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delicrieux · 3 years

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☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

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The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results).

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be.

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children.

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim.

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

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Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do.

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

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“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point!

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus.

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping.

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex.

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him.

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red.

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!!

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling.

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!”

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out.

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you.

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage.

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her.

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement.

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.”

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fic #corpse husband social media au #social media au #myso #make you say oh #quackity #dream smp #corpse x y/n #imagine #imagines #reader #xreader

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kayluh1915 · 3 years

Text

More Than Anything

Words: 3,813

Pairing(s): Pedro Pascal/Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only!

While enjoying a long awaited drink, you find yourself entertained by the young bartender with horrible jokes. Pedro, however, doesn't see the humor in the situation.

DISCLAIMER

This fic is a part of my "Pedro y su Abeja🐝" series. You don't have to read the previous stories to understand this one, but they're there if anyone would like to give them a glance with your peepers. I write them as a reader insert, but they can also be read as an original character. It's up to you.

Follow me on Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok if you'd like. I'm pretty boring but I try. You can also checkout my Pedro Pascal Masterlist if you'd like to read some more Pedro works by me.

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Additional Warnings: Daddy kink, dom/sub undertones, oral sex (female receiving), dirty talk, hair pulling, vaginal sex, and creampie.

London was beautiful.

Maybe a bit too cold for your tastes, but beautiful nonetheless.

It was your first time ever in the city… actually, it was your first time out of the States period. You always loved to travel, but never had the time or the money to invest in it. So, being in a new city and a new country was extremely exciting.

Big Ben was gorgeous, the London Eye was romantic, and Buckingham Palace was elegant. So many new and exciting sights all around you and yet your only focus was on Pedro, holding on tightly to his arm as he escorted you down the red carpet.

“Okay?” He asked, turning his attention towards you for a moment. You smiled up at him and nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you did so. The red carpet still made you incredibly uncomfortable, but you had gotten better at it since Oscar night. It’s not something you enjoy, but you didn’t mind it as long as Pedro was there for you to follow and hold onto.

“After I finish presenting, we can head to the afterparty if you want. There’s really no need to stay if you’re not feeling it.” He offered once you were finally away from the blinding cameras.

“That sounds great, actually. I could use a drink."

"Yeah? What're you feeling?" You pondered for a moment.

"Honestly, I'm not really sure. Maybe something with vodka or bourbon."

"Bourbon, huh? Are you homesick?" You scoffed playfully and rolled your eyes with your tongue stuck out at him, earning a deep chuckle as he placed a kiss on your temple.

He teases you about that every time bourbon is brought up.

After the usual press interviews and greetings with Pedro’s peers, you were finally able to take your seats, getting as close to him as possible while he draped his arm across the back of your seat.

Before meeting Pedro, you loved award shows. It was an excuse to get off your ass with friends and shit on the biased bastards who clearly chose the winners on other criteria besides which film had been best crafted.

Now, you fucking hated them. Having to sit still in a seat and listen to these rich snobs drone on and on about nothing important for hours on end with no booze or idiotic friends to laugh with made it damn near unbearable for you. Pedro knew this and picked up on your fidgeting about 40 minutes into the show. He placed his hand on your bouncing knee, gently rubbing his thumb over it.

"You can go on to the party if you want, Abeja. I still have a bit before my presentation and I know how restless you get with these things.” You shook your head, going back to bouncing your knee, but a bit gentler this time.

“Nah. I want to stay here with you and show my support.” He chuckled.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me and you know that." A split second of silence fell between you as you weighed your options, but he wasn't having it.

"Go. Have a drink and loosen up a bit. I’ll come find you after I present and we can watch the clip together on YouTube later.”

Normally, you wouldn’t listen to him and would tough it out. Pedro lit up like a kid on Christmas anytime he was on camera and you loved to see it, but he was right. The video of him presenting would be on YouTube within minutes of it being aired so you’d still be able to see it.

"... Okay. I have my phone if you want me to come back." You offered.

"Alright. I’ll see you in a bit, honey." You exchanged a quick kiss, bunched your dress up in both hands, and nearly booked it out of the theatre, more than happy to finally be away from all the formal shit.

You were the first one at the party, rushing over the bartender and ordering some Jim Beam and Coke. Pretty basic, but it was just something to get you started.

"Your accent is lovely." The bartender complimented as he slid your drink to you.

"Oh, this ugly thing?" You gestured to your vocal chords. "I respectfully disagree, but thank you. I’d much rather have one like yours. Sounds much nicer than deep fried hick." The young man laughed, resting his elbow on the bar.

"Where you from?" You took a sip of the concoction before answering.

"Kentucky. Born and raised." The bartender looked at your drink and then back at you.

"You're not a little homesick are ya?" He asked, gesturing to your drink. You groaned, rolling your eyes and laying your head on the bar.

"Why does everyone ask me that? I just like bourbon, okay?" The bartender laughed again as you took another sip.

"Yes ma'am. I apologize. I'm Brice." He held his hand out for you to shake. You did, giving him your name in return. "So, this your first time in the UK?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The afterparty had a lot more people now, the three drinks you've had relaxing you and tinting your cheeks blush red. It wasn't enough for you to ditch your filter, but it did make you quite giggly.

Brice especially found your giggle fits endearing. He had been talking to you the entire time you’d been there, only leaving to serve the other guests before coming back over to you. He'd lean on the marble bar as you spoke and he started telling you bad jokes just to get you to giggle. He seemed like a pretty cool dude.

"Can I ask you something?" He asked, watching you closely as you down your shot of whiskey. You put the glass back on the bar with a clank, letting out a sigh as you felt the liquor run warm down to your stomach.

"Sure. What's on your mind?" You answer. Brice takes the glass from you and washes it quickly, drying it off with a towel as he seems to ponder on how to say what he's about to say.

"You know, you're pretty awesome and I would love to get to know you better away from all of this." He started, gesturing around the party atmosphere. "So, I was wondering if you would like to exchange phone numbers? Maybe socials as well?"

Ah Lord. You were nowhere near drunk enough to deal with this shit. Brice seemed like a cool guy, but you didn't think you were coming off that way and immediately felt terrible for leading him on. You opened your mouth to say… something. You weren't really sure, but it was going to be better than dumbass silence. However, you didn't even get a word out before you felt a familiar hand on your back and Pedro’s voice right by your ear.

Perfect. Just in time to be used as a gentle decline.

"There you are, I've been looking everywhere for you." You spun around to come face to face with Pedro, your face instantly lighting up as soon as you saw him. He looked you over with a smile, noticing your flushed cheeks and drunken giggles.

"I see you've had your drink." You nodded, holding up four fingers. "Oh, four. Excuussse me."

Pedro looked over to Brice and ordered his own drink. He noticed that the young man had a melancholy look to him, his blue eyes shifting right back to you as soon as he acknowledged his drink order.

"Is he bothering you?" Pedro whispered, not taking his eyes off of the bartender as he made his drink. You gasped, pretending to be offended.

"Nooooo! Brice would never!"

Pedro wasn't usually a jealous man, but something about the current situation was making his blood boil. He concealed it well and thanked "Brice" when he handed him his drink.

"I'm going to go say hi to some friends. You wanna come with me?" You groaned, not really wanting to put your formal face back on, but your desire to be around Pedro as much as possible outweighed all of it.

“Fiiinnee. I’m not talking, though.” He held his hand out for you to take, helping you down from the bar stool before placing his hand on your lower back. He gave the bartender one last glance, trying his best not to feel the pride swell in his chest when he saw how devastated the poor guy looked.

About an hour had passed when you returned to the bar for another drink, Brice apologizing for being forward as he slid you your shot.

“I didn’t know you were with someone. I’m sorry.” You fanned your hand at him, downing your shot in one go.

“It’s no big deal. I didn’t say anything so you couldn’t have known. For what it’s worth, I think you're an awesome dude and would love to exchange socials with you. You have a discord?” Brice’s eyes lit up as he nodded, grabbing a pen and paper to write his username on.

After exchanging little scraps of paper, you continued chatting with him and ended up getting giggly again from the shot. Brice noticed and started telling his horrible jokes again, but your drunk ass still found them fucking hilarious. You were still sober enough to keep the filter, but you were talking and laughing pretty loudly.

Brice was in the middle of a joke when you felt Pedro’s large and warm hand wrap around your upper arm. You melted into him with a fit of giggles, Pedro laughing at how cute you were as he brushed a few strands of hair out of your eyes.

"C'mon, honey. I think it's time for us to turn in." Pedro said, a groan leaving your lips.

"Let Brice finish this last joke and then I'll come okay?"

This time, Pedro didn't hide his rage, looking up at Brice with the most intimidating look he could muster while he had you drunk in his arms. It definitely worked, the poor dude shrinking in on himself as his eyes widened with fear.

"A-actually I'll send it to you on Discord, okay? I think you should go with your boyfriend." Brice stuttered out, clearly intimidated by your sweet teddy bear which you found hilarious. So hilarious that you didn't even question why he was angry in the first place.

Pedro was satisfied with Brice's answer and deep down felt terrible for being such an asshole, turning his attention back to you leaning on him and still giggling.

"C'mon, Abeja. Let's go."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door to your shared hotel room had barely shut before Pedro had you cornered, his eyes dark and the smell of his cologne dancing under your nostrils. You had sobered up a bit on the drive back to the hotel and was starting to feel tired.

You whine pitifully, mildly upset that he was keeping you from your plans of peaceful dreams.

"What is it, P? M'tired." You groaned. Pedro scoffed above you.

"Am I not enough for you?" He growled. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion and look up at him.

"Huh? What're you tal-"

"Is this old man not enough for your little pussy? Huh?" You froze and swallowed hard, now understanding where he was going with this and you very much liked it, your exhaustion instantly forgotten.

"N-no… You're perfect." He chuckled darkly, leaning down to trail his lips gently over your neck. You moaned quietly, feeling his stubble tickle your sensitive skin.

"Really? Then why would you waste your time with that... boy?”

Ooohhhh. Brice.

"He-he was just being friendly. He seemed like a pretty cool guy an-"

Pedro interrupted you by slamming you against the door, pinning your wrists to the cold steel as he got close to you, his lips only inches away from yours.

"You have no idea what you'd be missing." He snarled, your pussy clenching hard from just his words and voice alone.

"... Show me, then.”

Pedro growls low in his throat and pushes you harder into the door, now holding both of your wrists in his left hand as he caresses your face and lifts his knee up to your clothed cunt.

"Gonna fuck you so good. Your young little pussy won't be able to take it all." You whined quietly, grinding yourself down onto his knee.

"Please..." Pedro's breath hitched, his grip tightening on your wrists.

"See, look at you... You're already coming apart and I've only given you my knee. That boy wouldn't even get you this close with his inexperience. Only I know exactly what you need." You were squirming at this point, your juices already starting to soak through your panties.

"Please, Daddy… Please..." You begged as he pressed his knee even harder into your dripping heat.

"Patience, my sweet Abeja. Daddy will give you everything soon."

He jerked your wrists forward, pulling you close as he let go of his hold to grab your ass and hoist you up. You quietly squeaked in surprise, wrapping your arms and legs around him as he quickly carried you over to the bed. He threw you down on it, the springs protesting lightly from the sudden weight as Pedro began to strip.

He almost had his undershirt unbuttoned when you sat up and tried to unzip your dress, but he stopped you by pinning your wrists to the mattress.

“Only Daddy’s allowed to take that dress off, baby girl.” You whined, another gush soaking your already damp panties.

He let go of your wrists again and continued to undress, looking over your body hungrily as he did so.

“I bet you’re soaked already, aren’t you, pretty girl?” You nodded rubbing your thighs together as your pussy clenched again. He parted your legs and haphazardly lifted your dress. He groaned at the sight of your heather gray panties darkening in color as your arousal continued to seep.

The stylist had highly advised you to wear sexy underwear with the dress, but you didn't care. You'd take comfort over looks anyday and Pedro didn't seem to have a problem with your choice of underwear.

He took his right pointer finger and ran it gently over the darkening patch, the bulge in his boxers twitching and somehow getting harder.

"Fuck, look at you. So shameless." He wraps his arms around your legs and pulls you to the side of the bed while getting down on his knees. You impatiently began to fidget, knowing exactly what he was doing. He pulled your panties aside, the sight of your glistening pussy spurring him on as he yanked you closer and licked you from your opening to your throbbing clit.

“Daddy…” You sighed, your hands instantly tangling in his hair. Pedro groaned, the vibrations and his facial hair feeling heavenly. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and threw them over his shoulders, pulling you even closer and pressing the pads of his fingers into your smooth skin.

“MMmmmm.” You whined, the sudden movement causing your pussy to clench around nothing. You spared a glance down to Pedro. You could only see his eyes, but that was more than enough, his dark chocolate orbs staring up at you with a dizzying mixture of adoration and lust.

Pedro loved how wreaked you looked, your mouth hung open and your eyes hooded. He took pride that he was the one making you feel this way, knowing that he was the only one who got to see you like this.

He’d had plans on taking his time with you, slowly bringing you to one orgasm after another with his tongue, fingers, and cock; but the sight of you losing yourself just on his tounge alone drove him crazy and he grew impatient.

He pulled away from you too soon for your liking, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal as he yanked off your underwear in one swoop. He discarded his boxers as he stood up, pinning you to the bed as he drug the head of his cock through your slick folds a few times.

“You’re mine, understand?” You nodded quickly, wanting so desperately for him to get on with it. “Say it.”

“I-I’m yours, Daddy… Please….” You begged.

“Please what?” Your mind was so fuzzy with arousal, that you could barely process the words he was saying, let alone compose some of your own, but Pedro wasn’t having it. He grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked it, the delicious mixture of pain and pleasure only making your neediness worse.

“Answer me.”

“Fuck me!” You whined, your voice hoarse and weak, but still loud enough for him to get the message. Pedro let go of your hair and caressed your face, the gentle gesture a far cry from how he’d pulled your hair barley seconds ago.

“Good girl.” When he finally pushed himself in, you both made noises of pleasure, Pedro wasting no time. "God, you feel so good, baby." He groaned, starting to thrust into you faster. Though you both were inpatient and did very little foreplay, you were still absolutely soaked.

“You hear that?” He gruffed, his facial hair tickling your jaw as the sounds of your wet pussy squelched almost musically. “That boy could never get you this wet. You’d probably have to- fuck- have to use lube just to get started.”

You were already close. It’d been a hot minute since you’ve seen each other, your music classes revving up for concert season and his schedule getting booked by the day. It was hard to be away from one another for so long, but this… this made it worthwhile. No toy or vibrator could ever top the way Pedro made you feel.

"Pedro…" You groaned.

"That's it. Scream Daddy's name, baby girl. Show the boys who you belong to."

His cock repeatedly rubbing against your g-spot sent waves of tingling pleasure all throughout your lower half, the intensity of it building higher and higher as he continued.

"Don't stop, Daddy. Please don't stop." You whined, your voice getting higher as your orgasm grew closer.”

"Cum on Daddy's cock, Abeja. Let him feel you drip." Like a rubber band being pulled too tight, you snapped, your back arching off the bed and your toes curling. It hit you hard, your pussy drenching his cock and throbbing relentlessly with wave after wave of chilling pleasure.

“Mmm, Daddy’s gonna cum, baby girl. Whe-where do you want it?” He panted, his movements slowing for a few seconds while he waited on your answer.

“Inside…” You whined, your orgasm still wreaking havoc as he sped back up.

“Gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna… gonna…” He thrust his cock into you one last time, his own orgasm tearing through him with the same intensity as yours. The feeling of his cum warming your insides and his throbbing cock brought you to the peak for a second time. It wasn’t very intense, but getting filled up always made your orgasm even if they’re small.

Pedro collapsed onto you, his lips colliding with yours in a slow, passionate kiss. You laid your head back with a sigh on pleasure, Pedro chasing after you to gently kiss and nibble at your chin.

“I know you like me to stay in for a bit after we finish, but can we please make an exception this time? My back is killing me in this position.” You snorted.

“Oh my god, you’re so fucking old.” Pedro pulled out slowly, the feeling of his cum seeping out dazing you again for a moment. He smugly smirked at the sight, his hand gently caressing your upper thigh as he watched it trail down your folds.

“You weren't complaining about it earlier.”

A little later, you were laying on Pedro’s chest as he played with your hair, both of you just enjoying each other's company and the silence after a night of constant noise.

"Since when do you get jealous?" You finally asked, breaking the peace as his hand stilled in your hair.

"M'not… not usually anyway." You traced small circles on his chest for a moment.

"What was so different this time?" He sighed deeply, the silence returning as he thought of an answer.

“I dunno. I guess I just…” He sighed again, running a hand through his hair.

“There’s just... so many people out there… people who have their entire lives ahead of them, who doesn’t have back pain, who doesn’t have gray hair and wrinkles, and who doesn’t sound like rice crispies in the morning and…” He paused, his arms tightening around you.

“... Someone who has the time to give you all the attention you deserve. I feel so guilty knowing that I can’t wake you up with breakfast every morning, that I have to leave you alone for months and months at a time, and that you have to face so much scrutiny because of my age. When I saw you with Brice, you looked so happy and it made me think of all the things that I can’t give you…”

He was choking up at this point, his eyes glassy and brimming with tears. You sat up a bit to face him, your hand caressing his face and gently scratching his facial hair as you stared into his watery eyes.

“Pedro… don’t say things like that. You are more than enough for me. You’re so kind and smart and oh so sweet. You’ll come take care of me when I’m sick, you respect me and treat me as my own person, you spoil me even though I beg you not to, and you love me for who I am.” Pedro sniffled as you rested your forehead atop his.

“You are hands down the most amazing man I’ve ever met and no amount of scrutiny, grey hair, or rice crispy joints is going to change that. You may think that you can’t give me everything, but you give me more than enough and I love you more than anything on this Earth.”

Pedro smiled a small smile, bringing up his left hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and caress your jaw as a tear fell down his cheek.

“I don’t deserve you…” He whispered. You wiped the tear away with your thumb and leaned down to kiss him for a bit.

"That, and you're such a DILF. I mean, did you see yourself in Narcos?" He laughed, wiping his eyes with his wrist as he got up to take a shower.

"Alright, bye. Your fangirl's coming out." You got up as well, hoping to finally take off that stupid dress and join him.

“You know you love it.” His arms suddenly wrap around you from behind, his lips pressing gentle kisses on your shoulders.

“More than anything.”

#my fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro y su abeja #more than anything

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bonnyskies · 3 years

Text

come back to me [fifteen] ⇢ jjk

you’re willing to do anything to save your marriage, even if that meant you’d have to sacrifice your own happiness to do so.

pairing — husband!jungkook x malereader, ft. ceo!jaehyun

genre — angst, sexual themes, idol au, exes to lovers-ish au, open relationship au, marriage au, parents au

series warnings — infidelity (kinda?), swearing, bisexual!jungkook, jealous!jungkook, insecure!reader, unhealthy relationship, unrequited love-ish, slow burn, use of alcohol, mentions of divorce problems, (more could be added in future chapters)

word count — 3.9k

author’s note — here’s my late christmas present to you all, hope you enjoy. and sadly, we’re getting close to the end :(

masterlist

Why wasn’t her name babygirl anymore?

That question never left your mind.

Even when leaving the hotel, driving to the Honolulu Zoo and paying for your guys’ tickets, the question continued to run through your head repeatedly.

Why was her name changed on his phone? Does this mean they aren’t together anymore? Or are they just on a break?

More and more questions continued to constantly pile into your mind, and if it wasn’t for Jungkook asking you which habitat section you wanted to visit first you surely wouldn’t have been brought out of your thoughts.

“Can we go see the alligators, appa?” Minho then also asks, making you and Jungkook share a glance at each other before nodding.

“Alright, bubs. Let’s go see the alligators.”

You watched as Jungkook took Minho’s hand and began lead the way.

While they walked away, you couldn’t help but slowly trail behind them, unaware of the small distance you kept from them. You didn’t mean to be distant from them, you just couldn’t be around him and act like everything was alright between you two. Because you knew that at the end of the day, nothing would change. Jungkook and you would still be getting a divorce, and not only that, Minho would also be affected by today, believing that there is chance his parents would be getting back together—which isn’t happening.

Noticing your absence, Jungkook stopped and turned around to face you, a concerned look on his face. “Hey, you alright?”

It was like you were in a trance and you were brought back, judging from the way your entire body jerked at the sound of his voice. “Y-Yeah,” you quickly nodded your head, clearing your throat when your voice unexpectedly cracked. “I’m fine, just lost in my thoughts that’s all.”

“Okay,” Jungkook’s replies, sounding unsure. “Are you sure?”

Again, you nodded. Minho then held his other hand out for you, “Come on, appa.”

“Okay, okay.” You smiled in return, taking his hand following him as he practically pulled both you and Jungkook with him towards the habitats. You and Jungkook couldn’t help but share a glance at one another in the midst of the chaos of going through crowds of families. But when one of you noticed the other’s stare, neither of you couldn’t hide the blush on either of your faces.

Today is going to be a long day...

After spending nearly three hours going through every animal habitat in the zoo, you had to admit that you were only semi-wrong about today. It wasn’t as awkward or tense as you thought it would be, instead everything felt almost comfortable, calm.

The past three hours was probably the best three hours you’ve had in a long time—passing the so-called date you had with Jungkook last night by a long stretch.

Seeing your son smile for three straight hours, hearing and watching him share laughs with his father made you feel something you haven’t felt in such a long time.

Everything just felt perfect—as if you three were an actual real family again.

As Jungkook carried Minho on his broad shoulders, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. You found it heartwarming that they were finally rekindling the once strong bond they had with one another before everything fell apart between you and him.

You thought Jungkook wouldn’t notice your lingering gazes on him or the wide, bright smiles evident on your lips but he did. And he couldn’t deny that he found the sight adorable, your flushed expression making his heart skip a beat—a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Jungkook couldn’t help but hear your mother’s words echo inside his head. “This is your last chance to fix your marriage, Jungkook.”

Did he want to fix your guys’ marriage? Of course he did, no doubt. But whenever he thought of actually doing it, he could only think back to how it was between you two before he left for tour. The memories still haunted him. The constant screaming and exchange of harsh words, the many nights he’d spend on the couch. There were some times where he would even stay back at the studio or dorms so that he wouldn’t have to see you. And he wasn’t the only one. You’d even make excuses on how there was a problem at work so you’d have to stay late, but he knew that wasn’t the case. He knew that it was only so that you didn’t have to see him also.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t want to fix your guys’ marriage, because he did. He’s just afraid that if you two do get back together, your relationship would just go back to the way it used to be. The screaming, the shouting, and the crying, it would all come back again and that terrified him because he doesn’t want that to happen.

Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder, what if ending your guys’ marriage is for the best? Before this trip, he can’t remember the last time you two even had one night together that didn’t end in a screaming match. But the thought of signing those divorce papers made his stomach churn.

Jungkook was utterly confused. What if this is the right choice? Maybe you would be happier if you weren’t together anymore. He knew that dating an idol wasn’t easy, especially being married to one and having a kid. With the hectic schedules, late-night concerts and long tour dates, making time for family was difficult.

Maybe he should divorce you—again, the thought made Jungkook’s stomach stir and heart ache, but you could find someone who wasn’t as unreliable as he was. You could be with someone that would make time for you and Minho. You can finally have that normal, happy family you’ve always wanted, the one that has dinner together every night and goes on annual vacations together. The one that holds holiday feasts at their house with all their relatives from both sides of the family.

Being with him, you couldn’t have any that. With Jungkook’s schedule constantly changing, whether that be because of late-nights spent at the studio practicing or recording music, he hardly ever makes it home in time to have dinner with you and Minho. Sometimes he’d find himself eating dinner alone at the dining table, everyone else in the household long asleep. And as for vacations and holidays, Jungkook would be traveling with his hyungs attending many ceremonies and award shows most of the time, so it was difficult to make time and have vacations and holiday get togethers with the family.

Taking one glance at you, eyes taking in your glinting eyes and small smile on your lips as you walked beside, Jungkook’s heart ached. You look happy now, but how will you feel in the future? Would you be happier, or even more miserable than before?

What do you want, {Name}?

Jungkook didn’t realize how long he was lost in his thoughts until he felt you nudge his arm. “S-Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted to eat here at the lounge or leave and go out to a restaurant?”

“Oooh can we eat here, appa?” Minho suddenly spoke up, still seated on top of Jungkook’s wide shoulders.

“I guess we got our answer.” Jungkook said with a teasing tone, tilting his head up to glance at his son.

You nodded, eyes briefly meeting Jungkook’s before walking away and towards the direction where the lounge.

And while following you, Jungkook couldn’t seem to find the strength to tear his eyes away from you.

The lounge was crowded, nearly full.

Glancing around, you were just about to give up until Minho spoke up, “Appa, look.” He pointed his index finger, “There’s a table over there!”

You followed the direction of his finger, eyes landing on an empty table in the far right corner of the lounge. “Good job, pumpkin.” You gently patted your son’s leg, which dangled idly across Jungkook’s chest. “Let’s go.”

You quickly made your way to the table, kindly pushing through the crowd of families until you got to the table. With you taking the first seat, Minho chose the other one across from you and beside the window. That left Jungkook with the last empty chair—next to you.

Jungkook stared at the unoccupied seat before raising his head and having his eyes meet yours for a brief moment.

You stared back at him, nodding, as if you were giving him your approval.

A simple nod was all Jungkook needed before taking his seat beside you, instantly noticing the way your body slightly tensed when he sat down.

“So,” you spoke up, attempting to break the rising tension at the table. “What do you guys have in mind to eat?”

“Hmm, not sure.” Jungkook was the first to speak, glancing around at the many different types of food that the lounge served. He then began to list the many eating establishments, which ranged from fast-food restaurants to fancy, exquisite foods.

“Ooh, McDonalds, appa!” Minho clapped his hands excitedly, earning chuckles from you and Jungkook.

“Anything for you, bubs.” Jungkook grinned, reaching across and nudging his son’s head. “I’ll go get the food.”

You just nodded, eyes focused on him as he stood up from the table and was about to walk away until Minho spoke up again. “Wait, appa. You didn’t ask appa what he wanted to eat.”

Before you had chance to say anything, Jungkook spoke up instead. “I already know what appa wants, bubs. Don’t worry.”

You couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter from his words. You watched as he then walked away, unaware of his phone that was still on the table, screen facing down. You were just about to call out for him but he was already gone. And not even a second later Minho was already reaching for the phone and taking it into his hands.

“Minho, you shouldn’t—” you tried to stop him but he pouts.

“Appa always lets me play on his phone.”

You sighed, leaning back against your chair. Watching your son play on his father’s phone, you couldn’t help but get an anxious feeling coursing through your veins. It wasn’t like you wanted to take the phone from Minho because you knew he was right, Jungkook always lets him play on it. You just didn’t want him to be on it when she calls.

And of course, that’s exactly what happens.

“Appa, who’s Ye-Yeonha?” Minho asks, turning the phone towards you and showing you the name that never fails to make your heart ache and blood boil.

Your mouth was gaped open and no words were coming out. You didn’t know what to say. There was no way you could tell Minho who it was exactly. He was already heartbroken when learning about the divorce, and you couldn’t imagine how much more crushed he would be if learning that his father already moved on. “She’s—”

Luckily, you were suddenly saved by the bell—that bell being Jungkook coming back with your guys’ food. “Alright, I’ve got a hamburger happy meal for you bubs, and a ten piece chicken nugget meal with a medium fries and sweet and sour sauce for appa.” He listed out while handing it out to you two. “And for me, a BigMac.”

You gave him a silent thanks by nodding before opening your medium-sized box that contained your nuggets.

You were hoping that since the food was here, the topic of the phone would be forgotten. But of course, you were let down once again.

“Appa, who’s Yeonha?” You noticed the way Jungkook’s body tensed at the mention of her name. “She was calling your phone.”

You expected him to make some half-ass excuse like saying that she’s some sort of friend or co-worker. But you weren’t expecting his eyes meet yours and say with a stern voice, his words coming clear and fluently.

“Nobody important, bubs.”

It was Jungkook’s turn to see your reaction, noticing the way your body tensed and shifted in your seat by his words. “Now focus on your food,” he then says, taking his phone away from his son’s grasp and placing it beside him, screen down.

When turning his attention back towards you, you noticed an indescribable glint shining in his dark brown eyes. A glint that appeared gloomy, and you could even say looked guilty.

You couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking about right now.

“We need to talk, Yeonha.”

“What do you want to talk about baby?”

Jungkook felt himself cringe at the petname, fingers clenching tightly around his phone as he pressed the device against his ear. With his mouth open, Jungkook still couldn’t find the strength to speak and he had absolutely no idea why. He knew exactly what he wanted to say but no words came out.

Jungkook was just about to give up, pulling the phone away from his ear and hovering his finger over the ‘end call’ button. He was just about to press it until something stopped him—his background photo. The photo was of you and Minho, the sight bringing an instant smile on his lips.

Just from looking at you through his phone’s screen, brought warmth in Jungkook’s heart. Taking a deep breath, he then said “I think we should break up, Yeonha.”

A loud, shocked gasp could be heard.

“Listen, it’s not you, it’s me. I just think that being in relationship right now is not a good idea, and—”

“Don’t feed me that bullshit, Jeon!” Yeonha cut him off, her voice filled with rage but hints of sadness clear in them. “It’s because of {Name}, isn’t? He’s the one making you break up with me?”

Jungkook scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Why do you immediately blame {Name}? He’s got nothing to do with any of this. The only people that are part of this is you and me.”

“Because everything was fine between us until you left for that stupid trip!”

Jungkook sighed, rubbing his forehead frustratingly with his free hand. “This is my decision, Yeonha. {Name} didn’t force me to do anything.”

“But he’s the one that messed with your mind, wasn’t he?” Yeonha continued to pester him. “We were happy before you left, but now you want to break up? It has to be because of him. He‘a the only one who could change your feelings about me.”

Jungkook remained silent, letting her continue.

“I don’t understand you, Jungkook.” Jungkook could hear small whimpers from her end of the call. “Even after all the pain he caused you, you still would go back to him. What about all those times you cried because of him, or the sleepless nights you had because of this fights you two had? And every time, I was one that comforted you—”

Jungkook couldn’t stop himself from scoffing at her words.

He wouldn’t think of her actions as comforting. Despite his constant requests to be left alone, she would always ignore them and continue to meddle her way into his business.

“—and weren’t you the one that told me that your feelings for him weren’t as strong as they were before anymore?” Yeonha‘s rants still filled his ears. “He doesn’t deserve your love, Jungkook. He doesn’t deserve you—”

“Shut up!” Jungkook snapped, “If anything, I’m the one that doesn’t deserve him! Instead of trying to fix our marriage from the very beginning like he has been trying to do, do you know what I did? I gave up!”

Jungkook was fuming with rage. He swore he could almost feel his phone cracking from the tight grip he had in it. “{Name} is giving me a second chance, and I’m not going to waste it. He’s a way better person than I am.”

“Did he say that?” Yeonha asks.

“Say what?”

“Did he actually say that he’s giving you a second chance?” Yeonha repeats her question with more detail, and when she only got silence in return she released a loud laugh. “Oh my god, you don’t even know if he wants you back! And you’re still okay with risking our relationship for someone like him? What if he doesn’t want you back, what if he doesn’t love you anymore?”

As more and more questions spewed out of Yeonha’s mouth, Jungkook only felt the anger inside him grow stronger. “You’ll be left alone because you chose him over me—the person who has been there for you through your entire divorce, and it’s going to be nobody’s fault but yours for be a complete dumbass—”

“Stop!” Jungkook interjected, voicing boom with rage and frustration. “I know you’re saying these things just to mess with my mind, but it’s not going to work. I’ve already made my decision. This is my chance to get my family back—to get him back and I’m not going to waste it. I’m sorry, Yeonha. I hope you find someone else better in the future...”

Just as Jungkook was about end the conversation, he could hear Yeonha shout out for him. “Wait,” her voice sounding panicky. “Can you at least answer one last question for me?” And when Jungkook hummed in reply she continued, “Is he worth all this trouble, all this effort—your effort?”

And not even a split second later, Jungkook answered with a firm “yes” before lowering his phone and ending the call.

Jungkook wasn’t the same after lunch.

His happy behavior that he had before you three ate was gone and replaced with a more anxious one. He thought nobody would notice his constant glances at his phone or the small frown evident on his lips, but you did.

It wasn’t hard to notice. He wouldn’t smile or talk with you or Minho, or allow him back onto his shoulders. You would occasionally send a glance back at him whenever he wasn’t looking and you could see the physical change in his demeanor.

You were worried.

Now, as you three were back at the hotel, Minho sound asleep in your room, Jungkook was still acting the same, silent.

You couldn’t help but worry. In the eleven years you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him act like this before.

Later that night, when dressed in your pajamas and ready for bed, you found him in the same place as he was in when you three first got back to the hotel—outside on the balcony with his phone in hand.

Slowly, you stepped out onto the balcony, careful that your footsteps were silent. “Hey,” you spoke up suddenly, making Jungkook whip his head around and eyes widen at the sight of you.

“H-Hey,” he replied softly.

“Are you alright?” You asked, and when he only nodded you let out a deep sigh. “Jungkook, you know I can tell when something is bothering you...”

Jungkook just nibbled on his lips nervously.

“You know you can talk to me.”

Jungkook stayed silent, Yeonha’s words echoing inside his mind as he kept his gaze focused on the lit up city in front of you two. “What if he doesn’t want you back, what if he doesn’t love you anymore?”

Jungkook didn’t know what to say. What if Yoneha was right? What if you don’t love him anymore? It’s not like he had the right to get upset about it because the only person who would be to blame would be him.

“—Jungkook,” Jungkook jumped, hands tightening around the railing and his phone as he turned to face you. “Are you even listening to me?”

“No, s-sorry sorry.” Jungkook quickly spewed out, eyes softening and lips frowning. “It’s just that I have a lot on my mind right now.”

“I asked if everything is alright between you and Yeonha?” Your question left him stunned, eyes slightly widening. “I’ve noticed lately that you’ve been rejecting her phone calls and also that you changed her contact name...,” your voice trails off, not knowing if you were overstepping or not.

“I-I ended things with her,” was the only thing he said, eyes never leaving yours.

“W-Why?” Your words stumbled out unevenly.

Jungkook didn’t say anything at first, and then suddenly, reached out for your hand slowly and hesitantly. And when you didn’t stop him, his fingers laced together with yours, creating an instant warm feeling inside your heart. “Because I finally realized the mistake I made.”

“And what is that?”

“Giving up on our marriage.” Just five words, and your heart stopped completely. “For not even trying to fix our problems, for leaving you.”

You were silent, watching his eyes staring down at your conjoined hands. “I thought I didn’t love you anymore—” you winced, and Jungkook noticed. “—but I was wrong. I do still love you and I hate that it took me this long, and cause you so much pain to finally realize that.”

You could see some tears glistening in his eyes. “And I-I’m sorry, so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay, Jungkook.” You attempted to comfort him, placing your other hand over his and caressing his inked skin. While running your fingers delicately across his tattoos, you stopped at a specific one he had on his knuckle connecting to his ring finger—your initials. “I’ve forgiven you a long time ago—”

“Well you shouldn’t have!” Jungkook exclaimed, a couple tears slipping from his eyes and sliding down his cheeks. “I haven’t been a good husband to you—hell, I’ve been a terrible husband and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I don’t deserve you.”

“Jungkook, stop.” Your heart clenched at the sight of him, raising your hand to wipe the few stray tears that escaped from his eyes and stained his cheeks. “You’re not a bad person, and you definitely weren’t a terrible husband. We just had—” you paused, “—complications.”

Jungkook stayed silent, sniffling.

You then continued, “Complications that came to my senses after separating. We weren’t that perfect couple I always thought of us being—frankly, we were far from it. In the ten years of being together, we didn’t fight once and I thought that meant we were perfect for each other but I was wrong. Every couple has their fights, and when they overcome it, it makes them stronger. And the fight we had before you left for tour was our first one, and I guess it opened a gateway we both kept locked for a long time, hiding our aggressions and frustrations we had for each other.”

Jungkook took in every word you said and you were right. You two haven’t fought once in your entire relationship and he always thought there wasn’t anything wrong with that. But now that he thinks about it, he remembers his hyungs sharing the fights they had their spouses with him and how in the end, they would always make up and come out stronger together.

“So what you’re saying is, since we never fought, us breaking apart was...inevitable?”

You nodded, and Jungkook felt his heart sink.

“But what if I asked you for another chance?” Jungkook then asks, “Would you accept it, or is this—” he paused, voicing cracking slightly. “—is this our ending?”

You were frozen, speechless, eyes staring into one another. “I-I don’t know.”

And as you two stared into each other’s eyes, you didn’t know who began to lean in first but when you felt Jungkook’s lips brush up against yours it was like sparks ran through your entire body.

You can’t remember the last time you felt his lips on yours.

Noticing your reaction, Jungkook stopped, mouth so close to yours that you could his feel his cool minty breath against your lips. His eyes stared into yours, as if he was asking for your permission.

And when you didn’t fight back or pull away, his lips were on yours in an instant.

You didn’t hesitate kissing him back, hands finding their way onto his broad, strong shoulders while his rested on your waist, pulling you close and pressing your chest against his.

The kiss was short, but enough.

Enough to let you both know that your hearts still beat for the other.

TAGLIST:

@xworldwidecutieguyx, @yoongis-soulmate, @jikookvfans, @heartfeltscribblings, @blazedprince, @btsfaris, @sonderkook, @angel-moni, @http-je0n, @magic-fox-555, @moonfairyjoon, @taozibun1, @ephemeralkookie, @thesquiglybumblebee, @httpjazel, @justqueerandhereforthetea, @dreamer95, @singabon-roll, @its-your-dreamworld, @fancykoos, @galaxyeyedjungkook, @nlnkm, @teuteusstuff, @moon-asia, @julia-pacheco-blog, @0minabean0, @pjmislovely, @polly-wifu, @jinsonaz, @unsolvetheheckoutofit

#bonnyskies #bts #bts series #bts angst #bts x reader #bts x male reader #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook series #jeon jungkook angst #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x male reader #jungkook #jungkook series #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x male reader #bts au #jeon jungkook au #jungkook au

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brockadoodles · 3 years

Text

Treacherous - e. pettersson

AN: I have no idea where this came from, it’s 3am and nothing makes sense anymore. But, I finally wrote something for Petey after 124983249507843 people have asked me to, so I hope you like it. It’s intentionally short, meant to be one of those moments in a single night where your characters go through everything. Let me know what you think! :)

Word Count: 2681

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol (barely)

Elias Pettersson was quiet. Ever since his childhood, he was regarded as a person who was subdued, often hearing murmurs of descriptions of him that included every synonym for quiet that the Swedish language had. He learned not to let it bother him, because to him there was nothing wrong with being soft-spoken or reserved, he still had just as many thoughts as anyone else, he just chose who he allowed close enough to him to share them with. He moved through adolescence with his head down, his focus resting solely on perfecting his skills, training so that one day he could live out his dream. His quietness was counteracted by his work. He often felt his loudest moments were enacted on the ice, showcasing his inner thoughts in his ability to skate almost effortlessly and his hand to be quick, those thoughts translated to skills that landed him as the face of a franchise halfway across the world. It wasn’t until he got to Vancouver that he realized he no longer felt quiet, he wanted to be loud.

When Elias met you, he was stunned for words. You were a mutual friend of Brock’s, someone who was born and raised in the very city that he now called home. He had never really been good with meeting new people and a lot of his warmth had rubbed off from Brock, who for reasons unbeknown to Elias, had welcomed him to Vancouver with an open heart and patience that most people didn’t have in an English speaking country for someone still learning the language. Brock was undeniably too friendly, but Elias found comfort in how Brock comforted him and so when he casually mentioned that some of his friends were going to be joining them for dinner one night, he trusted that friends of Brock’s couldn’t possibly be unpleasant.

It turned out, that when Elias saw you walk up to the table, his chest started racing and he felt incredibly unnerved around you. You emulated energy that somehow pulled him toward you, and your soft smile as Brock introduced the two of you burned into his mind for the rest of the night. He was undoubtedly obsessed from the get-go, a feeling that never evaporated as he slowly got to know you and ultimately fell in love with you. Elias was no stranger to platonic love, but amorous love was another story and for the first time in years, he was quiet again when it came to verbalizing just how he felt, but he still managed to express it to you in a way that you understood.

Days together in a group somehow shifted into days together just the two of you. Your friendship had somehow transcended into something more when he kissed you for the first time. You had tumbled into what felt like a relationship, and yet you never dared to clarify what it was. It felt good at the time, and you pushed off the insecurities you felt about the lack of label or conversation. You ignored the messiness because your heart wanted to fall for him, and your brain lacked the capacity to stop it.

Elias followed you blindly as you led him across a bridge. He marveled at the old wooden bridge that barely seemed to be held together above the small creek. You were taking him to one of your favorite hidden spots in the city, a quiet creek that led into a rose garden tucked in behind the bustling waterfront. A small hidden gem amongst a large touristy area. You loved the contrast of being so close to so many people, yet somehow you were just far enough removed that you could find solace in your own thoughts.

“I can’t quite figure you out, Elias.” Were the words that you murmured that changed everything for him. He had spent what felt like months hanging in this limbo with you, where on one end you were his and he was yours, and on the other, you were nothing more than friends who sometimes gave themselves the illusion that they were more. There were no words spoken to define the relationship you had, only the feeling of your hand perfectly tangling with his and the way that your lips seemed to seamlessly fit with his. He squeezed your hand tighter as you walked, a nonverbal affirmation of his feelings for you, or so he thought.

Elias didn’t notice the way his lack of response caused your face to twist. You were, quite reasonably confused by the dynamic. Elias was everything you had dreamed that you would love, he crossed off almost every checklist that you had when it came to a person you were willing to hand your heart to. But between the nights where you stayed over when you probably shouldn’t and the dates he brought you on where you told yourself you were his partner, because that was how he acted, and the way that he held your hand without fail whenever you were out together, you couldn’t understand why he had never told you how he felt.

You were trapped in a limbo of your own, one where you were unsure of if you could continue this half relationship with someone that you felt yourself slipping into love with, and one where you allowed yourself to move on, even if it meant you lost out on a love that you thought had potential to be it for you. It seemed like every time you tried to bring it up, to have the talk that was at this point long overdue, he would do something physical that would leave you even more confused. You were on two different wavelengths and you kept sending a signal to him, but it was like the message was in morse code, something he didn’t understand. Despite your best efforts to hang on to something you desperately wanted to be real, you could only live on physical affections for so long, eventually, your heart needed to hear the real words, and Elias was about to learn that lesson the hard way.

It was coming up on the Canucks annual Dice and Ice event, a black-tie event where the team tried to raise money for various causes, and you were supposedly expected to be Elias’s date. You had been his date to so many things already, sometimes when Brock wanted to double with the person he was seeing, you would tag along to keep Elias company, holding his hand tightly under the table, an expression of your own affections for him. You had been his date to other Canucks events, you even were his date to the NHL Awards, kissing him proudly after he won the Calder Trophy. You had somehow over the last year tumbled into a relationship with someone who you weren’t even sure wanted your heart in the way that you wanted to give it. But you told yourself, one last event to see if he would finally take it, and if not, you told yourself that it was time to let go.

Elias picked you up and you nearly groaned. He looked so handsome, his dark navy suit complimented his eyes, and his hair was just long enough that pieces slightly fell, even though he had clearly gelled them back. He put his hand on the small of your back as he guided you to the car, kissing your temple softly in greeting, and telling you that you looked amazing. Elias thought that those small displays of affection were enough, he had no idea that as he guided you through the doors of the gala, you were slipping through his fingers, the very ones that he was holding so tightly.

The event was going well, you were smiling as Elias mingled amongst the crowd, each person who met him lighting up just as you usually did when you were around him. He was attentive to you, making sure that you had a drink in your hand if you wanted it and that you were by his side most of the evening until he had to do one task that pulled him away from you, leaving you exposed to Brock and his questions that put the nail in the final coffin of the hopes that you were something real to him.

Brock slid up to you, sitting down next to you and handing you another drink. You smiled softly at your friend.

“Having a good time?” He asked, leaning back and taking a sip of his own drink. His eyes effortlessly shifted from the room straight to yours, and it was like he could sense that something was boiling under the surface, and something about his calm demeanor had you ready to erupt what you had been keeping inside for so long now.

“Mhm, it’s nice this year.” You nodded at him. Brock furrowed his brow and leaned forward onto his elbow, coming closer to you.

“Are you going out with everyone after? Emil and Fanny are in town, I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned meeting them yet.” He trailed off. His short sentence was meant to be casual conversation, a subtle way of Brock asking if you had met two of the most important people to Elias. Only instead of nodding and sharing some lovely story about lunch with Emil and Fanny, your heart dropped to your stomach, because Elias hadn’t shared that they were in town with you at all.

“He didn’t even tell me they were in town.” You shrugged and took another sip of your drink, desperately hoping that your voice wasn’t as shaky as it sounded in your head and that Brock, the person who could pick up on all of your emotions you tried to hide, would somehow let this go and not press you further, a notion that was short-lived as soon as he pressed further.

“You guys have been together for months, that’s weird that he didn’t even mention it?” Brock questioned. And there it was, the realization that it wasn’t just in your own head that you were something more than a friend with Elias. Even his best friend thought you were together, his best friend thought that you were in a place where Elias would want to introduce you to his family. But you weren’t, and you blinked back tears as you realized that maybe you didn’t mean anything to Elias at all.

“We’re not together, Brock. We’ve never had that discussion.” You coldly spoke. Your mind was running in overdrive, and Brock wasn’t entirely sure how to react. He just patted your wrist and smiled softly.

“Talk to him.” That was what he said before he got up as Elias was walking toward you. Elias smiled at Brock and then at you as he sat down, no indication of him knowing how you were feeling as he did. Elias by all accounts looked happy, he looked like he had everything he had ever wanted, and you sat at that table with him and realized that you weren’t what he wanted, you were just what he used.

“Why didn’t you tell me your brother was in town?” You ripped the bandaid off. If you were going to do this, you needed to come straight out with it before you talked yourself out of it. You deserved someone who could say that they had feelings for you, someone who could put an exclusivity on your relationship that you wanted. You deserved someone that loved you as you loved him, and you finally realized that maybe Elias wasn’t going to give you that.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to meet them, I didn’t want to put pressure on you.” Elias smiled, still obtuse to the fact that you were crumbling right before his eyes, that his entire love story with you was being tossed haphazardly into a fire.

“I can’t do this anymore, Elias.” You mumbled, setting your drink down and standing up. Elias’s eyes followed you, widening when it clicked for him that you were leaving, even though he didn’t understand why.

“What?” You tried to grab your arm and you snatched it back. It probably wasn’t your best reaction, but you had been stuck in that limbo for so long, that even if the path was sinking beneath you, you wanted to end it. You wanted to finally get out of the limbo and take back the pieces of your heart that he wasn’t receptive to.

“Us. This. Whatever it is, Elias. I can’t do it, I can’t be halfway in this with you when I’m falling in love with you and you can’t even tell me if you like me. I’m done.” You didn’t wait for his reaction, you didn’t wait for him to process your words. Instead, you turned on your heel and walked as quickly as you could out of there, leaving Elias stunned in your wake.

It had taken Elias four seconds to realize you were someone that he needed to know when he met you. It had taken him three weeks to understand that the pull he felt was more than platonic. It had taken a month before you were wrapped in his arms, legs tangled in his sheets. It had taken Elias four months to fall in love with you, a feeling that he was quiet about because he thought that he was expressing it to you in other ways than him just saying it. And it took Elias no more than 10 seconds before he was jogging out of the room and after you.

He caught up behind you and grabbed your hand, his own expression sinking when he saw the tears blurring your own vision. Elias was quiet, he was reserved and guarded, and he often had trouble expressing his feelings, especially when it came to falling in love with you. He thought he had communicated it in other ways, but he was clearly wrong. You had given him your whole heart and he thought he had shown you that he was caring for it, but it turns out that his nonverbal expressions of his own love were entirely lost.

“I don’t want this halfway. I want all of you, all of the time. I thought I was showing you that, but I think I was too quiet in my feelings for you.” He started, struggling to say everything that he wanted to. You just nodded your head for him to continue.

“I feel in love with you four months after we met, I’ve loved you ever since. I love you now. I’m sorry that I didn’t show you that the right way, and I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about Emil and Fanny. And I’m sorry that I made you feel like you didn’t have me. You have me, completely.” Elias grabbed onto your hands once more and everything in his eyes and his voice sank into you. You knew that he was telling the truth, you knew that he had made a mistake.

“I love you, Elias. I just wanted to know that you wanted to love and be with me, too.” You whispered, tucking your head into his chest. Elias held you tightly, your breathing matching with the beating of his heart.

“That’s all I want.” He said. You looked up at him, lifting your hand to the back of his neck to pull him down toward you. You thread your fingers through the ends of his hair and smiled softly.

“You and me, then? For real this time?” You clarified. Elias just nodded and cupped your cheek, kissing you in the way that he had so many times before. You melted into his touch and realized that he had been trying to show you. He had been trying to show you his love in the ways that he touched you and cared for you. And while Elias was quiet when it came to saying the words, this was the loudest he had ever been.

#elias pettersson #elias pettersson imagine #elias pettersson fic #elias pettersson x reader #canucks story #canucks imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl x reader #hockey imagine

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clairenatural · 4 years

Text

destiel, 2k. mafia!Cas/Kingergarten teacher!Dean from an anon prompt for mafia!dean or Cas protecting the other at all costs. I’m not entirely sure what this turned into but it was fun to write so I hope it’s also fun to read :) it references stuff that happens in 12x10, Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets.

“Sir, we have a problem.”

Castiel sighs. His five least favorite words. He glances up, frowning at Inias. “What kind of problem?” He doesn’t add that it had better be important to justify the younger man barging into his office like this, but it’s implied.

Inias takes a deep breath before stepping fully into the room, letting Castiel’s glass office door shut behind him. “The DA’s office is refusing to back down on the Ishim case.”

“And you paid them the standard amount?”

“Yes, sir. But one of the DDAs refused it.”

“Refused it.”

“He’s new. He doesn’t understand our arrangement.”

“Hm.” Castiel closes his laptop and leans back in his chair, considering both the situation and the man in front of him. They hadn’t had a problem with the DA in years—at least, not since Castiel had taken over. Their messes were less messy and they paid more generously for silence. “How much does he need to understand?”

“That’s the problem, sir. I don’t think he will.”

Castiel scoffs. “Anyone in power can be bought off,” he replies, because in all his years he’d never met someone who couldn’t be. Power corrupts, after all.

Inias shifts uneasily, and Castiel can tell he isn’t going to like how this ends.

“We’ve received word that he’s begun investigating independently.”

Castiel groans at this, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“But don’t worry!” Inias continues quickly, hurridly. “We can put our best men on the assignment, have him taken care of by tonight—”

“Wait,” Castiel cuts him off with a sigh. He forces his eyes back open. “I’m not mad,” he says before anything else, because Inias looks like a deer in the headlights and even after all this time his employees still need occasional reminding that he is not his brothers.

When he’d taken over for Michael he’d promised himself—he’d promised everyone—less bloodshed. He swore to defend his family, business, and territory from Crowley and his cronies, but he’d been determined to stop ending innocent lives. For some reason, though, innocents just love getting in the way. He sighs again. “What’s his name?”

“Sam Winchester.”

And, well. That certainly complicates things. He’d known when Sam announced he was going into criminal law that this was a possibility—in some ways, he thinks he should have expected this.

“Sir?” Inias asks, and Castiel realizes he doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at him. “Are you…do you know him?”

Castiel blinks back to reality and glares at him. “Call them off,” he orders, and cuts Inias off when he tries to protest. “Call them all off, Inias. Now.”

“But, sir, what about—”

“I’ll deal with Sam Winchester myself. Nobody else is to touch him.” Then, just for emphasis, “Until I say otherwise, consider him under my protection.”

Inias is still staring at him, baffled, but after a moment he nods, and Castiel is thankful that he’s decided not to argue. “Alright, I—yes. Understood.” He nods again before leaving the office and Castiel sinks deep into his chair, pressing the heels of his hands into both eyes.

His phone buzzes and Castiel watches as a text message lights up the screen, revealing the photo from his wedding he has set as his background. It’s a message from Dean, because of course it is, asking him what he wants for dinner and if he wants wine with it.

Castiel looks around his office, awarded to him based on his surname but paid for in blood, and he’s never hated it more.

————————————————————-

They get half an hour into the low-budget western Dean had insisted in watching before his husband sighs, pauses the movie, and sets his wine glass down on the coffee table. “What’s going on with you?”

Castiel frowns up at him from where he’s lying on the couch, cheek against Dean’s thigh, his own wine glass barely touched. All things considered, Castiel thinks he’s been doing a great job acting like everything is fine. He forgets, sometimes, how easily Dean can read him.

“Work was…long,” he answers, and it isn’t a lie. Then, because Dean is looking at him like he doesn’t believe him, he follows up with “How’s Sam?”

It’s both a deflection and an answer to Dean’s question, but Dean doesn’t know that. Dean thinks he manages a hedge fund. Which he does. Technically. Legally, at least.

Dean knows he’s changing the subject but he doesn’t press it, and his face lights up the way it always does when someone asks about his brother. Castiel loves him for it. Dean starts on about Sam, how he’s doing with Eileen, how they just moved into a bigger house because they want to start a family. Castiel isn’t paying attention, not really, because Dean’s fingers are playing with his hair and he doesn’t really want to think about anything else.

“—I said I’d help him out, though.”

That catches his attention. “What? Why?” he asks, a bit too quickly, because even though he’s missed most of the context he can’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Come on, babe. I never get to use my degree anymore.” He shrugs. “And it sounds fun, you know? Helping my baby brother take down a corrupt criminal justice system. I feel like Serpico.”

“No.” It comes out more forcefully than he had intended and he sits up, turning fully to face Dean. “No, Dean, you need to stay out of it.”

Dean blinks at his husband, and Castiel immediately backtracks. “I mean, um. You don’t—you don’t have any evidence.”

“That’s the point of me helping,” Dean rolls his eyes. “I know I chose teaching five-year-olds over working in cybersecurity, but I still know my way around.”

“You’re going to hack into the DA’s office?”

“It sounds bad when you put it like that.”

“It is bad.” Castiel knows he’s being too insistent, is pushing too hard, but Dean can’t get involved, too. He can’t. “It’s dangerous. You don’t know who else could be involved.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“You should. You just don’t understand—”

“Understand what, Cas?” Dean snaps, and now it’s the fight Castiel didn’t want to have. “What could I possibly not understand that you do? A kid is dead and the DA is trying to cover it up and just maybe I can help figure out why.”

“There are things you don’t—” Castiel is already halfway through his next argument when the second half of Dean’s sentence catches up with him, and he stops. “Did you say a kid?”

Dean scoffs. “You weren’t even listening, right? Great. Yeah, some asshole killed his ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend and her kid and the DA is refusing to press charges. Says there isn’t enough evidence. Sam thinks they were paid off.”

“No,” he says, quietly, because no. The daughter was never supposed to—that’s not what happened. He had been told that’s not what happened.

“What do you mean, no?” There’s less heat in Dean’s words, and Castiel thinks it’s because he himself has completely deflated.

He stares at his husband—the love of his life, the beautiful, generous, selfless man he doesn’t deserve—and realizes he’s never going to be able to talk Dean down from this. If he could, he wouldn’t be Dean.

He thinks about all he’s done to keep this part of his life safely tucked away. He cultivated a reclusive public image to keep Dean safe from being the husband of Castiel Novak, manager of the Novak Group. He expanded their territory to encompass the school Dean works at, something his family still holds against him as a waste of resources, to protect him from being the husband of Castiel Novak, leader of the crime syndacate. He’s hidden his marriage from nearly the entire family, labeling anything to do with Dean as the most privileged of information.

The only reason he’s still doing this at all, really, is Dean. He could have jumped ship when Michael died, when Gabriel left, when Lucifer took the fall and was sentenced to life, but that meant giving everything to Raphael, who promised to hunt both him and Dean down if he left. So he took the reins instead and he’s tried his best to keep his family safe while managing the business—both the above and underground aspects.

And now, despite all that, both Dean and his brother have somehow gotten themselves involved.

Dean is still staring at him, brows furrowed, and he doesn’t move away when Castiel reaches out to take both of his hands into his own. “I’m sorry,” he starts, and Dean looks taken aback but he doesn’t break the eye contact. “I love you. I don’t want you to end up in trouble.”

Something in Dean’s eyes softens. “Hey,” He squeezes Castiel’s hands lightly. “Come on. Have a little faith in me.”

And all Castiel can do, just like any time Dean looks at him like that, is smile back. And nod. And lean forward to kiss him, just once, softly.

“I do, Dean. I always do.”

Dean leans their foreheads together and Castiel can tell he’s still concerned, but he doesn’t want there to be any more yelling tonight, so instead he pulls back to lie down in Dean’s lap again. He hears Dean sigh before picking up the remote with the hand not still intertwined with Castiel’s, and then he restarts the movie, and Castiel tries not to think for the rest of the night.

————————————————————-

The next morning, though, he’s storming into his office, ready to lay into anyone involved with lying to him. He doesn’t get far—Naomi is sitting in his chair. At his desk. For a brief moment, he sees red.

“That’s my chair.”

His aunt regards him, cool as ever. “Is it?” she asks, and she stands, but only to walk around the desk and into his space. “And who gave it to you?” In her heels she’s taller than him but he glares anyway, refusing to be intimidated. He doesn’t respond.

“Why are you protecting Sam Winchester?” she asks after a moment of silence, still standing just as close.

“Why did you lie to me about the incident with Ishim?”

Naomi’s expression doesn’t change, but something close to surprise flickers across her eyes and she backs off to lean against his desk. “I suspect the answer to both of those questions is the same.”

“May Sunder was never supposed to die,” he presses, not backing down, and Naomi looks at him as if he’s being an unruly child.

“Yes, but her mother threatened to go to the police. Come now, Castiel, you’re old enough to understand these things.”

“I never authorized that.”

Naomi stands again. “You think you have to?”

This, of all things, catches him off-guard. “I—yes?”

His aunt steps forward, crowding him again, and he hates himself for taking a step back. “You’re a figurehead, Castiel. You’re in power because you’re Michael’s brother, people like you, and we thought you’d at least be loyal.”

“I am loyal,” he retorts, and she sighs.

“I’m not the only one who’s begun to question your sympathies, Castiel. Who are you loyal to?”

“My family.”

“Does that mean us? Or Dean Winchester?”

Castiel freezes, stunned. “How—”

Naomi cuts him off with a smile. “You think we don’t know? We’ve been letting you play house because it kept you distracted. Now, it seems, it’s making you weak. If you don’t fix this, I’ll have no choice but to cure you of that weakness.”

At last she steps away and turns towards the door. “You have an army here, Castiel. Don’t lose it for one man.”

And then she leaves.

And then, Castiel makes a decision.

In the next few hours, he makes several more—and then he’s driving home with all his family’s secrets copied onto a hard drive, the few items from his office that he actually cares about, and a plan forming on how to take the whole system down.

It’s almost funny, he thinks, the decision Naomi expected him to make—that she’d expected him to choose the family over Dean. That she’d expected him to choose anything over Dean.

She has no idea what’s coming.

#destiel #destiel fic #destiel one-shot #deancas fic #deancas #spn #the destiel starts after the cut!!#mafia!au #teacher!au #background saileen #my words #over 1k words

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ambitionzzzz · 3 years

Text

Of Convenience

Chapter 1- Potions

Warnings: Cursing

Slughorn’s potions class was difficult to say the least. Sure you were at the top of nearly all your classes, but potions thoroughly kicked your ass. It’s possible you’d get the content if you’d show up on time. Like now- you ran through the long halls, trying to get to class before Slughorn locks the door. He was known for locking doors after the first 10 minutes of class, ‘If you can’t show up to class on time, you shouldn’t come at all.’ Your shoulder bag continued to hit your back as you ran, just turn one more corner and-

“Ah, Miss Y/n, thank you for gracing us with your presence,” He feigned a smile. “You are late… again,” He looked down at you from the doorway. “I have half a mind to close this door, if you can give me a reason why I shouldn’t, I’ll let you in and rip up this detention slip I have here,” He held up the parchment.

“Professor, please, you have to understand- I have Charms before this class, and that’s on the other side of the school-”

“I know the layout of the school, Y/l/n. I asked for a reason, not an excuse.”

“Professor Slughorn-”

“You may come in, but you have detention this weekend-”

“I-”

“Would you like it to be the weekend after, too?”

You bit your tongue, “No.”

“Come in quickly and quietly.”

You said nothing and walked in, keeping your head low, knowing everyone was most likely looking at you. You looked up to find a seat to see that one of two spots were open- One next to Alaric, who was smirking at you, or Remus, one of the so called ‘Marauders’. You chose the latter, passing Alaric who just scoffed. “Is this seat taken?” The boy looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours.

“Uh, no, you can take it.”

“Thank you,” You quickly sat down as Slughorn began the lesson for the day. He went to talk about the potion the class would be attempting. You had zoned out, overthinking the interaction you had had with Slughorn only a short while ago.

“Y/l/n,” Your head shot up, “Can you tell me what potion we are making today?” You swallowed, looking at the board behind him for help.

“Draught of Peace…?”

“Correct,” He shuffled in front of the board, blocking the words written. “And can you possibly tell me, of the five ingredients needed for this potion, which of the five are not powdered?”

‘Fuck,’ Just as you were about to give up, you felt a tap on your elbow. You subtly looked down to see a slip of paper… ‘syrup of hellebore and valerian root’ was just barely legible. “Um, is it Valerian Root?”

“And?”

“And…” You looked at the paper once more, “Syrup of Hellebore,” He seemed satisfied with your answer and turned back to the board, announcing that the class would have to pick a partner to work with. Once he was done, he sat down at his desk and began writing Godric knows what. The rest of the class took this as a sign to get up and pick their partner. As you turned to Remus to thank him, Alaric walked up to you and demanded you be partners with him. “Thanks, but no thanks, Alaric.”

“Why?? You got a boyfriend or somethin’?”

“N-”

“Yes, actually,” Your eyes widened as you looked at the source of the voice.

“Are you joking?” Alaric scoffed, “Lupin is your boyfriend?” This got the attention of a few others, namely, the rest of the Marauders.

You looked at Remus, smiled, and then looked back at Alaric. “Yes, actually. And I would appreciate it if you’d leave,” Alaric, clearly agitated, left stomping. You turned to Remus, lowering your voice enough so that only he could hear, “I owe you my life,” He laughed quietly. “Seriously, I do. With the seat-”

“It’s just a seat-”

“Then the ingredients, and now this? Genuinely, thank you, Remus.”

“It’s uh- It’s no problem,” The corner of his mouth raised into a half smile. You continued to stare at each other until a hand dropped on each of your shoulders, you both jumped at the sudden contact.

“Moony,” James looked at him, “Were you not planning on telling us about your pretty girlfriend?” He looked at you and winked.

“Well-”

“That would be my fault-” You saved him. Peter and Sirius came over and began leaning on the table, listening in. “I asked if we could keep it between us, at least for a little while.”

“And why’s that, love?” James continued to look at you.

“Oh, um, it’s kind of embarrassing…” They looked at you expectantly, “Rem’s actually my first relationship.”

“How long have you guys-”

“And that’s the end of class,” Slughorn announced. You never thought you’d be glad to hear Slughorn’s voice before now. “You should already have your partners, for tomorrow we will begin with the Draught of Peace.”

“We’ll leave you two be,” James looked at his friends and signaled for them to leave. Waiting until the class was near empty, Remus stood up, you followed.

“I am so sorry-”

“Don’t be, if anything I should be sorry. I just said it without thinking, I’m sorry, he was just acting like a complete git. That doesn’t excuse it but- your boyfriend is probably going to find out-”

“Remus-”

“I am so sorry-”

“Remus,” You stopped in the middle of the near empty hallway and he stopped too. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You- You don’t? I could’ve sworn...”

“In fact, you saved me today.”

“I told you it was nothing-”

“I know, but I’m referring to the whole, ‘boyfriend’, thing,” You began walking and he followed. “That kid, Alaric, has been harassing me since the beginning of the year. Maybe me having a ‘boyfriend’ will help get him off my back… Which, now that I think about it, I don’t know how I’m going to keep pretending you’re my boyfriend.”

“What do you mean? Also, what’s your next class?”

“Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Same here, I’ll walk you.”

“Thank you, and I mean like- We’re not actually dating.”

“...We could pretend…?... At least until that guy starts to leave you alone.”

You looked at him, “You’d do that?”

“I mean,” He avoided eye contact as he led you down the long corridors, “Would it be so bad? It’s not like I have anything better to do,” He smiled.

“But, do realize, we’d have to go on dates, albeit fake dates, but just to keep up appearances.”

“I know,” He nodded. “We’ll talk ‘bout it more later, yeah?” He walked into the class. You smiled and followed suit.

“We’ve been dating how long?” He continued to quizzed you as the two of you walked to the Great Hall for lunch.

“Two months.”

“Good.”

“How did we meet?” You asked him.

“You’re late everyday to potions,”

“Okay, calm down-”

“Because of your tardiness, I couldn’t help but take notice.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

He laughed and asked another question, “Alright and how did I ask you out?”

“You didn’t. I asked you-”

“No-”

“Yes-”

“No-”

“Oh my god, our first argument.”

“C’mon, they’re waving us over,” He said nothing else but instead grabbed your hand and led you to the table. He sat down first, making room for you to sit as well.

“So,” Sirius looked at you, “How’s the lovely couple doing today?”

“Doing alright, thank you,” You smiled and grabbed Remus’s hand under the table. You saw Remus look at you from the corner of your eye but you continued to talk to Sirius. “How are you?”

“Swell. Now, how long have you been dating?”

“About two months now? Right, Rem?”

He looked at you and you looked back, “Yeah,” He gave you a small smile. “We met back in September, in the beginning of the year, and by November we had already been together a month.”

“That’s pretty fast, don’t you think?” Sirius said staring into your eyes.

“You would know, right? I mean, a different girl every few weeks? Don’t you think that’s pretty fast?”

“What are you implying?” You felt Remus squeeze your hand lightly.

“I think you know what I’m implying,” You held eye contact with Black.

He broke out an award winning smile, looking around and then settled on Remus, “I like her.”

“I’d say that went well,” You linked arms with your ‘boyfriend’ as you left the Great Hall. Everyone went their separate ways, James and Sirius to their shared class, Peter and Lily to theirs.

“Yeah, it did,” He walked you to your next class, which, coincidentally, was the same as his. “They’re probably going to grill me later though.”

“I mean, you remember the plan, right? If anything, make stuff up and just tell me as soon as you can.”

“And when’s our scheduled break-up?” He held open the door for you to walk through.

“Thank you. And it’s February 17th, if that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” He nodded. “What an odd date, and only three days after Valentine’s Day.”

You laughed, taking a seat. Remus took the one next to you. “I know, but we need angst.”

“What for?” He took out his books and handed you a quill.

“Thanks, here,” You handed him an extra ink pot, he thanked you as you continued. “The angst makes it more believable. Picture this, you spend Valentine’s day with your significant other, it’s one of the best days you’ve ever had- Only to decide a couple days later that you’ve grown apart. The love isn’t there anymore.”

“Wow,” He stared at the blackboard as the teacher began writing. “Did you just come up with that?”

You just smiled in response.

#marauders au #marauders #marauders x reader #james potter #sirius black #x reader #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader #harry potter #hp #harry potter x reader #lily evans #mary mcdonald #marlene mckinnon #lucius malfoy #lucius x reader

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steepgan · 3 years

Text

someone dear (i) — d. ragnvindr x f!reader

PART I - PART II - PART III

bye i created this on a whim ive always wanted to write an mc who just likes money yet still carries the “happiness/freedom” ideals of mondstadt.. essentially its an mc whos like hell yeah i love money <3 and fun..!!! okay also i did not edit this at all i was just like <3 writing time baby..

Of course, working for the wealthiest gentleman in Mondstadt was no easy task. There were two places you could work: Dawn Winery or Angel’s Share. The winery, settled in the countryside, was a cozy job with friendly workers who saw rolling hills of green every day; however, the only available occupation within your skillset was being a maid. So you worked at Angel’s Share which was planted in the city, and there you were greeted with weary workers and angry people. It was plenty more fun, anyway.

Your boss was as impassive as a tree, giving you your pay and leaving you be. He kept a strange emotional distance. Which was fine. Totally fine. But whenever you wanted a raise, his aloof attitude warded you off and you’d tell yourself you’d try next time.

Growing up in a household where money was a prominent figure in your life, you had materialistic values and a great love for money. So during your employment at the tavern, you picked up more shifts than anyone else and seldom splurged. You were stuck giving your laments to your friends and returning customers who were kind enough to humor wails.

“One of these days, Lisa, I’m actually going to lose it,” you said to the librarian of the knights. You slumped your body on the bar, clearly in a professional fashion. “What do you want to drink?”

Lisa gave you a pitying look. “You could always become a knight or an adventurer. They receive plenty of pay through commissions.”

“No, thank you! I kind of want to live.”

“I don’t think I’ll have anything to drink,” Lisa said. She laughed at your sullen expression. “Today, at least. I have to explore these ruins later today. I really, really don’t want to, but Jean is making me.”

You slid a tin can labelled TIPS to Lisa. “Every time you don’t want to do something it’s five mora.”

“Since when did this become a thing?”

“It’s always been a thing. I was just giving you a family-friend discount up until now.”

Lisa dropped the coins into the can. You smiled at the sound of click-clank. Lisa rested her cheek on the palm of her hand and said, “have you ever thought about… not working for the tavern? I’m sure there are other places in the world that’ll appreciate your pleasant company.”

“Yeah, but Master Diluc pays the best in Mondstadt if you don’t have a decent education under your belt,” you said dryly. “I’d have to travel out of Mondstadt to find a better opportunity.”

“There’s always the cathedral,” Lisa offered.

“Do you see me as a devout follower to any god other than money? [Name], Humble Follower of Barbatos Since The Beginning! Engrave that on my tombstone, would you?”

“I don’t really want to do that.”

You pushed the tin can toward the librarian.

Lo and behold, the man of the hour strutted in with his typical apathy. If he carried himself with a more open chest and with his chin up, you’d find him more agreeable, more approachable. He’d be knightly, even. But Diluc hated knights. He hated small talk, too. He hated a lot of things.

He was a man of good looks and good fortune, in addition to being Mondstradt’s most eligible brooding bachelor bastard, donning a nice black coat with golden trimmings and tassels. A coat that’d fetch a nice price if you were to pawn it off. Not that you were thinking about selling your boss’ clothes. He stood at a decent height with his vermillion messy hair tied back and narrow eyes framed with thick lashes.

When Diluc walked through the doors, he didn’t spare you a glance before climbing up the stairs to deal with some other matters. As long as you did your job, he didn’t bother you.

Lisa whistled. “He’s so cold.”

“Pays well, though,” you murmured absentmindedly. Lisa looked as if she wanted to say something. Maybe it was something about how money didn’t exactly suffice for human relationships. Or something about her future job for the knights. Whatever was on the tip of her tongue, she chose not to say it, and dropped a few more mora coins into your little tin can.

Your relationship with Diluc was strange. You took enough shifts to be one of the most well-compensated workers under him, but you didn’t exactly know Diluc outside of his cool exterior. You didn’t know if you’d wanted to, either. Some nights, he’d come home right before the tavern’s opening, his clothes tattered and dirty and a grim feature coating his pretty features.

Typically you’d be working and cleaning, and you’d nod to him. Diluc would then take off to the second floor of the tavern. You never questioned it. You never would, either, unless you were paid to do so.

One late night, it was just you cleaning up for the night and Diluc sitting at the bar, going through some papers. Diluc offered to take Charles’ shift for the day, to which the man was grateful for. As you were wiping down the bar, Diluc said, “I never knew we had a tip jar.”

“It’s an ongoing gag with Lisa,” you said. “Please don’t mind it.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. It was a joke with Lisa! You simply kept it out on the counter for every customer to see all day and all night. If they happen to drop mora in there for your charming smile and excellent service, who were you to stop them?

Diluc said nothing. You hadn’t expected him to. He’d let it slide, you supposed. If the tavern had a best employee of the month award, you would have won it consecutively for the last few years you’d been employed under the pretty man. However, Diluc was no great lover of trivial awards that were actually poorly concealed incentives, and as long as you were paid accordingly, you didn’t care about awards, either.

“If you needed a raise then say it,” he said suddenly. And you were surprised.

“Thank you,” you said.

“No need.”

When you left the tavern you squealed. Patton, the caller, awoke from his nap from a chair supposedly for customers. His legs had been propped on the accompanying table, which you had cleaned earlier so you didn’t have to deal with a certain customer who had too much to drink inside.

Patton rubbed his eyes groggily. “What’s up, [Name]?”

“I got a raise!” you exclaimed. “I’m so happy I could kiss you right now, Patton.”

“Please don’t,” he said. “What’s that in your hand?”

“Oh, leftovers.” You gave the small bag you were holding a good jostle. “It’s for the dog up there. I have a habit of feeding him every once in a while whenever there’s good scraps.”

Patton eyed you. “If you get bit and infected with rabies, maybe I’ll take your raise. Try and pet it for me, would you?”

“In your dreams, Patton.”

After a few taunts and banter, you left Patton alone. In a few hours, you’d come back to the tavern to work more. Before your mom had been hospitalized, you’d maybe put your extra money to treat yourself to Good Hunter or to buy new clothes.

Of course, while money was one of your many goals, you had other aspirations as well. More than anything, you’d like to resume a humble life in Mondstadt. If you could afford it, then you’d travel to Liyue and sightsee. And then maybe a little further. But you’d always return to Mondstadt. It was just home to you, and you liked home.

You crouched and fed the dog. He pressed his snout into your palm, warm and comforting. You giggled and finished the leftovers from your little sack. As much as Patton wanted you to die of infection, the dog was very tame and kind toward you. He let you brush his fur and scratch behind his ears. If you had enough patience and enough time, you’d teach him to bite Patton.

The next day, you were working with Charles, as per usual. He’d been working here far longer than any of you. You’d been employed here for a while now, and you’d come to know the man quite well after rowdy nights and quiet days in the tavern. He despised a drunk customer as much as you, but whenever you were on shift with him, he always offered to take care of it.

If not you, then Charles would get the nonexistent employee of the year award.

“Just put up a work wanted poster,” Charles said, cleaning a glass. “Judging by our usuals, we won’t get an honest inquiry for it in a while.”

You, who’d been making an apple cider, said, “oh, for the boars?” While you did want to work at the winery for its pleasant view and people, there were boars who’d been uprooting vines and you did not want to tussle with a boar.

“Say, [Name], you heard of the Darknight Hero?”

“Who hasn’t?” you asked. “My friends talk about him all the time. Everyone likes a good mystery around these parts. Have you seen the library? Oh, and the idea of him being handsome isn’t that bad… Do you think he’s rich, Charles?”

Charles snorted. “If he can afford to leave at night to protect Mondstadt, then he must be rich. He’s no worker like us, but he’s definitely noteworthy. He may as well just be an urban rumor, though, so don’t go around trying to seduce him only to get into his pockets.”

“I would never!”

“I saw you make eyes at a customer who was wearing very fine jewelry that could be pawned off for a high price.”

“I liked her eyes. They were kind. Reminded me of a princess from a fairytale.”

Diluc came from upstairs to the first floor. He was the same as he’d always been—closed off, calm, and collected. Fitting. He cast a quick glance at you and Charles before disappearing outside onto the streets of Mondstadt.

“That’s Master Diluc for you,” Charles said. “So elusive you could call him a ghost. A handsome, ghost, that is.”

“I barely know anything about him,” you said. “Elusive is correct, if not absolutely distant.”

“Really? You should talk to him more often.”

There was already a set difference between you and Charles. Firstly, it would be the years working at Angel’s Share. Charles knew Diluc more than you did. You wanted to point this out, but instead you slumped your shoulders. “He’s just so unapproachable, Charles. You wouldn’t understand. That mustache of yours makes you look amicable and agreeable.”

Charles self-consciously twirled the end of his mustache. He looked as if he wanted to say something. He turned back to his work, setting the clean glass down. “You and Master Diluc seem to complement each other, that’s all.”

You were very friendly and a good person underneath all your materialistic values. Had it not been for Diluc’s offstandish personality, maybe you and Diluc would be a little more than boss and employee. Maybe you and Diluc would be friends.

Of course, your main focus was your happiness and sanity. If you’d interacted with Diluc outside of work, you might’ve gone insane. Oh! And money. It was always money. You watched a customer drop a few mora into the tip jar.

PART I - PART II - PART III

#diluc #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact diluc #x reader #PLEASEEEE IM LOSING IT ITS ACTUALLY SO BAD IM NOT HAPPY AT ALL #genshin impact fluff

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scarletemeterio-thesecond · 4 years

Note

Can I request a Zuko x Waterbender!reader where the reader is Sokka & Katara’s sister and she gets super heartbroken when Zuko betrays her in the Crystal Catacombs in Ba Sing Se? Then when he arrives at the Western Air Temple, Katara and Sokka get very protective when Zuko tries to make amends with the reader? Thank you and I love your writing!! ❤️

Hi, thank you so much for requesting! For this let's just pretend like the reader was the one who was with Zuko in the catacombs. And yes, I chose this title only because I was listening to the ouat soundtrack from the musical episode and I thought it would fit, hope you like it!

•••

Happy Beginning (Zuko x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: none.

Genre: Fluff.

Fandom: Avatar, The Last Airbender.

Summary: See request.

Word Count: 2306.

I couldn’t believe what was happening and for a moment, I thought my mind was tricking me. But there were no tricks involved, Zuko was actually standing in front of us, asking to join our group. When he started talking about how much he’d changed, I found it hard to believe and since I wasn’t the only one, we told him to leave.

“Why would he try to fool us like that?” asked Katara.

“Obviously, he wants to lead us into some kind of trap,” said Sokka.

“Yeah, this is just like when we were in prison together in Ba Sing Se,” I said. “He starts talking and makes you believe that he’s an actual human being with feelings”.

“He wants you to trust him and feel sorry for him so you let your guard down, then he strikes,” said my brother.

“I know, and the worst part is that it worked. I did feel sorry for him and thought that maybe he had changed for the better, but I was wrong”.

We all started talking about everything else Zuko had said and when we said that he was a liar, Toph told us the opposite.

“I’m just saying that considering his messed-up family and how he was raised he could-ve turned out a lot worse,” said the girl.

“So what? Should we give him a medal or something?” I asked, now a bit mad.

“Yeah, what about the ‘not as much of a jerk as you could’ve been’ award?” Agreed my sister.

“All I know is that while he was here talking to us, he was sincere. Maybe you’re all just letting your hurt feelings keep you from thinking clearly”.

“Easy for you to say, Toph! You weren’t with us when he did all those awful things to us.” At this point, I was angry. Not at Toph, but at myself because I didn’t want to believe him and risk getting hurt once again.

And then she said something that I hadn’t really thought about: Aang needed a firebending teacher, and Zuko was probably the only one willing to do the job. I hated to admit that she was right, but we needed the Prince, even if we hated him or the idea of being around him. Of course, everyone else was in denial, so then Toph stormed off and left us all with our thoughts. Right after that, I went to my room, not wanting to deal with anything nor anyone; however, my loneliness didn’t last long since my brother decided to keep me company.

“Hey, sis, everything okay?” I looked at him, not needing to let a single word out of my mouth for him to realize that I definitely wasn’t okay. He sat next to me on the floor and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “What is it, (Y/N)?”

“What if Toph is right, Sokka?”

“Wait, you’re not seriously considering-”

“Where would we be able to find another firebending teacher for Aang?” I interrupted him. “I know none of us like the idea of him joining our group, but what if this is our only chance at winning this war?”

“Why are you switching sides all of a sudden?”

“I’m not! I’m just saying that maybe we should at least consider his offer, you know?”

"I don’t know, (Y/N). He’s tricked us before, especially you back in Ba Sing Se, I just don’t want him to hurt any of us again”.

I nodded, understanding his words and we stayed silent for a few minutes before changing the subject.

Our conversation was interrupted by Katara’s voice a little later, calling us for dinner. We all sat around the fire, except for Toph since none of us knew where she was.

“So… Sokka and I were talking earlier and I was wondering… Do you really think we should let this opportunity go without even thinking about it?”

“Please tell me you're not talking about Zuko, (Y/N).”

“I am, Katara. Look, I know he’s done bad stuff, but he literally came to us and offered to teach you firebending,” I said, looking at Aang for a second. “I don't want us to keep arguing about this, but I’m just saying that maybe Toph wasn't so wrong after all.”

“So should we just let him join us and forget all the bad things he's done to us?”

“No, I’m saying that maybe we should give him, this, a chance.” I let out a sigh as I looked at everyone else. “I think that this goes beyond our anger and hard feelings against the boy.” We all stayed quiet after that, and as soon as we were done, we went to bed.

The next day, Toph finally showed up, and her feet had been burned; turns out that Zuko was the one who’d hurt her. We were all around the fountain when suddenly Combustion Man decided to show up. A few moments later, the Prince appeared as well, trying to stop the assassin. It didn't work, though, and we were forced to hide while we tried to figure out a way to defeat him. We were able to do it thanks to Sokka and his boomerang, although Zuko helped us too.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but thanks, Zuko,” said Aang.

“Listen, I know I didn’t explain myself very well yesterday. I’ve been through a lot in the past years, and it’s been hard. But I’m realizing that I had to go through all those things to learn the truth.” He made a pause and laid my eyes on him for a moment and when he looked back, I turned my gaze to the floor. “I thought I had lost my honor and that somehow my father could return it to me. But I know now that no one can give you your honor. It’s something you earn for yourself by choosing to do what’s right. And all I want now is to play my part in ending this war, I know my destiny is to help you restore balance to the world”.

I didn’t know why, but this time I did not doubt that he was being honest, maybe it was just because my anger had been overcome by the need to put an end to this war.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you. It was an accident.” He said while looking at Toph. “Fire can be dangerous and wild. So as a firebender, I need to be more careful and control my bending so I don’t hurt people unintentionally”.

“I think you are supposed to be my firebending teacher” started saying Aang. “When I first tried to learn firebending, I burned Katara. And after that, I never wanted to firebend again. But now I know you understand how easy it is to hurt the people you love. I’d like you to teach me”.

“Thank you. I’m so happy you’ve accepted me into your group”.

“Not so fast. I still have to ask my friends if it’s okay with them,” and so he started asking every single one of us for our opinion. Everyone agreed, and when it was my turn, I took a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m not the biggest fan, but I know that letting him join us is the right choice”.

And just like that, he was with us. Soon after that, my brother took him to his room, and me and my sister decided to start making lunch.

“Wait for me, I’ll be back in just a second.” I looked at her a bit confused, but she didn’t give me any time to ask her anything, so I just brushed it off; we would have time to talk later.

When she was back, she had a small smile on her face and when I asked what had happened, my sister said that she had only talked about some things with our newest member.

I knew how Katara could be, so I got a little worried, but she told me to calm down, and I did. However, I started getting suspicious after a few days since every time I was about to spend some time with Zuko, one of my siblings magically appeared out of nowhere. I could tell the boy tried his best to avoid me, but I didn't know why.

At the moment, I was looking at Aang and Zuko while they trained near our campsite, and when they were done, the boy practically ran away from me.

"Aang, can I ask you something?" I said while looking at the young airbender in front of me. He nodded and I took that as my cue to keep talking. "Is there something wrong? Because Zuko's been avoiding me since the first day he joined us and I'm sure Sokka and Katara have something to do with it."

"I, uh, well- I think it's best if you talk to them about it," he said and I silently agreed. So I walked away to do that and, lucky for me, they were already talking to each other.

"I think we need to talk," I said. They both looked at me pretending to be confused, but I knew they were aware of what this was about. "Just tell me what you said to Zuko."

"(Y/N), I don't know what you're-".

"Stop lying, Sokka! I can tell that he runs away from me every time we're about to be alone, and I've also noticed how at least one of you strategically appears at just the right moment to prevent us from being by ourselves." They both stayed silent and looked at the floor, clearly ashamed.

"We didn't want him to be near you," started saying my sister, "we just don't want him to hurt you again, we want you to be happy."

"Did you guys ever think that maybe you don't get to decide who can or cannot be close to me?" I was angry, but I also was a bit sad. I knew they loved me, but for some reason they treated me like a little girl, despite being only one year younger than Sokka and the same age as Katara.

"You're our sister, (Y/N). We were trying to protect you". I took a deep breath; I wanted this conversation to be peaceful and the only way to do that was by remaining calm.

"Look, Sokka, I get it. I care about you too, but I'm not a little girl who needs to be protected, okay?" I made a pause to look at them before continuing. "It's nice that you care about me, but you have to let me make my own choices, even if I end up getting hurt."

"I know, (Y/N)." Katara took my hand and looked at me in the eyes. "We're sorry, you know we love you and we meant no harm but, maybe this didn't go as planned".

"Yeah, keeping you guys apart was stupid, it's inevitable," agreed my brother.

"What do you mean?"

"It's pretty obvious you guys have a crush on each other, maybe a little more than just that and, well, our behavior was very immature". I agreed with her and I obviously decided to forgive them, they were my family after all. We spent some minutes just talking about nothing and everything at the same time when suddenly I saw Zuko just a few meters away from us. I could feel both of my siblings' eyes on me and when I looked at them, they were also smiling a bit. "Go talk to him".

And so I did. I walked up to him and when he was about to leave, I let out a little laugh.

"You don't have to do that anymore," I said. "I spoke with Katara and Sokka, they won't force you to stay away from me," I explained.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, I'm sure. This means we can finally spend some time together, right? I mean, only if you want…"

"Of course I do," he said quickly before blushing, which made me let out a chuckle.

"You're pretty cute when you blush" I mumbled just loud enough for him to hear me. He opened his eyes with surprise and then he smiled.

"Um, thanks. You're pretty cute too, all the time," and now it was my time to blush.

"Do you want to walk around the temple?" I asked and he nodded in agreement.

I'm not sure of how long we were away from the others, but it had been long enough for us to talk about pretty much everything in our lives. We sat down, letting our feet hang from the edge of a little bridge, and we looked at the horizon.

"I'm sorry about everything that happened in Ba Sing Se, I was a jerk and you didn't deserve that; neither of you did".

"I know, but it's okay. You've changed for the better, Zuko".

"So, um, we're here looking at the sky and… is this the right time to tell you that I like you?" He said extremely quick, making it a bit hard for me to figure out what he was saying.

"I mean, you kind of already did," I said while chuckling. "But I think it's the right time to say it because I like you too, Zuko." Right after saying that, I pressed my lips against his cheek, and while I was backing off, he quickly laid his lips on top of mine. The kiss was short and sweet, but it was everything we needed at the time. When we pulled back, I saw the biggest smile ever on his face and realized in that moment, that all I ever wanted was to see him smile that for the rest of my life.

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storyofmychoices · 3 years

Text

Original Murder Mystery Story

So I’ve been very uninspired as of late and I keep thinking about this novel I started almost six years ago now. I think I might take some time to work on it. I don’t know. But I thought I’d post the first chapter here incase anyone is interested in reading it. I’m not tagging anyone so this post will probably get lost in tumblr abyss and I’m okay with that. But if it doesn’t and you enjoy it, please, please let me know (like, comment, message me, reblog?!) I’ve never shared original work before so I’m quite nervous. (also, I guess, if it’s not good, please tell me (nicely of course) constructive criticism is good too.)

We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to participate in an all-new reality television series. We have found that given your particular professional and personal experiences, you are an ideal fit for the cast. Official auditions will not be held for the premiere season, as the creators wish to film the entirety of the first round without the ever-watching eye of the public. In this day and age, we cannot be too careful.

Should you choose to accept our humble invitation, simply call the number below and enter your unique pin number when requested. If you choose to decline the offer, we ask that you return this letter in the enclosed self-addressed stamped envelope.

We look forward to hearing from you soon.

Our most sincere congratulations,

Truest Noon Productions

Phone: 1-800-687-3378

Pin: 58834633668

Mr. Danforth chuckled. He was far too old and out of shape to have been chosen. There must have been a mistake. No, certainly he would not be qualified for any of those reality television shows. “It’s the young folks they want,” he thought to himself. “They all want their fifteen minutes of fame. No, no. I am far too old to be getting involved in anything like that. Me on the television?” He couldn’t fathom it.

Tossing the letter onto the pile of junk mail on his desk, he put his feet up in his recliner and rested from his long day at the security office.

☆ ☆ ☆

Ding, dong. Ding, dong. Diiiiing, Dooooong. Knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock, knock.

Ms. Drake pressed her nose against her dining room window, watching the mysterious deliveryman across the street. Her hair tightly wound in curlers, it was a wonder she could move at all without her scalp pulling off. She leaned back and took a long drag of her almost finished cigarette. She crushed the butt on a dish to her left without looking, turning her focus again to Mrs. Mulberry’s house across the street. The deliveryman continued to press the doorbell fervently.

“I wonder what that could be about,” Ms. Drake said to herself. “Who delivers mail at ten to six in the morning?”

“What was taking Mrs. Mulberry so long to answer the door?” Ms. Drake thought, changing window positions. Certainly, she would be readying for work by this time? How could she leave that poor man standing there like an idiot? Not on her watch.

Ms. Drake tightened her silk floral housecoat around herself and moved toward the door. Her slippers were ready for her morning walk to the mailbox for the paper. She typically waited until Mr. Barnes was leaving for work so they could exchange their daily salutations, but today she would deviate from her routine. After all, she couldn’t leave that poor, helpless deliveryman standing in the damp morning air. That would not be neighborly at all.

Waddling out of her house, Ms. Drake raised a hand to attract the man’s attention. “Yoo hoo. Oh, yoo hoooo.”

He turned toward the sound of Ms. Drake’s howling call. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I see you’re looking for Mrs. Mulberry. Perhaps she’s left for work already,” Ms. Drake suggested, knowing fully well that Mrs. Mulberry did not leave for work until 7:00 a.m.

“Yes, ma’am. I have been instructed to hand-deliver this letter to her,” the man held out a large blue envelope with silver calligraphy; Ms. Drake’s gaze was immediately taken by it. “I don’t suppose you know when she might return? It is of the utmost importance that she gets this letter quickly.”

“Oh, my dear,” Ms. Drake said, fluttering her eyes at the man easily thirty years her junior. “I know Mrs. Mulberry quite well; we have been neighbors for the better part of two decades. I could deliver the letter to her.”

“That’s very kind ma’am, but my directions are to place the letter in Mrs. Mulberry’s hands directly. I’m not even to leave it at her door for her. She must receive it straight away.”

“Well then, it’s a pity that you’ll not succeed in your task. I only wanted to help you on your way!” Ms. Drake turned up her pug nose at him, an attribute certainly the result of pressing it against her window far too many times over the years. “I bid you a good day then.”

Ms. Drake sulked back to her house, failing to retrieve her newspaper. What was in that envelope and why was it so important? She had to know.

“Wait,” the man called.

Ms. Drake’s curlers almost burst off her head; she could hardly contain herself. “Yes, my dear?” She slowly turned around giving the man a determined look.

“It’s urgently important Mrs. Mulberry receives this letter today; can you assure me you will get it to her?” The man asked skeptically.

“Of course, yes. Mrs. Mullberry’s letter is in safe hands with me.” She held out her thick hands in his direction, her fingers wagging invitingly.

Apprehensively, he turned the envelope over to her. “You’re a lifesaver. I really wouldn’t have had time to return this evening. I must be getting on with my other deliveries.”

“Of course, of course. What are neighbors for if not to help out those around them?”

“That’s very kind of you ma’am. Well, I better be off. Thank you, Mrs....”

“Ms. Drake,” she replied. “Ms. Cordelia Drake.”

“Well then, thank you, Ms. Drake. It has been a pleasure.” He smiled and was off.

Ms. Drake anxiously looked back at Mrs. Mulberry’s house. “Good,” she thought. “She doesn’t know yet.” Ms. Drake waddled her way back into the house, tucking the envelope under her robe.

☆ ☆ ☆

Ms. Banks swiftly pressed the numbers on her phone with her long, manicured nails. “Shoot, a voice recording.” She said quietly to herself in her soft southern accent. Ms. Isabella Banks had no trouble seeing why she would be chosen for a new television series. The blonde bombshell had won Homecoming and Prom Queen at her high school, as well as placed as runner up for Ms. Georgia. Of course, they’d want her.

Isabella practiced her award-winning smile. Yes, it would be good to be in the spotlight again. She must get through to the number. She dialed more slowly this time, speaking each number aloud as she tapped the keypad. The recording again–didn’t anyone want to talk with her directly, she wondered.

☆ ☆ ☆

Liam Flynn, a rock musician, found himself in possession of a letter welcoming him to join a reality TV pilot. “To accept is defeat,” he grumbled, tossing the letter in his overflowing trashcan. “Only washed-up artists do reality TV. I’m not that desperate.”

His greasy dark bangs fell in front of his eyes as he opened his fridge. He carelessly pushed them aside and grabbed a beer. It was the closest thing to food that he had in his apartment. “Well, maybe, I’ll just hear them out. I could plan a comeback and use this as a launching point. Yes, that’s it!” Liam retrieved the paper, dialed the number, punched in his pin number, and listened to the recorded instructions. His hopes dashed a little as he too had wished to speak with a live person.

☆ ☆ ☆

“Congratulations Mr. Martin,” read Adam. “What is it with all these scam contests? Why can’t one of these for once be legit? That would change everything.” Adam had been a star football player in high school and got a scholarship to play for the University of Michigan, but a shoulder injury took him out freshmen year. He needed some good news.

“I should give them a piece of my mind. Sending these letters, getting people’s hopes up, just to scam them. Who do they think they are?”

He furiously pounded his phone as he dialed the number. He would tell them. The second a voice spoke, he started ranting until he realized it was just a recording. “What a waste,” he thought. Well, he was this far, why not? He punched in his pin number and listened. He would receive a call in a day with further instructions. “Oh, I’m sure,” he began talking to the automated voice. “Yes, Mr. Martin, thank you for calling and verifying your award. Yes, all we need now is your bank account information, social security number, and credit cards,” he mocked.

“No, thank you.” He slammed his phone on the counter.

☆ ☆ ☆

Doctor Caitlyn Grey sat behind the large mahogany desk in her private office in Jacksonville, Florida. Her long legs crossed under her desk as she kicked her heels on and off. What a terribly boring day, she thought. Her calendar book was filled, yet Dr. Grey found her patients’ problems to be trivial. “The things people see a psychiatrist for these days.” She laughed to herself. Hadn’t she chosen this path to help people with real disorders? Why then is her day filled with people like Joan Hall who spends every minute of her bi-weekly hour-long sessions talking about her eleven cats and making cat noises? So, maybe there was an underlying cause for this behavior. When Joan had first come in, hadn’t she tried to ask questions and engage Joan? It was Joan who would not talk about herself and chose to focus only on her cats. There were fifteen of them then. “I guess that’s progress,” Dr. Grey reminisced.

“Your mail is here, Dr. Grey,” said Miranda, the good doctor’s secretary. She placed the mail on Dr. Grey’s desk.

“Thank you, and Miranda, call Antonio’s and make me a dinner reservation for tomorrow night.”

“Of course, Dr. Grey, How many?”

“Just one, but make sure you tell them to reserve my special table.”

Miranda gave a curt nod and left Dr. Grey alone with her thoughts and only the sound of her pumps popping on and off to fill the room. Dr. Grey shuffled through the mail tossing each unopened envelope back on the desk until she came across a unique blue one with silver lettering.

No return address, she noted. As she opened it, a sly smile broke across her face. A reality show really wanted a psychiatrist in its cast? Well, it would be to her advantage. She would, of course, see through their thinly veiled plots and uncover the truth. “Oh, yes,” she thought. “This could be enjoyable.”

Dr. Grey called the number and followed the instructions. She hung up the receiver and paged Miranda on the intercom. “Miranda?”

“Yes, Dr. Grey?”

“Be a dear and clear my schedule for next Tuesday. I’ve just received a call about an urgent meeting I must attend.”

“Of course, Dr. Grey. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes. I believe everything will be just splendid.”

☆ ☆ ☆

“Truest Noon Productions. How lame,” Emma Riley decided. And yet, something about the name intrigued her. She had never heard of them before. She sat pondering the content of the letter. The twenty-one-year-old college student attended New York University with an undeclared major. She had entered the school when she was seventeen and had jumped from program to program. Why would anyone want her on television? She was a loner, who cared less about reality television than the over-hyped pop artists with whom radio stations are determined to melt listeners’ brains. And yet, this one intrigued her.

Emma pulled up a search engine on her computer and entered “Truest Noon Productions.” A dozen websites popped up in the results, but none an exact match. She couldn’t find any digital record of the company at all. She searched the phone number in hopes of pulling up a business listing. Nothing. She tried the address on the return envelope. Nothing. According to the map app on her phone, the address didn’t even exist. How could it not exist?

“I guess they really are keeping this show under wraps,” she contemplated. Emma stared at the letter and read it over and over again. There was just something about it, something peculiar. What was it?

She held the paper up to the light, but only found a logo imprinted in the threads of the paper. Unable to discover what was puzzling her, about the letter, she pulled out her phone and dialed the number. She pressed ‘0’ hoping to be transferred to a live person. It was no use; there was only the recording.

☆ ☆ ☆

Ms. Drake sat in the kitchen, her curious hands clutching the envelope. It was too thick and dark to see through. She had tried holding it up to the sun and a lamp. Neither came close to illuminating the contents. The envelope was sealed tightly, so there was no chance of accidentally opening it. Steam, she thought. She quickly boiled a large pot of water holding the envelope carefully over it. It was taking too long.

“He did say it was urgent,” she remarked. “Maybe I should open it, just in case it’s time-sensitive. Yes, yes, I think that will do.”

She took her letter opener and carefully broke the seal. “A reality television series? Mrs. Mulberry? No, it couldn’t be. They must have the wrong person,” Ms. Drake shook her head in protest. Then, she got an idea. The letter wasn’t actually addressed to Mrs. Mulberry at all. The envelope certainly was, but the letter was nameless. “I shouldn’t,” she muttered while grabbing the phone and dialing the number. “Well, who could it really hurt?” She admitted to herself. She couldn’t imagine Mrs. Mulberry accepting, and why should the opportunity go to waste?

(if you are interested in more and want to be tagged, please let me know)

((also if you made it this far OMGOSH HI AND THANK YOU 🥺😭))

#original work #original story #🙈#writing #novel #mystery #writer problems #writer #story #work in progress #delete later

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djemsostylist · 3 years

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It's been a few days and I've read a lot of takes and had a lot of long talks with @lolo-deli and I'm firm on where I stood Thursday. People who are pro this new season have been busy with PR, and I've seen the same points over an over. 1. We don't know why they broke up, we don't know what they both did, 2. we can't blame Eda, 3. we will get to see them fall in love again, 4. we will see Serkan with a second pregnancy, and perhaps the key, 5. we needed a reset. Oh, and 6. their daughter will bring them back together. Last season was a mess and we needed a blank slate. I'd like to address these points, if for no other reason than it will make me feel better.

You are correct. We don't know why they broke up. The most popular theory seems to be "Serkan pushed her away", which I think is both because it can make Eda "not the bad guy" and also because he has done it before. I'm not going to belabor the point, but we have spent the rest of the series since then showing a Serkan who learned from that mistake has been willing to anything to be with her. I know amnesia Serkan was a mess--but he also had fucking amnesia. And once he was back, we got back our soft boy who wanted nothing more than to be with her. If they have him push her away, it's for plot reasons, not character ones. So maybe Eda reaches a breaking point. Okay, over what? Him not telling her about the tumor? That's her last straw? She endured everything else, but him delaying telling her about the tumor is the last straw? Does she leave him while he's dying? In treatment? Sees him through and leaves him after? I think no matter how you look at it, for them to break up after all they have been through makes no sense to me. Why would they? As I said in a previous post, what could worse than what they have already endured? In any case, either of them leaving the other, again, means I'm forced to wonder why we would ever want them BACK together. If something happens to break them up for 5 years, then obviously it's not meant to be. If they can't figure out a way to make it work after all they have been through, what would five years of bitterness and stewing do to make either of them ready for a relationship together? (And the teaser makes it pretty clear they *are* bitter.) Instead of seeing a counselor, trying to work through their communication and trust issues, if their choice is always "run and dump" and they've learned nothing in 39 episodes, then what is the point anymore? This is not a second chance romance. This is a toxic relationship I no have an investment in.

We can't blame Eda. Look, I get no one wants to hate Eda. I don't want to hate Eda. My girl has been through hell and back, and she's endured a lot for love of this man. I'd have supported her leaving in 15. I'd have supported her deciding not to trust him in 20. I'd have even supported her leaving towards the end of his amnesia, if she thinks there is no hope. But I'd argue the fact that she stayed, that she worked through her issues with him after 15 and chose to be with him means she knows what she's getting into. She knows who he is at his core, and if he was worth all the pain she went through in the 30s then yes, we very much CAN blame Eda. Even if Serkan broke up with her, pushed her away, I very much can and do blame her for keeping his child. I've seen people say there was a miscommunication, that she tried to tell him and he wouldn't listen, maybe he says he doesn't want kids. I'd argue that if he did, it was because he was dying, otherwise why a sudden 180 from Serkan-I-Want-To-Build-A-Library-For-Our-Children Bolat to "no kids?". Which she should find weird and also realize the cause. Again, it would be for plot reason only. Regardless of what happened between them, the second there is a child involved, to quote @lolo-deli you put on your big girl pants and learn to fucking communicate. Even they aren't together, doesn't mean they can't raise a child together. Unless he's a drug lord or a mafia boss or a serial killer, together or not, he deserved to know about his daughter. He deserved the chance to be in her life from the minute Eda knew. Period. I'm not going to cry for Eda's pain of raising her daughter alone in Italy when she literally could have just told him, and you know he would have moved the moon to make sure his daughter felt safe and loved. At least, the Serkan I know. And the Eda I know would not have let him push her away without letting him know about a baby. Not a girl who knows firsthand what it's like to grow up without a father. So I'm sorry, but if we were hating Serkan for being asshole when he had amnesia and we were hating Aydan for keeping secrets...then I'm hating Eda for keeping a child and a father apart. I'm tired of the "all men are trash and boss queen" all or nothing mentality. I really, truly am.

Look, at no point do I want to have to watch Serkan Bolat fall in love with Eda (again) or his daughter. I've already seen him and Eda do that before, I spent 39 fucking episodes on that. And having to watch Serkan fall in love with his daughter because he didn't get to know her from birth is about the most depressing, least romantic, and most heart wrenching thing I could possibly imagine. This isn't a baby, like so many people keep saying. It's a child. A whole entire formed person and Serkan doesn't know her. Because Eda kept a secret. I hate it.

And it doesn't matter if he gets to see the second pregnancy, bc he still missed the first, and every single thing will be a reminder of that. And I don't know how Serkan, who has always felt unworthy (and justified or not is what led to most of the problems in their early relationship) gets over the fact that Eda thought so little of him that she would rather have her daughter grow up without a father than attempt to get in contact with him and let him have a role in her life. I just don't. That's soul crushing. "Am I such a horrible person that you didn't even want her to know me?" As much as I don't want Eda to suffer anymore, I also don't want Serkan to either. Maybe that makes me an antifeminist. Sue me.

Look, last season was a fucking mess. No one is denying that. Part of it is on the writers, part of it is on the producer who kept hiring and firing writers, part of it is on the fact this show should have ended 20 episodes ago. And I hated the 30s, have no desire to watch them again. But the thing is, you can't ignore the episodes that have been written. As much as we want to. Things happened--and that includes character growth, promises made, words said. You can't just do a reset. And I'd argue that breaking up a couple that said they would do everything in their power to make each other happy, who got rings tattooed on their hands as a sign of never, ever being a part again, wouldn't just break up and not see each other for five years. At some point, it becomes toxic. Lack of communication, selfishness, immaturity, stubbornness--do we even want these people together if something was so awful they separated for 5 years and Eda kept a whole baby a secret? Five years is a long to be apart and not once thing about making amends until they are forced into it. What is the point of that reset?

I hate this. So, what, if Eda hadn't randomly brought their child to an awards ceremony and the girl hadn't happened to see Serkan, then they never would have attempted to get back together? It's not like they couldn't get in contact with each other. How is the fact that without their kid (which Serkan didn't even know existed) they would never have reconciled a cute plot?

Let's not argue that this isn't anything other than it is--a ploy to bring in new fans and/or try and get old fans back on the part of the producer. If someone can explain like I'm 5 how this plot is good, I'll listen. But to quote a tweet I saw, you can't use the words angst, pain, suffering, or heartache, because those are not good reasons. You also can't say "but last season" bc I know. I was there. Last season sucked. I get it. It's not a reason to not even attempt a happy ending.

For now, I'll leave it at this. If your kind of love story is two people who have learned nothing, who only know how to fight and hurt each other and break up and think nothing of using a child as a pawn, than I'm happy for you. This season sounds great. But you can't convince me this was necessary, you can't convince me this was "always the plan", you can't convince me this will be anything other than pain, heartbreak, and a way to try and milk SCK for all it's worth before they are forced to cancel or Hanker finally says "we're done."

#sen çal kapımı #sck #I'm never not going to be a bitter potato #over the wasted potential of this show #two of the hottest stars #the best fucking onscreen chemistry i have ever seen #and the possibility to subvert all the tropes of cyclical breakups and actually write two people in love and happy #and you chose this horseshit #all the fake symbolism and little prince sayings in the world aren't gonna fix this fucking mess #ayse can keep her fucking symbols #give me back my edser #i hated 37 for the performative fakeness #and ill hate this too

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sylvain-writes · 3 years

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Guarded Hearts and Safe Houses (Leonardo x Reader) Chapter 5/9

Rated: T

Gender Neutral Reader, canon typical violence/injury, light angst, strangers to lovers, supportive family

for @melodiousmelodrama

As expected, your parents welcome the turtles into their apartment, offering them a safe space for as long as necessary. Their only concern is for the wellbeing of their new friends.

“Just for the day,” Leo tells your family, and his brothers look up, none protesting but clearly confused. “I have a place,” Leo explains. “It’s not set up or anything. We have a lot of work to do. Donnie, you’ll need help bringing stuff your stuff up from the sewers and we’ll have to abandon the van for a while-”

“Whaddaya mean, ya have a place?” Raphael sits forward, leaning onto his knees where he sits at Gram’s feet helping her roll cakes of yarn.

“An abandoned subway station. It’s not perfect, but it’s ours.”

Donatello rubs his chin. “Subway?”

“Are there trains?” Mikey’s open expression is full of wonder and hope.

“Yeah. There’s a car for each of us. No more bunk sharing or falling all over each other, fighting for space. But, the place needs some work.”

"Oh." Mikey's enthusiasm wavers as he spares half a glance toward Raphael, but he smiles up at Leo. "That's cool, bro!"

"Yeah, Leo." Donatello adds from the kitchen. "Sounds great."

Leo tries not to take their drop in enthusiasm personally. But after all the work he’s putting in - searching for a place, fixing it up - even this slight rejection hurts. "Look, I wish we could get an apartment and play house with all this fancy stuff too, alright? But don't get used to it. This isn't our life. It's never going to be. The subway's gonna be good for us. You'll see."

" 'Course it is, man. You always know what's best." Raphael sounds sincere, but Leo turns in a huff as if his brothers had turned up their snouts at his announcement.

"I'll show you to a room where you can get some rest," you say gently. The whirlwind of the past 36 hours must have him exhausted. You could use some sleep as well.

Leo thanks you for access to the shower and for the bed, your bed, your room. And he turns himself in.

You call out of work and get a few hours of sleep before restlessness kicks in. You're not used to sleeping during the day. When you wake up, the guys are in various states of unrest as well.

Leo still hasn't come out.

Donnie announces, "He's asleep," and his brothers don't question it. But you raise an eyebrow at his quick assessment. "I compared his breathing against known patterns. It helps to know the difference between Leo asleep, Leo meditating, and Leo pretending to do either."

"Didn't take him for one to play pretend."

“He keeps his secrets," Raphael says, his tone a bit bitter. There's a history there, you think. "But he's always got his reasons. Thinks he knows what's best for us." Raphael shrugs, as if coming to a conclusion he's come to before. "He usually does."

No one is surprised when Leo sleeps through the day. And no one blames him. But when the pizza delivery fills the apartment with the smell of hot tomato sauce and melted cheese, they all expect him to show at the table. He doesn't, and even Mikey can't make his "More for me, then" sound free of his worry.

"Is he gonna be alright? If we leave him?" You want to go to him. You barely know Leo, but he's let you see him vulnerable before. You think maybe his vulnerability is one of the things his brothers know he hides. Maybe he doesn't realize they see. Anyway, you don't want to force him.

"Sensei usually knows what to do."

"Splinter-” you nod along “-have you heard from him? Is he coming?"

Donatello shakes his head, but doesn't seem concerned. "His last transmission noted his safety. He'll contact us again soon."

You pick olives off your pizza and line them up as you think aloud. "Until then, you'll help Leo with the station?"

Raphael piles three slices onto his plate, before lifting a fourth from the box straight to his mouth. "We go where Leo goes. He found us a spider-infested death trap to live in… we'll go."

An olive slips off the rim of your plate. "How did you know it was spider-infested?"

"Ya came in before covered in cobwebs and shit. But whatever. Sewer wasn't no palace either." There’s no embarrassment or judgment in Raph’s tone. Leo should be here, hearing his brothers support his decision.

"He seems really excited about it. I mean… hopeful, y'know?"

"Yeah." Donatello passes you his slices of mushrooms and you pass them on to Mikey who gobbles them up with gusto. "We never said we didn't like the idea. It's just not home, that's all."

You can sympathize. "We moved around a lot when I was younger. Always trying to find a better placement for mom. A safer community for me to grow up in. It wasnt the house that made it home. It was having my family around."

"Yeah, yeah,” Raph grumbles. “Real Hallmark life changing stuff. But he's not worried about keeping us together, remember? We each get a car to ourselves. He's splittin us up."

Mikey goes quiet, stops eating, drops his hands into his lap.

You don’t know what to do, what to say, to make this better. You think, if they would just talk to Leo about this, it could all be straightened out. But the rest of the meal is silent. It seems the brothers don’t even feel up to talking to each other.

When Leo emerges from the room, he announces it's time to go. "We have to patrol. They tried to hit us where it hurts. But we're resilient. And we’re not going to let the Krang take our city.”

You narrow your eyes at Leo and wonder if he’s ignoring the strain on his brothers - or if he just can’t see it. You wonder if he can read the loss in their eyes, if he can understand that ordering them to brush themselves off and push through another night of patrol might not be in their best interest right now.

Leo stands taller. “I said, we’re moving out. Let’s go.”

Donatello is the first to stand from the table. He grabs his pack from behind the couch and waits by the window while Leo opens it and climbs into the night. Raphael knocks Mikey’s shoulder and jerks his head toward their brothers as if to say, “We better head out too.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t stay longer.” You look at their plates of half eaten food and wonder why Leo hadn’t at least let them finish.

“Forget about it,” Raph says with half a frown. “We knew it wouldn’t last.”

“Yeah, right,” Mikey agrees, heading for the fire escape. “We don’t belong in some fancy place like this. But I really like how the carpets match the drapes.”

The observation awards him a smack on the arm.

“What? What’d I say?”

“Kids,” Raphael chuckles, embarrassed for everyone in the room. “He doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about. Excuse us.” He ushers Mikey out and refuses to explain innuendo to his little brother. “Thanks for all the, uh… thanks.”

Mikey looks back at your family before he leaves. “I really do like the-” his compliment becomes a shout of surprise as Raphael tears him away from the window and to the roof.

Over the next few nights, you get rather used to seeing turtles on the roof. The Krang’s forces are growing in number, but as they continue to remain in hiding, everything feels like speculation. And so, the turtles rotate watch on your building. It makes stargazing more interesting. Especially on nights when Donatello is around. Raphael is kind of a mess. Always on high alert and rarely interested in standing still long enough to enjoy something as simple and amazing as the moon and stars. But Donatello is full of knowledge about the cosmos.

Some nights you and Donnie discuss the possibility of life on other planets. It seems like Donnie enjoys the distraction, until you realize he’s talking about the likelihood of alien attacks.

Mikey has a special interest in astrology, which surprises and delights you to no end. He loves telling you his brothers’ horoscopes and making connections within their lives to prove how absolutely on point astrology is.

Finally, you ask, “How do you know when your birthdays are? I mean, weren’t you all exposed to the mutagen at the same time?”

Mikey explains, “It’s all in the stars. I didn’t choose our birthdays. Our birthdays chose us.” And points to the astrological chart in his lap as if it held the answers to the universe, which, if he were to argue the point, it did.

You just nodded, letting him have his way.

Leo doesn’t patrol your roof. Not once. Not, like, ever. And you’ve looked for him. You’ve asked about him. But the most you’ve ever gotten is a weird sigh from Raphael and some grumbling about Leo cleaning up his own messes.

After two weeks, you drop the subject of Leo completely. If he doesn’t want to see you, then you definitely don’t want to see him.

“How is the new place coming along?”

Mikey rocks from side to side on the edge of the building where the two of you have been tearing up bits of dying leaves and let them float on the wind. “I got my own room.”

Through the corner of your eye, you catch Mikey worrying his bottom lip and decide to wait for him to say more before responding.

“I’m right between Donnie and Raph. It’s pretty cool. I got a bed. And, uh, my music and stuff is all set up. But Raph took half the comic books. Donnie said I can borrow the textbooks anytime I want but…”

“What was your set up like before?”

“Huh?”

“At the Lair. Did you each have your own room?”

“Oh. No. Well, Leo did. He and Donnie had their own. Raphie and I shared,” Mikey’s voice got quieter as he spoke.

“What was it like, rooming with Raph?”

“It sucked. He smells bad after workouts and his cologne smells worse. And he says I snore. And he always moved my stuff and used my headphones without asking.”

“And you miss him.”

“And I miss- Hey…”

“It’s OK to miss him.” You pass Mikey a new leaf to tear. “I bet he misses you, too.”

“I bet he misses my headphones. For sure. He’s always breaking his.”

“He ever break your stuff?”

“Nah. Never. I wasn’t scared he was gonna break ‘em. I just didn’t want them smelling like Fierce by Abercrombie & Fitch.”

You laugh at that and Mikey loosens up a bit. “You share a wall with Raph, right?”

Mikey shrugs. “Kinda. Like a window.”

You lean back on your hands for support and look up at the sky with a smile. “I have an idea.”

#tmnt x reader #gender neutral reader #leonardo x reader #leo x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #my writing #guarded hearts and safe houses fic

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sergeanttpoliteness · 4 years

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Spiderverse Gwen x Reader where The reader is out as les/bi/pan whatever and Gwen is scared to tell her she likes her?

AND➝ Gwen is ready to start letting people back into her life after the events of Spiderverse. MJ, aware of Gwen trying to open her social circle, tells her about a nice girl from her apartment building and brings the reader along at their next band practice to introduce her. Gwen sets eyes on her and is VEEEERY attracted to this VEEEERY pretty girl. In Gwen’s bisexual distress, she starts rambling nervously, and probably says something embarrassing about herself. MJ saves them from an awkward situation and starts band practice, Gwen doesn’t see reader outside of school again after that, but Gwen shamelessly stares at her during class. Gwen starts to overthink the situation and gets worried she blew her chance. Later, there’s a situation that she as Spider-Gwen saves reader from. Reader is minorly hurt but SG has to go before she can help reader as authorities arrive. Feeling guilty, her spider sense leads SG to the reader’s apartment, she goes to check on her that night. Confident with her mask on, she strikes up a conversation, compliments her and even drops a bit of a flirty remark about reader before taking her leave. I didnt know where to go from there I’m new to requesting so I hope this isn’t too long but I hope that’ll be enough to get the ball rolling? -🍀

deeply sorry it took me so long to get to these again! i changed a few things, but it’s pretty much still the same idea. i hope the nonnie who requested this finds it and doesn’t think i ignored them :( ily, y’all deserve better.

——-

➹she plays bass➹(spider-gwen x fem!reader)

That feeling when there’s a cute girl who plays bass in your band and you don’t know what the hell to do about it.

Gwen needs help figuring out her feelings. Like, immediately.

word count: 11.6k (oops i did it again)

a/n: i’m sorry this new fic is the size of the bible like the last one, i’ll try to make the next one shorter lmaooo. but it’s what my fave girl deserves due to the unacceptable lack of stories about her on this site. plus, i swear that once you read it it’s so much shorter than it seems. i’m hoping i can post at least one more story before the end of the year, but if i don’t, happy holidays and new year ! y’all were the best part about my 2019 :) hope whoever is reading this has a lovely week. mwah.

warnings: violence, guns, swearing.

——-

She played bass.

You played bass, to be more specific. And Mary Jane Watson took satisfaction in believing that she was nice. More than simply ‘just nice’ on good days, even. Being the most courteous person was a duty she considered to be hers ever since she was six-years-old and accompanied that girl who always seemed to be left behind in the playground, and years later, in high school when she punched a creep hassling one of her bandmates. Last but most certainly not least, Betty Brant, bass guitar player of the Mary Janes, slipped and fell backwards one unfortunate evening, and she shot out her left arm behind her to break the fall and save her ice cream from hitting the ground. Good news: her ice cream did not hit the ground. Bad news, however, her left hand did— in an odd, twisted position. Needless to say, Betty Brant now had a broken wrist.

At first glance, they’re all unrelated events, stars belonging to separate constellations, and they would have remained so— undisturbed, simply coexisting in the same sky. That was, until Gwen came into the picture and drew a line connecting the bright flecks when she opened her mouth.

In the moment that she admitted to MJ that the idea of meeting new people sounded more appealing each day, she scribbled down the equation in her bandmate’s brain and hit ‘solve’. The redhead’s face lit up, putting to shame a Christmas tree as that sense of responsibility called for her attention. Immediately, she felt obligated to make the Nobel Peace prize-worthy move of texting her neighbor she just met, who also played the bass, to join them on the coming Saturday for band practice. That night, as she prepared to go to sleep, Em Jay cracked an accomplished smile at the reflection in her mirror.

However, two weeks had passed since your first practice with the Mary Janes, and MJ’s pride dove off from where it sat on her shoulder as she observed from afar with furrowed brows how Gwen so fucking blatantly ignored you after you tried to give her a high five.

“What the hell was that?!” She hissed at Glory who stood beside her, cringing as you awkwardly dropped your hand and turned away from Gwen. Sighing, MJ rubbed her face with sheer desperation— a rather drastically different action from her naïve smile many nights ago. “I put an opportunity right on her fucking lap to make a friend, and she can’t act like a nice normal human being!”

Glory bit the inside of her cheek, sporting her own grimace. “I dunno, maybe they’ll click soon—”

“It’s been two weeks, Glory!” MJ whined. She crossed her arms across her chest, eyes narrowing into concentrated slits, and her gaze returned to an oblivious Gwen who shot at your back what she thought in her mind was a discreet glance. “I can’t let this fail. I gotta step in.” Glory raised a brow.

“Or you could just, you know, let them get to know each other at their own pace?“

“That’s dumb.”

Glory opened her mouth but gave up immediately, seeing MJ’s persistence as a lost cause she, in all honesty, did not want to waste any energy battling against that day. “Follow my lead,” MJ elbowed her, winking before she caught Gwen’s and your attention. “Who wants pizza? I do, and so does Glory. You guys want to go out and eat?“

“I don’t really feel like going out.”

“Glory, what the fuck?” MJ said under her breath, but later shook her head, a smile stretching across her face. “It’s fine! We’ll just go get it and we can eat here."

Glory frowned. "But—”

“I mean, sure. I’m definitely in the mood for pizza.” You shrugged, the corner of your mouth lifting upwards. Gwen, however, eyed Glory with suspicion, who in return flashed her an apologetic smile. MJ clapped her hands together, cheering.

“Great!” She grabbed Glory’s hand and dragged her out of the room, glancing back at the two other girls. “We’ll be back in fifteen!”

Not even five seconds passed after they closed the door before you jumped off the couch and muttered to Gwen that you were going to the bathroom, an action that Gwen chose not to spend any time analyzing for her own sanity; but even if she had decided to, the ringing of her phone would’ve interrupted her nonetheless. After she took out her phone and saw MJ’s contact name, she let out the longest sigh in her entire seventeen years of living.

“Couldn’t you have just called for the pizza?” She went straight to the point— no greeting or anything, which left MJ stumped for three seconds, and surprised she had caught onto what was going on in record time.

“No, otherwise my plan wouldn’t have worked. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“What plan and why am I welcome?”

MJ scoffed. “I’m giving you another chance to talk to Y/N, seeing as you completely blew every other one you had.” Gwen perked one eyebrow, confused.

“How come?”

“She tried to give you a high-five and you left her hanging, Gwendolyn.” She said with an obvious tone. “And that’s just one example of many.”

Gwen sat straight, her eyes growing wide. “Wait, I did?”

“Yes, you fucking idiot!” Gwen shut her eyes closed, covering her face with her hand. “How did you not notice, it’s so painfully obvious she’s trying to be your friend but you’ve gained the award of dickhead of the day.”

Gwen rolled her eyes, although let out an amused huff of air through her nose. “Did Glory agree to this little plan of yours?”

MJ took a moment of silence. “No, but her opinion doesn’t really matter right now.”

“Yeah, I bet she didn’t, because it’s fucking stupid, Mary Jane.”

“Em Jay.”

“You called me Gwendolyn.”

“Whatever,” MJ grumbled, “you asked for this, Gwen. Be thankful, ‘cause I’m really tryin’ here.”

Gwen heard you flush the toilet, and not too long after, the sound of the faucet running. “Hell, okay, fine.” She whispered into the phone. “She’s coming, I have to go.” Before MJ could utter a word, she ended the call right as you walked out of the bathroom and flashed her a tight-lipped smile. You sat back down on the couch, an obvious distance between you two. More time passed while you hunched over your cellphone and Gwen eyed you sideways, gripping her hands together in between her knees, her heart speeding up each time she dared to speak up, and her face heating up albeit she hadn’t directed a word at you yet.

She cleared her throat. “So!”

You made eye contact with her and she felt obligated to flash you a nervous smile after the silence continued. Eventually, the corner of your mouth lifted upwards. “So what?” You questioned, curious. Gwen’s smile gradually fell. She should’ve contemplated what she was going to say first before she spoke.

“…What’s your favorite pizza topping?” Gwen hit herself mentally. There literally was no excuse for why she was acting like this— hell, she herself couldn’t even find one. But, on the bright side (however, perhaps not so much for Gwen), whilst the girl was sure this was an agonizing and slow death from embarrassment, your amused grin widened with her visible anxiety.

“I don’t know. There’s a lot of options.” You shrugged, your attention moving back to your device. Gwen considered leaving you alone, seeing as this conversation very obviously wasn’t going anywhere, but that option disintegrated as soon as she imagined Em Jay intentionally delaying her arrival with Glory and the pizza so she could take full advantage of her ‘chance’, which she was ninety-nine percent sure was the case.

“I really like pepperoni.” She blurted out. Your eyes momentarily traveled up to Gwen and you pursed your lips, nodding slowly.

“Cool.”

My God, you really were not collaborating even an ounce— it was a reach, but it was as if you were voluntarily trying to make this as difficult and socially traumatizing for Gwen as possible. Gwen scratched her head, searching for more conversation ideas, but her brain remained as empty as a desert in the middle of nowhere, except for the one tumbleweed happily rolling along its way which was her last idea, and the main purpose of this sad conversation.

“I’m really sorry for that high-five you tried to give me earlier,” Gwen muttered, incapable of looking at you straight in the eye for long. “Em Jay just told me about it.”

Finally, you tore your concentration away from your phone and focused on Gwen. You didn’t know whether it was the seriousness of her voice combined with the absurdity of the sentence, but you found yourself struggling to hold back your giggles. Gwen’s eyebrows twisted with puzzlement as she saw your blushing cheeks and you biting your lip hard, your shoulders shaking ever so slightly.

“That’s… adorable. It’s alright. It happens to all of us, I guess.” You laughed out. In Gwen’s never-ending humiliation, she couldn’t discern your expression from simple amusement or judgment.

Gwen stuttered, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Okay, cool. I-I just didn’t want you to think that I hated you or something like that.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I did not.”

“Good. Because I don’t. Obviously.” She continued, forcing out a chuckle. “I really don’t.”

You smiled hesitantly. “Again… don’t worry, I get it—”

“I just, I wasn’t paying attention to you.” Gwen clarified but closed her mouth immediately, regret drying her throat. You pressed your lips into a straight line. “But I don’t mean that in a rude way, hah. I’m always looking at you.” She dug herself deeper and her eyes grew wide, a tense cough fleeing past her lips after you raised your brows.

“I mean, no, I’m not always looking at you, like, staring, but like, looking forward to whatever you have to say…?” She talked slowly, questioning her own words. “Why would I look at you, anyway?” Ah, fuck, that’s not what she meant.

Your expression transformed into an offended look and she rushed to correct herself. “No! I mean— you’re, like, very, very pretty, don’t get me wrong.” She let out a frustrated sigh, “Again, I don’t mean that in a weird way, I just—”

“Okay! I get it.” You stopped her and stood up, pointing at your phone. “I have to go, it’s pretty late, so I won’t be able to eat with you guys, but, uh… thanks anyway. Maybe next time.” You explained, uncomfortable. You both dubiously gestured goodbye to each other before you nearly ran out of the door.

From then on, Gwen kind of wanted to hide in her room for the rest of her life, or at least from you; but sadly, she couldn’t do either. She could’ve moved on and just let it be a memory she could laugh about in the future, but she couldn’t hide what had happened to MJ— she retold her and Glory the encounter, and the trauma returned as Glory burst out laughing right in her face and Em Jay simply stared at her like a disappointed mother. Again, she really was determined to forget the whole ordeal, but later in the evening, when all she wanted to do was plop down on her bed and call it a night after another day of patrol, she answered her landline only for her ears to be attacked with MJ’s pleas for her to go fix things since ‘she was so embarrassed for her she literally couldn’t go to sleep’. Gwen hung up on her.

As she originally had intended before MJ disrupted her night, Gwen jumped onto her bed and rolled onto her back, promising in her head that she’d take off her suit in a minute. She stared up at the ceiling for longer than a minute, thinking about MJ’s words. What was the point in going to apologize to you again, anyway? Gwen wasn’t going to do it simply to please her. MJ could gladly go and shove her microphone up her—

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Gwen said to herself as she stood outside your school building. She looked down at her watch. She could’ve been doing so much right then. Someone was probably getting murdered, or a robbery was going on, and she had homework to finish, but she was wasting her time waiting in front of a school like the creep of the block. However, she thought she might as well stick to it in the instant that students began to swarm out of the entrance doors.

She considered leaving. It was her first thought when she ultimately saw you walking amongst the crowd, talking to your friends. You hadn’t noticed her. It wouldn’t make a difference if she spun and ran out of there, like a scared child fleeing from the monster living in her closet. You turned your gaze away from your friend whilst laughing, and similar to the demon (no offense) peeking through the slit in between the closet doors, you found yourself staring into a familiar pair of blue eyes.

There was no going back.

Gwen breathed in profoundly and flashed you a sheepish smile, waving weakly with her shoulders raised. She watched you say goodbye to your friends before you hesitantly approached her, your eyebrow lifted in a questioning manner. “Gwen?”

“Yup. That’s me, hah…” She moved her hair away from her face after the wind disheveled it, brushing it behind her ear as she avoided your eyes. “I know you’re wondering—”

“What you’re doing here? Yes, yes I am.” You said, the humor distinctive in your voice, but Gwen scrunched up her nose, shaking her head.

“Don’t worry, I’m not… stalking you,” She laughed nervously and stopped herself before history repeated itself. “I would’ve texted you, but my phone…” Now has a bullet hole. “Broke. Em Jay told me I could meet you here.”

You folded your arms across your chest, shifting your weight to one leg. “Well, I’m here, you’re here, so what’s up? Did you want to continue talking about how you don’t pay attention to me?” You joked, tilting your head.

Gwen winced slightly, cringing. “Actually, no.”

“Okay, good.”

“I came here to apologize. A real apology this time.”

You let your arms drop by your sides, interested and waiting for what she had to say. “I was really awkward. Painfully awkward, and I made you uncomfortable. So, I was hoping that we could maybe… start over again?” She held out her hand.

You briefly glanced down at it before glancing back up at her biting her lip anxiously. You giggled, nodding. “You’re so dramatic, dude.”

You shook her hand.

“So… we’re good?”

You smiled. “We’re good.” Gwen grinned back, her tooth gap having a peculiar effect in your stomach. She peeked at her watch a second time with the intent of leaving; but before she could say goodbye, you adjusted your backpack straps and spoke up. “Actually… now that you’re here, how about we go get something to eat?”

Gwen blinked, her finger coming up to point at her chest. “M-me? And you?” You agreed with your head, laughing.

“Obviously, you dummy. I don’t see anyone else here.” You playfully punched her arm and she looked down at the spot, her eyes narrowed.

Ah, well. There was no going back.

If there was one thing, one enemy that constantly played with Gwen’s sanity, time was a top-three candidate which popped into her head immediately. Popped wasn’t perhaps even the correct word, for it remained there everlastingly as a nagging fear— a deafening, continuous tick-tock reminding her of how little, or what a painstaking amount of time she had in her hands, and all the things she could or could not do during it. Being Spider-Woman, pages and pages of school work, the Mary Janes, Mary Jane and Gwen’s duty to answer her messages the moment she received them, her aspirations, her dad— it messed with her brain, tangled all the connections into an indestructible knot she could purely helplessly stare at. But when she read the time and realized how late it had become, the panic merely bubbled and spread in her chest. Rather you laughed and she felt the necessity to look away from the numbers to focus on you, despite the tick-tock still present and blaring like a tsunami alert in her ears.

You sat facing her in the restaurant booth, smirking as you bit into a french fry. “You know, I gotta say, you impressed me quite a lot with your drumming.” Gwen bashfully moved a piece of lettuce around her plate, propping her chin upon the palm of her hand.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” She shrugged, smiling at you. You maintained your gaze on her for a moment until you shook yourself out of your odd trance, lowering your head.

“Thanks for hanging out with me. I was tired of hanging out with myself, you know?”

Gwen furrowed her brows, adamant on fixing her look on the most boring stray lettuce ever. “Why? You’re a fun person.”

“Really? ‘Cause it doesn’t seem like that’s what you think about me.” You teased her, masking the undeniable bit of hurt.

Gwen’s finger’s movements came to a halt and she placed her hands on the table, leaning towards you. “What?! What do you mean?”

“Alright, then what do you really think about me?” You put your elbows on the hard surface and mimicked Gwen, a crooked smile adorning your features. Gwen bit her lip in thought, raising one shoulder.

“You’re cool.” She said simply, trying to appear nonchalant. An ‘oof’ slipped past your lips and you clutched onto your chest, dramatizing the insulted expression.

“That’s it? Just cool? I’m a bit hurt.”

Gwen rolled her eyes, laughing. “What else do you want me to say?”

“I dunno, last time you said I was— and I quote— ‘very, very pretty’” You recalled, using air quotes. Gwen scratched her eyebrow, left blank on what to reply because— oh, yeah right— she did, in fact, say that.

The smugness lingered on your face as you waited for her to break down and repeat herself, but she composed herself and cleared her throat. “Hey, it’s not fair if you’re the only one asking questions! Being interviewed is hard work, you know.” She raised her hands defensively, her eyebrows lifted. You immediately caught onto what she was doing and pointed an accusing finger at her.

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“Well, where’s the fun in knowing all the answers to the universe?”

You had to agree. But you leaned back and crossed one leg over the other, accidentally (or was it?) nudging her leg with your foot. “I don’t know. I like honesty.”

Oh dear, Gwen narrowed her eyes, her chest throbbing. “Hey—” The both of you jumped and looked at the source of the greeting— neither of you knew when exactly, but the waiter stood there with a polite smile, holding three menus close to his stomach. “Just letting y’all know that since Valentine’s Day is coming up, the milkshakes are on discount for couples.” Gwen leaned far away from the table, from you, and let out an uncomfortable chuckle.

“Oh, no, we’re not—”

“Oh, great!” You exclaimed and grabbed Gwen’s hand. “Do you want to share one, babe?”

Gwen froze, her shoulders and the hand you clutched onto tense, prickling at your touch. You looked at her attentively, and your lovey-dovey eyes left her stunned, grabbed onto her voice and trapped it in her throat— intimidated her. She had to give it to you, though, your acting could fool anyone or leave anyone wondering…especially her.

Seeing as the seconds continued to pass and she never replied, you chose to take it as a sign that she was following you and you glanced up at the waiter. “We’d like a vanilla milkshake, please.” You smiled.

Following the waiter’s departure, Gwen looked at you surprised. “I thought you liked honesty?” She laughed in disbelief, pretending to judge you intensely. You innocently picked up another fry, hiding your growing beam.

“Hey, I’m not gonna turn down a discount.”

Gwen giggled, shaking her head. “Fair enough. But you’re crazy.”

“But you still love me, right babe?” You smirked and lifted your connected hands. When Gwen realized she hadn’t let go yet, she first thought about pulling away. But she didn’t. Instead, she timidly squeezed your hand, forcing out a scoff.

“Right. Of course, babe.”

Finally, you unclasped your hands and Gwen’s hand slowly curled into a fist as she considered something. “Hey, where are you headed after this?” She rushed out. You tilted your head.

“Home. Why?”

She swallowed her nerves, thinking about dismissing her own question and shrugging it off. She had to get back home as well, after all.

But she didn’t want to yet.

“Can I walk you back?”

The walk back to your place dragged on for longer than usual, and you both pretended to act shocked, as if it’d been a glitch in the matrix and time ticked away slower than normal; but in the back of your heads, the two of you knew it’d been no accident, that you weren’t too engulfed into your conversation enough that you ended up taking the long way back home without noticing. Perhaps the two of you wandered longer, slowed down your pace much more than necessary— clung onto the moon and kept it in its place in the sky with your excuses so the night would stay, last as much as you wanted it to. Your efforts were partly successful, but of course, it had to come to an end eventually.

Your meetings didn’t, though. No, they were just getting started.

On Valentine’s Day, you might have taken advantage of another discount for couples, but no one really needed to know that. After that day and after Gwen finally got a new phone (it took her a few days to tell her dad, since she knew he wouldn’t be the happiest once he heard how her phone got destroyed in the first place), you sent her a message which she couldn’t deny made her insides feel a type of way: ‘If you ever need a fake date, don’t hesitate in calling me’.

And a winky face. She couldn’t forget the winky face.

But, in all truth, neither of you needed a ‘fake date’ as a reason to see each other. Every once in awhile, Thursday and Saturday after band practice, the two of you would abandon the girls and simply hang out. It didn’t matter where— sometimes you didn’t even have a place in mind, but somehow, gladly for your brain fearing rejection, Gwen would agree nonetheless. She didn’t think much about it until one afternoon, once you were done telling a bad joke that embarrassingly enough made her laugh, she realized she hadn’t checked the time. Not once.

During band practice, MJ and Glory noted that something had changed. Mainly because they soon realized they hadn’t witnessed any new embarrassing events between you two for them to laugh at behind your backs in a while, but your peeks at each other weren’t fearful anymore. They were now… something which they couldn’t place their finger on, but it was different enough for them to share a look and raise their eyebrows. Naturally, it didn’t take long before Em Jay had to jam herself into your affairs and asked you what you thought about Gwen, using as a justification that you had gotten a month and a half to get to know the band.

If Gwen could’ve gotten the opportunity to travel back in time to step in and prevent Em Jay from getting close to you with her blabbering mouth, she would’ve taken it immediately.

“When were you going to tell me you two fucking knew each other?!” MJ’s shriek hurt Gwen’s ears and left her speechless for a few moments after she walked into the room. Then, she succeeded in processing her question through her brain, and her face was now considerably paler than before.

“Hello to you too?”

MJ glared at her and walked away from her. While she moved around the many cables on the floor with her foot, Gwen dropped her backpack near the door, eyeing her. “How do you know?”

“I talked to Y/N.” She simply responded. Gwen huffed, unbelieving, and crossed her arms.

“And why did you talk to her?”

MJ gave her an obvious look. “Because, uh, she’s my bandmate? And my friend?” Gwen rolled her eyes and crouched down to take her drumsticks from her bag; meanwhile, Em Jay wasn’t over the topic yet. “I can’t believe you kept that from me. Unbelievable. I’m the only one who knows about your little spider secret!” She threw her hands in the air, as if her attitude wasn’t already dramatic enough. Gwen looked up at her with squinted eyes.

“Because you found out on accident. Did you also tell her about that?” She scoffed, standing up. Em Jay followed her to the drums, pursing her lips.

“No. She wouldn’t believe me anyway. But in my defense, Glory and Betty never do either, so you’ve literally got nothing to worry about.”

Gwen sat down on the drum stool. “We met last year, but we never became friends, though. We’re just acquaintances, I’m sorry. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Em Jay shrugged, her expression unchanging. “Yeah, I guess. Now I’m embarrassed for you again, though. You have to apologize to her.”

Gwen’s mouth hung slightly open. “I already apologized twice! Why would I do it again?!”

“You acted as if you didn’t know her when you first met! Like, who does that?” However, before Gwen could explain herself, you and Glory walked through the door, carrying your instruments plus a milkshake in your hand.

“Sup.” Glory nodded her head at the two girls. MJ shot finger guns at her and you walked up to Gwen before you stretched out your arm, holding the milkshake up to her face.

Gwen quirked a brow. “What’s this?”

“I got you a milkshake, babe.” You joked, smirking. Gwen’s cheeks and ears reddened and she hesitantly accepted it, her mouth twitching. “Since we haven’t had the chance to hang out in a while.”

MJ and Glory shared another of their looks, the one with which they telepathically communicated with. After you left Gwen, MJ kneeled down beside her, grinning knowingly.

“She told me she thinks you’re great, dude. Do whatever you want with that information.”

Gwen chose not to do anything with it. At least not for now.

Summer break came along to free Gwen from the suffocating hold school had around her neck, and more importantly, to give her time to focus on patrolling, the Mary Janes, and, well, you. Texting you in the morning, texting you at noon, texting you in the afternoon after she managed to stop a robbery at Junction Boulevard, texting you at night; and she couldn’t forget, of course, spending time with you whenever you could. How could she forget? It seemed almost impossible now, for you had implemented yourself into her routine, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint in what moment. She didn’t even come upon the realization until you left the state for a week, and she found herself waiting for your texts.

However, once you returned and the band reunited, Em Jay wasted no time and suggested having a ‘girl’s night’ at her place, claiming it wasn’t because she ‘missed you all, or anything, but for band-bonding’. She sent you and Gwen to the store to buy snacks (and, unsurprisingly for Gwen, winked at Glory as you two walked out of the door), and right now you both stood in front of the freezers, Gwen observing you as you put all your concentration, your tongue poking out of your mouth, on combining two sodas into an empty water bottle. Gwen gagged dramatically, laughter escaping her throat nonetheless. “That’s fucking gross, man.” She grimaced while you giggled maniacally.

The new beverage fizzled and you analyzed it closely, your eyes following the bubbles dancing in the liquid. “I can’t believe they sell bacon and ranch dressing soda here. This place is nuts.”

“And you’re mixing them together.”

“You could say I’m a scientist.”

Gwen scoffed at your statement, a grin lingering on her face. You sniffed the soda, and held it up to her face. “Do you want to try it?”

Gwen pushed the bottle away with her finger, wrinkling her nose. “You could have me at gunpoint and I still wouldn’t try it.”

You pouted, screwing the cap closed. “Okay, your loss, I guess. I’ll have it here just in case you change your mind.” You waved the bottle and placed it on a shelf before you kneeled down to inspect the bags of marshmallows. Gwen shook her head, her smile reaching her eyes.

“Trust me, I won’t.”

You picked up a bag, eyeing her sideways. “You know what?” You stole back her attention and she hummed, tilting her head. “You’re my favorite member in the band.”

Gwen’s face softened, although she wondered if she was crazy, or if her hands were all of a sudden clammy. “Me? Your… your favorite?” She asked, her voice small. You looked down, hoping she couldn’t see your timid expression.

“Yeah. I mean, no offense to Em Jay or Glory— they’re both awesome, but… I really like you, Gwen Stacy.” You shared eye contact, the corner of your mouth quirking up.

Gwen searched for something to distract herself with, and wound up snatching a random bag of gummies and pretending to read the ingredients. “Are you just trying to get me to pay for all of this?” She joked, gesturing to the casket of food. You let out a dramatic sigh, grumpily looking away from her.

“Aw, man, you caught me.” You made a sad face, but it was fleeting. “…But, no. I mean it. For real.”

Gwen bit her lip, her face the shade of the cherry candy in her hands. “Yeah, well… you’re pretty cool as well, Y/N L/N.” She copied you, shrugging. You groaned in annoyance, staring heavenward.

“Don’t give me that ‘you’re cool’ bullshit again.” You warned, mocking her voice and she giggled, placing the candy back in its place.

“What? It’s the truth!”

“Is that really all you think of me?” You feigned disappointment, playing with her.

No. Most definitely not. Gwen had grown to form many opinions about you other than solely ‘just cool’. Her thoughts varied. Sometimes she liked the way you made her laugh so effortlessly. Other times she couldn’t wrap her head around how, with you, the concept of time was both nonexistent and eternal, a concept you took its meaning away from, for it became irrelevant. She loved how you played bass, and how you gave it a voice, personified it into a dancing body that mesmerized her. She liked the way the corners of your eyes crinkled when you smiled, and how you tilted your head sometimes when you were confused like a puppy. She liked your way of talking, your hair, how you dressed, your posture, your face and the flaws in your skin.

Maybe she really liked you. And that scared her.

When she didn’t answer, you gave up and stood up, stretching your legs. “Okay, at least I’m glad you think I’m cool. It’s what I’d expect from my fake girlfriend.” You winked at her playfully, but she wasn’t fully paying attention now. “Okay, last question, though—”

Gwen sighed, her shoulders dropping. “What now?” You moved your arms behind your back, drawing a circle with the tip of your shoe on the floor.

“You never answered if you really think that I’m pretty.”

Gwen almost choked. She thought she had escaped that question months ago. Without thinking, her gaze landed on the soda hybrid sitting on the shelf and she grabbed it. You didn’t know what was happening in front of you until Gwen was sputtering after taking a big gulp of the drink. “What the fuck?! Why did you do that!” You gasped, your eyes wide and the laughter daring to climb up your throat.

Gwen stuck her tongue out and coughed, her face scrunching up with regret. “If I drink the soda then I don’t have to answer the question.” You couldn’t believe she was willing to do anything instead of giving you an answer.

You doubled over, cackling and holding your stomach. “Since when is that a rule?!”

“Since now.”

For the record, Gwen did think you were pretty. Very, very pretty.

As time went by, Gwen couldn’t help but stare during practice. Stare at your fingers, sliding down and up the neck with ease; your head, nodding along to the music, lost in it enough that you didn’t notice the obvious ogling from her part. And your face. She tried focusing on it most of the time, but it resulted a lot more difficult than she originally expected. You either moved it too much whilst you played, or you faced away from her since—well— she did play the drums.

There was also the third reason. The unsettling burn in her chest that sped up her breathing if her mind went too far, which occurred if she thought about you too much. Too deeply. But, God, did she try, and God, did she take advantage of every time you looked back at her, because you inexplicably dissolved that uneasiness in her.

Late at night, with your blankets wrapped around you tightly, you stared at your phone screen, mindlessly scrolling and double-tapping every picture you came upon. Not a minute passed before you opened a conversation, however, perhaps for the fourth time— not that it was anyone’s business, anyway— awaiting for another text. Gwen’s text, to be more specific. You didn’t want to come off as obsessive, but it had been an hour and thirteen minutes yet she hadn’t responded, and you… were missing her? You shook your head. Well. There was a possibility that you were. Maybe, you couldn’t get her off your mind, and maybe, you wished you could simply think about her and she’d integrate right there in your bedroom—

A knock on the window disrupted your train of thought, and as if on cue, a notification rang from your phone. ‘It’s me’, you read. Gwen had sent the message. “What the fuck?” You muttered, confused. Needing to see it for yourself, you jumped out of your bed and ran to your window before you unlatched the window lock and slid it open.

Of course, as the text message said, it was indeed Gwen, in your fire escape, and not a prank she elaborated to scare the life out of you. “Hi.” Was all she said. You tilted your head, your brows knitted together.

“Hi? Is that all you’re going to say?”

She thought for a second. “…How are you?”

“What are you doing in my fire escape?”

“I got locked out of my house.” She shrugged.

You let out a huff of air in disbelief, moving out of the way so she could climb inside. As she threw one leg over the sill, you placed your hands on your hips, shaking your head. “You get locked out of your house, and the first place that comes to your mind is my place?” You questioned, amused. Yet again, Gwen raised and dropped her shoulders. You went to close the window, but not before glancing out, imagining all the struggle she must’ve gone through to lower the ladder and then climb up five stories. “And how the hell did you even get all the way up here?” You muttered to yourself, but Gwen heard it.

“It’s a fire escape, my dear. They’re there to, you know, get out of the building so you don’t die if there’s a fire?”

You rolled your eyes and sat down on your bed. “Okay, just be quiet, ‘cause I don’t think my family would be very happy about having an unexpected visitor this late.” Guilt sculpted Gwen’s countenance.

“I mean… I can leave if you want—”

“No.” You said quickly, too fast for your liking, actually. You cleared your throat and smiled, patting the area beside you. “No, it’s alright. You can stay however long you want. They don’t have to find out.” You waggled your eyebrows jokingly. She was grateful the sole lamp rested on your bedside table, far away from you and its amber touch embracing you alone, for she didn’t need you seeing the blood rapidly rushing to her warm face.

Gwen sat down where you motioned her to, although kept some distance, and squeezed her hands resting on her lap together. “Thanks… it’ll just be a while. My dad had an emergency, and I really don’t know when he’ll be back, so…” She explained and popped her mouth after her sentence died out. You nodded understandingly, shuffling somewhat closer to her.

“I’m glad you came here. I wouldn’t want you staying out there and freezing to death. Plus, I was pretty bored.”

Gwen raised a brow. “Bored? Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”

You scoffed with a faint smile. “Shut up, hypocrite. You were out so late that you got left out of your house.”

“I was busy!”

“Doing what? Selling drugs?”

“Maybe. You’ll never know.”

You began to fan yourself. “Ooh, a drug lord, so hot.”

Gwen scrunched up her nose, giving you a judgemental look. “Is that what turns you on? Drug lords?”

“Nah, that’s not quite it…” You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye before your gaze shifted to your lap, your fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

Gwen didn’t know whether she was reaching— but oh. She didn’t know what courage the universe granted her, either, for she then focused on her nails and pretended to be uninterested. “Huh, then what does turn you on?” Your eyebrows almost reached your hairline in surprise, but you quickly composed yourself.

“Why do you want to know?” You asked, leaning closer to her. She shrugged one shoulder.

“I mean, you never know. What if a friend of mine wanted to ask you out?”

You bit your lip. “Depends. Is she cute?”

“I never specified their gender. And it’s theoretical.” She cleared up, raising one finger. You laughed, moving even closer to her.

“Well, then, I really like blue eyes.”

“…Really?” Her shy voice made your organs jump, which you didn’t know if it was normal or a serious medical condition you should get checked out. You hummed, holding yourself up with your arms behind you. “They’re cool, I guess.” Again, she tried to sound as if she didn’t care, or as if your comment didn’t make her as happy as it secretly did.

“Short hair is also pretty cute.” You added. “Especially if it’s a cool hairstyle.”

“A cool… a cool hairstyle, huh? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” Gwen now knew how frustrated you felt when she avoided your questions. “What about you?” You looked at her, insecurity threatening to overpower your current confidence.

“Oh. I don’t know. Musicians are hot.” She showed you a crooked smile. You wanted to squeal, embarrassingly enough.

“Do you like bass guitar players?” A bold move, indeed. Gwen faked entering deep into thought.

“…Eh, I think drummers are hotter.”

You shoved her playfully, laughing. “Rude!”

“Hey, you asked what I liked.” You both giggled, struggling to keep your noises down, but eventually, your laughter dissipated and she played with her fingers. “But bass players are pretty cute, too.”

You gulped, Gwen’s shoulder touching yours spiking your nerves. “Yeah, well, I agree that drummers are cute, too.”

You both glanced down at each other’s lips, holding your breaths. However, before you could do anything, Gwen got to her feet. “You should try getting some sleep. I don’t want you being sleep deprived because of me.” She laughed nervously, taking off her sneakers.

Disappointment invaded your brain, but admittedly, your eyes did feel a lot heavier than before. “What are you gonna do?” You questioned, remembering her situation. You definitely were more worried than her, who was unfazed.

“I’ll just wait I guess.”

“You should catch some Z’s as well.”

Gwen didn’t argue. She climbed into bed with you, although insisted she didn’t need any covers or blankets since she was just going to take a nap. After that, you couldn’t resist the sleep threatening to spread through your system and you passed out. It felt like minutes passed at most, until you were suddenly gently shaken awake.

You fought to open your eyes before you squinted and looked up at whoever had woken you up. Slowly, the indistinguishable figure transformed into Gwen’s apologetic smile dimly lit by your bedside lamp.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

You groaned, rubbing your bleary eyes and sitting up. “What time is it?” You croaked out. Gwen squinted to discern the numbers in her watch.

“Two in the morning.”

“Two in the morning?!” She nodded, laughing quietly. “Do you have to go?” You would’ve been embarrassed by the heartbreak in your voice, but you were too out of it to dwell on it.

“Yeah, but it’s okay, you can go back to sleep. I just wanted to let you know.”

You didn’t quite process what was going on until you saw her backing away to the window. Suddenly fully awake, your eyes widened and you threw your covers off of you. “What are you doing?”

Gwen opened the window and glanced back at you, lifting a brow. “Leaving?”

You yawned, shaking your finger at her. “No, no, no—” You rubbed your eye and laughed at her. “How about I lead you out of the door like a normal person?”

Gwen blushed, slowly closing the window. “Ah, well, I guess that’s an option.”

“I don’t want to wake anyone up, though, so just stay quiet, alright?” Gwen simply nodded and you wrapped your hand around her wrist, guiding her towards your bedroom door. You opened it as silently as you could, holding your breath, almost afraid that if you breathed, the entire house would be blown away. There’s only darkness, but you walked into it unbothered, while Gwen followed you like a loyal animal. Now that her sight was gone, she fully took in your touch as your soft hold tugged on her arm. You suddenly stopped and she mimicked you, patiently waiting for the sound of the unlocking of the door. However, all she picked up was the shuffling of your feet before you held in your breath. Then, she felt your other hand grab hers.

“Gwen?” You asked quietly, your voice so timid the darkness and the silence could’ve easily engulfed it. Without the view of your face, your skin against hers seemed too much, nearly unbearable.

“…Y-Yeah?”

“Can you see me?”

She shook her head, until she recalled that if she couldn’t see you, neither could you see her and the gesture was nothing more than useless. “Not really.”

“Okay. Cool.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

You giggled, and it didn’t knock over the walls, but it most definitely almost did her body. “No. Do you want me to?”

“Eh… no, thanks.”

“Ok, dork.” You chuckled, but it instantly came to an end. Your breathing wasn’t steady anymore— it trembled, sounded heavy. Then, out of nowhere: “If I kiss you, are you going to run away?”

Gwen just blinked. Despite the darkness, white dots exploded in her vision. “W-what?” Her voice almost failed her.

“Can I kiss you?”

In the room, there was nothing more. It was just your nervous breaths, your loud fridge, and Gwen’s heart. Her heart at full volume, pumping fast, doing its best to keep her awake, sane, on her feet. It was just you and her. Solely you, your gentle hands, and her. She blinked again.

“Okay.”

Your touch disappeared but then reappeared on her cheek, and absentmindedly, she placed her hand over yours. Your thumb, shaking, searched for her mouth, until it successfully brushed against her lips. Gwen gulped, her skin tingling as your breath fanned over it.

It was just you, her, and your lips. Your lips and her own.

You both remained with your eyes closed after your lips lost contact, although it didn’t make a difference in any way. But Gwen’s eyelids fluttered open, and a beam began to blossom.

“I’m glad you didn’t kill me.”

You kissed her a second time before she left.

It would be a criminal understatement to say that Gwen freaked out after she arrived back home. When she made the decision to start letting new friends into her life for good at the beginning of the year as another New Year’s resolution, she took a gigantic step. She then spoke to MJ, which was a leap in itself, and you joined the band. She stumbled, balanced herself on one foot at the edge for a while, but eventually, she managed to jump to the third step once she waited outside your school and apologized to you. She was convinced that would be it; the final and toughest stride, because if she managed to get past through all the previous ones, then it had to mean she was ready, right?

She was just finding out she was wrong, though.

The plan was to make a friend. A friend and nothing more nor nothing less. However, without being fully conscious of it, she continued to sprint up the stairs, past what her original intention was. And now, as she stared so far up at the next colossal step— at the feelings that kept growing for you, at your kiss, at you— she felt herself tipping backwards. There was no way she could climb that. She’d only slip and plummet down to her death.

Somehow, though, when you two agreed on meeting up at an arcade two days later, she decided she might as well go for it.

Gwen eyed the time for what she felt was the millionth time that day and her mask muffled the groan that followed. She had at least thirty minutes left of patrol and— she knew it was a dramatic statement— she didn’t know if she would be able to make it through them. I could call it a day earlier, she thought. It had been the most uneventful day lacking any major criminal activity, after all: all she did was help a little kid get back to his father and stop the usual theft, but other than that, she spent the day swinging around and even had the time to take a picture with a fan.

Her phone began to vibrate. You were calling her. “Hey… you…kid…” She cringed. How was she supposed to greet you from now on? Things weren’t the same.

She heard you snort at her hello. “Hi. Just wanted to tell you that I’m on my way.”

Gwen’s brows snapped together and she checked the time one more time. “Already? You’re early.”

“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to get started earlier so I don’t have to walk back home too late, but also so I can beat your ass and get more tickets than you.”

“Are you challenging me?”

“Not really, because I already know I’m gonna win.”

“Don’t sound so confident,” Gwen smiled and lied down on her back, staring up at the sky. “But if you do win, you better get me a prize.”

“Why would I get the loser a prize? I’m gonna get myself something cool and big and rub it in your face.”

Gwen scoffed but giggled nonetheless. All of a sudden, you went dead silent and she sat up, perking her ears for any further noise. “Y/N? Are you still there?”

It took you a few seconds to answer. “I just heard something weird.”

Gwen’s face drained of color and she jumped up, the tingling present in the back of her head. “Are you alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Get out of there. Now. Find somewhere that’s crowded.”

“Don’t be so paranoid. I bet it’s nothing. Could you imagine if I, like, got murdered, though?” You laughed nervously, trying to ease both of your nerves but Gwen’s sting in her head was only strengthening. “How tragic. Anyway—”

Your voice halted. A distant strangled cry left the speaker. “Y/N?!” Gwen called for your attention, frantic, her heart nearly breaking out of her chest. Something was not right.

“Hold on.”

It was all you said before you ended the call. She wasted no time nor hesitated— she ran to the end of the rooftop and jumped off, shooting a web. She swung as fast as she could, to the point where her aim nearly missed a building. Her thoughts were rushed, hectic, created the worst scenarios so vivid the bile began to make her way up her throat and she had to blink the dampness of her eyes away.

Hiding behind a dumpster nearing the end of an alleyway, you held your phone up to your ear, your legs aching from the speed with which you ran away. You could barely breathe. It was just a messy attempt of ragged breaths that despite how hard you tried to make them quiet, you simply couldn’t. “Please hurry up.”

“We’re trying to get there as fast as we can, miss. Are you hurt?”

“N-No, I’m fi—” A loud bang shook the dumpster next to you and you involuntarily yelped in fear. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth, but it was too late.

The woman and the man who chased you quickly found you, and the guy gripped your arm, yanking you out of your hiding spot. “What the fuck did you see?!” He spat in your face, holding you trapped against his body with his arm choking your neck. “Tell us or you’re fucking dead, hear me?!”

You sputtered and your fingernails scratched his arm, trying to get him off of you. When you realized you weren’t getting anywhere, your eyes flickered down to your hand. You blindly moved it up to his face, and once you grazed his eyelashes, you dug your fingers into his eye with all your strength.

He cried out and let go of you. Without thinking, you spun around and went in to punch whatever area of his face you hoped your hit landed on. But he recovered quickly and caught your fist in mid-air. All you could do was stare at him in horror. You didn’t quite process what was coming at you until he struck your eye.

“Bad move, kid.” The woman said and you glanced up at her with watery eyes, shielding the throbbing left side of your face. She took out her gun, pointed it at you, and your heart dropped.

You had lost all hope, until a ‘thwip!’ echoed in between the walls.

Out of nowhere, a web stuck to the barrel of the gun and, in the blink of an eye, snatched it from the woman’s grasp. Spider-Gwen came into your blurry vision before she spun the gun and smacked it onto the stranger’s head.

She stumbled backwards, grasping her head. Meanwhile, Gwen shot two webs at the wall behind the older girl. Holding onto the strings tightly, she pushed herself off the ground and knocked her down with a kick at her jaw. As she webbed her to the wall, her eyes suddenly widened. She swiftly ducked under, dodging a punch coming from the man behind her. Crouching down, she swiped her leg under him and sent him down.

After he fell on the ground, Gwen towered over him, her fists shaking with fury. As soon as he opened his eyes, she drew her arm back and smashed her knuckles into his nose, a painful crack resonating clear and loud.

She panted loudly, her chest rising and falling quickly as she trapped the now unconscious man’s hand to the gravel. She continued to observe him, her lip twitching, the sirens approaching in the background, until she heard a dry sob behind her. She looked back, only to see you backed up into the corner, hugging yourself.

Gwen ran up to you and kneeled down in front of you, holding your hand. “H-Hey, hey, you’re okay now.” She shushed you, her hand almost coming up to your cheek until she stopped herself. She wanted to stay with you and ask more questions, but two police cars parked themselves at the start of the alleyway. Her heart screamed at her not to. It cursed at her, begged for her feet not to move. However, she looked down at you one last moment and she shot a web up at the sky, zipping out of there.

She watched over you for an hour and a half as you talked to the police, and then when the paramedics attended you. She couldn’t stay long, though, since you furrowed your brows and then glanced up, your sight focusing on her. She instantly hid away, deciding that it’d be best if she just waited at your apartment.

Gwen tried telling herself that you were now fine. She saw you there, not missing a limb or anything, breathing and alive. But despite that, she couldn’t rest in peace. The image of you in the corner— your entire body shaking, your rough appearance, the tears that abandoned your eyes. Broken. It wouldn’t fuck off despite how many times she told it to.

She couldn’t help but recall Peter Parker’s face as she shakily held his corpse in her arms. And then she remembered why she had given up on letting anyone get close to her in the first place.

She had lost track of how long she’d been staring at your window. The window which she climbed through just three nights ago when she got locked out of her place. The night your warm smile greeted her. The night you first kissed her. The night that, perhaps if it hadn’t occurred— if she hadn’t forgotten to take her key with her, or she had left her window open, if she had gone to Em Jay’s, Glory’s, or even Betty’s place instead of yours— if she hadn’t been in the picture, you wouldn’t be in the situation that you were in now.

Because of her, you could’ve lost your life.

She’d texted you— as Gwen— asking if you were alright. It didn’t help that you straight up lied and said that you weren’t feeling alright so you decided to skip the night. At last, the light turned on in your room and she snapped out of a trance. It didn’t take long before she was trying to look through your window as discreetly as she could, her heart starting yet again with its running when she made out your silhouette. It moved around the room, until it stopped in front of the window. To her nightmare, your figure grew bigger as it came closer and closer, and opened the window. When she saw your face, her insides twisted.

You nearly screamed as soon as you saw Spider-Woman outside your window. You jumped back. It was the Spider-Woman. Unbelieving, you blinked at her— a bad idea, you then realized, considering your bruised eye.

“…Spider-Woman?”

“Uh, hi there.”

You touched your head, closing your eyes. Maybe the blow you received was worse than you thought. “Am I hallucinating?”

Gwen laughed weakly. “Nope. I’m very real right now.”

“Oh, okay.” You stared at her, disoriented, a million questions running through your brain. “Can I— can I ask what you are doing here?” You chose to ask first.

“I, uh, wanted to check up on you after the incident that happened earlier. I didn’t really have time to say anything.” It wasn’t fully a lie. You nodded slowly, tilting your head.

“How’d you know where I live?”

She couldn’t judge you for asking so many questions, but God, coming up with a lie on the spot was turning out to be problematic for her. “Uh… spider-sense?”

She tried.

You were yet more perplexed. “Spider what?”

“It’s a thing… I have…” She tapped her head. Again, it wasn’t a full-blown lie. Thankfully, you didn’t continue budging and instead hummed, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. “You don’t have to answer— only if you want to talk about it, but…what happened?” She asked quietly, afraid of your reaction. Your body went rigid and you hesitated.

“I was going to meet up with a girl I like when I heard and then saw someone getting beaten to death.” Her white eye lenses grew big. “The two out of the three people doing it saw me and began to chase me. I tried to hide, but they eventually caught up to me.” You whispered.

Her fingers touched her mouth. “Oh God… I’m so… I’m so sorry. It’s my fault.”

You raised a brow. “…What do you mean? You saved me.”

“But I…” Gwen choked up and you furrowed your brows. She checked her watch, her body so weak she was surprised she was standing up. “I have to go. I’m sorry you had to go through that. You don’t deserve it.”

Before you could reply, she scurried away from your window and leaped off the fire escape. You watched as she swung away and eventually disappeared, feeling hazy and more puzzled than ever.

After she thought she had gotten far away enough, Gwen dropped down on a random rooftop, stumbling and falling to her knees. She felt trapped inside the mask. Almost as if it were stuck, permanently sewn to her skin, and if she tried to rip it off, she’d tear every last inch of skin off with it. She was the mask. She was Spider-Woman, and would forever be. It’s a responsibility she was doomed with for eternity unless she lost a fucking limb or her own life, and there’s nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t simply walk away, or dispose of all the criminals and villains, all the calamities and traps hurled at her which sent her defenseless body flying, hurting it, along with everyone else in the way. Everyone else like Peter. Peter and now you.

Her trembling hand ripped off her mask, her wet face nearly freezing as the wind attacked her skin. She took out her phone and searched for your contact, wiping her nose with her gloves. “Hey…” She typed, but stopped. Keep going, she urged herself. Just fucking write. Her thumb hung above the keyboard, her teary eyes fixed on the cursor blinking, taunting her.

“If you don’t do this, I’m going to hate you for the rest of my fucking life, Gwen.” She hissed at herself and hiccuped after. It didn’t matter if you hated her. It had to be done.

You inspected with a frown at your bruised eye in the mirror, your fingers ghosting over the swollen skin. But your grimace vanished and a faint grin took over your features when you received a message and read Gwen’s name. Rapidly, you opened the text, the overwhelming heaviness burning in your chest immediately flickering out.

It was only temporary, though.

Gwen read the message one last time, and her heart dropped down to her stomach the instant she saw you had opened it. Her own words repeated themselves in her head, slashing her skin with regret, mercilessly cutting her heart apart into unfixable bits.

“I’ve been thinking lately, and I think it’d be best if we’re just bandmates. You’re cool, so I hope that there are no hard feelings between us.”

She turned off her phone and closed her eyes, letting out a long breath. Somehow, she still hated herself.

You didn’t reply. Not a word, no phone call. Nothing. You explained to MJ and Glory what had happened and missed band practice for a week, saying you wanted your eye to heal as much as possible. You never told Gwen anything, though. The girls were in charge of doing it, and she had to act surprised and repress the regret that stabbed at her. Glory was shocked she wasn’t the first to find out and she questioned her about it, but Gwen solely shrugged and forced out a laugh when MJ joked that getting hurt was a curse running for bassists in the band.

The week had finally passed by and you came to Thursday rehearsal. You still greeted Glory with your secret handshake and MJ with the usual hug, as enthusiastic as always. But you ignored Gwen, and she didn’t fight against it. She had now made a promise to herself she couldn’t break.

You’d been practicing for an hour longer than usual, stuck on the same song since Em Jay would stop in the midst of it and insist that you started over again. Everyone knew who was— or, to be more correct— were the culprits, but no one dared to speak up. MJ broke away from the mic, rubbing her face in frustration, and raised her fist in the air to end the playing. “Okay, that sucked. Yet again. But it’s okay, let’s start over from the top.”

Glory let her fingers run down the keyboard, creating what you could say was the loveliest catastrophe of a melody, and sighed. “Em Jay, I think we should take a break—”

“No, no, no, we’ll get it right this time. Let’s just get it over with, okay?” No one agreed, but she continued nonetheless. “One, two, three!”

You began again. At first, no one was messing up, and Em Jay’s hope returned. However, a minute into the song, both the drums and the bass went their own ways and invented their own pace, and MJ turned around, her hands on her hips. “I didn’t want to say it, but you two really need to get your shit together.” She pointed at Gwen and then at you.

Gwen glanced at you. “Y/N’s a bit late.” You opened your mouth in disbelief and faced her.

“You’re going way too fucking fast!”

“No, that’s the right tempo.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Uh, yeah, it is.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Since when?”

“Since always!” Gwen exclaimed, sharing your scowl. “I’m the one who’s been here since the beginning, I think I know better.”

You couldn’t keep your mouth shut any longer.

“Shut the fuck up, you don’t know shit, okay?!” You yelled at her, taking an intimidating step closer to her. When MJ noticed Gwen gripping her drumsticks hard, she tried to intervene.

“Guys—”

“Leave it, Mary Jane.” Gwen warned her, her face stern, and MJ stared at her, expressionless.

“It’s Em Jay.”

“I don’t fucking care!”

“Yeah, you very clearly don’t, huh?” You said, laughing without humor and stepping even closer to Gwen. “You don’t know shit, and you don’t give a shit about anyone. It’s scary how you pretend to care about someone, but you don’t. You just fucking use them to keep yourself entertained for a while, until you get bored and then decide to leave.” You were now right in front of her, and you pointed an accusing finger into her face. Gwen tensed her jaw, fighting hard against the wetness of her eyes.

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, don’t fucking lie, Gwen.” You glared at her, shaking your head. “Don’t act like I don’t know you.”

You both shared eye contact for a few moments, and as Gwen began to blink hard, you scoffed and took a step back. “Whatever.” You muttered and turned away. “I think I’m done for the day.”

The room stayed dead silent while you packed your things up. Glory and Em Jay communicated with each other through their gazes, both equally as confused, but Gwen stuck her sight to the floor, her lip trembling as she curled her hand so tightly around the drumstick it snapped. You slammed the door shut, and Em Jay cleared her throat, biting her nails.

“What the fuck just happened?” MJ and Glory moved their stares to Gwen. “Gwen?”

Gwen rubbed her eye, sighing. “What?” She mumbled. MJ approached her slowly, frowning.

“You got something to tell us?”

Gwen shrugged. “Maybe.” Glory raised her brows. “I messed up long ago.”

“She seems too mad for it to have been long ago.” MJ laughed nervously, but Gwen wasn’t taking any of it anymore. She stood up and pulled her hair, groaning.

“God, Em Jay, this wouldn’t have happened if you had just fucking stopped trying so hard to make our friendship work. You don’t even care about me making friends, you just wanted to feel good about yourself for helping poor little me!” She shouted, nudging MJ with her drumsticks. Em Jay remained quiet, visibly hurt, and hugging herself.

“Gwen.” Glory repeated, her strict voice shocking both Gwen and MJ. “I think you hurt someone. And I think you owe them an apology.”

Gwen took a moment to breathe, and that was when she realized what she had done. She looked at MJ and grabbed her hand, squeezing it. “I’m sorry, Em Jay. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. Thank you for trying. I should’ve tried harder as well.” She whispered sadly.

The corner of MJ’s mouth quirked upwards, and gripped her hand back. “Thanks. But I think you’ve got one more apology left.”

It felt like February all over again. Back when MJ called her to tell her the same thing, and one day later, Gwen waited outside your school. However, this time, she knew she had to apologize for real. For the correct reason.

Gwen let her drumsticks fall to the floor and she jumped over the cables. Speeding out of the door, she hoped she still had the chance to catch up to you and hadn’t lost you again. To her relief, you were at the end of the corridor, in front of the opening elevator doors when she called out your name. Your ears perked up, but your expression hardened when you saw her running up to you. “Y/N, listen—”

“Fuck off.” You laughed and moved to get into the elevator, but Gwen grabbed your arm and spun you around.

“No!” You stared at her, shocked. “N-No, I’m not going to… fuck off. Not this time.” Her eyes were big, begging.

You clutched her wrist and pulled her hand away from you. “I think it’s too little too late, Gwen. I’ve had enough.”

“I made a mistake.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Just let me talk, please.”

“No.” You shushed her, breathing heavily. “Let me talk, okay? Let me tell you about this little mistake of yours. Not only did you act as if you didn’t know me months ago and said we were never friends when I joined the band, but you acted as if you hadn’t already done this. You played with my feelings. Not once, but apparently fucking twice! And you didn’t even apologize!”

Your voice broke as you finally let out your repressed feelings, and you hated yourself for it. You despised yourself for still listening to her, for still caring about her.

You left Gwen speechless. “You wanted to talk, and now I’m giving you the chance. Say something.” You begged, prepared to be let down. But she looked up at you and let out a shaky sigh, sniffing.

“I don’t… I don’t know. I thought I liked you a year ago when we first met. I really did. The feelings were there, b-but…”

“If you never liked me, then why’d you come back?” You asked, broken-hearted. It hurt Gwen to see how much pain she had caused you, all because she was too much of a coward to own up to her feelings.

“That’s the thing.” She breathed out, shrugging. “Maybe I do.”

Your face softened. “What?”

“Don’t make me explain it, please.”

“You have to.”

“I can’t.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, groaning. “For fuck’s sake.” Gwen shook her head and her shoulders began to shake.

“I can’t…”

“Why not—”

“Because it scares me!” She cried out, a sob finally breaking free from her system. You frowned.

“Why?”

“B-Because…” She wiped her nose, struggling to spit it out. “I really like you. I really do. And I don’t know if I’m ready for something like that. I can’t lose you.”

You gently grabbed her shoulder, while your other hand held her chin. “I’m not going to run away from you. I’m here.”

It wasn’t as simple as that. “I can’t.” She said again, even if she didn’t want to let go of your touch. You bit your lip.

“You can’t or you don’t want to?”

She didn’t know what to answer. Your hand slowly sneaked down to hold hers, and you looked at her for permission, your expectations not as high. But she clutched your hand hard. “You can do it, Gwen. You can’t spend the rest of your life like this. If you do, you will lose everyone.” You smiled sadly. You quieted down, pondering, but eventually, you breathed out and closed your eyes. “I really like you, too. I always did. And if I have to wait, it’s okay. Just… don’t disappear again, okay?”

Gwen analyzed your face. She wondered what you must have looked like that night back when you kissed her. And since she hadn’t done anything right before, she wondered whether she could try again.

In a second, she squeezed her eyes shut and pecked your lips. You were caught off guard as your fingers came up to touch your mouth. “Nah, you’re right. I think it’s about damn time.” She bit back her smile.

She took the big step.

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