What are you guys up to?” Patton asked conversationally, pressing his knuckles together nervously.

Janus and Logan exchanged a look and Patton’s face became feverish. He had never felt so terribly out of place before. He shifted on his feet, realizing how uncomfortable his skin was.

“Well if you must know,” Janus answered, refilling Logan’s glass before meeting Patton’s eyes. His gaze was lidded, knowing, and it set Patton on fire. “We’re trying to find a solution to a problem you insist doesn’t exist.”

“Oh now, that can’t be true!” Patton objected eagerly, taking a half step forward only to receive a dubious expression from Logan.

“And why’s that?” Janus asked as he refilled his own glass. “Because you know everything?” His voice was heavy with sarcasm and wine. Janus could feel Logan’s gaze on him now; curious, wondering how he had gone from laughing demurely at something one moment to passive aggressively reproaching Patton the next. Janus wondered in turn what Logan would think of him for his words, but figured the judgement wouldn’t be too harsh. Patton annoyed them both most of the time. “Or because you think we’re too inept to solve anything for Thomas?”

Patton’s hands shook as they anxiously balled fists in the fabric of his shirt. Why would Janus say something so mean? His stomach twisted into intricate knots. Is that how Janus thought he felt? Did he really think Patton thought he was inept? His eyes stung as he stared at the ground. He couldn’t cry here, that’d just add more shame to this horrific, nightmarish moment.

“N-neither, really,” Patton whispered, not trusting his voice to be any louder.

“Why then?” Janus pressed insistently, staring Patton down with hands folded atop the haphazard papers. Logan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. This felt like a grotesque mockery of their court scenario the other day...

Patton sniffled quietly, trying to keep from snotting all over himself. “I didn’t realize anything was wrong…” His voice pitched and broke with the effort he extended to keep from sobbing on the spot. How awful it was, to be misinterpreted this gravely, to not have the words to explain himself, to think Janus hated him for not knowing how to ask for forgiveness.

Janus swallowed a lump in his throat and forced himself to roll his eyes. “Well that’s your mistake then,” He mumbled, sitting back in his chair. As he reached for his freshly poured glass of wine, Logan hesitantly pressed feather-light fingers against his sleeve.

“I think that’s enough,” Logan whispered without much tact before looking back at Patton. “We were almost finished here. The kitchen is all yours in a few moments,” Janus scornfully met his serious gaze and soon clicked his tongue. This time, his eye roll was genuine.

“Yeah sure,” Janus snarked to no one in particular as he stood. “Let’s leave it all to Patton. As usual.”

“Thank you all for joining us today,” Logan began professionally, briskly meeting everyone’s eyes.

“Yes, thank you all so much for taking the time out of your very busy schedules,” Janus snarked in good humor from his position next to Logan; an easel with a balanced poster board stood between them. The information on the board was utilitarian in design; flat colors with thick black lines. Altogether, it was very easy to read and especially clear that Janus, with all his dramatic flair, didn’t have a single hand involved in the writing of it.

“Sure thing,” Patton interjected from his usual spot near the sliding glass door. He raised a finger like one would raise their hand in class. “But uh, I’m a little confused. What’s this all about?”

“I’m glad you asked, Patton,” Logan began, immediately getting cut off by Virgil, who had shoved himself in the very corner of the stairway.

“This is a waste of time, why am I here? I have nothing to do with stuff like this,” he gestured at the poster board, clearly not actually reading anything written there.

“You’re here so we can get your input,” Logan gestured between Patton, Roman, and Remus, who seemed to be fidgeting with some wires behind the television, “Along with everyone else’s.”

“I say let him go if he wants to,” Janus mumbled cynically, adjusting his capelet. “He’s not at all capable of providing helpful feedback.”

“You mean I don’t feed your ego,” Virgil replied bitterly with a scowl. His mouth opened to continue but no sound was produced as Logan met his eyes expectantly. Virgil sighed and shifted stubbornly against the wall. “But fine. If Logan has something to say, I guess I’ll listen. For a bit.”

“Thank you, Virgil,” Logan said, offering a small smile.

At some point during Virgil and Janus’ bickering, the twins began to argue. The quarrel increased in volume and Janus cleared his throat.

“Darling?” Janus called, brows and chin raised. Remus’ head poked up from behind the television; black, blue, and red wires were between his lips like thick spaghetti noodles. Roman crossed his arms with a loud huff and a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Care to clue me in on what’s going on over there?”

Using his tongue, Remus maneuvered the wires to the right side of his mouth. “Roboat thinks he can stop me from eating these wires,” He explained with his mouth full. Janus scrunched his nose delicately and shook his head.

“Leave their wires alone, dear,” Remus deflated and opened his lips, letting the spit-soaked things fall out and back onto the floor. Patton went visibly queasy at the display, pulling at the hem of his shirt nervously.

“Okay,” Remus pouted exaggeratedly.

Janus turned and smiled pleasantly at Logan, who adjusted his glasses with a hint of exasperation, though both Janus and Remus knew the irritation was only ever meant with fondness for the Duke.

“If we’re ready to begin,” Logan started and everyone fell begrudgingly silent. “For several weeks now, Janus and I hav--”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Virgil interrupted, sitting up again and waving his hands hastily. “You and Deceit have been talking for weeks now?” Patton chewed his lip and tried to look at anything but the inevitable fight currently breaking out.

“Hey, yeah!” Roman agreed, pointing in Logan and Janus’ direction. Anger creased his expression. “I haven’t even seen that Sneaking Snob around here at all! Wouldn’t we have noticed if he was stalking around here like some B movie villain?”

“Maybe you would have if you were more perceptive,” Janus mumbled to himself, looking busily down at his gloved hand as though to inspect his nails. Remus snickered and whispered an oooo, like Roman had just gotten called to the principal's office.

“I’m plenty perceptive, thank you, Boa Bitch-stricter,” Roman dropped his arm heatedly.

The bickering continued for several more minutes, insults flying towards Janus from both Virgil and Roman. He took them in stride, giving his own snide and sarcastic comments back that only served to fuel both of their tempers. Patton’s nerves grew with each passing second; he shifted on his feet, pushed his knuckles together, debated sinking out silently but figured he’d better not cause more tension than there already was. Eventually, Logan spoke up above the roar.

“If you would all just listen,” He said, managing to gain everyone’s attention. “I promise we’ll be through in just a few minutes,” Everyone mumbled a respective, incoherent comment each as they shuffled and settled back to their original positions. Remus gave a cheer in support of Logan, which was followed by a whispered curse and apology as the latter gave a pointedly serious look.

To a silent and mostly attentive room, Logan explained what he and Janus had been discussing and planning for the last two months. Thomas’ financial situation, they all agreed, wasn’t spectacular. To that end, Logan had asked the newly accepted Janus if he had any ideas or solutions. Despite Janus’ surprise at being asked for input (and being considered ‘accepted’ at this point), he offered to go over the issue in detail with Logan; something none of the others had done to date. Over late nights of tasteful wine and the occasional dinner beforehand, they had crunched numbers, mapped solutions, and thought up lists of pros and cons to a multitude of different fixes.

Hearing this, gears clicked into place for Patton; the time he had stumbled on them late at night made a lot more sense now. Though even with the explanation, Patton’s stomach continued to knot painfully. He would really rather not recall that moment. It was filled with such shame and guilt and suspicion, he almost refused to believe it had even happened.

“And so after all that,” Logan approached the end of his explanation, “We settled on a very reliable and doable solution; Thomas and his team should, by all means, open up a Patreon.”

The audience’s eyes went wide as they stared at each other. The fact that the numbers had gone over their heads was clear on their faces, but the conclusion was easy enough to understand.

“So wait,” Virgil said, sitting up slowly, “Basically, what you’re saying is, we should ask the viewers for money, for something Thomas already gives them for free?” He asked incredulously.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t provide them with a little something extra every now and again,” Janus chimed in with a flourish of his fingers and an enigmatic grin. “The amount of things Thomas keeps hidden...phew, let me tell you,” His brows raised dramatically.

“You’re considering airing out his dirty laundry? For money?” Roman interjected, tone fantastically offended. “Preposterous! Who do you think you are, treating Thomas’ classified secrets like they’re some measly prince being sold for ransom!”

“Like that isn’t what our series is already based on?” Janus asked skeptically. Roman fell silent after a few sputtered and disjointed, rather useless words. “The point is,” Janus continued after a moment, meeting everyone’s eyes seriously now. “Thomas can’t afford to keep making videos if we don’t do something. I know you’re all against me, but you could at least extend the courtesy of considering it for Logan.”

Again the room became hushed, but only for a moment before Remus decided to speak up.

“It’s a great idea. Lolo! But I think he could make even more money if he did an OnlyFans!” Remus said too loudly for the room’s atmosphere. Patton flinched and grimaced distastefully, beginning to regret not making a bigger fuss about letting the Duke attend this meeting.

“No one asked you,” Roman snarked, turning slightly to glare at his brother.

“Actually,” Logan interrupted, “We did ask him, all of you,” He gestured with an open palm. “We’re asking you to consider it, as Janus said. No big decision needs to be made right now, even if I don’t quite understand what the hold up could possibly be,” Logan glanced at Janus with a hint of aggravation, “But something bad will happen if we don’t do something.”

“Alright,” Patton said quietly, nodding. “I think we get it, so,” He looked sheepishly around the room; Roman and Virgil had perked up significantly at Patton’s words. They both clearly waited with expectant expressions for Morlaity’s opinion. The twisting in his stomach grew uncomfortably hot. “So,” He repeated before drawing in a breath through his teeth, “Why don’t we all take the night and think about it. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow after … after we’ve all had a little while to think.”

“Very well,” Logan responded immediately, almost cheerfully -- at least cheerfully for Logan’s standards. “That’s quite alright with me, though please try to be quick about it.”

Janus’ brow pinched subtly as he stared at Patton for a moment too long. Logan had called his name twice before the third reached him through his thoughts.

“Janus?”

“Oh, yes,” He cleared his throat and nodded shallowly a few times, “By all means, do drag this out.”

Logan nodded, agreeing with the true intent of Janus’ sarcastic comment as he removed the poster board from the easel. As he collapsed the set up, Patton sunk out silently; the twins began fighting again and Virgil had somehow gotten pulled into their bickering. “That went well,” Logan summarized quietly to Janus, who was still staring distractedly at the space Patton usually occupied. “You were right unfortunately,” Logan paused, waiting for Janus to respond, only continuing when he realized no immediate retort was coming. “About them needing time to think about it?”

“Huh? Oh, yes,” Janus mumbled. Logan frowned; did it not go over as well as he thought? “You have all this handled, correct?” Janus gestured vaguely at the room, taking steps away.

“I suppose…?” Logan answered slowly. He started to say something else, but Janus had already disappeared.

Janus knocked on Patton’s door three times, the sound muffled by his gloves. From his bed, Patton flinched and instinctually squeezed the pillow in his lap tighter.

“B-be right there!” Patton called out, forcing his voice to sound cheerful. He inhaled a ragged breath and scrubbed at his face with dry hands. Please let it be Roman, please let it be Roman, please let i--

“H-hey Janus,” Patton greeted, swallowing his disappointment as he opened the door.

“Hello, dear,” Janus’ voice matched the serious tone he had used in his closing statement at the meeting just a few minutes ago, though the edges of it were softened. Patton thought his brow was creased and wondered what he was worrying about. “How are you?” He asked, and Patton had a hard time believing the question was genuine.

“Oh, I’m fine!” Patton said and Janus’ mouth watered. “Was just getting ready for bed,” he gestured behind him with a thumb and hoped that was enough to deter Janus from any kind of conversation. “S-so if you really don’t mind,” He continued, taking a half step back and starting to close the door slowly. “I sure am wiped from that meeting,” Patton forced a yawn.

“I know you’re lying,” Janus said pointedly, tone deliberate and unamused as he reached a hand to stop the door in its tracks.

Patton frowned, almost pouting as he stared at the floor. Janus’ eyes were too severe just then, and meeting them made his chest hurt. The silence dragged on as Patton found himself in an impossible situation; Janus knew he wasn’t okay, but that didn’t imply he was concerned enough to hear what was on his mind. Even if Janus did want to know, Patton wasn’t sure he could manage to sound coherent. To make matters worse, if all that weren’t true and he did get his feelings across to Janus, they felt silly and inconsequential in the face of Logan and Janus’ idea. They spoke so surely, so convincingly, and all Patton had was … feelings.

“Patton,” Janus said softly, letting his hand fall from the door, “How are you?” He asked again, sounding more insistent.

“I’m,” Patton started to repeat himself again but looked up to see Janus’ face. He wore such a distressed expression, Patton almost wanted to ask if he was okay. “I’m,” He began again, voice shaking as he clutched his shirt. “I’m scared,” Patton admitted in a whisper after a long pause.

Janus’ posture relaxed with a quiet sigh. He remained silent, knowing Patton well enough to predict that he would continue of his own accord now that the dam was open.

“I’m scared that I’m doing the wrong thing, but I’m … I’m not even sure what I’m doing. I’m scared that the others will hate me if I … If I,” Patton swallowed, “If I start letting you help again. B-but I’m also scared that,” His voice quickened, gaining speed like a rushing torrent of unstoppable water. “If I don’t let you help, I’ll just keep hurting Thomas. I’m scared that Virgil will lose himself again and leave us, I’m scared that Roman won’t be able to help Thomas if--if Remus is around, I’m terrified that Remus will hurt Thomas, and,” Patton inhaled a ragged breath. When he continued, his voice was a slow whisper again. “I’m scared of you, of--of not knowing how much selfishness is just right. I know you don’t want to hurt Thomas, I do, but …” He looked up with teary eyes finally, meeting Janus’ patient gaze. “But what if we get it wrong?”

“Then we’ll fix it and get it right together,” Janus replied instantly, like he knew exactly where Patton’s words were going to end up. “Like we always have,” He affirmed calmly, his tone and expression implying that, while this conclusion was obvious, Janus didn’t mind saying it as often Patton needed to hear it.

Patton gasped and the tears in his eyes fell. Hastily he reached up to brush them away with mumbled apologies. Janus rolled his eyes and muttered a sarcastically impatient, “Come here,” as he reached to hug Patton with both arms.

“Just because you’ve done it alone all this time doesn’t mean you should continue to, darling,” he said as Patton gripped the front of Janus’ shirt, letting himself be selfishly consoled, for just a second he told himself. “You can rely on me, that’s all I’ve been trying to say,” He chastised gently. “The others will get used to it again. Thomas isn’t giving them much of a choice on that one,” His tone gained a humored edge and Patton whined softly. Janus chuckled and gave him a final squeeze before gently pushing him away with hands on his upper arms. “As for everything else,” He continued as Patton sniffled, “We’ll figure it out,” Janus said nonchalantly, with a fond smile.

“Together?” Patton whispered, his voice cracking.

“Together.”

Chapter One || Chapter Two

#moceitappreciationweek #moceit appreciation week #moceit week 2021 #moceit #sanders sides

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