#Tux and cloud

[rick-ety]

you. youre a short hair. and cloud

thank you thank god you don’t know me in real life I’m crazy there . This would not be your opinion on me

[saucyzoo]

Tux Fem Cloud!

[h31fd3ad]

@crow-grimwood spooky flavor

@linn-corner loaf :)

@i-ate-your-dog-srry liquid🫵

WHAT KINDA CAT ARE YOUR MUTUALS

I REALLY WANNA SIT HERE AMD GO THROUGH TAGGING EVERYONE BUT I HAVE TO GO TO BED NOW SO I’LL DO SO TOMORROW!!!

[fashionteahouse]

out of your league - paul x reader

AN: glad you guys enjoy are enjoying parts of this story. hugs and kisses xoxo💜 <<prev >>next

Your body sways a bit over as you were nudged. You balance your body back.

“Are you good? You’re so quiet.”

You look up at Jacob’s face. You nod.

You continue to look at the road to Bella’s home.

She comes out of the home with a big smile. He picks her up as he says to her, “Hey, beautiful.”

“Hey, Y/N.” she says to you after her face leaves his.

You snap out of it and display a slow smile, “Hey.”

She eyes you carefully and you let her sit in the passenger seat.

They chatter as you look out of the window. You eventually stick your headphones in. The moving car made your stomach uneasy. You’re confused, you’ve never had issues with being car sick.

The smell of popcorn was usually your favorite thing about the movie theater, but you stay in the bathroom until the movie starts.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Bella’s voice rings out.

“Yeah.” you say in a small voice.

You stared blankly at the light spotting in your underwear before cleaning yourself up.

You couldn’t focus on the movie. The loud booms of the movie made you get a headache.

It felt like you were ovulating a bit, the cramps in your pelvis weren’t painful, but they were bothering you. It made you uncomfortable.

You slowly crawl on the bed when you got home. Face down in the pillows.

Feeling a tug at your clothes, you were too tired to speak.

“You’re scaring me, Y/N.” he whispered.

“Sorry..”

A deep chuckle came from him as your eyes were now closed.

“I didn’t even tell you why.”

“What’s wrong?” you whisper.

“You smell..Different.”

“Hm…” you say. If you were more awake, you would’ve questioned it. You were sucked into the sweet world of slumber.

You woke up late afternoon, your bladder was so full, it almost hurt.

You check your underwear and you were confused on why there was no period blood. You sigh as you walked back to your empty room, Emily calls.

Deep in thought, you drive slowly. You felt nauseous as you sat in front of her home. You didn’t throw up.

“This is my niece. Claire.” Emily says with a smile. The girl was shy as she hid behind Emily.

“Aw.” came from both Angela and Bella.

“Say hi, Claire.”

“Hi.” she meekly says and you grin a bit.

“She’s acting shy but she’s a bundle of energy, really.” Emily says to you both with a light chuckle.

Emily kneels and says, “Do you want to color?”

Claire nods.

Emily leads her to the table and gets her crayon box that has markers in it.

“I’m glad the boys aren’t here. They would scared her.” Angela says and you all chuckle as you know it would’ve been true.

“Okay. Shall we talk about the wedding?” Emily asks and you all join Claire at the table. You sit next to her.

You eye her sheet of paper as she draws stick figures. You didn’t know why, but it made you a bit emotional. Innocence was flashing in your face. You felt your heart melt as you realized that you were her age when you fell in love with art and colors.

“I’m thinking of just having it in the backyard.” Emily says and the girls hum in agreement.

You were the only reason who knew why she was rushing. She was pregnant. She wanted the wedding to happen as quick as possible before she started showing.

“Should I make the boys wear shirts?” she then asks.

“No. Just let them wear bow ties while shirtless.” Angela says with her elbows folded on the table and Bella laughs at this.

“No. No. It should be nice. They should wear something. Not a full on tux but a button up with be nice.” Bella says.

You noticed that Claire pushed a crayon to you when she looked up and found you watching her.

You hesitantly take it. You hold it in your fingers as you look at it in your lap.

“What’s your name?” she asks innocently.

You look up and she’s waiting for your answer.

“Y/N.”

“Can you draw clouds?”

You nod.

She smiles and pushed the paper to you, “Draw it.” she says excitedly.

You take the paper and idly make simple but neat clouds as Emily then goes into what color scheme it should be. Claire watched you closely as she leaned close to your hand and the paper.

“Can I color them in?” she asks when you were finished. You smile, “Yeah.”

She colors them in and asks, “Can you make…..Grass?”

“Yes.”

“Can you make….The sun?”

“Yes.” you say while chuckling.

“Can you make….People?”

“Yes.”

“Draw a person!” she says.

“Claire, leave Y/N be.” Emily says.

You chuckle a bit, “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind.” you tell Emily softly.

That’s when the boys trickled in. Paul’s hand came in front of your chin while you were sitting at the table, tilting your head back and bent down to give you a kiss and he sits next to you.

“Where’s Leah?�� you ask Seth.

“She’s eating dinner with mom and dad.”

You nod.

Food was being passed around the table. A large hand swiped the dinner roll that you spread a perfect amount of butter on.

Your jaw is dropped as you look at Quil eating it. His smirk faded as soon as he saw your face.

“Dude, you’re really crying?”

He looks at you with an inquisitive look.

You blink and scoot your chair back.

“Where are you going?” he asks as he felt bad and put another roll on your plate.

“Bathroom.” you rush out to say.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you hear Paul hiss at him.

You heard an anxious but faint, “I was just joking around-”

You shut the door before you could hear any more.

You look in the mirror and wipe away the small streak of tears with some toilet paper.

You rest your hands on the sink as you sniff quietly.

“It’s just food.” you thought in your head as you shake your head.

Coming back out, you continue eating. You then help yourself to another plate. This time, you weren’t high. You didn’t have the munchies. You were just really hungry.

Paul takes you and his empty plate to the sink.

On the couch, Emily tried to talk back up the wedding plans.

“Come on, let’s talk some more at the table.” Emily says.

Kim, Angela, and Bella gets up but Emily looks to you.

“Y/N, are you coming?”

You stop looking at Claire who’s sitting on the floor on her stomach as she’s kicking her feet back and forth as she colors and hums.

“Um…I’ll be in..Just a minute..Is that okay?” you quietly ask. You were very clingy to Paul and he didn’t care at all. You anxiously rubbed your hand up and down his arm that you were intertwined with. It felt like you haven’t seen him in a long time.

“Y-yeah.” she says and they retreat.

You end up falling asleep with your cheek on his chest. You felt yourself moving and you blink awake as you felt the wave of Paul walking.

You felt the outside air as the door shut.

You rub your eyes as you sat in the passenger seat as Paul opened the car door on his side.

“I shouldn’t have fell asleep. Emily wanted me to help her.” you say in a husky voice from waking up.

“It’s alright. Claire kept bugging her, she couldn’t get a word in even if she wanted to.” Paul explained.

You softly chuckle.

Seeing Paul bent in the fridge, you shake your head as you lean against the counter.

“You’re hungry still?”

His plates at Emily’s were piled.

He munches on something, “I’m a wolf. Of course I’m hungry.”

He puts it close to your mouth as you take a bite as you look at him.

You move around him and enter the bedroom to put something on to get ready for bed.

You lay on your side and you felt the bed dip beside you. A set of warm lips touch your ear before it speaks, “I know you’re awake.”

Silence is what you still choose. You blink.

You’re on your back looking at him as he then hovers over you but you push him. He freezes.

“I-…..I’m still tired.” you stammer out in a whisper. You felt exhausted but you were scared. You wanted to lay and think.

He looks at you and you hated when he did that at times. It was like he could see right through you. He doesn’t say anything before he's out of the bed.

You hear the bathroom door shut and you put the covers to your eyes as you sighed.

Just a couple more days. Then you would know.

You wake up early and look over. Paul is facing you with his mouth slightly cracked open as you hear him quietly sleep.

You rise up and immediately you’re dizzy as you sit back down with a quiet groan. You stare at the floor as you sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for it to pass. Rising back up, you cook something simple but the coffee you took a sip out of, made you grimace. You raise it to your nose and smelled it.

It smelled strongly like coffee. You look at the cup to see if it was washed out correctly. It was. It was you who washed it after all.

You take another sip to be sure and you spit it out in the sink as your taste buds didn’t agree to it.

You dump the drink out.

Paul was dead asleep.

You shake his arm.

“Hm.” he says with his eyes still closed.

“Come on. I made us something to eat.”

He shoveled food into his mouth as he rubbed his eyes.

“I’m so fucking tired.”

You blink as you realized that you were too.

“Me too.” you whisper.

“Why aren’t you eating? I thought you liked eggs.”

You look down. The bites that you did take were so small that it looked like you didn’t even touch it.

“I do..” you trail off. He eyed you carefully.

“Do you want them?” you then ask as you push your plate towards him.

“Then what are you going to eat?” he questioned.

“The coffee I drunk while cooking must’ve curbed my appetite…Plus the taste.. I think it went bad.” you say with a grimace as you scooped it onto his plate.

“You just bought it last week. It didn’t go bad.” he says. You don’t say anything as you rise to set the dish into the sink.

You walk slowly into the room where Paul watched you. It was as if he was watching to see if something would happen. Something did happen.

Your mouth filled with drool as you move hastily to the bathroom. You almost didn’t make it to the toilet before your stomach is being pushed in and you puke up everything that you had put in your mouth.

You cough as you then spit into the toilet bowl. You wince because you felt your stomach push in again. Nothing else would come up so you were gagging on air.

You felt a wave of heat beside you as you slam the toilet bowl down as you pant.

“You’re sick again?” he asks worriedly as he flushed. He helped you up and you clean your mouth.

“I told you the coffee was bad.” you mutter, “I didn’t want you to see that. Go away.” you say as you leave the sink.

“Kinda hard for me not to see, since we live together.” he says as he follows you back to the kitchen. You look at the box of coffee and read the expiration date.

It was still good.

Your eyes widen and you then blink to sober yourself up.

You don’t say anything as he watched you enter your art room with the door shut.

You lift your laptop up and scroll through your emails.

A submission was sent and you read the description of the piece that they wanted.

“A woman who is inside of a clam but she’s caressing or tending to a newborn baby. Her baby. Her private areas are covered with delicate seashells. Could you please have other small children surrounding such clam?”

You slam your laptop down.

“Of course.” you whisper with your eyes closed.

You didn’t know what you would do if you were-

You didn’t even want to say the word. You look around your room. Things would change. A lot. You didn’t know if it would be good or bad, but you and Paul as parents was something that you thought would happen way further down the line.

Blinking back tears, you scolded yourself to pull yourself together.

You prep the canvas and sketch the idea with a piece of charcoal.

You sigh as you were finished with your underdrawing, you squeezed paint onto your palate.

Slowly, you dab and start with the shadows. You yawn as you were finished with the shadows. You rise up and take the jar that was for your water and carry it to the kitchen.

“Why are you acting like that?” a deep voice says behind you.

You slowly pour out the discolored water. You blink. You didn’t know that he was still home.

“Like what?”

“Y/N, dont fuck around with me.”

You sigh a bit and turn your head to the side, speaking with no enthusiasm, “I’m not.”

“You are!”

You turn your head back and rinse the jar out. Slowly.

You didn’t expect him to still be staring dead at you when you turned around from the sink.

“Tell me what am I doing.” you say.

He blinked.

“You’re pushing me away and I did nothing to you.”

“I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”

He stares at you.

“Did you have patrol today?”

“Tonight. I just have to check the area.” he says.

“Oh.” you say as you look out the window and you grab your jar to set it on your desk but he halts you with a hand on your arm as you walk past him.

You stop but don’t look at him.

“What’s going on?” he asks as he peered down at you.

“I got an emotional…Submission.” you say and he immediately shakes his head.

“Y/N, what is wrong?” he asks but it’s now a demand.

You sighed.

“It’s nothing to be worried about. Okay? I just…I don’t know..I feel weird. Like…Not myself.”

“How?” he asks.

“I feel like I’m going crazy.” you whisper but then continue in a regular voice, “I’m just going to finish this-“

“You look like you’re about to crash.” he says and takes your jar. You follow him to the art room but he’s fast as he closed the door.

“I’m tired too. Let’s just get some sleep.” he says.

“See…I don’t get it. I got enough rest but I’m still feeling fatigued.” you say and he carried you into the bedroom, your face is in his chest.

“It happens to all of us.” he says in your ear and you both are under the covers, mushed against each other.

You yawn and close your eyes. You feel him shift. You open your eyes.

“What are you doing?” you whispered.

“I’m getting comfortable, you know this. Take your shirt off.”

You sit up and throw the shirt in a chair before laying back down. You hear a tear and realize your underwear was now tore. You didn’t flinch, you just looked up at the ceiling with a tired blink as you only turn your head to him with a serious look.

“Paul..I thought we were sleeping.”

“We are. Just after this.” He covers your mouth once more. It felt like he was tickling your soul. His hands overwhelmed you and felt like you were getting shot by love.

Your chest brushed against his chest with a breathy noise and you reach over to his side of the nightstand.

You felt the head of him brush along your entrance and you stick the packet in his face.

He pretends like he doesn’t see it, as he takes your hand to stroke him. You do for a bit, you felt a surge of lustful energy pulsate through you, but you let go of him. He groaned.

You hold up the packet as you start to open it.

He pauses.

“Are you…Serious?” he asks in genuine surprise.

“I…I don’t want any mistakes…I can’t do it.” you whisper.

He sits up.

“We don’t have to fuck.” he says as he was focused on just having you ride against his erection. You slide off of him. He hovered you and gave you his soft touches to open your legs but you clenched them.

“Y/N.” he whispered to you as he smoothed his hands down your thighs to relax them. It worked but you fought hard to focus.

“I…You’re gonna want to, after you…” you whisper as you gestured to him getting ready to lick and taste the ache away. The excitement for you, lurched, but the smell of consequence was all that you could focus on. You actually could actually smell the cloud of sex strongly, it scared you.

“I’ll just use my fingers…How about that?” he says oh so seductively and leans forward. You scoot back with reflex that you didn’t know you possessed. He looks concerned now. You never acted like this.

He sighed through his nose softly as he takes a look at you. You don’t look at him.

“What did I do?…Huh? I just want to touch you, Y/N.”

“Nothing. I told you already..I don’t feel like myself.” you say with reassurance as your eyes became wet and you’re frustrated that he wouldn’t move out of the way. You’re just stuck there as he looked at you. Naked. Vulnerable.

“Why won’t you just talk to me?”

“We weren’t doing much talking.” you say with quiet frustration as you look up at the ceiling. He’s now caressing your arm as he stared down at you.

“I just want to make you feel better…It’s more than what you’re telling me. I’m trying to be patient and let you come to me but it’s clearly not what’s going to happen.”

“Let’s just go to sleep.” you say.

“And then what? We wake up and we’re right back to where we left off.”

“Just get off of me.” you whisper in quiet frustration.

He looked upset. Like as if he was mad that his feelings were hurt. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment as soon as you saw how rock hard he was.

“l’ll be in the bathroom.” he mutters and shuts the bedroom door behind him.

You shut your eyes then. You forced yourself to sleep.

You woke up to it being dark and empty. You smushed your face back into your pillow and silently cried.

You found yourself sleep again. You woke up in the morning, still tired. It was as if you didn’t sleep at all.

You grudgingly get up and you’re bent back over the toilet bowel.

As the toilet flushes, your back is leaned against the wall.

Paul walks right in and squats next to you. Taking a look at you. You eventually turn your head and meet his eyes. He had a quick twinkle in his eye with a soft smile.

“You really do smell different.”

“Just say I stink.” you say as he helped you up and you clean your mouth.

“No..You smell like…A good different..You kind of smell like me...” he says with a hint of happiness as he looked at you through the mirror.

Spitting out the toothpaste, you chuckle, “Okay.”

His rubbed a smooth hand on your back. You slowly walk out the bathroom with him behind you.

“I don’t have to leave today.” he says. You felt a soar of happiness.

“You don’t?”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t..Have any plans either.” you say quietly.

He raked his eyes on you and you turn away from him.

“I will be working on the piece if you need me.” you say as you open the door to your sanctuary.

“You trying to get away from me or something?”

You freeze as your hand was still on the door handle.

“No. Why would you say something like that?” you ask.

He doesn’t say anything and you turn to look at him.

“Okay. Do you want to do something together?”

“Let’s eat.” he says with suggestion. You then nod. You felt like you were starving.

You sit at the table as he moved about on the stove. You covered your nose at times while trying to keep your cool because the smell almost made you gag. He ate as if it was his first time ever eating. You ate slowly even though you were very hungry. You were afraid of throwing everything back up.

“You don’t like it?”

“I do. I just don’t want to throw up.” you say as you hold your breath to swallow the food.

“Do you want me to take you to a doctor?” he asks as his back hand is on your forehead. You shake your head eagerly.

He doesn’t look convinced.

After you help him clean up, he gives you a look. A look that made you ridiculously shy. He noticed as he chuckled deeply but quietly. The sound brought on butterflies that soared in your stomach.

Hot pair of hands were firm on your waist and you jolt a bit from his lips kissing the weak spot on your neck. Your arm are around his neck.

His hand immediately goes into your underwear and he moaned in your mouth. It made your ache grow viciously. You don’t think you’ve ever been this horny before. The ache between your legs was so prominent, it almost hurt. You actually grinned at him for making you feel this way right in that moment.

Underwear down your ankle and with hands plastered on the table, he’s leaned over you, behind you as he feels on you with his middle finger while kissing both your ear and neck.

You grip the table as he moved his talented hips. You shudder as you tried to catch your breath. Your legs were shaky and you felt like you were going to fall. You didn’t know which one it was. The breathy words, the touches, the open mouth kisses on your ear, you just didn’t know.

You then find yourself moving backwards as he sits in a chair. You moan at the sky with your eyes squeezed shut with as he leans your back against his chest with his possessive hands. Up and down, your body greedily takes all of him. You both move your hips as you both now groaned and moaned in sync.

He nipped your neck. He cupped and caressed your puffy chest with his large and strong hands. He traveled his hands down to keep your legs open. Your brain was melting as he was now stimulating the nub that was swollen without shame. Pure erotic. You came as you clenched your legs.

He turned you around and you both kiss sloppily as you grip the back of his chair as your hips were now bucking forward. His hands were gripping and caressed up and down your sides as he helps you sink back down on him.

He grunted and you grunted. Hips were meeting each other like a choreographed dance. You gasp as he gripped your bottom after bringing your legs up against his chest. You whine like never before at such new position as he holds onto you while thrusting, not letting fall.

You both rode out your high together. You both still sit there, still connected as you catch your breath. He sits you up straight as keeps your chest against his as you moan at the change of position as you realize he’s still connected in you.

He snaked his hand on the nape of your neck.

“Feel better now?” he says in your ear.

“I believe so…” you whisper you say as you accept the slow tongue filled kiss he then decide to give you.

You rise up a bit and a small gush of semen spills from you. You freeze and look at him. He looked at you with a heated look. He wanted to go again, even moving his hips upwards. You gasp as you clutch to his shoulders as it felt like a whole new level.

The touches were intense as everything that was taboo was out of the window. It was so easy for him to slide in and out which made the rhythm so smoother as you both roll hips to each other. He brings you to his chest, hands firm on your back as you both move together.

It was slow. It drove you crazy. You whined for him. He responded with rich caresses on your skin.

The moans you two made had a magical touch that you couldn’t even describe. You’ll never get it out of your head. Same with the wet noises, the squelchy noises of lovemaking.

The climax scared you. You don’t think you’ve came that hard. Neither did Paul.

Wobbly legs and all, you scramble away from him. You look for your underwear but he has them in his hand. You snatch it from his hands. You enter the bathroom and your lip wobbled. The bathroom door opens back up.

“What?” he asks calmly.

“W-W-Why didn’t you wear a condom?” you say emotionally.

“We never have.” he says.

“Still!” you say as you freak out and sniffle.

“Y/N, calm down-“

“No!…No!” you say and shove him but he doesn’t budge but he looks at you curiously. He was calm. Too calm.

You shake your head. Turning on the shower, you glare at the shower.

“Paul, I need time to myself.” you say emotionally.

“That’s all that you have done.” he says quietly but humorously and you didn’t like how your body responded to him pulling you to him. You were weak as he kissed your throat as your head dropped back. The ache was starting to come back. It was like you were possessed with his love.

He looks at you as you hear him softly inhale. He hummed a bit. He inhaled again as he held the nape of your neck possessively. It was quiet for a moment before he dropped the big question that tickled in your ear. You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“You pregnant?” he whispered as if it was a juicy secret.

You freeze and blink slowly. One look at his excited eyes. Tears fell without your permission. He cupped your cheeks. He was clearly happy. He didn’t understand why you wouldn’t be too.

“What’s wrong?” he cooed.

You try to move your face but he wouldn’t let you so you give up. You breathe heavily. He shuts the water off.

“It’s all starting to make sense.” he says with a grin as he sits on the toilet lid.

“W-what is?” you whisper through tears.

He brings you in front of him as he kisses and caress your stomach. You closed your eyes as more tears fell.

“The sickness, you being so emotional and anxious…I knew it was something…Us sleeping a lot, us eating a lot, your smell, god your smell, your dream..” he whispered to your stomach, trying to cheer you up.

He looked up and didn’t like how you didn’t meet his gaze.

He spoke in the most sickeningly sweet voice, “Baby, look at me.”

You blink your eyes open.

“Do..You not want this.?” he whispered.

“I smoked hella weed!” you say with shame as you remember your detours with Leah. He chuckled.

“You didn’t know. It’s okay.”

“And we don’t know now.” you say robotically.

“You are.” he says confidently with a smile.

“We don’t know that.” you say in total denial.

“You are. I can smell it. You smell…Like me.” he says with him slowly touching your body and pulling you to him. You shove his hands away. You didn’t see his face fall as you turn around and face the shower. He stared at the floor in front of him.

“You don’t want this.” he stated. You stare sadly at the tile wall.

“I…Don’t.” you admit very quietly. It felt like his heart was stomped on. It didn’t make sense to him. You were rejecting a piece of him. He wanted to cry with anger right then and there but instead he cleared his throat.

“So, what are you going to do?” he asks in a harsh voice as he’s looking at you. Deep with betrayal.

“I’m going to talk to Sue tomorrow.” you whisper.

“You’re fucked up.” he says harshly and close to your face which makes you blink and he walks out, slamming the door behind him. You blink at the door.

When you came out of the shower, he wasn’t home.

You sat on the edge of the bed as you clenched your fists. There was just no way you two could raise a child. Especially not now.

Plus, you wanted to think about a kid once you two were married at least. Things weren’t going to plan.

A knock startled you. In your robe, too lazy to get fully dressed, you answer the door.

“Oh, hey. How are you?” you say politely. You moved out of the way for Paul’s dad, Terrance.

“I’m good, Y/N. Yourself?” he answered.

“I’ve seen better days but I’m not complaining.”

You gesture towards the couch for him to have a seat.

“Paul isn’t home by the way. Are you..Thirsty?”

“No. I’m good. I um…I came to talk to you..” he says and you have a feeling of what.

“To…Me?” you still ask in surprise.

“Yeah….Um…Paul came over and…He told me what happened but I’m not getting into what you two got going on so….”

“Of course he did.” you whispered as you look to the floor.

“Look, I’m not here to drill you or anything. You can just go talk to him. You can get whatever off of your chest. He’s at the house right now and I told him to cool off. If what he’s saying is true, then I don’t mind giving a word of advice or something. I can give you two that.”

You swallow while you still don’t meet his gaze.

“I don’t feel confident. I don’t feel confident that…Us being parents is a good idea…I feel like we have a lot of growing to do before we jump in that boat.”

“But you’re confident in marriage ..?”

“It would be just us….This is different. Another being will now be involved….Whats going to happen when we clash? What’s going to happen when I have to leave town? What’s going to happen when I have to meet a deadline and I can’t do what I have to do because he’s at patrol….I don’t feel confident.”

“You should tell this to him.”

“….I don’t want to hurt his feelings. I only want him to know.. Just, not now.”

“You should still talk to him…His feelings are hurt either way, Y/N. At least, be real about it.”

You don’t say anything. He stands up.

“Come on over. I’m making dinner.”

“Okay.” you say quietly.

After saying your goodbyes to him, you take off your robe in your room. You just stare into the mirror.

“You would look pretty pregnant.”

Paul’s statement rang in your head. A hand goes to your stomach with a sigh.

You twist open the door to his old bedroom. It was dark. You heard the faint noise of snoring. He was face down in the mattress. You find the lamp and click it on since you knew that the main light would bother his eyes. There was nothing left in his old room except his bed.

You sit down and he immediately opens his eyes. He blinked and rubbed his eyes and shifted on his back.

“How much trouble am I in?” you ask softly. He gives you a disappointed look but it didn’t last long. His eyes softened as they flickered down to your midsection. You wrap your arms around it self cautiously.

He shakes his head a bit as he rolled his eyes a bit. He sits up after he yawned.

“Paul….Im not ready.” you whisper.

“You made that perfectly clear.” he says.

“In a way that…Should’ve been less harsh.” you admit you say with a soft grin that quickly faded at his hardened look at you.

“What is it that you want? You’re so fucking wishy washy. I’m starting to feel like you’re being immature. You’re acting like we’re teenagers still.”

“I just…” you sigh.

“One minute…It’s like you’re down for me…..Then the next, you’re ready to just walk away from it all..I don’t even know with you, Y/N.

“Another human being will be with us. It won’t just be us…What’s going to happen when you’re at patrol and there’s things I need to get done? What if I have to leave town?”’

“It’s not just an human being, Y/N. It’s our kid. Our kid that me and you have made together….Unbelievable….You hang with people each and everyday who would, I’m sure, would hold you down and you don’t even see that you would be okay………………Then, you even have my dad….You’re just making excuses at this point.” he says with a flick of his hand in disapproval.

“Not everyone is ready to have kids yet.”

“Okay.” he says and sits back and doesn’t look at you.

You get up and you groan with a hand on your head as you tried to regain your balance from being dizzy. He immediately guides you to the bathroom and you empty out the vomit in your system. You clean your mouth at the sink.

You sit back on the floor on your butt with your arms resting your knees as you look down sadly. He flushed the toilet and sets the toilet seat down and haves a seat.

“What are you really afraid of?” he whispered to you. He still wanted to understand. He was still determined to get fears out of you. Financials weren’t a problem. Babysitting wouldn’t be an issue.

“When we butt heads…I don’t want our…kid, to be a witness to such thing.”

He blinked at you. You continue.

“If they come…I will love them…I swear I will…I just wanted us to be married, Paul.”

“But we love each other immensely already. Marriage is just a piece of paper. This proves our love.”

“Yeah…I know, but…” you couldn’t think of another reason.

“And we will love them immensely. I love them already.”

A silent tear slides down. He reached over and quickly swiped it with his thumb.

“This is a gift, Y/N.”

It’s just like your dream.

You squeeze your eyes shut as more tears fall. He lets you get it out. Your breaths shuddered as you silently sob. You hiccup as you stand up in a slouch. He stands as well.

“You don’t even want to mark me.” you whisper as you look up to him with wet eyes.

“Is this what this is about?” he whispered as he wiped your tears with his hand.

“You seemed so for it. You didn’t even say anything when I asked you.”

“I can’t just out and do it…I have to do it when my wolf’s ready to do it. I wish you would’ve just told me. Here you were, pushing me away and he wants to spend more time with you. He’s happy you’re ready..The fucker was even excited when you said it.. I guess he knew you were pregnant before you even put two and two together…He wants to wait…After the baby is born.” he calmly explains.

You look down.

“Why didn’t you just say something?” he says.

“It’s hard…Maybe I am immature…This all feels too…Grownup.” you whisper.

“We did a lot of grownup things…A lot.” he whispered and his knee is between you as he quietly chuckled at your jumping heart.

“We’re gonna be alright, Y/N.” he reassured clearly.

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

You both ate with joined hands at the table. Paul’s father, Terrance, takes his glasses off as he smiled, “I finally get to be a grandfather.”

“Only us in this room know….Okay?” you say softly.

“Why don’t you want to tell anyone?” Paul asks you.

“Because…I don’t want to be bombarded… Just not right now..If we’re going to do this…I want to enjoy it intimately.” you say quietly as you look down at your plate.

“I understand. I get it.” Terrance says with a supportive grin. You thank him with a smile.

You crawl into bed and turn over as soon as you came home. Your eyes are closed and you felt a hand snake over on your lower stomach. You open your eyes.

A pair of lips meet your neck. His fingers felt the warm mush that was between your legs. You move off of your side and onto your back. He was able to open your legs wider as he stared down at you.

With a soft groan, he sucked off the wet fingers before rubbing and circling you again. You grip his arms as you sighed out at the sight of him burning his focused eyes in yours. Your hips buck up as he thrusts his fingers in a rhythm that made unholy sounds.

You pant with an high octave as he filled you up with the heavy and deep pumps. His hands cupped your breasts that were slightly sensitive. You hold onto the headboard as he groans lightly in your ear. Your back was arched against him as he moved his hips to deepen himself in you.

He gripped your facial cheeks with one hand as he turns your head and keeps you in a kiss you with such eroticism.

You shake as he lays you down with him. Your eyes couldn’t stay open. He glided his hand sensually down the side of your body before lining himself up with you. You grip the side of his thigh as you moan out at the rhythm he was now pumping.

You’re shaken awake and you lift up lazily as you felt kisses on your face and you blink your eyes open to find yourself directly on top of him.

You lay back down. You didn’t want to move. You felt so tired and comfortable. He rubbed your back slowly. You almost fell back to sleep until he spoke.

“I have to go to patrol soon.” he says tiredly.

“That sucks.” you whisper.

“I got patrol with Sam. Are you going to hang with Emily?”

“Mm..Sure.” you say as you don’t bother to open your eyes.

Paul dropped you off at Emily’s while Sam goes with him to patrol. Sam looked right at you and Paul with a weird look but he continues to walk. You stop looking at him disappearing into the woods with Paul because you heard your name.

“Y/N!”

You felt small arms wrap around your side and you look down.

You smile as the small child looked up at you with a smile.

“Claire!” you say and bend down to give her a quick hug.

“Can we color again? Pwease?” she begged as she bounced her knees in excitement. You nod and she immediately takes your hand, “Okay, come on.”

She stayed under you. The entire time. You didn’t mind. She liked to ask a lot of questions. You answered patiently.

Many pictures were made.

“She stole you away from me.” Emily says as she tells you that lunch is ready.

“Oh..Sorry. I really came over for you.” you tell her quietly as you help her in the kitchen to make Claire a plate of what she made.

Emily only chuckles, “It’s alright, Y/N.”

As you ate with them, Claire gushed about Emily taking her to the beach, you felt a kiss on your cheek. Paul is sitting next to you so you get up to hand him a plate.

“I got it, Y/N.” Sam says as he grabs both you and Claire’s empty plates.

“Thank you.” you say quietly.

“Come on, Y/N.” Claire says tugging on your hand.

“How did she not run out of crayons?” Emily asks.

You laugh as Claire tugged on your arm. Paul just watched curiously.

He watched as you got down on your knees with Claire in the living room and drew and color with her. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand your insecurities.

Sam watched Paul watch you.

Your eyes drooped as you look at the picture Claire drew.

Her short and stubby finger points to one stick figure to the next. They were holding hands with smiles.

“This is me and this is you!”

“Wow…Very nice!” you coo to her.

“Y/N…”

You look up with a hand covered yawn.

“Yes?”

“Let’s go for a walk.”

“Sam, shes not walking.” Paul says after him before you could have the option to agree or disagree.

“I need to talk to her.”

“About what?…Come on, you ready?” Paul then says to you. You get up with Paul’s hand in yours.

“Why can’t I talk to her?” Sam asks calmly as he stops Paul.

“Because we’re going home.” Paul says with nonchalance and extends his hand that you end up taking. He tugged you towards the front door as he grabbed your keys.

As he drove, you put your head to window as you hold your midsection.

You lift your head as you cover your mouth with your hand.

Paul quickly pulls over.

You get out and throw up on the side of the road. Everything that you ate for dinner was on the pavement.

He rubbed and pat your back as you make sure to keep some of your hair away from such mess.

“Are you alright?” he asks after you start to try to walk back to the car.

“Yeah.” you say in a shaky whisper.

He helps you in the car.

He starts puts it back into Drive and makes the rest of the way home.

You flop on the couch and lay down after using bathroom to throw up again and clean up.

He moved your feet out of the way as he sits down and places both of your legs across his lap.

“Why wouldn’t you let me talk to Sam?” you ask curiously.

“The walk was to question you down…I think he knows…On patrol he slid in a remark of your smell.”

“Oh.”

“You see the way he was looking at you? He kept looking like that at me….Fuck..I forgot he could smell you.”

“So…Maybe I should just hang out here….Stay away from the wolves for a while.” you say.

“Yeah…” he says as he’s rubbing your legs.

You close your eyes but you’re up in his arms.

“Where are we going?”

“To bed. You’re not sleeping on the couch.” he says and he strips you and you’re asleep before you could finish.

Sue smiles as bright as the morning sun as she lets you know that everything is going well.

Paul was spot on.

You were indeed pregnant with his baby.

It was a look you never seen on Paul before. You’ve seen him content but this look, was much more than that. Completeness.

She prescribed prenatal pills and vitamins. She tells you let her know if you feel any pain, discomfort, or have any questions. She scheduled a follow-up appointment for you.

As you both were leaving out of the clinic, Paul asks you if you’re hungry. You nod.

That smile. You just wanted to rip it off of her face.

“Paul! I haven’t seen you in like forever!”

“Yeah…” he trails off as he’s more focused on looking at the menu.

“What are you getting? I got you…” she says as she whispered the last part. She’s displaying a cheesing smile as she bounces a bit in her stance as she looks at him.

Paul orders more food than he originally was planning to and the girl prints out a receipt after bypassing him paying. She grabs a pen. She scribbles.

“Hold that for me?” she tells him as she extends the small white paper to him.

“Keep it.”

Her face fell.

You slowly sip your drink as you sat across from him.

“Come on, eat. I thought you were hungry.” Paul insisted as he’s offering you the first bite.

“I need to use the bathroom.” you whisper. You get up and walk off. You slowly wash your hands and you hear the door open and close.

The same employee goes to the sink and fixes herself up in the mirror. She uses the soap that’s in front of you instead of her own.

“Excuse you.” you say.

“I’ve been excused.” she says with nonchalant intensity.

“Asshole.”

She laughs. You glare at her.

“What a shame..I was gonna be nice..You know, come to you as woman to woman..But you seem to have it all.” she says with a smirk with defensive hands.

Throwing the wet paper towels in the bin, you scoff, “The fuck is your problem?”

“What?…Please, tell me you don’t think this is…End game, do you? Do you not know him?…It’s…Paul.” she says with a laugh as if it was an inside joke. She looked at you as if this is information that you should’ve been able to pick up on.

“We are endgame. I know him well.” you say with a quick smile and raise your hand and before you touch the door to leave, you hear her bitterly laugh. She laughed as if she figured out a mystery that was worth digging. She points a bit at you a bit.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you? That’s the only way Paul Lahote, on God’s green Earth, is gonna lock down and marry someone. And then.. You can’t even trust that.” she laughs again.

Your heart race but you don’t let her see you sweat. It was too early for you to show anyways.

“Nothing but trust with us. We’ve been together for about two years now.” you say with a nonchalant shrug with a relaxed smile and yank the door open.

Walking back to where Paul was, you flop down with your arms crossed. One look and he knew something was wrong.

“What is it?”

“Are you finished?” you ask as you hold the car keys. He leans back in his chair.

“You didn’t even eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” you say as you pinch the bridge of your nose for a moment.

“Eat, Y/N.”

“Paul-“

“You literally said you were hungry so-“

“Could you just stop?” you demand fiercely in a hushed but cruel tone.

He stared at you. He then leans forward a bit as he slowly pushed the food towards you.

“Just. Eat.” he says carefully.

It seemed as soon as he said it, your stomach roared with hunger. You chew. You didn’t bother to savor the taste in the food.

“Where are you going?” he asks as you walk to your art room when you both arrived home.

“I’m behind.” you say. You stare at the unfinished piece of work that sat on an easel.

He joins you and opens the window. You sit on a stool. He sits in there with you.

“What are you doing?”

“What? I can’t watch you?”

“I never let anyone watch me.” you say as you pour leftover water from a water bottle into your water jar.

“Why not?”

“It throws me off my game…I need peace.” you say with slight frustration as you squeeze paint onto the palette.

“I don’t give you peace?”

You look at the ceiling with your head back for a moment.

“Don’t twist my words. I hate it when you do that.” you say.

“I’m not. I’m trying to understand.”

“Paul. Leave.” you say in frustration. He looks at your unfinished picture.

“Who is that for?”

“Are you trying to fuck with me or something?”

“Y/N, what’s your problem? You went to the bathroom and came out a different person. Are you the correct Y/N?” he speaks out with assuagement.

“You’re being annoying. I just want to work and you’re being distracting. Why can’t you just allow me to do what I need to do?”

“I am…I just want to be around you. Is that so bad? Is it bad that I just want to be around you, Y/N?”

It tugged at your heartstrings. You look down.

“Then shush….If you’re going to stay.” you whisper.

He grinned.

You felt nervous. Every time you peaked over, he was watching.

“I’m not an art critic, Y/N, calm down.” he chuckled quietly.

“This has to be perfect.” You say as you look closely at the layers you were adding.

“It looks perfect to me.”

You shake your head a bit as you couldn’t help but crack a little laugh.

“You think…They will pick up our skills?” you ask curiously as you color in the newborn baby laying with its eyes closed. The mother was finished and looked like a goddess.

“No. He’ll have your skills.”

“He?”

“I think it’s a boy.”

“Dr. Paul.”

“I’m serious. I don’t know, I just have a feeling.”

“You can draw too.” you say quietly. They were erotic but they were still good.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“W-what?” you ask as your heart started to race.

“I only drew because of you.”

You stare at him. He stared back.

“Bullshit.” you say while laughing but he was serious, “It’s true.”

“But…Such little time…You drew as if..You've been doing it for so long.”

“I appreciate that compliment. Especially, from you.”

“You scare me sometimes.” you joke.

“You were always hunched over your sketchbook…” he reminisced.

You chuckle and nod in agreement as you knew it was in fact true.

“And now look…You’re witnessing me being hunched over my easel.” you say.

Paul quietly chuckled as he’s indeed seeing your awkward position on the stool as you now paint without nerves.

“I want to black mail you.”

“I like the sound of that.” he says but he’s listening closely.

You tap the wooden part of your paint brush on your chin in a thinking matter as you look up a bit.

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

He reached over tried to pull on your pants but you swat his hand away.

“I’m serious. Just answer.” you say as you get back to work and he sits back at the fact that you didn’t look at him.

“Hm…” he takes his time to think. He tells you.

“We can go..When you don’t have patrol.”

“Who do I have to kill?” he asks suspiciously.

You smile, “We get married there.”

“Okay.” he immediately says as he sits up straighter. The excitement caught you off guard.

“Wait…Really?” you pause.

He doesn’t leave eye contact, “Yeah.”

“Wait..I-…Okay.” you stammer as you twirl your paint brush in the jar to get the paint off.

“What? You thought I was gonna say no. I’m the one who proposed.” he says as he nudged you with a slight chuckle.

“Yeah. I’m relieved actually.” you say as you pretend to wipe sweat away from your forehead with your forearm.

“All of this crying..All of this fighting..You just wanted a husband.” he grins as he titled his head.

“Well yeah. I want you to be my husband. It’s more exciting. I’m being tied to the love of my life. Marriage is like…Probably the best when it’s your imprint.” you say shyly for a moment.

He leans close to you with a sappy grin as you speak out your statement, “Yeah. It should be.”

After watching you make the clam more vibrant, he speaks after it’s quiet, “It will be just us?”

“…Who all do you want there?” you ask as you’re focused.

“My dad…That’s it for me.” he says.

You nod as you look at him for a moment.

“What about you?”

You chuckle a bit, “Larry.”

“Y/N, seriously?”

You chuckle again.

“You haven’t been around him long enough to know that he’s not going to take it lightly if he’s not invited.”

“Alright, alright.” he says lazily, “What about Bella?”

“Marriage freaks her out. Look, we can always have a big ceremony or whatever but I just want something for just us.” you say. He smiled.

“That’s what I want too. Something for just us.”

You set your brush down as you feel him get close. You stand next your easel as you looked at your signature.

A wet kiss chased your mouth. Your knees almost buckled.

“Looks good.” he says softly and looks to what you did.

You wrap your arms around his neck and lean your body against him.

“So, you’re done?” he asks you.

“I have to shine it up when it’s dry.”

“Alright, let’s wait for it to dry.”

Open mouth kisses are on your neck and you’re immediately soaked but you move away.

“It doesn’t take long.” you say with a shy grin.

He lifts your chin and tilts his head to capture your lips.

“I love you.” you tell him as soon as he pulled back.

The smile melted your heart, you couldn’t help but match it.

“I love you more.”

Your eyes fill with tears and you sniff.

“What’s wrong, babe?” his eyes softened.

“I didn’t understand…A thing about..Parenthood and I got scared. I love you so much. I really love you, Paul. I was going to discard a piece of you and-“ you take in a shaky but thick breath, “I’m sorry..I’m happy that we are together. I’m happy that you imprinted on me…I’m happy with you.” you start to hiccup, being very close to hyperventilating.

You felt bad, he swayed you in his arms, keeping your face to his chest. He didn’t care about the snot and tears that was on his shirt. He just smiled down at you.

“I love you more..I’m happy with you too. I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything…I’m so happy you came to the park that day..We wouldn’t be standing here right now. This feels like a dream I don’t want to wake up from.”

You pace back and forth in your living room. Paul was gone, you were making a new commission piece and you saw a text from Jacob saying that he was on his way to pick you up.

You told him not to. You told him a lame excuse of why you two couldn’t hang out today. All he had to do was take a whiff of you and he would know. You weren’t ready for anybody else to know.

“Bullshit. I’m coming over.”

“Jacob, stop! Alright?” you say as you pace.

His persistent nature picks up the desperation in your voice and he paused.

“Y/N, what’s going on?”

“I just need to finish my work. Okay? I’m backed up..I literally promised myself that I would get them out of the way. I swear Jake, you will be the first person I call.”

It’s quiet. Before you hear him intake a breath.

“Bravo. Bravo.”

“What?” you ask in confusion.

“An artist and an actress. I’m impressed..I almost clapped like we were at the Oscars.”

“Jacob, respect my wishes or..No pool.” you threaten with gritted teeth.

“Like I can’t just hop over your fence.” he says and hangs up. You stare the phone in horror.

Not knowing what else to do, you just grab a random jacket and grab your keys.

“Do you mind if I just chill out here for a while until Paul comes home?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Terrance says as he gestured with his hands to do as you please.

You lounge on the couch and read. Well, try to read. You had to turn your phone off from the constant buzzing from Jacob.

You check the time from the television, it was at night but not midnight yet.

You hear the door close and you look at the figure staring down at you on the couch.

“Why haven’t you been answering the phone?”

“I turned it off.” you say into Paul’s chest.

“Why?” he questioned as the seatbelt clicks into place across your chest.

“Jacob almost busted me. He was bullying his way over.”

“That kid.” he muttered with a shake of his head but he managed to quietly huff out a chuckle.

“Guess what?” he smirked at you.

“What?”

“I don’t have patrol all day tomorrow. The day after that, I have it late at night.”

You’re not tired anymore.

“Do you wanna..?” you whisper excitedly.

“I told you I’m down for it.”

You grin and look out the window.

As you put things together, Paul persuaded his dad to take off for a day. It took a lot of listing pros. His father wasn’t budging. He knew his father could do so, so easily. As long as he’s been under his father’s roof, he’s never seen him use any of his paid time off.

“Come on, dad. Have you ever even rode first class before?”

You smirk to yourself once you knew that that’s the final thing what won him over.

You and Paul, both hovered over the computer as you then show him the flight information.

Terrance grabs the bags and sets them in the car that you ordered for both you and Paul.

Alone in a room in a five star hotel with Paul, you both didn’t bother to be separate. The a.c blew, letting out a lullaby like whistle.

“It’s bad luck…If the couple see each other the night before they get married.” you whisper to him.

“I don’t know who made that stupid shit up.”

You both chuckle.

His hand rest possessively on your stomach as he then felt your breasts but you wince.

“What is it?” he whispered.

“I’m just sore.” you say. He bit in lip in conflict from within because they were swollen and puffy.

“Will it hurt if I’m just gentle?”

“I..I don’t..Know..They just hurt when they’re touched..” you whisper. He trails a hand between them as they are on display for him.

You blew out a quiet breath as his tongue delicately flicked upon a swollen nipple. His hand is caressing your stomach. The ache between your legs pierced you.

You couldn’t take your eyes away as he was now gently circling his tongue. A shaky breath comes out of your mouth as he’s now massaging the ache from between your legs, away.

The breathy begs sounded like music in his ears. The breathy groan that you both produced as he ate at you.

Your brain was mush as he held you tight to keep lapping at you. Both of your hands gripped his hair as you arched your back and gasp out in overwhelming pleasure.

He held your ankles with one hand as he stroked inside of you. You were shaking, thinking it was going to go on forever. Deep down, you did want it to. He wanted it to as well. His head was tilted up as he snapped his hips into you, while you whined out as another climax creeped through your body.

You both pant as you watch as it trickled out of you. He rubbed and inserted his fingers with the extra lubricant.

You grip his arm so hard, you were sure you broke skin. He didn’t care. He moaned at the sight and the moist sounds.

He takes his wet hand and grab yours and makes you feel what he felt. You gasp. He guides your finger to rub yourself and you’re stuck as you sigh out at the feeling. You never did that before. He covered your mouth with his as he you both kiss sensually with tongues and moans. Soon, he takes his hand away and you were moving your hand on your own.

He breaks away and he glided himself a bit as he moves himself along your entrance. He moaned to himself as he then sinks in with ease.

He pushed your legs back next to your head and you shake like never before. Deep strokes that made you feel like you died and came back to life. You grip onto his back as his hips roll fluidly forward with a steady rhythm.

His voice was tender, just like his touches. You didn’t know how his breath was even while saying it. The rich statements were said in Quileute.

“I love you.”

You hold onto him tighter as you moan out.

“I love you too.”

You felt connected with him. Both insides enjoyed each other.

Thinking that you were going to be nervous, you were surprised that it was instead a feeling of you two both trying to keep yourselves together as you walked down the aisle.

You found yourself almost tugging on Larry’s arm just to walk faster to Paul, down the aisle. The way that he looked at you made you feel like you owned the world in the palm of the world. You just wanted to touch him. Most of all, kiss him.

You stood next to him as you were in a dress and veil that Larry brought from a fashion agency. A new high fashion collection. You don’t know how he got it done but, you didn’t ask. He seemed to know anybody from anywhere.

You stood there with tears silently rolling down your face as Paul happily gives you his vows. He vowed to always love you as long as your heart is beating. He vowed to love you and his future children with you, forever. He vowed to always protect you and never leave your side. He promised to be the best husband he can ever be to you.

You speak confidently but it’s quietly, Paul didn’t care. He could still hear you due to his hearing. He gives you a breathtaking smile as you vowed to love him forever. You vowed to never let any circumstance tear you both apart, to be the best wife that you could be and do anything you can do to make him happy.

Not being able to look away, you watch as he held up the beautiful ring.

“With this ring, I vow to love you always and forever.”

Your hand didn’t shake as he slid the ring on. He raised the hand up and pressed a kiss on it with his eyes closed before looking back into your eyes.

His gaze watched as you raise his ring, you swallow as you felt like it was just you two in the entire world at that moment.

“With this ring, I vow to love you always and forever.”

You keep his hand in yours as you slid it on. You brush your lips back and forth on his ring finger. He then cradled your face. He wiped the sneaky tear with a warm and tender smile, that was for you.

You both didn’t hear the officiator speaking, you just heard womp womp womp. You were lost in Paul’s eyes.

It wasn’t a peck. Paul didn’t care as he grabbed your waist possessively. He kissed you as if you both were at home. You kissed him as if you were kissing him for the very last time. You would’ve been embarrassed any other time, but you genuinely considered it to be the happiest moment of your life.

“Wow, kid. You two are intense.” Larry says as he takes a sip of a drink.

“Love is intense.” you say quietly.

He pushed some alcohol your way but you wave it away.

“It’s champagne.” he says with a grin.

“Yeah..I know.” you say as you look down. He looks at you.

“Holy…Hell….You’re pregnant aren’t you?”

“What? I got a big sign on me or what?” you ask annoyed but he chuckled.

“Damn..Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“So, I take it that I get early invite to the baby shower?”

“I’ll think about it.” you say with a smile. He wrapped an arm around you and gives you a heartfelt hug.

“I’m proud of you. I heard what you’ve been up to.”

You smile and nod.

“You think you can come to New York again? I talked to some fashion designers. Some of them heard your name before.” he winked.

You look down at what you had on. You narrow your eyes at him.

“You did that on purpose.” you say while chuckling.

“Custom made for a custom artist. Their words not mine.” he says smiling. You roll your eyes but started to think.

You were unsure. You didn’t know if the Cullens were still residing there.

“Yeah, well…This will be a great opportunity.” he adds in persuasively.

“When? I don’t want to go when I’m swelled up and I can’t do anything.”

“The end of the month.”

“I..I have to talk to Paul about that.” you say quietly.

“Talk to Paul about what?” Paul asks as he comes over.

Larry gives you one more hug with another congratulations before leaving off.

“Um..We can talk about it when we get home.” you say. He opens his mouth to say something but Terrance comes over. He placed an arm around the both of you.

“Allow me to take you both out for dinner.”

You both agree.

You both go back to the hotel and you’re both changed as Paul stands in front of you.

“So, what did you say you needed to talk to me about?”

“I’ll just tell you when we get home.” you say as you chew with a slight shrug.

“You can tell me now.” he insisted.

“Another business trip.”

“Where?”

“Back to New York.”

He’s silent.

“I told him I’ll talk to you about it.”

He nods.

“Come on, dad’s waiting.”

You take the hand that he held out.

“Hopefully, this will be much better and healthier than me and your mother’s. The love you have for each other is at least evident.” Terrance says at the table as you all ate.

Paul takes a look at you. It was like you were cloud nine.

“Oh..When we get home, I have to show you two what I got for the both of you.” he continued.

Both you and Paul nod.

It was a crib and a bassinet. You loved it.

At home, you tidy up the walls and floor in the empty bedroom. Paul put both things together, not forgetting to brag about not needing directions. How it was common sense.

You take a last look of the room before shutting the door. You have a small smile on your lips as you place a hand on your stomach.

Paul was sitting up in bed as he waited for you.

You move in front of him and planted a kiss on his lips. You lean back as you noticed he didn’t take over the smooch. He looked at you.

“Can you wait?” he speaks quietly in the dark.

You thought for a moment as you knew what he was talking about.

“….Time waits for no one.”

“Y/N.” he says your name with attitude.

“I don’t understand. If it were you, I would let you-“

“This isn’t about me. You seriously think I want to go through what we went through? Again? Seriously? But this time you’re carrying my child…You’re crazy.” he snaps out with a hushed tone.

“That’s not fair.” you state with zero energy.

“I can name a lot of shit that isn’t fair.”

“Like what?! It’s always about you!”

“Did I say anything about me?” he says not matching your temper with slightly narrowed eyes.

“I’ll just bring someone!”

“That’s not the point….You're not going out of town like this.” he says filled with dominance.

“You’re not my father.”

“You’re right. I’m your husband.”

You frown as you felt a jolt of unexpected excitement flow through your body at his statement. He noticed. You caught the subtle smirk as he watched you.

“And you get on my nerves.” you hiss at him.

“I don’t care.” he says quietly. You two just stare at each other.

“Welcome to parenthood. You have to sacrifice shit for the sake of what’s best. It’s not just my wolf that’s going to go crazy when we separate, but you will too. You’re carrying our pup.” he continued.

You then turn over with an attitude and face away from him as you lay on the pillow.

“Why have you been handing me your ass?” he whispered in your ear. You fought the smile that threatened to form on your face at his teasing as you grit your teeth.

“I haven’t been that mean.” you whispered.

“You’ve been meaner than me..That's a record.”

You turn your head a bit, “Shut up.”

He quietly chortles.

He brings your body to lay on your back. He kissed your cheek. You close your eyes in satisfaction.

He kissed your stomach before whispering to it.

“Tell mommy to stop being mean to daddy.”

You chuckle as you run your fingers through his hair.

He hovered over you as he slow burned a kiss with you. You both fall sleep tangled in each other.

Jerking awake, tears slide out the side of your eyes. Warm hands wipe them away as he then holds you.

“Y/N, what wrong?” he asks softly.

“Nothing.”

“Y/N, please.”

You silently hiccuped. You were hyperventilating into his chest.

He deeply rubbed your back.

You blink with dry eyes as soon as you calmed down.

“I just had a dream…Sue said it’s common to have pregnancy induced dreams…I had a dream…I dropped our baby, Paul. Fuck…It felt so real.” you croak out as you keep a hand over your eyes as you lay back on the pillows.

“Damn.” he says quietly as he rubbed your stomach in a soothing manner.

“I did like this..” you say and motion your hands in a careless drop.

“That’s not going to happen. You would never do that.” he whispered as he takes a glance at you.

“You just never know..I could be a horrible mom and that dream just proved it.” you whisper back.

“Y/N, you gotta stop talking like that. Your child can hear you talk bad about yourself…My wolf and myself know..Deep down…You’re going to be a great mother. You don’t have to keep having doubts because it’s simply not true.”

You two share a kiss.

“Are you hungry?”

You blink at him.

“What time is it?”

“Time to eat.” he says and you’re up and out of the bed.

You lounged on the couch as you sketched.

The food was easy on your nose. You were so hungry, you started drawing food.

You felt like you were being annoying by how clingy your were to him. Paul didn’t say that, but you were in your head about it.

“I’ll…Stay back.” you say quietly after he suggested sitting with his dad.

“Okay..I’ll just see you when I get back home.”

You nod and he smiled after the kiss you two shared. Your feelings were uneasy. It showed that you would be waiting for him but you didn’t want him to go.

He didn’t want to leave either.

He leaves for patrol.

You sat in the tub as your hands rested on the growing skin. Attachment wasn’t even the word.

You started to feel a bit guilty for not wanting such thing, it was something that both you and Paul got to share.

“That’s dangerous to fall asleep like that.” Paul says as you blink awake.

The water was cold.

“It’s barely to my chest.” you gesture to the height of the water, but he shakes his head.

”I want to cook you dinner.” you whisper as he carried your naked but wet body out of the tub. The heat of his skin made a towel be unnecessary, but you knew what he had in mind.

“Dinner wouldn’t hurt to wait for a few more minutes.”

“Yeah, but it won’t just be minutes.” you say as you roll your eyes a bit but he only grinned before hovering over you to place a small but passionate peck on your lips.

You hold his head as trailed kisses and his large hands down your body. You couldn’t front the soft noises that floated from your mouth.

He stopped. You sat up as he stared at your stomach.

“Y/N…I hear a little heartbeat.” he whispered. You cradle his cheek. He kept kissing your stomach.

His hands never felt your stomach as you whine out from his tongue that danced between your legs. You were moaning gibberish as he licked through your climax.

“Im full.” you say as you push the plate back.

“You’re not full..Y/N, eat.” he persisted as he chewed.

Chuckling softly, “Paul, I feel like I’m about to burst.” you say with two hands resting on your swollen stomach.

”It’s just us, Y/N.” he says. He heard the quick flutter of your heart.

“I know.” you say.

He suggested being naked. It was both of your house. Why be embarrassed? Well, Paul was very comfortable.

It made you comfortable.

In bed, he pulls on what you have in your hands. You grip it.

You clutch the sketchbook to you.

“Just let me see.” he says softly with a devilish smirk.

“No. Just..Leave me alone.” you say trying to hide your embarrassment.

“You let me see everything you make.” he says, not letting up.

You turn it around slowly with shaky hands. He points at it as his eyes are glued to the page. Oil pastel made it vivid.

“Should be in the Louvre.”

“Stop it.”

“I’m serious…If you paint it…”

“You’re giving me a big head.”

“Good. You can make it happen. It’s real.”

���Yeah..” you say in a dreamy expression. It was so intimate.

Two naked figures, one of them with a small bump. Laughing while eating in a kitchen. It was as if you took a peak into what love looks like. You took a peak into what comfortability looked like.

Emily’s child was cute. You received the photos and texts from everyone.

You stay on the phone with Leah as you kept her laughing.

“I miss you..You just curved me.”

“I didn’t. I promise. I have a lot to tell you but as soon as I’m not so busy I’ll make it up to you.” you promise her.

“You better.”

You smile.

Paul lifted your shirt as you look down.

“It’s just milk Y/N, it doesn’t gross me out.” he says as he tossed your wet shirt in the dirty clothes bin.

“I know..It just happens a lot.” you whisper. The kiss was heated.

You then step back with a jiggle of your leaking breasts as Paul gives you a look. He was guiding his mouth to them.

“You say that they hurt, right? I’ll relieve them.” he promises.

You gasp and sigh out as you lay there in bed while Paul fed on your breasts. His tongue swirl your nipple and attaches his whole mouth. It did feel relieved. You were worried about becoming addicted to the feeling.

Lately, you’ve been cleaning a lot. Paul placed the very last thing that completed the child’s modeled room.

You left one wall white. A free canvas for your child for when they get older. Paul joked that since permission was given to draw on the walls, they actually won’t do it.

You chuckle.

Paul almost got in trouble with Sam. He stalled going to patrol. You’ve never seen him so anxious before. He says he felt it deep within him that you were going to go into delivery. You felt fine.

“I’ll be okay.” you say.

“It’s going to come. I’ll play Sam off.” he says.

You give him a somewhat hopeful smile, “It will happen when you come back.”

You wake up out of your nap in pain. And wet.

You sharply breathe in and out as you try to hold on as much as you could.

You moan in pain as you cry out. You call Paul’s father. He knew exactly what was happening, claiming he was on his way. You then press on Jacob’s contact number, you didn’t know who else to call.

Jacob was faster.

He answers the phone, he only heard you in pain before he hung up quickly and he’s carrying you in his arms.

“I got you, Y/N.” he says as he buckled in your seatbelt. You whine in pain as you hold your stomach.

As he drives, trying his best to not go over any bumps, he’s dialing and yelling into the phone. There was so much authority in his voice.

“Someone get Paul!”

You were so much pain, you were about to pass out. You heard his voice.

“Paul.” you whine out his name.

Your face is being cradled and kiss as he whispered, “I’m here. I’m here, baby.”

You gripped his hand as you he encouraged you to push. And push. And push. The sound of crying ring out in your ears.

The baby is laid on your chest for skin to skin connection.

You couldn’t believe it. You started crying.

“What’s wrong?” Paul asks thickly.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Just beautiful.” you choke out. He smiles.

Sue takes them and cleans them up and wraps them up.

Jacob then speaks, you forgot for a second that he was still there.

“Y/N, why didn’t you tell us?” he whispered. He seemed hurt.

“It’s nothing against you or Bella..I just wanted to enjoy it with just Paul for the time being.”

“But one have us could’ve already been there. What would’ve happened if we came too late?” he grilled you. You look down as you knew it was true.

“Jake, watch it.” Paul says fiercely but quietly.

Jacob was about to say something to him but you cut in, “I’m sorry, Jake. Plus, Emily was pregnant too. I would've stolen her shine.” you say with a slight chuckle.

“That wouldn’t have mattered….”

“I don’t want the others to know before I come home. You can call Bella.”

Jacob then smiles, “I texted her. She’s on her way. She’s more pissed at you than me.”

You then smile.

Paul looked down at the squirming and small human being.

“Y/N…You see ‘em?” he whispered. His smile melted your heart.

“Yes. I do.” you whisper back.

They were beautiful. You would protect this little person with every fiber of your being. Paul was right. They were a gem, the proof of love that you and Paul shared with each other.

Paul looked at you with that same smile.

The small suck of your breast felt like they were pulling at your heart strings.

You then let Paul hold them when you were finished breastfeeding.

Terrance comes in.

“Shit, I flew here as fast as I could. I came straight from work.” he says. But softened at the sight of his grandchild.

“Watch your language, dad. Wash your hands.” Paul says quietly but passed the baby to his father when he was finished drying his hands.

“Sorry.” Terrance whispers, “Hey…Hi…..I’m your grandad…I love you so much….” he cooed softly to the child in his arms.

You don’t say anything to the unshed tears that belonged to Paul’s eyes.

“This is us.” he whispered to you.

You couldn’t help but kiss him. He kisses you back. You then take a look at the small sleeping child in your father in law’s arms. An adorable bundle of joy that really was proof of you and Paul’s love that existed. You both now had a small person to share you and Paul’s love with.

[thedevilspearl]

did you find it yet? — all brothers

author’s note ʚɞ this is based on a really cute, traditional game wherein the bride wears the groom’s name or initials hidden in her bridal mehndi/henna and on the wedding night, the groom must find it.

tags ʚɞ tooth–rotting fluff, it’s a little bit suggestive given it’s their wedding night. no gender is specified but is implied for a female reader. all brothers.

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑 first thought it would be a chore. once you’re wed, he’s taking you straight to bed. there’s no need for an extravagant wedding or little games when he’s eager to show you how ready he is to be your husband, if you get my drift. but the second he sees your henna covered body as you peel off your wedding outfit, he’s prepared to spend the entire wedding night searching for his name because it is so beautiful and he cannot find the words to describe how gorgeous you look. and he finds you even more stunning knowing his name is embroidered somewhere on your skin. his soft hands trace every inch of your body. “you are so unbelievably beautiful,” he mutters as his hands glide over every curve, teasing your soft skin. none of you goes unscathed by his needy eyes and he lets out the tiniest gasp when he finds his name, his blush dark and desperate. “i’m yours….” he mutters gently, eyes glossing over as his fingers trace his name, “yours forever.”

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍’s only desire right now is to satisfy you, so when you tell him he can’t touch you until he finds his name, he’s antsy trying to hold himself back as you strip out of your dress, showcasing all the parts of your body decorated with henna. his mouth waters and his hands itch to touch you; he’s bearing his fang, desperate to claim you in each and every way. but mammon is never one to back down, so he throws off his blazer and rolls up his sleeves while you whine at him to hurry up. “shaddup, will ya? i wanna find it just as much as you!” the rare moments when mammon is overtaken with concentration are always beautiful to see, especially when his eyes are intent on covering every inch of your skin. his hot breath teases you as he moves up and down your body in search of his name and you soon regret not allowing even the smallest touch. but your regret is short–lived when mammon rises with a charming smirk on his face. “hah, found it,” he slams his lips onto yours, finally letting go of his restraint. “guess i’m yours forever now.”

𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 loves games, so this is just another added to his list. however, this cute little game soars to the top of his best game i ever played list. you don’t quite understand how much he loves it until the wedding night and you can tell he’s excited when he’s kissing you breathlessly and haphazardly pulling off your wedding dress. he’s still in his full tux, albeit dishevelled, by the time you’re stripped naked. he pushes you down gently onto the mattress while his hands roam every inch of your skin. he’s never acted so devoted to anything before. trails of kisses grow longer and larger as he leaves behind his lingering touch over the cleared spots, and when he moves onto the next spot, he searches intently before attacking the area with lustful, hungry lips. he’s breathless and clouded with infatuation, adoring your body until he wins this little game. “i found it!” he giggles with a face full of blush. panting, he kisses over his name countless times before you pull him up and replace his name with your lips. “i’m so in love with you i think i’m going crazy.”

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐍 loves a good challenge, so he’s ecstatic when you mention the tradition to him. it’s the perfect way to spice up the wedding night. however, he is very impatient. so much that he’s grabbing your hands in the middle of the ceremony to find his name in the henna. “tell me, it’s on your hand, isn’t it?” you chuckle, not giving a single clue to him. it gets a little frustrating when he inspects your hands while you’re trying to eat. “satan, enough!” you whine, hitting him playfully. “you’re supposed to look for it tonight.” he mumbles something about not being able to wait but he also recognises the smug grin on your face; he knows immediately that he’s close. his smile grows and his heart beats erratically. he knows exactly where it is now. while you’re occupied with a mouthful of food, he grabs your hand and slips your wedding ring down slightly, revealing his name in cursive hidden underneath. “you really know how to make things difficult for me, don’t you?”

𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐔𝐒 is ready to play this game as soon as you tell him about it a few days before the wedding. if anything, he rushes through the wedding, even cutting it short and throwing you over his shoulder so he can get you home, strip you naked and spend all the time in the world searching for his name on your pretty body. he challenges himself not to please you in any way until he finds it, even when you’re begging him to touch you already. to asmo, finding your name is a massive ego boost; his final way to lay claim on your body and make you his forever. so you’re pleasantly surprised when his eyes grow all teary upon spotting his pact mark blooming with henna petals and his name dancing around it, turning his mark into the most beautiful flower he’s ever seen. as if you couldn’t surprise him any better than this, he sobs with a huge smile on his lips. “you are the most beautiful being in all three realms,” he kisses the flower deeply. “i can’t believe i’m yours.”

𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐙𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐁 does look forward to playing this game on your wedding night, but he doesn’t do a good job of showing it. after you tell him, he seems quite nonchalant, almost bored by the idea. but don’t be fooled by his poor expression of emotion because he is jumping and giggling and kicking his feet on the inside. it’s what he thinks about very single night for weeks before the wedding. he simply cannot stop fantasising about exploring your body, discovering more than just his name before devouring you. you don’t realise how eager he is until he’s dragging you towards the bedroom. you’re too shy, embarrassed to remove the dress so he walks towards you, towering above your dolled up frame. “don’t be embarrassed,” he assures you, stroking your cheeks with doting eyes. “i’ve been waiting so long for this.” and so, he gently undresses you, carrying you to the bed and treating your body like treasure as he searches for his name. and when he finds it hidden in the patterns on your tummy, he grins widely with a hum, knowing nothing in this world can satisfy his beastly urges the way you do.

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑’s excitement is surprising given how lacklustre his enthusiasm usually is. in fact, he’s grown a lot more bashful since the wedding was official. who knew becoming a husband would trigger this new side of him? he fell in love with the game the moment you told him about it. and he’s so fascinated by the henna decorating your body, the way your hands and feet look so delicate with the patterns. your wedding night starts with belphie on his knees, taking off your heels and rubbing your sore feet. it was a long day but totally worth it knowing belphie is going to remain by your side forever. but first, he needs to find his name. he’s been bursting with excitement for weeks, obsessing over all the curves and crevices in which you could hide his name. but he finds it in no time, devotedly kissing the spot where his name lays atop your foot. “i thought it would be more difficult to find,” he teases, trailing the kisses up your legs, looking you in the eye the entire way. “but i’m not complaining. now i have more time to worship you.”

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort or Normal, Epilogue

WC:1383, Masterpost

Danny glances up from his fight to fit the cufflink into the sleeve of his rich blue suit and smiles at what he sees in the mirror.

“You know, it’s supposed to be bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

Wally grins, easily, from where he leans against the door frame. “I’m the one in white so I think I’m the bride, in this case.”

“Oh, so putting the bad luck all on me?” Danny asks as he turns to appreciate how his fiancée looks. Wally really is stunning in his white on white tux. Danny hadn’t been able to stomach the idea of traditional black and white tuxes, not with Phantom still being such a raw wound. Wally hadn’t minded in the least going with a brighter color palette.

“Never,” Wally promises. “We’ll face whatever comes together.”

It’s a vow that Danny unquestionably trusts. Since the curse broke, Wally has been there for every step of it— and Danny has needed a lot of help with steps. Danny’s weakened core not only handicapped him as a ghost but as a living. Many days Danny is able to pass through it all relatively unaffected, other than the cold ache that has settled into his bones, but other days are harder. Other days Danny walks with canes braced against his arms. Other days Danny needs his wheelchair. Other days he can hardly get out of bed unless he goes ghost. And through it all Wally has done everything that he can to make things easy for Danny.

They have a house now, one story and carefully renovated so that on the days Danny needs the wheelchair he can still move around easily. There are electric blankets and soft pillows and this ridiculous massive bean bag that’s big enough for them to both sink into on the bad days.

And there are good days too. There are days where the aches are just a background note, days it all doesn't hurt so much, days where he can fly. Oh how Danny had missed flying. Of all the things that came with being a halfa, flying is what Danny had missed most– not because he could help or be a hero, he missed flying just for himself.

The first time he had felt stable enough to fly, Wally had whisked them out to that same field their first date was in and let Danny loose. Danny had flown for hours, darting around, doing tricks, and floating among the clouds. When he had come back down to earth, Wally had been there, picnic waiting and the biggest smile on his face.

So like everything in Danny’s life, it’s all a balance: the good, the bad, the effort… Danny loves it all.

He loves it not just because it reminds him of how much living means, but because of how deeply it shows that Wally cares. Wally’s love is one thing he can never question. It’s a certainty that Danny has needed through all of the aftermath.

Once Danny had been released from the Watchtower’s medical, he had started small dealing with it all. Coworkers were easy to reply to and he could trust that informing a few would spread the news to the rest. They didn’t push for more than he was willing to give, though he had known he would come back to questions and rumors.

Everyone else was harder.

He had set a video call with Sam and Tucker at the same time. It was maybe a little unfair to not give them each their own call, but he just didn’t have the energy for that. They weren’t kids anymore and hadn’t been for a long time.

“God, Danny,” Tucker started at the same time as Sam said his name.

He held up his hand and their mouths shut with a clack. His smile was tinged with sadness, but it was a smile. “Don’t. You two didn’t do anything horrible.”

“Dude,” Tucker said and for a moment Danny was back in high school. Tucker looked good, still in bright colors and with his hair expertly shaved on the sides with a little pattern. “We forgot about you.”

“We left you alone to deal with all that,” Sam said. Her hair was a more natural shade of black now and her smoky eye an expertly done wing. It was odd to see her lips red instead of purple.

“Because of a curse. You forgot because of a curse,” Danny said, “and then you just did what anyone does, you went on to have a future. It’s not like we had some big fight or anything, you both just moved on with your lives.”

“That still had to hurt,” Sam said.

“It did,” Danny said honestly. He didn’t see the point of pretending the past hadn’t happened. “But that doesn’t mean it was either of your faults. The last thing I want is anyone doing anything for me out of guilt, especially since in this case it’s misplaced. It’s okay that you both grew up. I did too.”

It hurt and it would always hurt, at least a little, but Danny didn’t want any false care now.

Sam chewed on her lip and Danny smiled a little at the sight of the old habit. “I’m still sorry.”

“Me too,” Tucker said.

“Thanks, that does mean a lot, but it’s okay, really.”

There was a level of peace from that talk. Sam and Tucker both asked if they could reach out sometimes, and Danny said yes but with zero expectations. They were different people than they were as children and Danny knew, because he had lived it, that without Phantom there wasn’t much for them to talk about. And Danny had no plans to talk about Phantom. That part of him had ended with a wish seven years ago. He didn’t want to rehash or relive it now, even with them.

Jazz… Jasmine was harder. Sam and Tucker losing touch was just part of growing up. His own sister ignoring him though, that wasn’t the same at all. If it wasn’t for his nieces, Danny didn’t know if he would even be trying with Jasmine, even as apologetic as she was. There were some things that were too hard to come back from.

“Are they here?” Danny asks and looks back down at his stubborn sleeve.

Wally steps forward and takes the cufflink from Danny. He’s gentle as he fits it into the slot and secures it. “They are. And all our friends are here too. Just remember that you don’t have to talk to them any more than you want to. It’s okay to be taking things slow. It’s okay to decide that you can’t do this with her. You know I’m with you whatever you decide.”

Danny raises Wally’s hands to brush a kiss across each set of knuckles. “I know. I’m so lucky to have you. Is it bad that part of me making an effort with them is so that my nieces have family other than their moms and our parents?”

“Nope. I think that makes you a really good uncle. I mean, where would I be without Aunt Iris? Family like that can mean a lot and if that’s the only reason you have for dealing with your sister, then that’s enough,” Wally assures him.

It helps Danny relax some.

“Okay, good. We’ll just… see how it goes. I’m not going to focus too much on them today, not when today is about me and you.”

“I think that’s all good. You’re just wrong about one thing though,” Wally says, his grin just a little mischievous. Danny loves that grin.

“And what’s that, Mister West?”

“Well, soon to be Mister West,” Wally says, “it’s that I’m the lucky one. I could have lost you so many times and so many ways and despite everything, today I get to marry you. I don’t think there’s anyone luckier than me today.”

“Well, not to have our first fight,” Danny teases, “but agree to disagree.”

“I think I can live with that.”

Danny laughs. There’s nothing funny about that, but the laughter bubbles up in him all the same, not from humor but from joy. “Living, that sounds like a very, very good plan.”

---

AN: Aaaaaah we are done!! Not everything is perfect, but Danny is alive and living and Wally is going to be with him for all of it <3. Thank you all for coming along for the ride on this! It's been unexpectedly delightful to write these two together and I'm glad to finally wrap it up with (hopefully) a nice bow.

And yes, this will be going up on ao3 but I need the brain functions to go back to the start and give it a good polish! I'll likely do it chapter by chapter weekly to give myself and my darling beta @mokulule time.

Until then or the next thing here, stay delightful, darlings!

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Can you do Alastor with an INFP reader please?

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4

Turning this in to a mini series for my MBTI peoples

INFP (Mediator) Reader:

Alastor was confused by your head in the clouds personality. He found it odd that you were so attached to small objects or would hum a tune that brought a smile to your face. Being sensitive and easily startled was so weak in his eyes.

However, he enjoyed this weakness in you as well, the feeling he got when you sought protection from him. When you would be frightened or down, seeking him out swells his heart with a sense of pride that he has the sweet creative you needing him.

Your strong, empathetic nature scares him, as he can't open up well, yet you make it so easy. The way you can understand and mold your mind around the atrocities in his head baffles him but also excites him.

Alastor slowly becomes your biggest supporter. No matter what you choose as your passion, he is there cheering you on. When your head is in the clouds, he often pulls you down and reminds you of the endless possibilities if you actually put yourself to work instead of thinking about it.

You are your own worst critic, and Alastor hates that. He loves any art or medium you use to express yourself. You may find it to be the worst you have ever done, yet he sees all of your stuff as a masterpiece for him. Due to your doubts, he makes it a point to highlight you in his life if he gets any chance.

Overall, you two have an odd relationship. He is cold and calculating while you are up in the clouds daydreaming. Yet these polar opposites might work better than you two know since you can balance one another.

ESFP (Entertainer) Reader:

Your personality is intoxicating to Alastor. You have the silver tongue and pizzazz to have anyone listen to every word falling off your lips. You put on better shows than even he did, and that was admirable.

You have a keen eye for fashion, and you are the highlight of any event you go to, even if it is just out on the town. This is addicting to Alastor. He loves your style and will even seek your advice when it is time to pick out a new tux.

Your wit and charm come at a price, though. Sometimes, you outshine the Radio Host, making him worry about your health and well-being. Vox taking notice of you is a big no-no unless you are teasing and tormenting Vox with him.

Alastor dislikes your spending habits: flashy clubs, large bottles of booze, and brand-new clothes every week. It can get taxing, reminding you that you need to slow down and look at the bigger picture. Yet he can't help but fall for your words and spoil you, too.

Your lack of focus and commitment sometimes leaves the man irate as well, yet your ability to turn anything spontaneous in to an advantage has its perks. Just give him a heads up before you do anything too crazy and he can over look it.

Overall, you two are similar enough that, at times, it can hurt. Yet your ability to dazzle a room and potential new victims leaves you both at the top of the food chain. Just remember to pamper the poor deer so he knows he's important, too.

ENFJ (Protagonist) Reader:

It takes Alastor a long time to warm up to you. You give off goodie two-shoe vibes; let me help you wondering traveler vibes. He isn't a fan of that, seeing as he likes to do things in his sick and sadistic ways.

If you can crack his shell, though, he is thrilled at how meticulous and straightforward you are. He enjoys how you always have a plan and seem to take some of the responsibility of knowing everything off his hands.

When the battle for the hotel approached, you were one of the inspiring voices in the crowd. You managed to help get the whole team up and going when fighting off Adam. Yet you also managed to eat under his skin with the one-for-all-all-for-one crap.

If Alastor opens up to you, though, your go-getting attitude of figuring out how to help him with his plight is thrilling. When you speak of ending his contract, he is nothing but accepting and excited to see what you are capable of.

Your intensity is really overwhelming. You are just a powerhouse bulldozing through all his plans and ideas. However, you also give him the courage at times to stand up for what is right, allowing him to grow as a person.

Overall, you two are similar just as much as you are opposite. Alastor is an altruistic companion, whereas you are altruistic all the time. Things might work out if you can tone down your self-sacrificing persona.

ISFP (Adventurer) Reader:

You are a rare one indeed in Alastors' mind. You mind your own business and find yourself deep in the thralls of whatever magnificent work you have planned. You only bug him when it is truly insightful or helpful, allowing him to grow an appreciation for you.

Your inability to keep up with time, though, was just as frustrating as it was hilarious. Watching dear Charlie freak out that you were missing, only for you to appear out of nowhere following a bug, was entertaining. Yet he hated when you kept him waiting; he was an important man.

Alastor was startled when he found you hiding in his radio tower. It was just after an extensive bonding exercise, too, yet you were tinkering away in a corner. He startled you when he found you, finding it adorable how you begged for just ten minutes of quiet.

Alastor's Radio Tower would become your refuge for hiding from Charlie's crazy ideas and recharging. Alastor found your intelligent conversation and carefree attitude about his job refreshing. He truly enjoyed your little hiding days in his office.

When you get down on yourself because of lost motivation or even having an empty social battery, he is always there to help. He hates when you start having low self-esteem, but he does assist you as much as he can in rebuilding it.

Overall, your carefree and quiet demeanor is nice to Alastor. You pose no threat, and you definitely help lighten the air. Be mindful of overworking yourself, and maybe get a To-Do list or two so you stop being so hard on yourself.

[hollowtakami]

TREAT ME LIKE ROYALTY

Keigo Takami x GN!Reader

BANNER ART: Kadeart

CONTENT: MNDI! imagines/spending valentines with keigo, fluff + smut (some worshipping + stuffing themes, mostly vanilla) w/ aftercare. (this got very long </3 i lovedd writing it though!)

WORD COUNT: 638

AUTHOR NOTE: sorry for being so inactive!! i’ve been put on new meds, and it’s all very new to me so i’ve been getting used to it</3 nonetheless, i hope you have a wonderful day/night! you’re so loved, friend!

Keigo Takami, who flies to your window and knocks his knuckles against the glass clumsily, right on the time you agreed. You don’t realise it’s because he’s clutching a bouquet of flowers in one hand, your favourite kind. He’s all dressed up in a fancy tux with his bangs slicked back - he’d spent hours making sure they wouldn’t bounce back. 

Keigo Takami, who carries you in his arms, is careful not to mess up your outfit as you fly through clouds. Under the stars, he smiles and tells you he has a surprise for you; he did his best to keep his eyes on the horizon, but his heart was telling him to look down at your perfect face the whole flight.

Keigo Takami, who prepared a rooftop picnic, complete with candles. Away from prying eyes and cameras, away from the commission. He sets you down and takes your hand, ushering you over to a cushion placed by a picnic blanket decorated with all your favourite food. He pours you a drink as you lift your glasses up to the stars, raising a toast to your love. 

Keigo Takami, who specifically chose the tallest skyscraper in the city for your surprise date so you could be closer to the stars and watch them together. Resting your head on the cushions and Keigo giving you his blazer jacket to keep you warm, he holds you close as you stargaze. 

Keigo Takami, peppering you with kisses as you slow dance under the moonlight and create new memories together. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear and reminds you that you’re his one and only forever. 

Keigo Takami, who you knew meant every word he said when he slips promise rings from the pocket of his jacket with a sly feather, the blazer still on your shoulders. His eyes gleam like stars, his smile just as nervous as his words as they wobble from his lips, genuine promises of loyalty and devotion to you, and you alone.

Keigo Takami, who worships you when you get home, hands tracing your skin as he grips the plush of your sides like a vice. Gentle kisses down your stomach as he lays you down and spreads your thighs apart with one hand, his free hand teasing your sex.

Keigo Takami, who can’t get enough of your sweet noises as he tastes you, tongue lapping at your slick with soft puppy licks. Feeling his plumage ruffle at your whorish sounds that only he can get out of you, his lips kiss and suck your sex as he savours all he can of you. 

Keigo Takami, who sees stars whenever he fucks you. You take him so well, look so perfect under him. His eyes worship you, the way your eyes roll to the back of your head and the way your mouth wobbles open as his cock kisses your insides. He whines when you clench around him, his legs like jelly. 

Keigo Takami, going slow as he makes love to you and makes sure to give you a night you’ll remember. Making sure you feel every vein on his cock as you suck him in, your hips meeting as skin slaps together and the smell of sex fills the air. 

Keigo Takami throws his head down as he cums and his bangs fall and stick to the sweat on his forehead. Ropes and ropes of white fill you, the feeling enough to send you over the edge. He pulls out slowly, feathers ruffling as he sees his seed spill out of your hole, a frothy white ring around where he stuffed you full. 

Keigo Takami, who bathes with you and massages shampoo into your scalp with gentle fingers, treats you like royalty as he dries you off and helps you get into comfier clothes. His heart skips a beat when you reach for his hoodie and sweats. 

Keigo Takami melts like putty when he sees you with them on. Taking you to a bed with fresh sheets and blankets now ready, strawberries and chocolate on the bedside, he holds you as you laugh at cheesy rom coms until you fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

[destroymeinherz]

The Party

A little while back someone posted about a fantasy of being passed around a stethoscope party, with different people listening to their heart. I don’t remember who did so if it was you, I hope you like this. It sparked creativity,

I could continue if anyone wants another part. But I wanted to do the basic idea.

The Party

I’d just signed with a modeling agency. It wasn’t the most exclusive, sometimes the jobs weren’t exactly what I hoped but college was expensive, so I took what I could. How bad could it be? It’s not like I planned to run for office or something.

My agent called me after classes one afternoon asking if I’d be interested in a gig that was more unconventional. After a few basic questions for my safety, nothing seemed too offensive even if it was secretive, and a rep from the agency would be there in case of trouble, I decided to take it.

Friday night I arrived at a big mansion just outside the city. From the looks of it this was old money, probably descendants of oil barons and railway tycoons. Which meant the paycheck would be huge. They’d promised a large payout for anyone who stayed til midnight.

I was let into a large foyer and usher back to a small hallway to a butlers parlor. A woman checked my ID, checked my name off a list and then looked me over.

“You will be required to wear one of two outfits tonight,” She instructed, pulling two hangers off a rack of clothes. “Black is standard, you are willing to do anything that would be clothes on. Call it PG-13.”

She held up a black Herve Luger bandage dress for emphasis. Then in her other hand, she held up a red one nearly identical to the former.

“Red,” She continued. “You are open to sexual behavior, and by wearing red you are giving consent to sexual advance,”

Well, I was single and I was never a prude, so I took the red. Might as well have a bit of fun. Once I accepted my color choice, she handed me an iPad with a waiver basically stating that I would take proper precautions, assert myself and under no circumstances attempt to contact anyone I met here after the event. I would ask for aid if I felt unsafe and leave without a scene. If I did not make it to midnight, I’d be compensated $200 per hour worked.

I shrugged and signed. She then held back a curtain for me to change in a small closet. I slipped inside, squeezed into the dress and as I was ushered to a door she fit me with a bracelet.

“If you need out, press the red button. Security will extract you.” She informed. “Are you ready?”

I blinked. Extracted? My heart started to pound, suddenly feeling crushed by the tight dress. What did I get myself into. But… the money was clouding my judgement. So I nodded, and the door opened. Once I cleared the threshold, it closed behind me.

Just walk around. Be eye candy. That was my only instruction. So that is what I did.

The room was a parlor, antique and dimly lit. It was full of golds and deep rich red textiles, dark wood and gold finishes. Old leather bound editions of classic literature adorned the bookshelves. I felt like I’d gone back in time. Or I was in a vampire’s house. My heart thudded at the thought.

The room was also full of people, in fine clothes, expensive tuxes and dresses. All of them wore masks like a masquerade. As I started to work through the crowd they watched me, with hungry eyes. Maybe I was in a vampire’s den. I was about to be dinner. There were a few other girls dressed in the red or black, varying heights and hair colors and skin tones.

I swallowed and tried to will my poor heart to stop trying to escape my chest. Until finally, a man approached me.

“Well, aren’t you lovely,” He said, holding out his hand.

I took his hand, and he brought it to his lips. He then moved his fingers down my wrist, stopping to feel my pulse. He offered him a soft smile. Then, he nodded before he motioned a waiter over.

The waiter came with a silver cloche, removing the dome top and extending the tray to the man. But there wasn’t food. It was a line of various stethoscopes. His fingers danced along them as he made his selection, a red tube that matched my dress.

He waved the man off, then examined it before placing the buds in his ears.

“Now, deep breath for me. Like a doctor’s office.” He said as he placed the diaphragm on my chest,

I was surprised, but I did as he asked, breathing in deeply and feeling my heart kick in my chest. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.

He must have enjoyed the sound of my heart because he moved the diaphragm around my chest, smiling to himself and eventually he stopped. He listened for a long time, and even behind a mask I could see his eyes were closed.

I blushed. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump

Finally, he opened his eyes and moved the diaphragm away. He took the ear pieces out and looked around. Then he must have seen who he needed, because he waved to someone.

“You have a perfect heart, my dear.” He said.

“Uh, thanks…” I replied.

Another man approached, he also had a stethoscope. He looked to the first man oblivious to me and waited for why he’d been called over.

“I think she’s the one. Take a listen.”

The new man finally looked at me. I smiled at him but he simply leaned in with his own stethoscope and listened to my heart. I took a deep breath like I had before.

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump

“I think you’re right,” He replied. “Take her in, I’ll grab the others.”

The others? I blinked in surprise. Is this all it was? A bunch of cosplayers listening to my heart for a few hours? That didn’t seem so bad. Even if they wanted to listen to it during sex or something. That was actually, kinda hot.

“Come with me,” The first man said.

I nodded as he took my hand again. This time he lead me down another hallway to a different room. He opened the door and brought me in, then closed it behind me. It was more of a sitting room with a beautiful chaise in the center, raised up on a platform.

I recognized some medical equipment from various movies or doctors visits. Nothing seemed too concerning.

“Now, lay down on the chaise,” He instructed. “You may stay clothed for now. But do remove your shoes as to not damage the upholstery.”

I did as he asked. Once I was settled, he returned to my side. He brought the steth out again and gently placed it on my chest. He let out a content sigh as he listened to my heart pound.

As he listened, others started to fill the room. They lined up behind him. I had never expected anything like this. Just lay here and let them hear my heart beat.

“Before we continue, could I get you anything? Water, soda, wine?”

I smiled. “What would you like me to have?”

“Oh you are cheeky.” He grinned. “Perhaps a little caffeine, to stimulate you. What does everyone think?”

There was a nod of agreement from the group and some muttering of approval. The first man smiled and had one of the caterers being me a soda can on a platter with a straw beside it.

“Go ahead and open it, then use the straw to limit your movement to drink.” He instructed.

I did as he asked. Once the can was open and the straw was in, in leaned over to the table where it sat and drank a few gulps. As I did, the man placed the diaphragm on my chest again.

He closed his eyes, listening and seemingly very content with the sound. Finally he opened them, took my hand and kissed the back of it. He stepped aside and the next person in line stepped up.

There was no clock in the room but it felt like time slowed in this room. Each person took their turn stepping up to my seat and just listening to my heartbeat. Some had me drink the soda, some had me lay down, some had me sit and stand quickly. I’d stand there and pant through running in place and jumping jacks in a too tight dress, as they listened to my heart’s reaction and then recovery.

Ba-dumpba-dumpba-dumpba-dump ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump

I had to admit, this was fun.

The last person was a woman, she couldn’t have been much older than me. She seemed more keen then the men had. Her eyes were bright behind her mask. She took a deep breath as her gold and white stethoscope settled on my chest.

“My… your heart… it’s by far one of the loveliest I’ve heard.” She said to me, her voice was lustful. “May I rest my head on your chest? Hear it directly with my ear?”

“Sure. I don’t see why not.” I replied.

“Would you like to hear your heart while I do?” She removed the stethoscope and offered it.

The people in the room all watched, eager to see how I would respond. Well, why not? If it made them happy it was my job tonight. I don’t think I’d ever heard my heartbeat before, not like this anyway.

“Okay. Sure” I replied with a smile.

That was the right answer as she grinned with excitement and placed the ear pieces in my ears. Then she placed the diaphragm down on my skin and rested her ear next to it.

I inhaled as I had before and my head filled with the rhythmic thumping they’d all been indulging in for the last few hours.

Ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump

I closed my own eyes and lost myself in the sound. Maybe I should come to these parties more often. Hearing the steady beat, knowing it was mine… that was intoxicating.

“Do you like it?” She asked.

“Yeah. I think I get the vibe.” I responded.

“Are you ready to try something a little more interesting?” The first man asked, approaching me slowly. “You can refuse any of the requests, we won’t take offense or change your compensation. These would be granting special requests.”

The stethoscope was removed from my ears and I almost whined about it. I liked hearing my heart, understanding what they were hearing. What they enjoyed that brought me here.

“Sure,” I said. “What do you have in mind?”

End?

[yourmidnightlover]

undeserving

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: your self destructive tendencies have won this round, leading to you making a pivotal decision to end your relationship with bucky.

warnings: intense depression and self hatred, low self esteem/self worth, ANGST LMAOOO, no happy ending :(

a/n: short and not so sweet. idk why i was wanting to write something so sad lol. on a brighter note... i'm currently working on the next chapter to timeless :)

you didn't deserve the love you were being shown.

your pulse racing, tears clouding your vision as the music drowned out all of your senses that remained. he enveloped you entirely, made you want to be better.

he deserved so much. so much more than what you could give him.

he had come back from literal hell on the other side, and the world, ever so cruel, gave him you. a sick sense of humor it's got, truly.

you're weighed down by the simple tasks of everyday life. getting out of bed, brushing your teeth, showering... everything is a battle.

there was an urge, an unbridling urge, to want to be everything he deserved and more. but something in your godforsaken brain wasn't clicking.

the chemical imbalance in your brain has ruined your path. now, it was muddy and cloudy and there was no clear answer of what to do or say or ask in order to fix it.

but when you see him, his strength, you simply feel pitiful. how could someone battle his inner demons everyday and win, conquering them as he has battles from his past, be with someone who let menial tasks ruin their day?

so, as he stood in his tux, awaiting your arrival so he could finally ask you to dance, you approached him with baited breath.

"may i have this dance, doll?" he held his hand out, an uncharacteristic smile gracing his lips, the one that only showed when you were near.

you couldn't trust your voice. instead, you placed your hand in his, relishing in the fire that sparked from his touch, savoring it as if it were the last time. because it was.

you rested your head on his chest, swaying to the music as your free hand grasped his shoulder, tethering yourself to the ground so you wouldn't float away like you desperately wanted.

maybe you should've bribed the dj, made him put this song on a loop. a promise of calm and serenity before you wrecked your entire world.

maybe it was your self destructive tendencies that made this decision.

maybe it was reality sinking in, that the an who was holding you like you were the most beautiful thing to exist should be holding someone who truly was beautiful... and unbroken.

as the song came to a close, you pulled back with tears in your eyes. you could see his face contorting as he tried to piece together why you were so distraught.

"'doll..." his hands grasped your waist tenderly, gently squeezing as if he, too, was trying to ensure that he wouldn't float away.

"i-i can't," you choked on a sob, not wanting to cause a scene in the middle of the beautiful event. "i'll always love you, james," you let your hands hold his face one last time, leaning forward to press a kiss to his nose. "but i can't be with you anymore." your voice was cracking as the tears were streaming down your face, breaking down the stoic barrier you had tried to keep plastered up through the night.

you couldn't look in his eyes again. they would tell a story you were too afraid to hear. they would whisper that you were being a coward, too scared to not amount to the expectations you had set for yourself. they would whisper that you should listen to bucky when he told you how wonderful you are.

eventually, they would convince you to stay.

but staying would mean you were dragging him down with you. you refused to be that kind of burden to him.

later, when he retreated to his room, bucky would find a letter you had written him. one detailing the shortcomings you believed you had, how he deserved more and better than someone so tormented by their own mind.

how you were so undeserving of his love.

[devilfic]

❝small favor❞

IV. another white guy from new york.

parts: previously / next plot: it's uncanny, but it can't be. right? because that would be stupid. and spider-man isn't stupid. right? pairing: mcu!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: violence, guns, knives, blood mention, alcohol consumption, peter parker isn't beating the average white guy allegations, well. when he smiles like that he might. words: 6.7k.

You almost expect them to turn you away at the door when you hand over your badge, some paranoid part of you thinking they’ll take one look at you and know you don’t belong here, but the man at the check-in hands it back to you with a pleasant, “Enjoy your evening.”

That was half an hour ago, and Parker was nowhere in sight.

He was going to “meet you there” as Jameson promised, though without a clue what to look for, you found yourself aimlessly floating through perfume clouds of high society. You didn’t want to hit the bar this close to eight, but if you didn’t find an anchor quick, you’d vibrate right through the floor. Worst of all, you didn’t even have the guy’s number. What would you do if he was a no-show?

Your job, you suppose, sullen and already dreading the evening to come.

There’s no sign of Wilson Fisk either. In your usual setting, you might’ve already flagged down a guest or two to ask what they thought about the rumors, but your usual settings were messy, bloody, and out in the real world. Here, you had a list of questions to ask that didn’t even scratch your curiosity.

What’s your name? Are you excited to be here this evening? How does the Stark Charity Ball reflect the New York City you know and love? Were you attacked? Can you confirm Wilson Fisk was on the scene?

You hadn’t even made it to the fourth question before you’d given up. How would you last a night like this?

Slithering through the crowd, you make your way to the snack table with hopes to eat your way through the night. At least you could count on rich people to shell out on good cheese.

There’s a band playing in the corner, a gentle stringed melody that you appreciate over the chatter of the guests. You make your way over and let yourself get carried away in the tune, only glancing every so often at your watch to gauge the time. It was nine minutes to eight, nine minutes until Pepper Potts took the stage to start the night, and you still had no idea where your partner was.

It’s almost natural the way your hand finds your phone, swiping over the familiar contact name and pressing out a quick message.

The party can’t start without you.

Towering windows make up most of the ballroom, fading sunlight overpowering the chandeliers above, and you take advantage in hopes it might reveal your webbed friend hanging off the roof.

Almost immediately, you get a text back.

Aww, you really do like me :) No kidding. Are you already in place? Just about. Doing a quick perimeter check. You enjoying the party? I would be if my partner was here on time. Hey, cut Parker some slack! His train’s probably late and I don’t see any signs of Kingpin yet. I'm just glad you've stopped trying to fight me on this. If you can’t beat ‘em... And maybe look up every once in a while, you’re gonna run into somebody.

Just as your eyes scan the very last word, your senses go haywire. There’s cold liquid running down your hand and you've just run into something. When you finally tear your eyes away from your phone, you unfortunately realize that something is now wearing the remainder of your drink.

People nearby have formed a clearing around you, but it feels less out of courtesy and more to point and laugh at you. Regardless, you’ve got to fix this, “I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you okay?”

Your victim stands in a small puddle of sangria, the front of their tux dripping in it still, and you could see how red stains crawled up crisp white. You could only imagine how much every bit of their suit cost (and the Daily Bugle definitely didn’t have the budget to cover it).

They lift their copper head and you’re at first struck by the smile on their face, then the peppering of freckles across the bridge of their nose, and finally... their name.

He carefully removes his suit jacket to assess the damage to his shirt, “Nah, don’t worry. I was looking for a reason to leave early anyway.”

You’re breathless, certain you should be rushing to grab towels or begging him not to sue you into oblivion, but you don’t really get that far, “I’m... really sorry.”

He laughs, so genuine that you feel the tension in your shoulders deflate just at the sound. Just then, a waiter rushes over with a hand towel, insisting he lead him to the men’s room to clean up, but he’s waved off with little more than a “thank you” and “I’ll survive, I promise.”

He steps out of the puddle to allow someone to clean it up, bringing him that much closer to you. When he's done with the towel, he hands it off to you. His eyes trail to your chest and his eyes widen some, “The Daily Bugle. You a reporter?”

You realize he’s spotted your press badge and rush to introduce yourself, wiping absentmindedly at your sticky hand, “Uh... yes. Actually. Crime beat reporter.” You set your empty cup on a passing waiter’s tray and hold out your clean hand to shake.

His hand is warm, if not a little sticky like yours, though you have no grounds to complain, “Nice to meet you. I’m Harry.”

“Oh, I know.”

He quirks an eyebrow, still smiling, “Then... was that drink a calculated assault?”

“No! God, no. I genuinely wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Not very safe for a crime beat reporter, don’t you think?”

You’ve got to be on fire. You feel like it, struggling between a laugh and a whine, “I’m sorry you had to be the one to teach me that lesson.”

“No worries. Like I said, you did me a favor.” Harry glances around, “So… you're reporting on what, exactly? You betting on a robbery or something?”

The humor of that isn't lost on you, “Actually, I’m filling in tonight. Our usual reporter definitely wouldn’t have ruined your nice shirt.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I find this stain rather charming.”

You can’t help it. You giggle and he smiles even wider, “May I ask why you want to escape so soon?”

“Not if you’re gonna write it down.”

“Off the record? In exchange for the stain.”

Harry Osborn has a boyish look to him even though he’s steadily approaching 26, some baby fat still clinging to his cheekbones when he smiles wide enough, “Well, this was my first stop since hopping off a nine hour flight from Oxford and I’m, as the English say, absolutely knackered. I was gonna leave in half an hour after photos but…” He laughs, casting a look over his shoulder at the stage, “I’ve made my donation. I won’t be missed.”

Perking up with an idea, you reach into your bag and pull out a recorder, “In that case, how about I get you down for a comment on your generous donation of…”

“Five million.”

You blink, swallowing hard, “Five million… to make up for it? I'll even throw in a few questions about your study at Oxford. I hear you're working on a revolutionary breakthrough with lab-grown bacteria that breaks down plastic.”

Harry's eyes light up. For a moment, the image of Harry Osborn is just Harry, “You sure Jameson would let you publish something nice about an Osborn?”

The Daily Bugle was no friend to Spider-Man, but neither was it a friend to Norman Osborn. You recall some of the more scalding headlines about Oscorp’s president that you’d published in the past. It was the one thing you and Jameson could agree on. “You know Jameson well?”

“Of course. I’ve got a buddy who works there too, actually. You might know him. His name’s-”

Harry’s voice is drowned out by the collective oohing and awing of the crowd when the lights dim, shrouding the grand ballroom in the fading glow of the sun. The stage, once empty, is now illuminated with the presence of Pepper Potts. Uproarious applause fills the room. Harry smiles politely at you. His buddy would be a conversation for later.

You want to focus on Pepper, you really do, but it’s like you’ve broken out of a spell the second Harry’s eyes leave yours, and you find yourself once again scanning the crowd for Parker. There was no good reason for him to be this late and you couldn’t even give him a piece of your mind about it.

You shoot off an indignant text to Peter.

Your guy better have been hit by a cyclist on the way here or he’s getting an earful when I see him. Pepper looks amazing :(

But no instant reply. In fact, three minutes pass and there’s nothing. You glance up to the windows for any sign of him watching and find none. Was... he here?

You glance at Harry. If Jillian were here, she’d punch you in the face for what you’re about to do, for the opportunity you're about to squander. Okay, maybe not a punch, but it’d be violent.

But then you’re thinking about Peter, about that night that changed everything, about his blood and bruises and the men with guns for hands. You think about how Peter worried for you. You think about Harry, who has just donated five million dollars to charity, and how there are over a hundred more of him packed in this ballroom right now. You think about Wilson Fisk, and how much havoc he could wreak if he put Spider-Man out for good.

And then you're elbowing yourself through the crowd, searching for the nearest emergency stairwell, hoping that if Peter’s still watching he might meet you halfway. Parker and those questions be damned. You'd find a way to make it up to Jameson somehow.

You’re about ten feet away from the nearest exit when someone takes a hold of your wrist, a few seconds away from the end of Pepper’s speech, and whoever is holding you back has a grip so iron it stings. You can’t clearly see the face of who’s grabbed you but it doesn’t feel familiar. Your heart jumps into your throat. Had Fisk's men infiltrated the room already? Had they gotten to Spidey? Did they know you? Were you next?

You’ve got no pocket knife on you, but you have a fist.

You curl your fingers inward and aim right for your captor’s head. Your fist makes contact with skin. The room erupts into thunderous applause. The lights go up.

You never actually land the punch, but your captor looks a little too wide-eyed to be one of Fisk’s men, too soft in the face. His own hand has completely stopped yours in its tracks, just a hair away from breaking his nose, and he’s staring at you like a deer in headlights. A big, brown doe-eyed deer. “Uh, hi,” your eyes flicker down to the camera hanging from his neck, almost blocking the badge beneath it that reads "P. B. Parker", and then you meet his eyes with the same bewilderment, “sorry I’m late.”

Parker is about average height with a build you can't quantify when his shirt is draping off him. It's a ridiculously huge plaid thing, the kind of thing someone would wear to hide themselves, but all he does is stand out in the sea of Armani and Givenchy. Old jeans, old shirt, high-tops, and a muddy-grey beanie to top it all off. It was a wonder they let him in the door at all.

What you can feel is the strength behind his hand as it holds your fist in place. Some people are looking—you realize, after the tremors of your punch reverberate back up your arm—and so you yank your hand back before any security can take notice.

Your partner waits a full second before holding out his own, offering a subtle, wobbly smile, "I would've been here sooner but... traffic, ya know?"

His voice is low, you notice this next. Practically a mumble. You kind of realize why your coworkers said you weren't missing much; outside of his awkward mannerisms and sweet, unassuming baby face, he looked like any other white guy from New York. He also seemed like he didn't want to be seen or heard, and you imagined that Jameson had no problem with that.

But his mumbling forces you to take notice of his lips so you can read them, and their thin, blushy quality is only marred by a little dryness. Broken by biting or... or something. "You're late." Is all you manage to say.

His lips part, turning downward, "Yeah, I know," he stutters, the pitch of his voice going up a hair, "I said- um, I caught the last half of Mrs. Potts’ speech." And then he turns his camera to you, flicking through images that are too small on the screen for you to assess the quality of. You actually have no doubt they're good, but you're upset he's late and you're certain there's nothing remarkable about this guy—nothing at all—and yet you can't stop staring.

"You know Spidey?" You blurt out next, and his eyes widen and zero in on you. You don't know why he's surprised. "He's mentioned me, hasn't he?"

Parker blinks, "Oh! Yeah. Yeah. All the time. You're very... good. At your job."

"Thank you. So are you."

And wouldn't you know it, he actually blushes. It's sweet and alarming how quickly red blooms across the apples of his cheeks, how his hands wobble around his camera a bit, how it disarms you for a moment. It'd be cute if you could just figure out what about him was throwing you off.

In fact, you're so enthralled in figuring out that something that you see his lips moving but just miss his question, barely hearing the tail-end of it. You watch his lips again as you ask him to repeat it, but the musicians have started up a jaunty tune with trumpets and high white keys, so you duck closer to him and ask him to repeat it once more.

"I asked-" And as you get closer, you have an excuse to look at him more deeply.

Your eyes follow the curve of his mouth to his chin (and all its little hairs that he hadn't caught shaving), down to his neck where you see, just peeking out beneath the lip of his beanie, a curl. You've abandoned his question now. You just feel, as strange as it is, that you need a closer look...

Your hand is moving before your mind can catch up with it, until it's caught in Parker's halfway to his throat. You're so close to him that you can see the way the skin of his chin rolls with the effort to lean away from you, or the honey speckles in his eyes that are all but eclipsed by his blown-wide pupils.

His fingers are latched around yours. He's not using the same strength he was before, doesn't need to, but you can sort of feel it beneath the callouses. Even then, it's so gentle. You don't know why you react with just as mush wonder. The world might as well be at half-speed. You almost wish him to speak again because you've got nothing to say for yourself here.

Parker looks on at you, still holding onto your hand. He smells... like the city.

"Do you-" He starts, chokes on his spit, and then swallows, "are you always this friendly when you're tipsy?"

You blanch. "What? I'm not-" You yank your hand back, cup it to your mouth and nose, and breathe in the sangria. Could he smell it on your breath? "I'm not tipsy. I barely even had a drink before I spilled it all over..."

You catch Parker's eye to find him looking interested. "Spilled it all over...?"

"Someone. Whatever. It was an accident."

"You spilled your drink on someone?"

"It was an accident."

"You know, I was feeling real bad about showing up late, but Jameson's gonna have a field day with this." You're mortified. He wasn't interested, he was amused. "Are we gonna get sued?"

"No!" Your voice draws the attention of a couple nearby, making you shrink even closer to Parker, "I told you it was an accident and I apologized. And you're still not off the hook for being late."

He folds his arms across his chest, smiles steadily this time, and agrees. The action is so unmistakable that it saps all the lightheartedness right out of you. Parker notices the change.

The only thing that breaks the moment is Harry Osborn finding you both.

Your head whips at the first "Peter!", thinking you'll see red and blue somewhere nearby, but Harry is gunning straight for Parker with the widest smile on his face. You break away just in time for him to envelop Parker in a big, friendly hug that would've knocked Parker off his feet if not for how solid he was. A few onlookers take in the scene, some amused, others not so much.

It takes you a moment to digest that Harry meant Parker, had called him Peter with such love and affection that there was no way he was mistaken, and Parker had returned the hug a beat later without correcting him.

There were probably a million Peters in New York alone. And yet...

They stay intertwined a minute longer, only breaking away so that Harry could hold... Peter's face in his hands. "Peter Parker! What the hell are you doing here?" Harry seems to remember you're there. He releases Peter and points to you, "So, you two know each other after all. Pete's the buddy at the Bugle I told you about. We've been best friends for years."

As if this Peter business wasn't enough for you to wrap your head around, you struggle to imagine these two being best friends. One of New York City's richest heirs and a contractor for the Daily Bugle. Your disbelief is evident as you ask, "How did you two meet...?"

"College. We went to ESU together. We were even roommates before I went off to Oxford." Harry smiles proudly, patting Peter on the back. It's then that you notice Peter is looking very, very uncomfortable. You wonder for a moment if this is all some elaborate joke Harry's playing, but it hadn't struck you as his type of humor.

This is, in fact, a man named Peter Parker. He works for the Daily Bugle, he's best friends with Harry Osborn, he works with Spider-Man, and they both share a name. Unremarkable Peter Parker. Nothing you were missing, they'd said.

Peter must see that you're focused hard on him, so he turns to Harry, "Yeah, Oxford. Why aren't you... there? Again?"

Harry laughs, unbothered, "Don't tell me you didn't miss me?"

"No, it's just... last I remember, your dad wanted you there until your project got approved."

The very mention of Norman Osborn kills the mood entirely. Harry's smile falls quick, though he tries to hide it, and shuffles a bit uncomfortably. "That was the deal. But you know dad: the world revolves around his every whim." Harry's eyes cut to you so fast that you tense up, recovering quickly. "Off the record."

Jillian would not accept that. You, on the other hand, swallow it down and tuck it away for another day, "Anything for a friend of a friend."

That gets Harry smiling again, however terse. The conversation quickly changes course as Harry pulls at the stained white of his shirt to show Peter, "Speaking of: you like? Our new mutual friend gave it to me."

Peter glances at you, chuckling with a nervous edge, and grabs at the fabric to examine for himself, "Something tells me you deserved it."

Harry immediately resorts to banter that Peter melts into. It was no doubt now that they were friends, that Peter's awkwardness had only been on account of you being here.

You can only smile and nod, smile and nod, while you watch Peter's every move. You couldn't say anything even though you were bursting, but now your heart was beginning to pound in your ears, making it hard for you to do what you were trying to pretend you weren't doing.

Spider-Man was smart. Beneath the quips, he was extremely smart. He wouldn't tell you his real name and then show up here as a civilian, so brazen, knowing that you'd instantly figure out it was him. That'd be too easy. He trusted you, sure, but he wasn't stupid. He'd been uncomfortable at the very thought of unmasking when you'd mentioned it last night. If Peter was... Peter, he wouldn't have come at all. Because that would be stupid.

And he wouldn't have bothered to pretend, up until the last second, that he wasn't Peter, if he was just going to flay himself before you like this. Because you would've figured it out eventually.

So, surely, there were a million Peters in New York and you happened to know two of them. And they knew each other. And one of them was a superhero. Of course.

You slip your phone out, checking your recent messages with your heart in your throat. If Peter wasn't Peter, he'd have texted you back by now. Because Peter—fuck—Spidey wouldn't miss a chance to make that joke.

There's one new message. You barely get to see what it says before broken glass sprays from above.

There’s a cacophony of sound all at once. Glass breaking, screaming amongst the crowd, and the sound of gunfire letting off into the ceiling. One minute, the room had been in peaceful bliss, and the next, a tidal wave of terrified guests were rushing at you.

You’re lucky that Peter’s arm is like iron, strong enough to rip you back and away from the crowd that converges on the exits, because if you had stayed in your spot for a second longer you would have been trampled underfoot. Like your phone, which is in pieces the second it slips out of your hand.

Harry is there too, huddled against the two of you in the corner, but that doesn’t stop you three from all being pressed upon by the panicking crowds. There’s no rhyme or reason, no order in the chaos. Beautiful clutches embedded with Swarovski crystals lay abandoned at your feet. Everyone in the room can see, whatever it might be, that their life is worth more than a single thing in this room. Even worth more than the lives of the other guests they shove to get out first.

You try your best to see over the heads of the swarm to get a glimpse of what had set the entire party off, and immediately two things are visible. One: Pepper Potts is center stage, the bright white stage lights beating down on her. If it weren’t for the sweat beading at her brow, you’d think her bored. The second thing was that there was a man standing beside her who wasn’t standing there before, a microphone in one hand and a gun in the other.

Even from all the way at the back of the room, you could see the gun trembling in his grip as the barrel kissed Pepper’s temple.

The next thing is his voice. It’s loud, feedback screeching off the walls so high that you think they might shatter the windows. The crowd is loud and he’s louder. You can hear him saying something about how everyone shouldn’t leave just yet, that they’d want to see this front row and not on the 10 o’clock news. You do not see Kingpin. This man is utterly alone.

Harry is shouting something at you, you can feel his breath and the spit that flies out in the hurry of his words, but you can barely make out what he’s saying over the guests. Peter clutches you both even closer.

“We… we have to…” You start, glancing up at the windows for any sign of Spider-Man, but you see nothing. Your eyes drop to Peter’s to find him already staring right at you. You’ve no idea what’s going through his head, and the adrenaline rushing behind your eyes makes it hard to speculate. You only know what you need to say, “…we need to find Spider-Man.”

“We need to leave!” Harry argues. He wriggles out of Peter’s grip and starts pulling you both toward the nearest exit, but he only makes progress with pulling you forward.

You were about to argue back until you felt Peter’s hand at the base of your spine, pushing you into Harry with ease and right toward one of the exit doors. You turn, clutching onto Harry as to not lose him in the crowd, only to find Peter isn’t following you. “You both need to get out of here.”

“Both? Wh- Peter! We’re not leaving without you!” Your attempt to grab at him is futile. He shrugs away from your touch, keeps pushing you and Harry through the stampede as if he really intended on staying behind. “Peter!”

He finally looks you in the eyes that second time, the desperation with which you’d said his name snapping him out of some dissociative spell, “I’ll be right behind you! I’m gonna help get people out. Some got trampled, I-I’ve got to-”

Harry is next to admonish him, “Pete, come on. This isn’t the time to play fucking hero!”

But Peter’s not listening again—eyes faraway, slipping over the crowd as if searching for something—he’s heading back into the fray, calling to you some half-hearted promise that he’d follow soon, and then his head disappears into the whirlwind of bodies. You were able to follow him up until the moment his hat got pulled off, and then… nothing.

The current pushes and pulls at you and Harry, dragging you down the hallway. You feel your ankle twist awkwardly and are thankful that Harry is still clinging to you because had he not been, you would’ve been dragged down and trampled for sure. He holds you upright, pressing you to his side, assuring you over the noise that you’d go back in to get Peter in a minute.

You think that Harry Osborn is much kinder than his father seemed to be, and that you really do owe him a good soundbite in the Bugle after this.

You feel a draft coming from outside, promising you were close to being free from the confines of the hallway. You grab Harry’s hands and peel them off of you, pushing him forward into the crowd without a second thought, just as you see the light of the city come up ahead. His head whips to you. He calls your name as he’s swept away, but you press yourself hard against the wall and let the crowd lead him out to safety.

The crawl back to the ballroom is awful.

There are fewer people escaping, thankfully, and so it’s less like an undertow, but there are so many people and all of them are perfectly fine with throwing their bodies forward with caution thrown to the wind.

It takes you longer than a minute to get back to the door you’d come out of, even longer to squeeze through with elbows hitting you square in the chest and heels digging into your feet.

The room is less than a third of what it had been when the gunman had arrived. You frantically search for Peter in the remaining, scattered crowd; people are frozen in awe, in horror. Some people in the crowd were begging the gunman to reconsider, and others were praying. Your heart sank. A woman was about to die and there was virtually nothing you could do.

You look up to the windows one more time. You couldn’t see him, couldn’t call him, but you close your eyes and pray too. Whoever he was. Wherever he was.

And then you hear it. The familiar thwip! cuts through the air. You open your eyes and a second later, the clatter of the gunman’s pistol hitting the floor follows. You’re blessed with a whole five seconds of glee before the gunman surges forward and pulls a knife on Pepper, holding it to her throat in a panic.

“Easy there, buddy.” Your head snaps up to the rafters. From a single thread of spider silk, Spidey descends from the ceiling with a hand outstretched. He’s a ways away from the two of them, offering some sense of space. “You don’t wanna do this.”

The gunman has since abandoned his microphone, but his voice reverberates in the near empty room just fine, “Get out of here, Spider-Man! You’re next!”

“Why don’t you and I hash it out, then? Just you and me. Leave Mrs. Potts out of it.”

“No, no,” the man mutters; you can hear sirens growing closer to the building, “she’s part of it. You’re all part of it.”

Pepper speaks up for the first time, “Whatever you want, I can get it. This doesn’t have to end badly.”

That must’ve been the wrong thing to say. The man jerks his knife closer to her skin and you can see, after a moment, a thin bead of red dribbles down her collarbone.

Spidey holds out both his hands, “Whoa, whoa, whoa-”

And it happens in a flash. One second, Pepper is being held at knifepoint, and the next, she’s being pushed off the stage.

Spider-Man immediately swoops in and catches her, swinging her to safety on the other side of the room, but you’re too mesmerized by the new body on stage pinning the attacker down by the throat. How you’d missed him, you’ve no clue, but he’s wrestling the man onto his stomach and restraining his arms behind his back just as the doors to the ballroom are thrown wide open.

Cops stream in, rushing the stage to take the gunman into custody. Some head straight for Spider-Man and Pepper, but it’s the guests that catch your attention. There are maybe fifty of them in the room altogether, but applause catches on like wildfire. All of them, and the musicians and the cops at the door, erupt into applause.

Because the man on stage, the man who’d thrown himself at the gunman and disarmed him, the man who had just saved Pepper Potts’ life… was Wilson Fisk.

You can’t find Harry anywhere. Most of the guests had stayed behind out of sheer curiosity, but Harry was nowhere in sight.

You stand out on the sidewalk with the rest of the crowd as the police escort the gunman into a cop car, murmurs flitting from ear to ear on who he’d been, what he’d wanted, and whether they should stay behind for interviews. Pepper was still inside getting questioned. But Wilson Fisk was out here.

You’d been in the same room as Fisk only once before, the night of his infamous press conference three years ago when you were still an intern trailing after the likes of Jillian. He’d struck you as a measured man, one who carried himself with impenetrable humility, and even in the face of his detractors kept a cool head.

Back then, he’d been accused of money laundering, something to do with all his companies not adding up. In and out of trouble, he was. Jameson had likened him to a cockroach: never quite dead, even when he really ought to be by now.

And now he stands before reporters, guests, onlookers, and the like, giving a statement about his “harrowing” rescue of Mrs. Potts. He hadn’t even been invited.

You know you should be right up there with the rest of them, fiending for a soundbite, but you’re gnawing your bottom lip from afar trying to catch him in a lie. Something about this was refusing to add up, and thankful as you were that Pepper was safe, the whole thing was off. Convenient, even.

You watch him smile and nod, none of the charm ever reaching his dead eyes, but everyone eats it up anyway.

Just as you’re about to force yourself to head over, knowing Jameson would have your head otherwise, you’re flying.

“Jesus!” You screech, scrambling to cling onto Spidey as the crowd below watches the two of you swing away. Your stomach drops as he carries you to a nearby rooftop, and you all but collapse when you meet solid ground. “Oh my God, don’t ever do that again.” You expect a quip in return, but when you look behind you, Spider-Man is sitting with his head on his knees, utterly silent. Your stomach drops again, “Spidey?”

That gets him to look at you, big white eyes narrowing, “We’re not on a first name basis anymore?”

You’re stunned, and then you scowl, “Peter Parker.” When he says nothing, you repeat it, “Peter Parker.”

“That’s his name.”

“His? Or yours?”

His eyes stay narrowed at you, only now his head is lifted upright, “I’m not the only Peter in New York.”

“I’m sorry if I find it a little suspicious there’s a Peter Parker who works at the Daily Bugle selling the only decent photos of you in the city, who just so happens to share your name and- and your lips.” That last part awkwardly tumbles out of you and his eyes are no longer narrowed.

“My lips?”

Peter’s lips flash in your mind. You don’t know how to say it without sounding more suspicious than him, “You’re… you both… your mouths are very similar.”

A beat passes. The silence isn’t enough to convince you you’re wrong, but it is enough to make you fidget.

But then Peter bursts into laughter, and, well, it’s not funny to you at all. “Quit it.” You demand, meek.

“I’m sorry, I just- I stick to walls and you think it’s crazy that we’re both named Peter?”

“You can’t convince me I’m off with this one.”

“There were like… four Peters in my graduating class!”

“He even kind of sounded like you! When I could hear him clearly.”

“He sounds nothing like me!”

“He sounds a lot like you.” You say, and wish that there had been a moment when you’d caught him speaking at an octave higher than his, frankly, forced baritone and an octave below shouting. Peter—this Peter—has a voice you know well enough. You’ve memorized his vocal fry when his voice gets a little too high, that nervous ramble-y pitch of his. It’s so distinct. If you had just… heard him use it just once, “You can’t make me feel crazy about this.”

“’m not trying to make you feel crazy, I swear. You’re one of the smartest people I know. I’d be skeptical too.” You wait patiently for a confirmation or a denial, but he gives you none. He takes a deep breath and stares out over the edge of the building where Fisk is being escorted to his car. You crawl over to sit beside him.

Part of you wants to ask him to prove it, to peel his mask off and show you, but you can’t make yourself do it. He’d only just given you his name. He trusted you with that. You’re wary about pushing it.

Because the pieces fit so well, but he’d never make that kind of mistake. Would he?

Would he think it was a mistake?

Peter sighs. “Hey, you alright?” You ask.

He doesn’t really look at you, though his voice answers at a lower volume than before, "This was too convenient.” You hum in agreement. “That guy… he said we were all ‘part of it’. Like it was planned.”

“You think Fisk planned it.”

“I think he’s a little too eager to be in the spotlight about it.” But getting that off his chest doesn’t seem to change the solemnness in his tone.

“Pepper was never in danger.” Your hand presses against the scratchy concrete, itching to touch him. To comfort him. “If this was Fisk’s plan, it was all for publicity. Pepper was never gonna get hurt.”

“She got hurt.” Peter whips his head to you.

You knew Iron Man was his mentor, had plucked him off the streets and thrust him into a world of gods and aliens before his untimely death. And maybe with Tony gone, he thought it was his job to keep her safe.

“Peter, you can’t… you can’t think like that. You can punch your way through a lot of things, but that? That back there? You did what you could.”

“I could do more.”

You get that urge to touch him again, only this time, you let yourself do it.

Your hand touches the side of his mask, cupping below his ear. He watches you the entire time but doesn’t move to stop you. Your thumb rests on his cheek and your pinky- it brushes the overlap between his mask and the rest of his suit, “It’s not just that you’re Peter, too.”

You feel the muscles in his neck twitch, “What?”

“It’s that… in all that chaos, you chose to stay behind. To help people. You made sure me and Harry got out, but you stayed behind. Everyone was so busy trying to save their own lives and you were thinking about them. I don’t know Peter Parker very well. Maybe he’s just that kind of guy. But I know you. I know if anyone in that room was you, he’d be it.” Peter doesn’t say anything. You feel the tension in his jaw, feel the way his throat bobs with a hard swallow, but he doesn’t say anything. He just watches you. You stare hard into those white eyes and imagine a someone staring back at you. “Or maybe that’s just the kind of people Spider-Man hangs out with.”

He huffs humorously, “Yeah, that checks out. We’re friends, after all.”

Your heart swells to hear it, “friends”. “Don’t make this about me when I’m trying to expose your secret identity.”

“I think Peter Parker would be flattered you think so highly of him. He was kind of worried he made the wrong impression… after you tried to punch him in the face.”

Your jaw drops, having nearly forgotten in the mess of the night. “Well, maybe Peter Parker shouldn’t go around grabbing people in the dark.”

“You were walking so fast. How else would Peter Parker get your attention?”

“Are you just saying Peter Parker over and over to convince me that you’re both completely different people?”

“I just think it’s funny that you don’t believe more than two Peters can live in the same city.”

“There are other factors!”

“Can’t believe you’re the type of reporter who flies by the seat of their assumptions. But you do work for Jameson, after all.” When Peter stands, you naturally follow.

You decide to switch tactics, bruising the alter ego, “You- you know what? You’re right. You couldn’t be Peter Parker. Peter Parker would be shaking and crying if I so much as raised my voice at him.”

“Wow. I’m gonna tell him you said that—wrap your arms around me?” And he snakes an arm around your waist, sending your heart into overdrive again, “he’s never gonna talk to you again. He’s probably gonna issue a copyright claim every time you put his pics on the Web-Blog, now. Legs too.”

“Wait, no. We are not swinging again. We are taking the stairs.”

“How else am I gonna get you off the roof? Legs, please.”

“We can take the stairs!”

“Door’s probably locked and Kingpin’s already on his way back to his super-secret evil lair. Legs or I’m webbing you up in a baby wrap.”

You grumble. It’s enough to make you grab onto his shoulders and jump, locking your ankles across his back with the fear of gravity instilled in you. You reckoned he’d be fast enough to catch you if you did fall. The very possibility makes you sick to your stomach, though. “Please don’t drop me.”

Peter dips his chin into the crevice where your neck meets your shoulder. "Don't worry," and it's not even that you hear his voice, you just feel it, "I've only dropped someone once."

And you're plummeting off the ledge before you get the chance to run away.

[readingismyhobby24]

what cat am I? :D

- hero-of-the-wolf

Hehehe you're a lot lol

Loaf, liquid, tux, skrunkly, smol, shorthair, and cloud :D

What do you think I am 👁️👁️

@hero-of-the-wolf

[marsilles]

                   JOIN  US  ON  MAY  19TH,  2012  FOR  A

                    NIGHT  TO  REMEMBER!

          saturday,  may  19th  —  doors  open  at  7:00  pm

                   split  river  gymnasium 

imagine  a  world  where  cotton  candy  clouds  float  above  you,  and  everything  is  coated  in  a  sickeningly  sweet  glow.  split  river  bandits  —  don't  miss  the  biggest  night  of  the  year!  taking  place  on  saturday,  may  19th,  you'll  experience  a  night  so  sweet  you'll  leave  with  a  sugar  crash.  the  gates  to  this  dimension  open  at  7:00  sharp,  so  make  sure  your  sweet  rides  are  there  right  on  time.  step  inside  the  split  river  gymnasium  and  leave  reality  behind,  as  we  transform  the  space  into  something  straight  out  of  a  dream.

this  is  your  chance  to  dress  like  you’re  stepping  into  a  whole  new  dimension!  formal  attire  is  an  obvious  must,  but  we’re  not  just  talking  your  average  prom  dress  or  tux — this  is  the  night  to  go  all  out  and  pick  the  dress  or  suit  of  your  dreams.  think  sparkles,  glitter,  and  anything  that  makes  you  feel  like  you’re  walking  through  a  fairytale  or  floating  on  clouds.  channel  the  glamour  of  a  starry  night,  the  magic  of  a  whimsical  dream,  and  the  elegance  of  a  royal  ball.   you’re  not  just  dressing  up — you’re  becoming  part  of  the  magic  that  will  fill  the  air.  a  night  under  the  stars  is  your  moment  to  shine  bright.  this  goes  for  staff  and  chaperones,  too.  you're  apart  of  the  magic!

 

                 trust  us,  bandits  —  you don't  want  to  miss this.

as  we  all  know,  this  is  the  day  colette  died.  in  particular,  she  died  after  a  “prank”  gone  wrong  —  a  group  of  girls  who  had  previous  “taken  her  under  thing  wing”  during  their  final  year  of  high  school  instead  luring  her  to  the  prom  under  the  guise  of  going  together.  the  girls  rigged  the  voting  box,  since  they  were  going  old  school  with  the  paper  votes,  to  say  colette's  name. 

most  people  thought  it  was  the  trauma  of  the  bucket  hitting  her  head  was  what  did  it  -  in  the  aftermath,  it  was  found  that  the  lighting  tuss  broke  off  the  rafter,  hitting  both  the  prom  king  and  colette.  a  faulty  bolt  after  they  replaced  the  entire  thing  the  year  before,  never  messing  with  it  until  a  certain  amount  of  pressure  from  the  girls  pulling  the  rig  with  the  bucket,  the  girls  on  prom  committee  helping  set  this  up  under  the  guise  of  setting  up  decorations. 

and  colette  was  excited  —  an  entirely  new  feeling  of  being  wanted  somewhere,  with  people  she  thought  were  her  friends.  they  wanted  her  to  be  there.  they  wanted  to  hang  out  with  her.  that  feeling  so  fleeting  in  her  life  that  it  exploded  in  her  chest,  giddy  like  a  little  kid.  that's  what  makes  the  betrayal  even  worse.  she's  come  to  realize,  over  the  past  decade,  that  it  might've  not  been  on  purpose.  it  probably  was  an  unfortunate  accident  by  mean  girls  who  were  too  emboldened  by  the  rise  of  youtube  and  social  media  –  but  it  doesn't  make  it  hurt  any  less.  chest  tightens  at  the  displays  of  cliques  and  bullying,  particularly  maddie's  poster  being  tampered  with,  even  in  death.  meanness  transcends  age  and  social  groups  and  generations. 

after  the  fact,  consoled  by  janet  and  mr.  martin  in  their  usual  fashion,  colette  fled  —  she  didn't  speak  to  anyone  for  a  solid  two  weeks,  despite  their  obvious  tries.  the  entire  thing  is  just  odd.  she's  dead,  but  she's  still  here.  it's  weird,  it's  still  weird,  many  moons  and  school  graduations  and  other  deaths  later.  those  two  weeks  are  still  something  of  a  sour  spot  that  she  shies  away  from  when  brought  up,  and  chooses  to  downright  ignore  they  ever  happened  altogether. 

the  theme  was  dreamland,  which  meant  the  entire  premise  was  sickeningly  sweet  and  pink  cotton  candy  clouds  and  anything  that  was  pink  and  blue  and  colorful.  i'll  find  colette's  dress  later,  but  she  kind  of  was  obsessed  with  this  theme  and  aside  from  the  pressure  from  her  ‘friends’  to  look  amazing,  she  liked  how  she  looked  for  once.  didn't  feel  like  an  outcast,  off  to  the  side  in  an  attempt  to  fit  in. 

she  refused  to  enter  the  gymnasium  for  two  years  after  it  happened  —  anything  would  resort  into  being  a  silent  panic  attack,  despite  the  gym  itself  being  somewhat  renovated  again.  the  paint  splatter  was  hard  to  get  off,  after  all.  essentially  told  mr.  martin  to  go  fuck  himself  when  he  kept  asking  and  implying  she  should  come  to  group.  did  once,  then  didn't  for  a  few  months,  did  again,  and  the  cycle  repeated.  it  was  too  much  and  too  soon.  she  didn't  like  the  eyes  on  her.  would  occasionally  sit  outside  the  gym  doors,  back  to  the  cool  tile  and  try  to  listen  over  the  squeaks  of  basketball  sneakers  and  ball  dribbles.  sometimes,  when  they're  all  just  lounging  around,  she  gets  phantom  aches  from  the  impact.  she  can't  quite  discern  it,  but  they're  there,  and  written  all  over  her  face.

her  scar,  is,  obviously  the  gym.  her  key  is  the  crown  —  it's  stained  with  what  she  hopes  is  paint,  and  a  little  cracked  due  to  the  impact  of  the  truffs  and  how  it  fell  off  her  head,  skidding  across  the  floor.  entering  her  scar  is  an  experience.  the  gym  is  full  of  her  peers,  who  are  simply  just  staring  and  laughing.  a  singular  spotlight  where  she  was,  having  to  relive  the  emotional  and  physical  impact.  knowing  that  this  was  caused  by  other  people  at  the  expense  of  colette  and  her  pride,  her  worth.  it  all  happened  so  fast  that  colette  blocked  it  out,  despite  dying  almost  -  kind  of  on  impact,  there's  a  split  second  as  they  watch  it  happen  again  that  she  can't  quite  place  the  feeling  of.  it  makes  her  sick  to  her  stomach.   

the  gymnasium  remains  named  as  is.  her  mother,  as  little  as  she  cared,  didn't  want  that  to  be  her  daughter  (  and  selfishly  enough,  hers  )  legacy.  instead,  she  helped  set  up  a  college  scholarship  with  the  local  community  college,  where  colette  was  committed  to  go  for  english  literature.  this,  of  course,  gives  celeste  bragging  rights  and  a  way  to  inflate  her  own  self  -  important  ego,  but  it  does  kind  of  warm  colette's  heart  when  she  thinks  about  it.  the  scholarship  itself  is  picked  by  her  grandmother  even  in  her  old  age,  with  essays  about  resilience  and  other  important  themes.  the  recipient  is  chosen  on  may  19th  of  every  year. 

[berrypass-de-murdler]

100. Murder at the Murdle Premiere

The final episode.

please I implore you, provide feedback of what you thought of the series, and if you're looking forward to the second installment - I strongly want to improve or potentially end depending on general response this series <3

DON'T READ THE EPISODES UNTIL YOU'VE FINISHED THE FIRST BOOK!!

Logico can’t sleep. He tosses and turns in his lonely apartment bed in the dead of night. The movie Murdle is tomorrow… and as much as he wishes he could just leave Hollywood and pretend the film never happened, he can’t. He has to be there, to solve an inevitable murder… and because Midnight III is forcing him to. He is jumpscared by a call from an unknown number. He answers it with his heart beating out of his chest.

???: I know who framed Irratino!

The voice is too quiet to identify.

LOGICO: Who are you!

Of course, the caller immediately hangs up. Logico rubs his eye and falls back down, miserable, praying this will all be over soon.

The next night, after the poor chap had essentially been sleeping all day, Logico wearily heads outside to a surprise. Inspector Irratino is in a full suit, in front of a sparkling limousine. 

LOGICO: Irratino… what the hell? IRRATINO: I know you hate to drive. Come on - guest of honor first.

Flustered but touched, the little man climbs in. Irratino gives him a miniature tux to match, so he’ll look even more like a penguin. Logico is afraid of what will happen at this showing. But he snuggles into Irratino in the backseat as they’re taken to the most extravagant cinema in the world.

Everything in the theater is sparkling velvet and gold - it’s so luxurious it’s an eyesore. The crowd they’re met with is insane, it seems like every suspect from every case has come to watch the film. And the screen on the stage is the largest anyone has ever seen. In fact, the very last thing that comes to Logico’s attention is the body. 

PRESIDENT: The Vice President. A complete waste of My time, but regardless, a person. MIDNIGHT: Look Logico. A murder. Deal with it before the movie starts.

Obsidian stands close by, looking suspicious as ever. Irratino is staring intensely. Logico finds a paper in the dead man’s pocket with a phone number. And he looks up at the four people who are in front of him. 

Logico knows he’s been set up. That this entire adventure that has worn him down to nothing was meticulously planned by someone. Midnight III forced him into this job. The President is bound by his father’s will to keep the studio intact. Obsidian has been playing him since the beginning and will do anything for her own success. And Irratino knows too much. The goat approaches him. Logico, unable to bring himself to speak, holds out his hand to stop him. 

To make matters worse, everyone in the audience is staring. Logico looks at them all and can barely see straight. 

PRESIDENT: Hey. [kneels down to him] How do We know You’d even be able to solve something like this? LOGICO: Just start the film.

He gives up and leaves. He is so tired of solving murders. He never wants to do this again. 

PRESIDENT: There We go.

Irratino tenses, and shoves the president out of the way, heading after Logico.

LOGICO: [sobbing] I can’t do this… I never wanted to be here… I want to go home.

A shadow looms over him.

LOGICO: …Irratino… I… know you’re there. IRRATINO: G- LOGICO: Don’t say anything. 

He doesn’t. He just shows him two notes - one in Detective Code, and one in the code that he taught him on the cruise. Remembering the symbols, Logico is able to read both, and looks up at the goat lord, who gives him a soft smile. 

LOGICO: [quietly] I could have never done this without you.

Hug <3

And they go back to the stage.

LOGICO: It was Midnight III - he’s behind everything.

Everyone kind of looks in confusion. What evidence does he have to back that up? But staring dead at the cloud of smoke, Logico knows he’ll break. He’s just too cocky not to.

MIDNIGHT: Fine. I did it. I killed the vice president, but I only did it because he got it my way. PRESIDENT: Son. Stop talking. Wait until Blackstone gets here. BLACKSTONE: I am here!! I heard the whole thing- MIDNIGHT: Shut up, Dad. 

Midnight’s voice is starting to get really gravelly and scathing, unlike how he sounded before..

MIDNIGHT: I don’t care about your lawyers. I’m sick of you altogether. You inherited a company built on oil, and you tried to make it half about movies. Your pathetic attempt to make art got in the way of what we needed to make, and what I needed to make. 

He continues to explain his evil plan, as every weak villain does. But it’s a lot of dialogue, and I’m too lazy to write the entire thing word-for-word. And if you’ve read the book, like you should have, you already know what he says!

MIDNIGHT: I hope you’re both murdered soon. And I want this fucking show to end. Can’t you see you’ve all been played. Can’t you see that… that your stupid story was planned. I was doomed to fail from the beginning. CAN’T YOU SEE WE’RE ALL DESTINED TO-

Obsidian steps in and forces the little blob off the stage. And the President too - he’s useless. Midnight continues ranting, but no one can hear him anymore. Logico and Irratino stare at the vast audience of previous offenders. There’s a long silence. And then, suddenly, everyone bursts into a roaring applause. They’re cheering for Logico! The real Logico… not just some character he plays. Obsidian smiles and raises a glass to him. He tears up and looks at Irratino, who grabs him into a tight hug. For the first time, Logico feels so relieved. He doesn’t want this moment to end.

IRRATINO: Logico... remember when you brought that penguin from the dead and we had a drunk party? LOGICO: Yes, Irratino, how could I ever forget. IRRATINO: ...Could we do that again?

And they do. For once, Logico doesn't care if he and Irratino look like idiots, because this is worth celebrating.

The movie sucked, but who cares? It’s just a movie, and Logico got enough money for a slightly bigger apartment. He leads Irratino to it.

LOGICO: All right, open your eyes.

He does, and gasps when he sees a new desk labeled ‘I. IRRATINO’. The hapless goat squeals and squeezes Gico, ready to move in as soon as he can. This is not what Logico meant. But he’s not going to say no.

On the backside of the door, there’s a note he certainly didn’t write, and neither did Irratino. It’s made of only numbers. And Logico can’t figure out what it means… 

IRRATINO: Hey Logico. LOGICO: …what. IRRATINO: You know when there were ancient ruins on the moon? LOGICO: WHAT? You weren’t there for that! IRRATINO: Ah, but was I? The ruins may be oil deposits, but that doesn’t explain anything about the one on the moon - how’d ancient people even get up there without some kind of alien presence? LOGICO: Oh come on, are we doing this now? This is just stupid…

Irratino shuts the door behind them, slowly zooming out on the apartment, the building, and the city.

IRRATINO: Alright, if it’s so stupid, how do you explain it? LOGICO: Pfft. It’s not ALIENS. IRRATINO: Then what is it?? LOGICO: No more questions. IRRATINO: Logico…

And they continue to banter on, deep into the night.

The end (for real this time)! 

Thank you to anyone who bothered to read this - I love you all.

May the power of Goat Lord compel you

[rottenpumpkin13]

Sephiroth walks in on Cloud dressed in a tux and thinks Cloud has switched to the TURKs side.

ASFGHJ– Cloud in a tux is adorable <3

[neverniko101]

You are totally tux, cloud, shorthair, loaf and witch to me

- Neptmoot

:DDD

why are you on anon-