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daisymbin · 4 months

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do you hate me? (no, i don't, princess.) - choi seungcheol

warnings: mentions of alcohol (slightly intoxicated reader)

pairings: choi seungcheol x afab reader

genre: best friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst

a/n: i know i did best friends to lovers for wonwoo already but this has been sitting in my drafts for quite awhile and also, tbh this is probably one of my fav tropes hahaha enjoy!

requests open!

check out my masterlist!

seungcheol's pov

''cheol-ah...do you hate me?''

''no, my love, i dont.'' i watch as a small smile flashes across her flushed cheeks. im not sure why i even responded to her at all seeing how drunk she was. she probably wont remember any of this in the morning when she wakes up anyway.

''who the hell gave her this much to drink? you guys know she can't hold her liquor well! you should have stopped her!'' i was honestly no where near as upset as i sounded. while a part of me is slightly upset, im also rather glad and relieved. glad that i can be here to take care of her and relieved because...its me who gets the privilege of taking care of her.

''im sorry hyung, i didnt expect her to drink so much and so quickly as well. soonyoung hyung and i were just getting dinner after work together but we ran into her so we went together. i swear i tried stopping her but im no match for the two of them! i couldnt even stop soonyoung hyung.'' dino said with a pout. ''i wanted to send her back home but she kept insisting that she wont leave with anyone else but you. i dont think she even recognises me right now. she kept calling me a stranger and said if i dont stop pestering her, her best friend would come fight me... i didnt have a choice hyung...'' dino looks almost terrified and its funny. i was trying so hard to fight a smile from coming out.

dino thought that i was mad at him for calling me out this late at night on my day off but truth be told, if this is what you call a disturbance then this would be the best kind. i love her. not that i would ever admit that to anyone. although, i don't think i need to. i know that the boys can tell. ''oh hyung...you're here?'' soonyoung finally spoke out. i shook my head in slight disapproval as i watch soonyoung slouch on the chair, almost losing his balance and falling over. ''chan-ah, i think you should bring soonyoung home. he's wasted.''

''i will hyung. im sorry again for calling you but you're her best friend afterall and she was asking for you.'' yeah, best friend indeed.

i watched as dino hauled soonyoung towards an incoming cab before i finally sat down beside her. ''how are you feeling?'' i asked as i gently helped her get up to walk towards my car that was parked just by the side of the road. ''just a little dizzy and fuzzy.'' i chuckled at that. fuzzy? cute.

i opened the door to the passenger seat and helped her in. i buckled her seatbelt for her and stepped back. ''where are you going?'' she looked at me with a slight sadness to it. i chuckled as i gently patted the side of her head. ''to the driver's seat, princess. we've gotta get you home somehow, dont we?'' she smiles at my response and i finally manage to close her side of the door.

''cheol-ah, can you hold my hand? it feels empty..'' her hand comes up to where mine is and held it in place before i could even answer. i could feel my heart beating so loud. how does she do it with such ease? i wonder if she knows how nervous she makes me feel. ''cheol-ah, do you hate me?'' she asked as she tried to keep her eyes open. probably fighting sleep. ''no, i dont, princess. i thought i already told you that just now.'' i said with a smile.

''i just wanted to make sure.'' she said as she let out a deep breath.

''why would i hate you?'' and this time, she closes her eyes. ''i just feel like...if you knew how i really felt about you, you would hate me.''

''i could never hate you no matter what, and besides, you know you can tell me anything, right? i'll always be by your side.'' i tried to reassure her.

''you can't say that when you dont know anything.''

''tell me then.''

''i can't cheol.''

''why not? i thought we promised each other not to keep any secrets between us?'' i immediately bit my tongue as soon as i said that; knowing full well that im keeping my biggest secret from her as well.

''but if i tell you....can you promise me not to get mad?''

''i promise.''

''theres someone i like...no no..theres someone im in love with for the past 2 years but i dont think he feels the same way..i thought it was just a stupid crush at first and that it would go away but it never did and my crush only grew bigger...i thought i would be able to handle it and pretend like it doesnt affect me but it does and i cant take it anymore.''

and there it was. that churning feeling in the pit of my stomach. my hands start to get clammy and my throat starts to feel dry. ''for 2 years?'' i start to think back to when that time period was. was it 2022? i had already been in love with her for 2 years by 2022. was i a fool to not have noticed that she had her eyes on someone else while i had mine on her?

''yeah..2 years..isnt that so pathetic?'' pathetic? i've been in love with you for 4 years..who is the pathetic one here? but instead i said ''no, its not. i've been worse.'' i am worse. i let out a deep sigh as i felt my heart slowly breaking. i felt like my heart was hard candy and a kid is just throwing me onto the ground and stomping on my heart with no regards whatsoever other than to smash this piece of candy into broken bits for the fun of it.

''come on. we're here.'' i parked the car and got out of the driver's seat and walked over to open the door of the passenger seat. ''cheol-ah...can you carry me in? my legs are not working.'' i wanted to say: of course, princess. anything for you. but i held my tongue. without saying a word, i lifted her up and closed the car door.

i punched in the code to the door, kicked my shoes off and carried her straight to her bedroom. i laid her down gently on her bed before kneeling down beside her to take her shoes off. i walked towards the bathroom to look for some cotton pads and make up remover as i returned to her bed, to her. ''come on my love, let's get your make up cleaned off hmm? otherwise you'll have a fit tomorrow about sleeping with your make up on.'' i smiled as i recalled that one time she slept in with her make up on and had the biggest fit in the morning about forgetting to take them off, screaming about how her skin will become worse and she'll turn even uglier, but she could never. it was just not possible. she is beautiful, always have been and always will be regardless of anything.

''no one takes care of me the way you do.'' she said softly against my ear as i helped her sit up to wipe her face clean. ''yet, you're still in love with some guy who i don't even know for 2 years!'' i tried to mask my sadness with some fake laughter. i hope she can't tell.

''i can't tell you...i can't tell anyone.''

''why not? is it that bad? plase don't tell me its soonyoung.''

''what? soonie? don't be crazy, he's like a brother to me.''

''then who is it?''

''mhm..can't say...''

i sighed and said ''lets get you to bed now. you're tired.'' as i get up to head to the bathroom, i felt her tug the sleeve of my jacket. forcing me to look back at her.

''can you stay here with me tonight? sleep with me.'' how could i ever say no to her? i would be the biggest idiot if i ever did. i always want to be close to her.

i let out a breath as i took my jacket off and throwing it on her work chair. ''come here, princess.'' i mindlessly held my hand out to her as i laid in bed with her. she rolled over clumsily to my side, putting her head on my chest. i wonder if she can hear the sound of my heartbeat picking up as strongly as i can feel it beating against my chest.

she took a deep inhale before she said ''you smell so good cheol, you always do.'' i smiled lightly as i pulled her in closer and tigher. nothing ever feels more right than when i have her in my arms.

''goodnight princess, sleep tight.''

''i love you.'' she said, almost too casually for my liking. telling each other we love each other isn't anything new, but how can she possibly say that to me after telling me she's been in love with someone else for the past 2 years? my heart broke again at the remembrance of that.

''goodnight, princess.'' i couldn't tell her i love her back, not when we don't love each other the same way. not when she doesn't love me the same way.

''why don't you say it back?'' she sounded hurt and it made me regret not saying it back...i never want to hurt her.

''do you hate me?'' she asked again.

''no i don't, princess. i love you.'' i said as i felt my heart sink little by little.

i carelessly start stroking her hair, hoping to put her to sleep soon. ''i love you.'' i said again.

when will i ever get the chance to tell her i love her again without having to hide my romantic feelings for her? when will i ever get to tell her i love her again without having to worry if she's finally figured me out? its so much easier to do it in the dark like this..where she can't see me, where i can hide. where i can love her proudly and openly without being afraid.

''i'm in love with you'' she said as she snuggled closer.

''let's sleep now its- wait what?'''

this time, its her turn to sigh. ''i said im in love with you, choi seungcheol.''

''you're drunk.''

''maybe..but i'm still in love with you. it doesn't change anything.''

i look down at her on my chest, but she was already looking at me. ''don't joke with me like that, princess. you know i don't take jokes well.''

''but i'm not.''

''you're not thinking clearly, princess. we've been best friends for forever, there's no way you're suddenly in love with me.''

''but its not sudden.''

i averted my eyes away from her to look back at the ceiling. i cant even look at her now. not when she's looking at me like that. not when she's looking at me like she means it, because i know it can't be.

''don't you have that guy you say you're in love with for 2 years? how would he feel if he found out that you're suddenly in love with me? how can you say it so casually? did u ever think about how i would feel? you can't just-'' and there it was. i felt my whole world stop, i felt it freeze. am i the one thats intoxicated tonight? what is happening because it can't be. that can't be her lips on mine.

she took advantage of my lips being slightly open from shock to slip her tongue in mine. and i let her. the same way she lets me run my hand through her hair, the same way she lets me kiss her back, and the same way she lets me pull her in closer by her neck to deepen the kiss.

''you're so noisy cheol.'' were not the words i expected to come out of her mouth after that kiss. ''what do you-''

''can i love you cheol? can i love you like that? can i be in love with you?''

i wanted so badly to screamYES but nothing comes out no matter how i try. i was dumbfounded. instead, all i did was let out a shakey breath.

''cheol...why are you not saying anything? are you....are you mad at me? i'm sorry i didn't mean to, i don't know what came over me im so-'' i felt her slowly removing her hands from my waist and letting go of my hand. ''no no no god im not upset i'm just.. i don't know what to say i don't know how to respond i just...'' i sighed at myself as reach out to hold her hand again.

''i'm in love with you too, i have for as long as i can remember.''

''really?''

''yes, really, princess.''

and it goes silent for awhile before i finally picked up the courage to ask ''did you..did you mean me? i mean...the guy that you were in love with. is it..is it me? because i understand if its not me and if this was a mistake-''

''yes, dummy. its you.'' this time i get to see her shy smile.

''oh...i see...cool.'' oh. oh? OH. it's me. i'm yet again rendered speechless. can i be blamed if the girl i've been in love with for the past 4 years suddenly kissed me and told me she loves me? that she's in love with me. she loves me. what am i to do or say when this all feels so surreal?

''so.....'' she starts out.

''so..?''

''do you hate me?''

''no, i don't, princess. i told you, i love you. i'm in love with you.''

i finally let myself break into a smile. it'll be over my dead body if i ever let her feel like i don't love her.

''really?''

''yes, princess, really. although, you might forget all this when you wake up tomorrow.''

''no, i won't. i'll tell you i love you again in the morning.''

''now, how about we go to bed and talk about this tomorrow over breakfast? i'll make you blueberry pancakes.'' i said as i stroked her cheek with my thumb. i pray she won't forget.

''i'd love that. goodnight cheol.''

''goodnight, princess.'' i waited a beat before i added ''i love you.'' but this time, i don't get a response. this time, i hear a light snore from her instead as i smile to myself. but for once, its okay if she doesn't tell me she loves me back because she fell asleep again. for once, my heart is not aching over questioning what her i love yous mean because for once, i know i won't have to tell her i love her just to hear her say she loves me too, because i know she will tell me that herself in the morning when she wakes up.

for once, i finally know what she truly means when she tells me she loves me. and for once, she knows what i truly mean when i tell her i love her.

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soobnny · 1 year

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classmate au | yang jungwon

❝ i’ve retired from the student council lmao ❞

yang jungwon

where do i even begin

in the first year of highschool, he used to be THE class president

resident teacher’s pet, sits in the front, yada yada… typical good student stereotype

BUT NOW??? 😭😭😭😭

he just goes to school to be silly

don’t get me wrong like he is smart n still receives good grades

but he isn’t the 100% school jungwon from 7th grade

MOVING ON

how do you befriend yang jungwon

he’s actually a friend of a friend!

apparently, rei had met him when she was in the student council for like a year

so naturally, you eat lunch together at the canteen

he always has those cool lunchboxes and just rly GOOD food for lunch that he doesn’t share

you didn’t know what to expect from the boy when you first started eating lunch together

maybe timid??? shy??? bossy?? you don’t know bc he’s in a different section

you certainly don’t expect him to know about every single possible GOSSIP in the school

he says it in such a funny way too like

yang jungwon storytelling skills 10/10

and he laughs so hard like he will draw attention to your table bc he’s laughing so hard

but it’s valid bc the things he says sometimes are so unhinged that even YOU can’t help the loud cackles

tho you don’t rly become close friends until sports fest season

you hang around each other ++ additional friends BUT they’re always in some contest so you’re left with jungwon most of the time

“do you want to leave and go to the mall??,” you’d ask more as a joke

but he agrees

YANG JUNGWON agrees to skip sports fest to go to the mall with you im in tears

that’s how you find yourselves in a small karaoke room at the mall

he drags you to the arcade too

the original bet was loser pays for the winner’s lunch

but then u lost every game and u looked so cute pouting that jungwon suddenly changes the rules

“FINE… winner pays for the loser’s lunch”

he pretends to be so upset about it too so that you can grab his arm and shake it around to try and get his attention

he gives in obv

then he takes u to lunch at one of like ur fav places and ure like omg ??? u think it’s telepathy that he knows

BUT NO he listens to your stories during lunch time and you’ve mentioned eating here and loving it before

he even has your order down but he tries not to be too obvious about it ☹️☹️

yang jungwon listens to you even tho you’re seated a few people away from him

womp womp it rains when u decide to go back to school

you two end up running in the rain together

WELL technically at first you tried to share his umbrella but then the both of you got too flustered

so when u started to stray away from his umbrella .. he CLOSES it

he takes your hand and goes running for the school so you can take shelter from the rain

the teachers and students look at u like 🤨🤨

anyways jungwon and (name) ABSENT from sports fest

the only thing you remember the event by is bc u joined picture taking before leaving the school grounds

it’s so natural hanging out with him

nothing ever feels forced bc he’s just so goofy and silly that you never feel crazy when talking to him

ever since then !!!!! he’d sit closer to you during lunch time

then he’d start waiting for you outside your classroom just to tell you something ??

will find every excuse to talk to you

and if the teacher needs something from your room? bye he’s VOLUNTEERING just to see you for a few seconds

ofc the teachers just think typical Jungwon behavior

but no … this is typical Jungwon with a Crush behavior

ALSO picture this

his classes end earlier than yours

he will literally pass by your classroom a million times and peek through the open door to make like brief eye contact with you

sometimes .. u don’t notice him and he just admires the way you look on forward to the teacher

also pretends his class ended late so when ur class dismisses he’ll be like “oh let’s talk to the cafeteria together!”

he’s not slick abt it

WHAT DID THAT MALL TRIP DO TO HIM

why is he suddenly so down bad and willing to do everything to hear you laugh

(he starts sharing his food with you btw i know… very shocking for him who ltrly Never shares)

he finally confesses after a school event that ran longer than it should’ve

so he sprints at you and tells you he needs to tell you something bc he is going crazy

CONFESSES !!!!!!!!!

ofc who are you to reject him.

be careful when you start dating bc i firmly believe he LOVES kissing 😹

like he is obsessed and will just be kissing you all the time i’m sorry i’m pushing this agenda

tho ofc in hidden areas!!!!!!!

he doesn’t want his beloved teachers catching him who still has an image of being a teacher’s pet

soooooo like……

“come here, let me kiss you”

you even receive TEXTS as if you’re some sort of sneaky link (you’re not)

“please meet me under the stairs beside the student council office and prepare your lips 😘😘😘😘”

under the stairs, the side of the basketball court, an empty classroom … everywhere

BEHAVE yang jungwon

he’s so clingy and so smug too

has you as his lockscreen

it’s so funny bc someone would borrow his phone and your zoomed in face would just flash in his phone

talks about u to his friends all the time

“isn’t my girlfriend so pretty?,” with this smile 😊😊😊😁

lets you wear his school blazer

sometimes he even switches ur pe shirts

HE DOESNT TELL U

He just likes seeing the big fat “yang” printed on your back

STUDY DATES

he makes his kisses a reward sometimes like if you get this question right he’ll SMOOCH u

he’s honestly so good at being academic support like he knows exactly what to say bc 7th grade him was a different breed n be was so eager to please and always felt so pressured

jungwon a Veteran u guys

helps you in the subjects you’re not so good in

tbh teaches better than your teachers sometimes

like he’d stay behind in class and it’s only the two of you in the classroom and he’ll start WRITING on the whiteboard

just starts lecturing to help you for an upcoming exam

ANYWAYS

honestly just good luck to you and your poor lips

oh also your poor stomach bc he will always make you laugh

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

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that-fic-girl · 1 year

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I'VE GOT A SCENARIO, ok so I saw the Monty doing Roxanne with reader being jealous and got a thought. Reader is dating Monty but cheats on reader with Roxanne. They cry to Bonnie for comfort cuz he's sweet bunny but little does the reader know his idea so comfort is something else 👀. Monty catches them and is fumming cuz he knows Bonnie's been pinning for reader the whole time. Bunny boi looking at Monty while pounding reader like whatcha done do? 👀🐇👀

your prayers have been answered my sweet in this, reader calls bonnie thumper as a nickname. I will STAND WITH THAT HEAD CANON UNTIL I DIE.

GLAMROCK BONNIE x READER

tw: NSFW THEMES, cheating, mentions of panties for the feminine ppl, not read over it just finished it off this morning, mentions of vaginal parts

every day was getting more and more exhausting for you. Your pay check is slipping, your sink was leaking and your relationship was fading.

you would find yourself getting upset and just breaking down, the first person at your side would always be bonnie.

he would always hear to what you had to say, he gave great advice and if you need to cry in his embrace, hes happy to be there for you.

"its gonna be okay superstar, I promise" he held you and stroked your hair as you quietly sobbed into his bowling shirt.

"I-its not... hes going to leave me.. I-.. I just don't know what to do"

you knew deep down it was for the better. all monty ever did was insult you and ignore you. NOTHING about him screamed "caring" in any way.

"but... it'll be for the best." you stuttered, wiping your tears from your face.

you patted Bonnies leg and gave him a little smile, indicating it was time for you to finish on your check-ups with the other glamrocks. god how he loves that smile.

before you pulled the door he grabbed your waist from behind and hugged you.

"just one more before you leave, im gonna miss ya'" he said whilst resting his head into the dip of your neck.

"Awww, thumper. c'mere"

the large thump of the elevator hitting the floor woke you up from your thoughts. remembering you have to finish off the last of the glamrock checkups and then your free to roam around for a bit until opening.

your first stop was freddy;

freddy noticed your tear stained face and questioned you about it but after you said it was nothing, he didn't want to push you into telling him. so he stayed quiet until you finished.

"alright! all done. you seem to be operating fine."

you gave the brown bear a smile, closing his stomach hatch.

"I best be on my way now".

and with that, you made your way to Roxy's greenroom but to your surprise, she wasn't there.

"that's strange... maybe she's in her raceway. ill check it later"

you grabbed your tools and headed to your gators greenroom.

you where absolutely terrified, why wouldn't you be? he has a short temper and isn't really fond of you DESPITE you being his significant other.

as you where about to place your fist onto his door, you heard something.

"fuckkk..roxyy"

you heard grunts and several slurs mumbling all coming from monty's room.

you felt dread bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

without hesitation, you slammed the door open to reveal a heartbreaking scene.

"what. the. fuck" you dropped your bags to the floor and stood in shock.

"ah- shit babe! its not what it looks like!"

monty tried to cover Roxy whilst trying to put his pants back on, knocking over a few objects thrown across his room.

"oh so you weren't just balls fucking deep in Roxy then huh?! do you think im a fucking idiot?!" you frantically waved your arms around, your head raging at the thought of your best friend FUCKING your boyfriend.

"no I-"

"so this is why you where so distant from me. you where screwing around with her!" you cut him off.

monty was silent. he knew you where right and you could see it on his face

Roxanne stood up and moved towards you

"im sorry y/n-"

"I don't want to hear anything from you."

and with that you slammed the door shut, walking back to the elevator you came from. you where too distracted to go check on Chica or the others. you had one destination you where gonna go to and that was it.

you felt your anger slowly melt into sadness and the aching in your chest started to become more apparent. tears started to run down your face.

"shit.."

bonnie was sat on foxy's stage, head in his hands and dying of boredom.

"why didn't I just tell her, kiss her.. or DO ANYTHING! god she's gonna get played by that dick-"

"b-bonnie.."

his head instantly turned.

"o-oh my sweet thing, what happened?"

he quickly ran to your side, putting your head in his hands.

"monty he...he.. I think he grew fonder to Roxanne.."

bonnie gave you a sad look, cupping your cheek in his hand.

"aw darlin'... im sorry you had to see that"

his hands ran down to your waist, pulling you into his chest.

"its going to be alright, love"

you wiped you tears and sat down, putting you head into your hands. Bonnie lifted your face up to meet him, giving you a soft smirk.

"I can treat you better than he ever could, y'know?"

your eyes never left his, getting lost in the sight that was in front of you. you felt your insides bubbling in excitement.

you knew there was always something there between you two but you always thought it was a misunderstanding. but now you realise that hes always been the one there for you, always been the one to keep you company on lonely night shifts, always been the one to understand and listen to you, hes always been the one.

"do you want me to treat you better?" his hands slowly slid up your thighs, rubbing the inside of your legs.

"y-yes..please" you stuttered, you heart was beating so fast. you couldn't actually believe this was happening.

"atta' girl" he said with a soft melodic tone.

NSFW UNDER THE LINEEE

bonnie's hands started to wonder all over you whilst he kissed your neck, touching all of your sensitive parts.

he was a bit hesitant a first but the noises you made encouraged him to feel more.

His hands tugged at the waist line of your pants, eagerly wanting to see the beauty between your legs.

"you sure you want this sweetheart?" he gave you a look of concern, making sure that this was the right moment for you.

"I am positive my little thumper, you're too sweet"

his foot pounded lightly in the floor from the little nickname you gave him. he felt as if he was under your spell, no matter what, all he could think about was you.

he pulled your pants off, revealing the laced panties you wore.

his hand glided over the heat between your legs, feeling your wetness and admiring the state that you where in. the state he caused you to be in.

"my, my baby. you look so adorable" he purred, his head going closer to your lower regions

"and you're all mine"

he pulled you panties off, staring down your dripping mess between your legs. his hands caressed your inner thighs, making your heat throb in anticipation.

even in such a desperate situation, he still made you feel special. it still made your stomach bubble butterflies.

"please just fuck me bon... I need you"

That lit something in him. Within seconds he’s picking you up and placing you on top of his lap, kissing your shoulders whilst his hands roamed the bottom half of your body.

You’re body was warm, soft, his hands gave you such a euphoric feeling. You knew in that moment that he’s what you want, your face grew redder and your heart beat increased.

You felt him slowly lift up your body as you felt something poking at your puffy core. A few whimpers left your mouth as you felt him enter inside of you.

“Fuckk, hon…”

His voice sounded so melodic, filling your stomach with butterflies, making you feel as if you’re a teenager again with a high school crush.

Your head naturally fell onto Bonnies shoulder as he started to bounce you up and down on his cock. He was slow and passionate. Not rough or mean like Monty was.

Your hands wrapped around him as your mouth opened, letting out the sweetest of noises, sending him over the edge, he was loving every second of it and you could tell.

“..’feels so good Bon..”

He smiled, he loved hearing you, especially like this.

“I know sweets, let Bonnie take care of ya’”

And with that, you’re riding up and down on him, filling your senses with a euphoric pleasure as he fucked you right to the edge.

By this point your legs had started to shake, you was clearly close and he wanted to get you to finish, all he wanted was for you to feel good.

His hands move as he moves one of them to your lower back and the other one straight to your puffy clit. As soon as his fingers made contact, your head flung back as the overwhelming feeling whipped straight to your core.

“O-oh my goddd… Bon..’mgonna cum..”

You mumbled as your body grew limp.

“That’s it clover, feel good on me, please”

And with that, you both felt your gummy walls tighten around him. Your body heaved as your clenched your fists and screamed for him, gifting him a small smirk on his face.

He pulled you off of him, not caring that he hadn’t finished, more of that he needed to take care of you. Pulling you into his chest, he moved a strand of hair from your face. You smiled at him. God. He loved that smile.

“God.. be mine hon, please”.

Sorry for the fact that it was rushed, its 3:56 and I’m tryna get all my drafts finished and I know y’all are back on the FNAF band waggon again so why not throw a few out there for you guys, love ya <3

Also please give me more requests, I’ve got no inspiration 😭

#fnaf #fnaf security breach #fnaf x reader #fnaf monty x reader #fnaf x afab reader #fnafsb #fnaf Bonnie #fnaf Bonnie x reader #bonnie x reader #glamrock freddy x reader #fnaf glamrock bonnie #glamrock bonnie #glamrock bonnie x reader

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heartpascal · 1 year

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or is it loneliness?

▹— (eventual) spiderverse found family x platonic!reader

▹— summary: you need closure, and information. two visits kind of give you that.

▹— a/n: guys idk what im DOING. i have things planned for atsv but not how we’re gonna get there … rn im just yolo-ing. im not a big fan of this one but im gonna start writing the next one asap, which will hide fully be more found family-ish lmao arachnid is gonna start warming up to them all some day i swear

▹— warnings: angst, injuries, not good thoughts, dead parents, sensory issues, explosions, violence, fighting, blood?, damaged hearing for a good minute, peter b parker eating burgers deserves its own warning, food, mention of throwing up / nausea, insecurities about being good enough, refusing help, idk what else, if ive missed anything let me know!!!

▹— taglist: @rhymingtree (everything taglist) @justmare @uniquemonstrosity @lacunaanonymoused @erensbbg @dulceteris @noxxing @escherichiacolli @ray-rook @i-3at-kidz @miwagila @stoneforests (is it freedom’verse) — also i only tagged those who explicitly asked to be tagged!

MASTERLIST , part one

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You spend a long time sat on the edge of the open window, staring out at the traffic below after getting back from Spider Society HQ. There’s a tangible relief that comes with returning to your dimension, like a weight being removed, a tension that is finally released from where it had been pulled taut. Your shoulders feel just as heavy as they did when you left, but you try not to think about it. You try to be happy that you’re back.

While you wouldn’t say it aloud, and you hate to even have the thought, you don’t think anybody had noticed you were gone. But then again, who would? You have no reason to be so upset about such a thing.

Time slips by as you diligently sew up the tears in your suit, frowning as you hold it up once you’re finished. It looks nothing like it used to, but then again, neither do you. Things have changed, it only makes sense that your suit would, too. You wonder if travelling through alternate dimensions can alter your perception of things. You’d swear that your suit had been a different shade before you left, lighter, maybe, but you have nothing to compare it to.

At least now, this time, when you put on your suit there is evidence of damage that Gwen Stacy had caused. The stitching along your the material where she had tore into you is a tangible thing, physical, and you run your fingers across it as if it might disappear. It’s almost a relief, to be able to feel where she had caused you pain, as opposed to the invisible ache she had left within you after fighting her the first time around.

Alongside the scar raised on your body, the fight with Gwen had left you with a sort of paranoia. An uncertainty in the back of your mind that has you glancing over your shoulder, has you messing up simple manoeuvres as you panic, thinking you hear her voice.

It must have been your third day back from the HQ that you come to the conclusion that you have to visit Gwen Stacy in her prison.

The decision doesn’t come easily. It comes slowly, torturously so, a realisation that deafens you as you glare through squinted lenses at the city around you. You won’t be able to go on like this, getting yourself hurt in stupid ways all because you’re not certain that she’s back in her prison. You’re meant to be a hero, which means that messing up, despite whatever paranoia that lingers in the back of your head, is unacceptable. It has consequences.

Seeing her in the flesh will likely be the hardest thing you’ll ever do. Except, maybe, not killing her when you caught her in that other dimension. You keep your mind on the fact that she won’t be able to touch you, that she’ll be walled away, to reassure yourself that there is no risk of either of you hurting the other — at least, physically.

But seeing her isn’t the only difficult part.

No, the hardest part is stepping back into an identity that you had lost your grasp on, long ago. You wear your old clothes, clothes that you hadn’t put on in months, and try to remember how it felt to be you, rather than Arachnid.

“Hi, Mrs. Stacy.” You say, when the door to an all too familiar apartment opens just a slither, and you catch sight of her wrinkled eyes. There’s a noticeable change to them when she realises who you are, and she’s slamming the door shut, undoing the chain, and reopening it before you can say another word.

She whispers your name like she can’t believe it’s you — and you can’t blame her.

You had disappeared, months ago, after the death of your father. Going missing was far easier than being placed in a foster system that would only hold you back. It had been so much easier, not having to face anyone, not having to speak at his funeral.

“Hi.” You repeat, when her stare lingers in the silence for far too long. The sound of your voice once again breaks her out of her trance, and she’s rushing forward to pull you into her arms as if you were her child. You suppose, in some ways, it was quite a lot like that. At the very least, your presence will remind her of the daughter she had lost.

“Where have you been? Oh, honey, I was so worried.” Mrs. Stacy says, her voice trembling by your ear as she squeezes you tight, unfazed by your lack of reciprocation. “Come inside, please.”

You follow her through the doorway, closing the door behind you as you had done so many times before. Not looking around at the apartment is near impossible, but you’re not sure how much familiarity you can take. Even just seeing Mrs. Stacey’s aged face makes your chest ache, your legs feeling shaky.

“Sit down, honey, let me get you a warm drink.” She says, a tremor to her voice as she bustles towards the kitchen which is adjoined to the living room. The news plays on the television, and you’re glad to hear a weather report, rather than some city-wide attack. Mrs. Stacy is quiet as she goes through the process of making your favourite drink, but with your enhanced hearing you listen to the telltale clink of a spoon against ceramic. You listen closely to her hitched breathing as her footsteps pad back into the room. “Here.” She hands you the warm mug, and you don’t comment on the way her hand shakes.

“Thank you.” You say, though it feels stilted, wrong, too formal. It’s hard to be normal in this setting, to be whoever you used to be, especially as she stares at you like she’s seen a ghost.

Mrs. Stacy stares at you for a long while before she speaks again, as if she’s still not sure that you’re real. “Where have you been? After—After your dad… we didn’t know what happened to you. Are you safe? Do you need help?” She asks, frantic once she’s gotten started on her questions.

“Mrs. Stacy, I’m fine, really.” You lie, smiling tightly over the rim of the mug as you hold it towards your face. Before, you would’ve burnt your tongue drinking it too fast, but you’re hesitant to drink it at all. The last thing you want is to become too familiar to your old life. “I’ve been staying with some friends, downtown. It’s been good.”

She raises a brow at you, and stares for a moment longer. “Honey… you don’t look well.” She tells you, and raises the back of her hand to press it against your forehead. Her frown only deepens when you flinch away from the touch. You try not to curse yourself too much, but can’t help reprimanding the way you hadn’t anticipated such an action.

The skin on your forehead is clammy, but that’s just the anxiety, the nerves at being back here. Arachnid can’t get sick.

“Listen, I… I was hoping I could ask a favour from you.” You say, hesitantly, gripping the warm mug tight between your hands, but loosen your fingertips against the ceramic when you hear a minute crack.

Mrs. Stacy furrows her brows, looking more concerned by the second, but nods. “Of course, anything.” She tells you, and places one of her hands against yours on the mug.

“I was hoping I could visit Gwen.” You voice, after one last moment of hesitation. The way her face immediately crumples at the request doesn’t give you much hope, especially as her hand withdraws from your own. “I—I know you don’t get to see her very often, and maybe it’s selfish, but… I don’t know. I wanted some kind of closure, I guess.” You ramble on in response to her silence, glaring down at the liquid still swirling in your mug.

“Honey,” Mrs. Stacy interrupts, her voice soft in contrast to the way yours was growing in volume. You quiet immediately, your gaze drawn up to where her tearful eyes stare at you, her expression almost mourning. “I would never deny you that, but you should know… I haven’t visited Gwenny since she was put in there.” She admits, her stare dropping to her lap, almost ashamed.

“Oh,” You voice, softly, in response. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed— I—I mean, I can’t even imagine—”

“No, don’t be silly, how would you have known?” She replies, raising her eyebrows at you strictly. “Now, I can get you that visit. I’ll call my attorney first thing tomorrow, but… really, honey, do you need me to call someone for you? Who are these friends?”

Her voice is familiar, and it’s kind, which makes it all the more painful. It’s strange, seeing the resemblance between her and the Green Goblin, and it makes a part of you ache. Your life wasn’t the only one torn apart by Gwen. In fact, her mother probably faced the worst of it. With her husband being long gone, her oldest son away at college, youngest withdrawn after her daughter became a homicidal maniac, who did she really have left? Who was looking after Helen Stacy?

You smile at her, as best as you can without tearing up, and reach out to grasp her hand, which she readily accepts. “I’m okay, Mrs. Stacy, I… It’s just a few friends of my dad, from his home town. Their kids, too. It’s better than being put in the system.” You tell her, and can only hope that she believes you. You have no way to back up these lies, knowing those friends of your father don’t exist.

“You could’ve stayed here, you know?” She says, teary and squeezing your hand so tightly you can hear your bones creaking. You smile sadly at her.

“You’re a much stronger person than me, Mrs. Stacy. I couldn’t even face my dad’s funeral, let alone be around the memories of somebody I lost. This place, it—it reminds me of her.” You explain, voice shaking as you hold back your own tears, swallowing them down and trying to breathe through the ache in your throat.

The way her heart breaks is almost loud enough for you to hear it, but she nods her head understandingly, regardless. “Of course,” She says, nodding still, “But know you always have a place here, okay?”

“Okay.” You respond, heart clenching so tightly you’re not sure it can pump your blood any longer.

“Now, what’s your number? Your old phone was disconnected.” She says, shaking her tears away to pull out a pad and pen from the coffee table. She sets the notepad against her knee, looking expectantly toward you.

“Oh, right,” You stutter, teeth chattering as you comb your mind for the number of your burner phone. “There was a mixup, because it was in my dad’s name.” You explain needlessly, still searching your mind for the answer. Finally, you remember it. You listen to her ballpoint pen scrape along the paper as she writes the numbers as you say them, and then she clicks the pen off after writing your name beside it, underlining it twice.

“How about I give you a call with the details of your visit, okay, honey?” She asks, nodding with a pleased hum at your affirmative. “Good. Stay for dinner, okay? I’ve missed you.”

Who are you to deny her that?

Though, even as you try to pretend that you help to set up the table for her benefit, and as you hug Gwen’s little brother tightly when he comes home for his, you know, deep down, that it’s for you. That this is a moment of selfishness that you’ll let yourself have, because god, you deserve it, don’t you?

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

It’s thirteen days post Spider Society discovery, and you’re starting to regret the way you discarded that watch so carelessly. Not because you want to be a part of some cult of superheroes, but because you wish you had asked some more questions.

Surely Miguel O’Hara must’ve known a way to stop these villains from appearing in other universes? And if he did, had he already implemented whatever it was to stop Gwen escaping again? How exactly did she escape the first time? Was it a coincidence? Is there somebody out there, working behind the scenes, helping her get out?

You, unfortunately, have no way to answer any of the burning questions nagging at the back of your head. While a part of you hopes that you never see any of the Spider Society weirdos again, you also desperately want answers. Especially if it meant you could call off your visit to Gwen Stacy.

But the day arrives as any other does, and you spend every moment before the drive over to the prison desperately hoping that one of the Spider-people will show their face. None of them do, and you’re left to get into Mrs. Stacy’s car and simply brace for the journey ahead.

You’re pretty sure that swinging would be quicker, or easier, but you had no way to explain that way of transport to an interrogating Mrs. Stacy, and so you had to relent to her insistence on driving you. Now, you sit here, shifting in the seat of the car, uncomfortable without your suit underneath the clothes you used to wear on a daily basis. Even the knowledge that it’s stuffed into the bottom of your tattered backpack in the boot of Mrs. Stacy’s car doesn’t bring you any comfort.

Instead, the rough material of an old jacket has your skin crawling like you were being bitten by a thousand mosquitos, and the trousers on your legs itch like you’re allergic to them.

You suppose, really, that the spider bite that gave you so many powers had to have more drawbacks than just destroying your life. It only makes sense that your heightened senses would extend to the receptors on your skin. It makes every movement in these clothes torturous, and you wonder if it had always been this way, or if you were just so unused to wearing your old style of clothes. Either way, you hope that you won’t have to wear them for much longer.

If it all goes to plan, you should be in and out of the prison, just ensuring that Gwen Stacy is actually in the cell as she’s supposed to be. Then you just have to endure the fifty minute drive back to the city with Mrs. Stacy, and you’re free. You won’t have to wear these clothes again, won’t have to use your name, no — you can just sink back into the half life that is being Arachnid. It’s better that way.

“Okay, honey, here we are.” Mrs. Stacy says at last, having shifted her car into park. She pointedly avoids looking at the looming high-security prison ahead, instead focusing on you as you wipe your sweaty palms against your trousers. “Now you take as much time as you need in there, alright? I’ll be just out here, if you need me.”

You smile tightly at her, nodding with what you hope is more of a grateful expression rather than a grimace. “Thank you, Mrs. Stacy, really. I appreciate it, more than you know.”

That much was true — after all, it wasn’t like you could tell her that she was allowing the vivid paranoia you had been experiencing to be put to rest after her daughter escaped to another universe. Mrs. Stacy, from what you could gather, didn’t even know that Gwen had been missing for any amount of time. She had no idea what Gwen had done, how many more people she had hurt, but you assured yourself that it was better that way. Mrs. Stacy already had to deal with plenty, and that knowledge surely wouldn’t help.

She was already dealing with her own grief and feelings on the situation, as well as trying to support her two sons in the matter. Given what Gwen’s little brother had asked of you when he found out about you visiting her, you knew that he hadn’t been to visit Gwen, either. It seemed that he wasn’t coping with it all very well.

“Of course, you’re family. You should know that by now.” She says, smiling with teary eyes, reaching across the console to grasp your hand tightly in her own.

Her words take a stab at your chest, especially considering what had happened to everybody else who had seen you as family. Dead parents, villainous best friend — it really didn’t bode well for your loved ones. You just reassured yourself with the fact that you’d be able to disappear as soon as the two of you returned to the city. You couldn’t put her in any danger, that way, or her remaining kids.

“I’ll—I’ll see you after, okay?” You respond, squeezing her hand in return before quickly letting go and throwing open the car door, getting out and catching a slither of Mrs. Stacy’s surprised reply before you shut the car door.

There are guards waiting for you at the gates, checking you are who you say you are, scanning you for weapons before you even get in the building. They’re satisfied after their searches, content that you weren’t stupid enough to bring a weapon into a highly secure prison. You keep your focus on your breathing as they walk you in, handing you clothes to change into as well as a box to put all of your belongings in.

The scrub-like clothes they give you are even worse than your own, sending shivers up and down your spine at the feeling of each fibre scraping against your skin. You just try to breathe through it. Luckily, the rest of the security checks blur by, which means less time spent on agonising over this visit. You barely hear a word of the statement they read to you before you go in, and your hand cramps as you write your signature against a dotted line of a waiver. All of the other legal things were sorted out by Mrs. Stacy’s lawyer, which you are more than thankful for.

Instead of having to deal with that, you just have to wait.

You think that the waiting might be the worst part of it all. With the scrubs making your hairs raise and promoting uncomfortable shivers up and down your body, as well as the cold metal seat that they sat you on, you’re far too aware of everything around you. You can hear the hundreds of heartbeats in the buildings, the beeping of security doors, the footsteps heading your way. You can smell the coffee that the head guard in the adjoining room to the one you’re in is drinking, as well as the day-old sandwich in his desk. Worst of all is the way your own heartbeat is thrumming in your throat, padding harshly against your chest, so loud in your own ears that it slowly starts to drown out everything around you.

Gwen’s footsteps are heavy, accompanied by the clinking of the chains she’s shackled in. You can practically hear the maniacal laughter that had come from her whilst in that alternate dimension, even though she’s completely silent as she enters the room.

She smiles at you when you look up, and for a moment you’re fooled — it’s soft, gentle, kind. But then you see the glimmer in her eyes that was distinctly not Gwen, and you feel the scar along your side throbbing with phantom pain.

You smile tensely at the guards, who regard you with looks of gentle concern and caution, before they attach her chains to a link on the floor beside a chair three metres away from where you sit. They nod at you, which you return, and you watch as they go and take their positions beside the door before you move your eyes back to the elephant in the room — which is Gwen Stacy.

“So, you missed me?” She asks, baring her teeth in a grin that has too much teeth to be anything friendly. Gwen regards you closely as you stare at her, watch for any signs of flickering, any signs that this isn’t real. Her brows raise slowly, the longer you’re silent, but you’re in no hurry to talk. “No? Is that not it?”

“Sure, I miss you.” You respond after another stretch of silence, tilting your head to study her more closely. You don’t acknowledge the way that your voice shakes as you speak, the way it comes out in something closer to a croak before you swallow harshly against your dry throat. “Thought I’d come to check in.” You add, brows furrowing to make sure she gets your true meaning.

“Ah,” She voices, then laughs, shoulders shaking, chains clanking loudly against her metal chair. “I get it, now.”

Gwen doesn’t add anything else after that, even though you suspected that she may take this opportunity to loudly claim that you were Arachnid, outing your identity once and for all. Apparently, if she does want to out your identity, she doesn’t want to do it like this, as she stays silent until you speak.

You sit forward on your chair, ignoring the way the guards at the edges of the room shift uneasily at your movement. “Your mom arranged this for me, you know?” You say, eyebrow raised. She probably knows what you’re doing, or what you’re trying to do, but she doesn’t voice it. Instead, she just shifts to lean backwards in her own chair, sighing as if relaxing.

“Hmm, so she can visit.” Gwen says, nodding her head as if it’s all making sense now.

“She can, she just doesn’t want to. Neither does Georgie.” You respond, and find satisfaction in the way her eyes flash at the mention of her little brother, the nickname that the two of you both used to call him. She recovers quickly, but you can tell that she knows it wasn’t quick enough. The Green Goblin cracked, right in front of your very eyes. It’s proof that, if anything, her little brother has some meaning. “He wanted me to tell you something.”

Her head tilts across from you, though she doesn’t move from her laid back position.

You clear your throat, and look at the words you’d written on your skin. She tilts her head forwards the slightest amount, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat, glancing at the guards who look just as uncomfortable as you feel. “He said that he misses his Gwenny, but he doesn’t want you coming home.” You stare at her as you repeat his message, the one he had told you nervously, as if he was truly afraid that Gwen would escape and come back. Her eyes twitch as she focuses on keeping her expression cool, but you know that the words have hit something in her, even if it’s part of the Green Goblin. “Looks like you even ruined your own family.”

You’re up on your feet as she lurches forwards, flung backward from where she tried to go against her chains to rush toward you. The guards are in front of you in mere moments, but you weren’t in any danger. Not as long as she stayed in here.

It’s almost satisfying, to see her chained up. It’s so different to seeing the Green Goblin on the outside, where she could be your Gwen Stacy. Whereas in here, bound by chains of heavy metal, clothed in uncomfortable looking prisoner scrubs, she was nothing but the Green Goblin. It was reassuring, almost, to be able to pick apart something physical between the two.

She bares her teeth at you, animalistic in a way that Gwen never was, and glares at you as you follow one of the guards out of the room, the others closing in on her, ready to take her back to whatever cell she came from.

The clothes you wear become less overbearing as you keep your focus on the guards taking Gwen away the whole way back through security, only switching back to your surroundings when they hand you the tray of your own belongings to change back into. You’re relieved for many reasons, and you try to focus on that feeling as you approach Mrs. Stacy’s car rather than the way your jacket itches.

Mrs. Stacy looks as if she wants to speak as you get in the car, as if she wants to ask about your visit, but she seemingly can’t bring herself to do it. You keep your mouth shut.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Not a month later, your daily activities are back to normal, uninhibited by the daunting idea of Gwen being free. Still, though, you think about her more often, as much as you did in the time after she was put away the first time.

Mrs. Stacy had tried to call you more than once since, and at the two week mark you’d had to invest in a new burner phone. You just couldn’t risk anybody getting a hold of it and seeing her contact, or the ringer going off and exposing your position in a fight. No, it was better for her not to have your number. Besides, you had hers memorised if you needed to call her.

It was better if you tried to reduce any connections to Gwen Stacy. You’d be much better off, the less you thought about her.

Despite knowing that, you couldn’t help it. And despite seeing that crack in the Green Goblin exterior at her little brother’s words, you didn’t have much hope for her. You don’t think they’d let her out of prison even if you could find a cure, somehow. The fact of it was that Gwen Stacy’s life was over. She had no hope of a future in this world, the Goblin had destroyed that. All you could do was remember her and hope beyond anything that in one of those alternate dimensions, you and Gwen were happy together.

The thought of it played on your mind every day, a lingering pain that stung at your eyes. You thought about it so much that you had even imagined the world where Gwen had never become the Goblin, where you and your Gwen were happy. It was a suffocating image, one without any hope of being true, but you couldn’t help thinking about it.

Even as you fought villain after villain, petty criminal after petty criminal, you thought about it. Even now, as you were swinging around a bridge, dodging all the debris this villain was throwing your way, it played on your mind.

It was a distraction, and it was one you needed to get rid of.

That much became certain as the villain you were facing, Tombstone, managed to get a hit on you, sending you flying across the bridge. You landed on a car with a groan, the windshield cracking below you, and you rolled your eyes as the person in the car held a hand on their horn until you managed to climb off, a distinct Arachnid-shaped dent left in the bonnet.

Well, that would be aching tomorrow, that much was for sure.

He grinned where he was stood across the bridge from you, showing off his filed teeth, as if trying to intimidate you with the pointy edges of them.

“You’ve been a formidable foe, Arachnid,” Tombstone says, his voice barely a whisper above the wind, but you can hear him perfectly. You suspect he knows as much, and that only makes you nervous. “But I think it’s time for our battle to come to an end.”

“I actually agree.” You respond, stretching your aching back and feeling a bone shift when it definitely shouldn’t. You can’t help but wince, gritting your teeth and glaring over at Tombstone across the bridge.

You’re getting tired of these villains, of their constant spiel about how the world should be, about how everything should be how they wanted it to be. What was so wrong with the human population that everybody couldn’t just get along? Surely, if everybody got along, listened to each other, the world’s problems would be solved. But then again, this is New York, and it’s a city in which greed is bred.

A light press against your webshooter has you slinging high up on the bridge, staring down at Tombstone as he watches you intently. You’re planning your next move, considering all the variables, when a burst of orange manifests into the air behind him. He looks confused as you falter in your web slinging, dropping slightly before you catch yourself, and he turns around just in time to receive a curled fist to the face, courtesy of a familiar man in a red and blue suit.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” You murmur, lowering yourself to the bridge to approach this Spiderman, glaring at where Tombstone stands, straining against a red barrier that had materialised from the device Spiderman had placed at his feet.

“I hate that guy!” The familiar voice of Peter B. Parker says, shaking his fist as he hops slightly from one foot to the other, his lenses squinted before he finally turns to acknowledge you. “That guy sucks.”

Your brows are furrowed, eyes squinted behind your lenses as you stare at Peter, confused. This Tombstone guy isn’t an anomaly, is he? While you hadn’t faced him before, you knew that there had been a battle between him and another vigilante down in Hell’s Kitchen. And he knew your name, hadn’t been calling you Spiderman like the last anomaly. So why was he here?

Peter sighed, as if he was disappointed to be met with your confusion. “You got a place, kid? Or a burger joint, maybe?”

With that same amount of confusion, you nodded, brows furrowed as cops came to collect Tombstone, who was still in a fit of rage. You can just barely hear him swearing to get you back, both of you, through the barrier. Peter gestured a hand forwards for you to lead the way, and with slight hesitation, you swung off with him following.

Now, the two of you are sat in a Shake Shack, despite you wanting to head back to the offices you were set up in. Peter had ordered two burgers, one for you and one for him, though you had decidedly rejected the one he pushed towards you. He had only shrugged, and accepted it onto his own plate.

“My wife’s pregnant, can’t even stand the smell of these.” Peter groans, stuffing what must’ve been at least a quarter of the burger in his mouth. You just nod at his statement, though you had to admit you were slightly surprised that this guy was going to be a dad. But then again, you’re pretty sure you can remember your dad scoffing down his favourite food in a similar way. “Now listen,” He continues, speaking with his mouthful and paying you no mind as you cringe at the sound. “Miguel wants to strike a sort of… deal with you.”

“Okay?” You respond, brows furrowed. You look around the place, uncomfortable with all the people staring at Arachnid in a booth beside an old man stuffing his face. The lenses of your mask squint with you as you look at Peter, waiting for him to add anything on to explain his statement. “Then why’d he send you?” You ask, at last, when Peter makes no move to speak of his own free will, too engrossed in his second burger.

Peter held up a finger, gulping down a sip of his strawberry milkshake. “Said something about this being good practice for me,” Peter eventually answers, flashing you a smile. “You know, being a new dad and all.”

He seems to realise quickly that that was the wrong thing to say as your eyes narrow further, visible only through the shift of your lenses. The last thing you need is some random guy trying to father you. Even just the idea of it irritates you, makes the very blood rushing in your veins feel hot with anger. You had a dad, and look what good that did you. He’s gone.

Not to mention the implication of you being a child! You’re far from being a kid. You’ve been looking after yourself for some time now just fine. Whatever deal Miguel wants to strike with you is because they need you. Not the other way around. You knew that you shouldn’t have let that Spider-doctor fix you up.

“I’m not some kid. I don’t need you lot, you need me. Don’t get it all twisted, Peter.” You respond as he continues to look like a deer in headlights, clearly kicking himself for revealing what Miguel had said. You keep your voice low, fighting to stay unheard with the quietened air in the diner. “Now hurry up and tell me about whatever bullshit deal you want to strike with me, so I can say no and we can go our separate ways.”

“Kid,” Peter sighs, before immediately wincing as he realised he just directly disregarded your statement about not being a kid. “Sorry, Arachnid,” He corrects, settling his hands on the table in front of him, finally taking a break from his almost-finished food. “Nobody’s saying you can’t do this.”

“Sounds like that’s exactly what you’re saying.” You mutter, averting your eyes from Peter and instead narrowing your lenses at the people still staring in your direction.

“All we’re saying is that you shouldn’t have to do this alone,” He continues, ignoring your interruption with nothing but a quirked brow. “It’s a tough job. Everybody needs someone to look out for them, you know? It’s in our nature to feel responsible for everything around us, as Spider-people. But you can’t carry the whole weight of the world on your shoulders, it’s too much!”

You stare blankly at him, remaining unimpressed with his whole speech.

Peter sighs once more, looking at you with hesitant hope that you’ll come around. Unfortunately, you’re not about to let these people think that you’re incapable. If anything, Peter’s little speech was just adding fuel to your fire. You liked proving people wrong — it’s what you thrived on. You needed to prove them wrong. Because if you didn’t, what did that make you? You couldn’t let people be right about their assumptions of you. If you couldn’t prove everybody wrong, then that meant some of the things people said about you were right. And with the amount of people who accused you of being responsible for more deaths than you saved, who portrayed you as a menace rather than a vigilante, who said you weren’t worthy of your powers, who said whatever divine intervention had given them to you was wrong, you couldn’t let them be right. You wouldn’t.

“I already told you people. I’m not interested.” You spit out at him, feeling your frustration brimming over the edge. Why would nobody just trust you? Was that so much to ask? You understand that you had made mistakes, that you had cost people their lives, but you were trying. Why couldn’t that just be enough?

Peter says nothing as you slide out of the booth, stomping your way out of the Shake Shack as if you were some kind of grumpy teenager. He could only hope that his unborn child was a less grumpy teen, but then again, he was pretty sure you had every right to be miserable. Correcting himself, he could only hope that his unborn child never experienced your reasons for being so miserable.

You make your way towards your office building, swinging through the streets whilst doing your best to keep your heightened hearing down. You really didn’t want to have to deal with anything else, tonight. All you wanted was to get back, to put on the only clothes other than your suit that didn’t make you want to crawl out of your skin. Even if it was just for an hour, you’d take it.

While you had gotten used to how quiet it was in the building a long time ago, you couldn’t help but think that tonight, it felt almost… eerie. There was something tingling, buzzing at the very base of your skull, but even as you strained your hearing, your sight, everything, you couldn’t detect anything out of place. Everything seemed normal, so you couldn’t understand why you were so on edge! It couldn’t just be Peter’s presence, surely, because he posed no threat to you. So what was going on?

Picking up your backpack filled with belongings, you stared around at the empty office, the breeze that flowed through the open window sending a shiver down your spine, even though you weren’t feeling cold. Something wasn’t right. You just couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Hello? Anybody there?” You call out, straining your hearing once more, trying to listen out for even the slightest sound. A movement, a breath, anything, even as you couldn’t help but think that this was the most cliché horror movie like moment that you had experienced to date. Still, you heard nothing, but that nagging feeling didn’t dissipate, and you quickly lost all desire to change out of your suit.

The unease you felt only grew stronger as you stood there, unsure what to make of the feeling. It was quickly growing towards being overwhelming, but you didn’t know what to do.

Luckily for you, you didn’t have to make a decision.

Unfortunately, the decision was made by one of the very people you were trying to prove yourself to.

Peter B. Parker — or at least, you were pretty sure it was him — swung through the very same window you had, only to grasp a hold on your arm and pull you out of the window as he jumped straight back out of it.

Now, you had been Arachnid for a long time now. You had gotten used to the swinging, to the way your stomach dipped and your throat tightened, but you had never experienced it where you weren’t the one in control. Finally, you understand why people you brought to safety had, on occasion, thrown up immediately after you set them down on their feet again. The feeling of falling, of having no choice but to trust somebody else to catch you, it was terrifying.

But what was infinitely more terrifying was the way that the very floor of the building you had just been stood on exploded.

The blaze was blinding, even with your lenses protecting your eyes, but the noise that came moments later was much, much worse. And sure, you had been around explosions before, but never one that big, never so close. And never so unprepared for one.

Your ears were ringing, and you vaguely realised that you had become dead weight in your shock, with Peter struggling to keep his grasp on your arm firm. After a moment, you had the sense to grab his forearm in return, trying to assist him in holding you up. He didn’t seem as effected by the explosion in comparison to you, and you wondered if he’d had the time to put earbuds in his ears as you had sometimes done before a fight. Either way, you were insanely envious as the pain in your ears increased, leaving you struggling to focus on holding on to Peter.

When he set you down, which couldn’t have been more than a minute after he had grabbed you, considering you could still see the office building smouldering, you had to hold a hand over your mouth even over your mask, trying to rid yourself of nausea. Smoke was leaking into the darkening sky, and you saw the flash of sirens below, but heard nothing other than the distinctive ringing that felt like it was melting your brain.

Peter’s hand was squeezing your shoulder, and after a moment in which you didn’t acknowledge him, he was gripping your other shoulder with his spare hand, shaking you the slightest bit. You looked up at him with a groan, squinting past the floating lights in your vision to see that his mouth was moving, no sound coming out. You shook your head, trying to get rid of that incessant ringing, but it didn’t work. You dropped your chin to your chest again, hands bracing against your ears as if they could ease your pain, and you didn’t make a move as Peter removed one hand from your shoulder.

Mere moments later, the same tingling you had felt before the building you were in exploded returned, stronger, more intensely. Your head snapped up, frantically looking around, paying Peter no mind as he spoke into the orange-glowing watch on his wrist. You breathed through your nose, trying not to cough at the smoke permeating the air, and you just managed to push Peter over the edge of the roof of the building, with you diving after him, as another explosive went off.

That explosion was smaller than the last one, and the only reason you had managed to avoid it was because you knew it was coming. You knew what the alarm bells in your head were trying to tell you now, and you spotted the projectile just seconds before it reached your feet.

Part of you was glad that your senses were dulled from the first explosion — your hearing, especially, as it meant you were less effected by the close-range on this one. You saw Peter’s eyes widen as he looked up above you at where the explosion had just occurred. You just about managed to web him before shooting a web towards the next building, feeling something in your shoulder pull sharply with his extra weight and the suddenness of the move.

You squinted down at him as he gripped the web attached to his chest with one hand, his lips moving more frantically as he spoke to a hologram projected by the watch on his other hand.

“Shit, what is going on?” You asked, though mostly to yourself, but the only way you could tell you had even voiced the words was by the way they rumbled out of your throat. That explosion had messed up your hearing, for the moment, anyway, and you quickly realised that with your slow healing and the ringing in your ears, this fight was going to be majorly difficult.

You only had a moment to think that, before something snapped the web that was holding you to the building, sending both you and Peter falling through the air. Embarrassingly, you’re pretty sure that you let out a yell of some sort.

All the air was knocked out of you the next second as something hurtled into you, sending you careening towards the windows of the closest building. Peter, for a moment, had a shocked expression on his face, before he seemingly realised what was going on, smiling and letting out a string of words that you didn’t hear. You groaned as your sore back collided with the window, smashing upon your impact, and you were sent sprawling over a desk, a monitor breaking underneath your sudden weight.

Yet again, there was a hand against your shoulder, and you paid it no mind as your head dropped back, thudding against the desk. You couldn’t help but groan, the duress that your back had been under today was certainly taking its toll, leaving your whole spine throbbing with pain. On top of that, you were struggling to catch your breath, and with the sudden adrenaline provided by the spider-sense fading, the intensity of the pain in your ears was increasing.

Finally, you managed to peel your eyes open to see a concerned Peter B. Parker looking at you, with Miguel O’Hara stood beside the shattered window, staring out menacingly, as if daring whoever it was to attack again. Peter said something else, squeezing your shoulder, and all you could do in response was hold up one thumb.

Miguel seemingly barked out an order over his shoulder, and a moment later, you were squinting against the bright orange light of a portal.

Peter was hauling you to your feet, leaning to hold one of your arms over his shoulder, practically carrying your weight towards the portal looming ahead. “No, no, wait,” You said, and you felt the way your words slurred as you became slightly delirious with a mixture of pain, adrenaline, and desperation. “Stop, I gotta—”

He only shook his head, before tipping the two of you forward until you both fell into the portal.

The dizzying feeling of inter-dimensional travel definitely didn’t help the pounding in your temples, nor the nausea you had previously been feeling, and you had no choice but to try and focus on Peter’s grip on you as you squeezed your eyes shut. When the world finally stopped spinning, or feeling like it was falling away around you, you opened your eyes just enough to take note of where you were — which was back in the Infirmary of the Spider Society HQ.

You shook Peter off, standing on your own weight and waving him away when he tried to assist you as you swayed once more. You glared, eyes narrowed, and turned to head straight back through the portal you had come from, only to see it close before your very eyes.

The same Spider-Doctor from the last time you were here snapped a band around your wrist, and you squinted down at the red and blue band. It made you feel lighter, even slightly, which felt good on your aching bones and muscles. You opened your mouth to speak as the Spider-Doctor led you to sit down on an empty bed with white sheets, but you vaguely saw the way his mask shifted as he presumably spoke. You couldn’t tell what he was saying with his mask on, but a minute later, you felt a sharp prick against the inside of your elbow.

You just about had the lucidity to murmur “You fucker—” before you succumbed to the weight of your eyelids.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

When you woke up, it was to a throbbing pain in your forehead, that only got worse when you tried to open your eyes. At the very least, you were glad to have your hearing returned to you, albeit slightly muffled, which you were only aware of because the sound of voices across the room was the reason for you waking.

“I’m just saying, maybe knocking the kid out wasn’t the greatest idea!” Peter B. Parker’s annoyingly loud voice says, slightly high pitched in the end. Who he was saying it to, however, you couldn’t say, not without opening your eyes. And that didn’t feel like a good idea, the lights even with your eyes closed feeling like too much.

Instead, you just groan, bringing your hand up to rest over both of your eyes. “It wasn’t a great idea.” You say through gritted teeth, more than annoyed over the situation you found yourself in. Honestly, what did these people have against leaving you be? Why did they think they had any right to tell you what to do, or how to handle things, or to overrule you when it came to your own treatment?

“Hey, kid!” Peter responds, drawing the letters out in that typical oh shit voice. From the snippet of the conversation you had caught, at least he was seemingly trying to advocate for your consciousness. However, that didn’t change the fact that he was there when that Spider-Doctor knocked you out. No, you were still pissed. And when you got your hands on that doctor? He was in for it.

Any other thoughts or feelings on the matter were overturned when you realised that your hand was resting over your eyes, not the lenses of your mask.

Who do these people think they are?

You open your mouth to jump into a rant on that exact subject, on the audacity that they all have, but find yourself silenced by somebody grabbing onto your free wrist, and seemingly dropping your mask into your hand. You feel it until you’ve got it the right way around, and then pull it over your face.

The lights are much more bearable with your lenses back over your eyes, but it’s still painful, and still worsens that pounding in your head. But it does mean that you can see who’s around you; Peter, Miguel and the Spider-Doctor. You have half the mind to leap at that doctor, but Miguel is raising placating hands in your direction before you can make the move to do so.

“Let’s all calm down.” Miguel says, placing his hands on his hips when your eyes only narrow at him.

“What is wrong with you? Who gave you people the right to—to take off my mask? To knock me out? Hell, to come to my universe and get in my business!” You practically yell out, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the way your back hurts with the movement and glaring when the three of them step forward to help you.

“If Peter hadn’t gotten there when he did, you would’ve died.” Miguel responds plainly, seemingly aggravated by your irritation. One of his arms is raised in a gesture towards the man, who smiles almost guiltily, as if helping you was a crime. Which, in your mindset, it might as well have been. “There was an anomaly, a villain from another dimension targeting you.”

“I can handle myself.” You spit out, though the way the room spins when you stand is almost a direct contrast to your words. Your blood is rushing through your veins, and you realise that there’s a machine beeping next to you, increasing in frequency. As you look, you realise it’s measuring your heart rate, and you yank wires off of you that you hadn’t even noticed before, as if they were exposing you somehow. “And that doesn’t give you the right to take off my mask. Who does that?”

Spider-Doctor raises his hands, as if surrendering, though seems unintimidated by the way your glare switches to him. “It was necessary. Your hearing was severely damaged by the explosion, you needed treatment. You have dampening-buds in your ears now, while your healing catches up.” While that sounds reasonable, it only makes you angrier. Why did these people even care if some anomaly killed you? If your hearing was damaged? Why did they insist on bothering you?

Miguel sighs, pinching his nose, before he lifts his head up to speak to you again. You just about stop yourself from making a snotty comment about his attitude. You didn't even want to be here, and here he was, acting like dealing with you was such an inconvenience to him. It was frustrating. “Your universe seems to be at some sort of epicentre of anomalies, and we don’t know why. Yet.”

“We’re just trying to keep you safe. You can’t deal with all of those anomalies alone, nobody can. Sometimes, you need a team.” Peter says softly, like he could convince you of the matter. “Believe me, you don’t want to learn that the hard way.” He adds on, smiling almost hesitantly, as if there’s a memory he’s thinking of connected to his own words.

You’re sighing through your nose, your teeth gritting together as you regard them. “Okay, fine, you want to come take out your anomalies, or whatever? You do that. But anything more than that isn’t welcome.” You say, at last, your eyes narrowed towards them as you wait for their responses.

You still don’t really understand it, any of it, but it’s becoming clear that you have no choice but to deal with these people. Apparently, they were not budging on all of this stuff, which — fine, so long as they stay out of your way. The last thing you need is a bunch of Spider-people stepping on your toes, or making you seem incapable in front of the citizens of your own dimension when in the end, they’ll all up and leave.

After all, you can remember your mother telling you how important it is to do things yourself. The moment you start accepting help, you relax, and when they decide they don’t want to help you anymore? You’re screwed, your sense of independence reduced to ashes. And as Arachnid, there’s far too much at stake to risk that happening.

“Here,” Miguel says, only nodding his agreement — or at least, that’s what you assume the nod was for. He throws a watch towards you, and you catch it with some confusion. “In case you see any anomalies before we do.” He explains as he watches you fiddle witht he watch in both hands, glaring down at it as if it was offensive. He’s relatively satisfied when you relax at that explanation. While Miguel doesn’t voice what else it’s for, knowing you’d only get irritated and refuse the watch, he’s silently hoping that you’ll understand. It’s so you can come to them, if you need them. They can only hope that they’ll be able to tell you that, one day, before it’s too late, without the offer scaring you off.

“So, I’m good to go?” You ask, looking between the three Spider-Men still staring at you and the watch you hesitantly clasp around your wrist. They nod, or, Peter and Miguel do, while the Spider-Doctor throws his hands in the air, exasperated.

“That dimension is yours,” Peter says, leaning over to see the screen of your watch. “The button at the bottom will input this dimension as the destination. Just press that,” He points to another button, “To open the portal to whichever dimension has been typed in.”

You nod, still pissed that he’d let the Spider-Doctor knock you out, but at least you didn’t give him a snarky comment. Instead, you just pressed the button to go back to your own dimension, and stepped through the portal the moment it was big enough for you to go through.

You didn’t expect for him to follow you through.

“Hey, listen,” Peter says, almost reluctantly, as if he doesn’t want to upset you. When you turn to him, he raises his hands, as if to further prove that sentiment. “I am sorry that he knocked you out, I didn’t know he was going to do that.”

“Okay, fine, apology accepted.” You say, flatly, turning to survey where exactly you are. It doesn’t take you long to notice the remains of the building you had been camping out in, the building charred and the air still thick with all the smoke that had been produced.

“I wasn’t done,” Peter sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose momentarily. “I also wanted to say that I’m sorry about your building. And I wanted to ask, well, mention about how when Doctor-Peter took off your mask, he noticed you don’t have anything protecting your ears, like other Spiders with your level of enhanced hearing do.”

You turn to stare blankly at him, while mulling through where exactly you’re going to stay in your head. If you’re being honest, you’re not paying his words much mind. So what, you don’t have anything protecting your hearing? Sure, sometimes you had stuffed earbuds into your ears when you knew you were going into a rough fight, but you didn’t know when some psycho exploded your building right in front of you. Plus, it’s not like you have unlimited resources to figure out some way of protected your ears under your mask while also letting you effectively use your hearing.

“Okay? And?” You ask, voice edging on the side of boredom. In all honesty, you just want to be left alone. You want to put on your comfy clothes, curl up into a ball and go to sleep so you can dream of a world where everything is okay. The likelihood of that happening is small, but not impossible, right?

“Well,” Peter hesitates then, which piques your interest the slightest bit. “Here, I had these made back when my hearing was crazy sensitive, but it’s not anymore, so I got no use for them!” He says, holding out two blue and red earbuds in a clear case. “You gotta wait until your ears are healed up to use ‘em, but I figured they’d do you more good than me.”

For a moment, you’re ready to deny him. To glare and insist that you don’t need his help. But then, he had said that they were originally for him, and he didn’t need them any longer, so really, would it be so bad to take them? To accept this one thing? To allow yourself to be saved of this tiniest bit of pain?

“You’re sure?” You ask, likely the least aggressive you’d spoken to him, though that’s not to say that it was asked softly. You were still firm on not accepting their help, on doing your own thing, but you could accept this much, surely? It couldn’t hurt.

Peter smiles, a short laugh leaving him, and he waves the box towards you. “I’m sure!”

“…Thanks.” You say, shortly, as you accept the earbuds offered to you. He also hands you the backpack that you had lost track of after the attack, and you accept that far more quickly. You’re glad that it feels the exact same weight as it did the last time you held it, before you shove the earbuds into the opening and zip it back up.

There’s a portal still open on the rooftop the two of you stand on, and Peter backs up to go towards it almost reluctantly. “Also, if you need somewhere to stay—”

“Don’t push it,” You respond, quickly, cutting him off before he could finish what he was saying. He doesn’t take offence to your abruptness, and smiles with a nod, before he disappears into the portal. You stare out at the city around you, looking in the direction of another building you had been very reluctant to return to. “What is my life?” You ask yourself, rhetorically, because you don’t know how you’d even answer that.

You glance behind you to ensure the portal is closed, before jumping off the rooftop, freefalling, relishing in the way the cold wind soothes the pain in your back. Before long, though, you have to shoot a web to catch yourself. You head towards the only place you know will be suitable for you, but can’t shake the way the thought of it chills you.

All you can do is hope that this multiverse stuff will be over with, and soon.

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billskeis · 5 months

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this was a req from anon that was suuuper long but needless to say im obsessed ^.^

ᡣ𐭩 bill’s a stalking pervert

bill’s a pervert. a real, pervert. and not in the way you think. he’s not obvious. he won’t look up your skirt as you walk up the flight of stairs in front of him. he won’t stare down your cleavage as you yell and nag at him for calling you a ‘bitch’ as your tits press close together with the cross of your arms. god no, he’s not that stupid. he plans everything through.

at a good distance away, your house resides a couple houses down from him. perfect for you not to notice the way he’ll angle his head to get a perfect of you slipping out of your outfit, stripping completely naked to then put on a night gown. he relishes in the sight of your body, watering at the mouth. every inch and curve of yours was just utterly perfect to him. he gets hard thinking about running his hands on your soft and supple skin.

he takes pictures, a lot of them. don’t be surprised if you were to ever stumble upon his room and find a few of them pinned to a bulletin board on his wall. decorated nice and neat. one of the pictures he has is of a portrait of you, with a black-sharpie heart drawn on it. most of them were candids, of course, others taken from your social media and social media’s of your friends, and your friends friends, desperate to find anything of you.

try not to be surprised either at the fact he will have a photo of you by his bedside table, with a roll of toilet paper and body lotion.

one day he was following you while you were out on a weekday meeting up with a friend from work. you greeted your friend who was running a little late, embracing her in a friendly hug as the two of you sat down at the cafe table, drinks already ordered. was he sitting at the table next to you in some gaudy disguise? no, too weird. was he peeking through like a peeping tom from the entrance door? god no, he’s not an amateur.

he sat in his car, parked in the parking lot in front of the cafe as he adjusted the earbud he wore. while talking about friends and family, your friend brought up the odd question of what you thought of bill. cringing, you question her as to why she was asking this in the first place and she had mentioned how you two had always bitched at each other, to what she refers to as ‘a little too close for comfort to be just enemies.’

you roll your eyes at her, immediately beginning to throw insults at the man she spoke of. his heart stung a little, pouting at he looked at you through the car window while listening to the microphone of your friend’s earbud on the opposite side, hidden behind the locs of her hair so you wouldn’t notice that bill had been on call with her this whole time.

he had bribed her. but not to mention despite being your friend, she was closely acquainted to him more than she was with you, the money just had to be the cherry on top. feeling a little upset, he suddenly can’t help the gasp that let out his mouth when you told your friend that ‘despite him being hot, i don’t think he’d ever want to get with me, he hates me!’

oh how he was gonna change your mind.

turning the metal knob, you stop the shower water running as you exit the glass enclosure. wrapping yourself in the soft fuzzy towel, you step out of the bathroom into your bedroom, hair slightly dripping onto the wooden floor that creaked beneath your footsteps.

noticing that your closet door was left slightly open, you quirked an eyebrow up. what the hell? you thought you closed it before you left your room to go freshen up. you always leave it closed. well, it didn’t matter anyways because you needed to grab some clothes anyways.

opening the closet door, you heart almost sunk six feet under the ground as you were met with a figure you were least expecting. it was bill fucking kaulitz, your D1 enemy, standing, there, in your goddamn closet. you almost let out a shriek until he immediately covered your mouth with his palm. pressed his body against your half naked one, only the cover-up of your towel separating the two of you.

you blink fast. scared, anxious, what the hell was he doing in your room. he looked calm, but a little nervous. your heavy suffocated breaths are the only noise that fill the room, as he tells you to calm down, you attempt to slow your breathing. not wanting to concern anyone in your family, you comply with his orders. it would be a bad spot if any of them were to find you half naked with a complete stranger, a man, at that.

“gonna keep quiet?” you nod, you wanted answers. you wanted to know why the man you thought to dislike you, along with someone who you’d disliked so much was doing in the vicinity of your bedroom. letting his palm go away from your face, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “well?? what the fuck are you doing here!? how—how the hell did you get inside??”

“does that really matter right now? aren’t you glad to see me?” he holds his arms out, waiting for your response. he knows just how to push your buttons, you bite your lip. god was he tall, he had to look down at you for the two of you to make eye contact. this fucker was lucky that he was good looking, or else you would’ve called the cops. pretty privilege amiright?

“get the hell out.” “princess—” “i said, get the hell out, bill.” bill can only stare at you. staring you down, his eyes shift up and down your figure. you can feel his gaze on you. of course, he was standing right in front of you, acting as if he wasn’t undressing you with his eyes. your face heats up, could it be you’re feeling shy that he was looking at you with such lust or the fact that you had taken a steaming hot shower not too long ago?

he steps a little closer to you, you take a step back to keep a distance. “prinzessin, bitte.. i need you so bad.. i don’t think you understand how much i want you. wanted you. i craved for this moment for ever.. can’t you make my dreams come true..?” you’re at a loss for words, totally unbelieving the words that are coming out of his mouth. he wants you?? does this mean he likes you??

“i came to see you, i love you.. and i want you to make me yours..” “i.. c-can i get a moment to think about this?? you’re moving way too fast—” pulling you into a hug, you towel could threaten to fall off if he were to let go, his body slightly unravelling the heavy cloth that wraps around your body. your head was pressed against his chest, you hear his heartbeat. it’s fast and never stopping.

“y/n please!! i can’t wait for your response.. just please let me out you out.. please let me fuck you.. i only want you to feel good.” his black dreads drape over and tickle your shoulders as he nuzzles his head into your neck. as he begged and he begged, you can feel his hard-on pressed into your thigh. swallowing, you let the lump go down your throat as you whisper him a small ‘fine.’ he can’t help but let out a moan of joy, clearly relieved by your answer. he’s so happy. he’s so happy he gets to go down on his favourite girl.

your legs clamps around bill’s head. a grip entangled in his black locs as you form a makeshift ponytail with your hands to hold bill’s dreads back away from his face as he eats you out. he’s starved, hungry, licking at your folds if it were his last meal on earth. his moans vibrate in your pussy, his nose nudging your clit as he motions his head up and down.

he wouldn’t be able to stop now, and neither were you going to be able to stop him. he’s been dreaming of this, dreaming of the day that he would be able to use your body as he likes. he wouldn’t wanna use you like that though! he loves you too much, he only cares about your pleasure, if you’re feeling good, he comes second in this equation.

“auugh, b-bill..” you thrash your head back into the pillow as he flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue, “you taste sooo fuckin’ good..” as he eats you out sloppily, he purposely sucks at your cunt in a way that the noises are only what’s heard in your bedroom.

he wanted to be gentle! trust me, he did! bill would only want the best for his girl’s first time. you let him know before he went down on you, telling you that it was okay and just let him do all the work for now. but he can’t get enough of the taste, it’s like nectar to him. he can’t get enough of how sweet your moans are either, how his name just so easily rolls of his tongue other than in the context of you screaming in his face.

your juices drip down his chin, and he looks up at you from between your thighs. expecting, his eyes look as though he expects you to say something, “feel s’good billy.. m’gunna cum soon..!” and this fires him up even more, wrapping both his arms around your legs to bury his face into your pussy even more. messily lapping at the wetness, he places wet kisses on your clit as he whimpers at how pretty your puffy, sensitive cunt is. suddenly, he stops.

“s’pretty, but i want you to come on this dick. get up schatzi..” with weak wobbly legs, you prop yourself up on the bed, crawling to bill who’s already sat up against the bed frame. nervously, you bring your hands to palm bill through his sweatpants, a wince escaping his lips as he slightly trembles.

“shit..” “sensitive are ya?” you let out a soft giggle as he nods his head, biting his bottom lip a little too hard that it may bleed. you free his cock from its constraints to see it stand tall. fuck. he’s huge. you pray to the gods he doesn’t rip you apart, with such a length and girth. it’s a pretty shade of pink, and it leaks pre, a lot of it.

bill brings his hand to jerk himself off, as you position yourself within his lap, cunt slightly hovering over him. both prepped, he asks if you’re ready, and with just a nod, he pushes himself into you. slow, he inches his dick into the tight walls of your cunt, letting out a wanton moan as tears begin to fill his eyes. he’s so sensitive, with just the tip inside, he might already come. his dreams were finally coming to life, and it’s all thanks to you :3.

he wanted to wait for you to feel adjusted to his size. he knows he’s big, he just doesn’t flaunt it, wanting to save himself in surprising you with it of course. sitting there, he holds your hips as he can only moan out words of affirmation to you, telling you how pretty you look perched up on his cock or how good you tasted.

as good as he knows how to get under your skin, you also learnt today how good he was at making you nervous. what a little shithead he is, isn’t he? to no further notice, you begin to bounce your hips on his cock, cunt sliding up and down his length as your walls mould to the shape of him.

“a-amazing.. you feel s’good.. don’t stop—oh god—p-please don’t stop!” a tear falls down bill’s cheek as he whimpers from the way you fuck your hips back onto his. a heavy slapping sound fills the room as you ride him with no intent to stop and his sensitive dick can only hold out so much..

bill’s gaze cannot seem to focus on one thing. the way your tits bounce with how hard you ride him, or how your cunt just envelopes his dick. he doesn’t know where to put his hands, so he lets them fall to the side of his body. as you do all the work, you smirk, suddenly clenching around bill as he gasps. eyes widening as he cries out from the pleasure.

he’s pathetic. a complete and utter sobbing mess. dreads prettily framing his face as his black eyeshadow runs down it. rising your hips, you attempt to get the both of you off as quick as possible. you notice how bill squints his eyes shut, he’s concentrating on trying not to come too fast. cupping his cheek with your hand, he opens his eyes in shock, quickly nuzzling his face to stifle his moans into your palm as he shies away.

“mmphf.. s’happy.. s’glad you said, ah! y-yes..” “yea?? you happy?” “mmhm!!” and that’s what did it for you. while bringing your face closer to his, you kiss bill hard as you shove your tongue in his mouth, invading his as you piston your hips on his. you grin at the whorish moans he lets out into the kiss, tongues swirling within one another as bill attempts to catch his breath, wanting to let go but you only kiss him deeper.

he’s pussy drunk, it’s like a drug. and for what seemed like forever, bill’s orgasm came as he filled your insides, cum spurting to paint the insides of you white. he wraps his arms around you to bring your torsos closer together. thighs trembling, bill only fucks himself deeper than he already is, hitting your cervix straight on as his cum fills your womb.

the cord in your stomach finally snapped as your orgasm followed shortly after, electricity pulsing through your body as you clenched around him. as you break off the kiss, a string of saliva following, heavy pants are exchanged as the two of you stare at one another. “you okay?” you ask bill, he seems way more disheveled than you were, “mm’kay.. that was.. amazing..”

“don’t tell me that was your first time too? “s-shut up..” you laugh as you wipe the sweat off his forehead, putting some of his dreads behind his ears as you peck the tip of his nose. bill only smiles at you, telling you that he’s sorry about earlier. you can only shake your head at him and tell him that despite the fact he could’ve confessed any other way, you didn’t mind this, telling him that you also like him.

bill’s heart can only skip a beat as you lead him into the washroom to run a nice warm bath.

so rip to everyone else who was in that house >.> anon also wanted aftercare but im lazy this is all u get >:3

gn guys ! i did not proofread this .. or any of my works matter of fact :p

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x y/n #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x y/n #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz smut #2000s #fyp #billskeis

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luvrgreyy · 3 months

Text

A PERFECTLY RUINED THING

boyfriend's brother!leon x f!reader

word count: 3.1k summary: leon's attempts to comfort you after a fight with his older brother. masterlist | ko-fi

18+ MDNI. infidelity, one mention of masturbation, age gap(leon is 21, reader is 25), non-con kissing, car sex, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, oral(r!receiving), praise, soft dom leon.

a/n: not my best work, but alright. this was meant to be a short, self indulgent fic, i dont know how i ended up writing this much. anyway, here's something to keep you guys occupied while i work on a new series im writing :3

leon has always had a thing for you. ever since you started dating his brother a few years ago, he’d always found you attractive. he’s tried to get over you, date other girls, but that doesn’t really seem to work.

his brother was a moron, and he was sure you deserved better. not that leon considered himself any better. it’s wrong, it’s messed up in every possible way, which is why he could never tell his brother how he truly feels.

family is important, and leon wouldn't do anything to risk losing his brother's respect.

but being around you, watching you, it's all too much sometimes. he would often find himself fantasizing about you while jerking off to porn, imagining it was him instead of his brother making out with you, touching you, fucking you.

it used to bother him a lot, feeling like this for someone who was technically off-limits. but lately, with his brother spending lesser time around the house, leon had started to brush off those guilty feelings.

and he began to entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe, he could have you for himself one day. the fantasies were harmless, he told himself, as long as they remained just that — fantasies.

leon shakes his head and comes out of his thoughts with a start. he couldn't make out all the words, but he could tell you and his brother were fighting. nothing new there.

he knows he shouldn't care, that it's none of his business, but he can't help but wonder what his brother had said to make you so upset. was he flirting with some girl? did he forget your birthday again? had you finally broken up with him? he felt bad for being somewhat happy at the thought.

until he hears the door slam. he blinks and looks up, listening as the sound echoes through the house. well, so much for staying out of it.

he’s about to get up when he hears your footsteps, and soon you stomp into the living room, face flushed with anger.

"hey, what's wrong?" he asks softly, looking up at you from his place on the couch. you stopped pacing and turn to face him, eyes brimming with tears. "your stupid brothers what’s wrong,”

he can't help it, his jaw twitches at the mention of his brother, but he manages to keep a neutral look otherwise. “what did he do this time?" he asks quietly, standing up. you bite your lip and look away, struggling to find the words.

"i don't know," you finally reply. "he's just— he’s being difficult,” he wants to hug you, to comfort you, but he's hesitant to do so. you’ve just never been that close, so he just stands there awkwardly as you try to speak through the tears.

“i-i’ve tired talking to him, but he never listens. i don’t know what i did, but i know there's something wrong,”

“i’m sorry about him,” it's stupid, he knows his brother is terrible to you, but he couldn't stop myself from making a dig. “but you know you can talk to me, right?”

“i know,” you choke out a sob. “but— i just wanna go home, leon.”

it kills him to see you like this, especially since he knows it's his brother's fault. but he wants you to stay. he doesn't say it, but he hopes, silently, that you'll stay with him instead. “yeah, okay,” he agrees, forcing a smile. “i can do that, i can take you home.” he reaches out and gently wipes away your tears, thumb lingering on your cheek.

“thank you,” you sniff and nod, reaching up to brush his hand away. he lets it linger a moment longer, before reluctantly pulling back.

he knows he should tell you it will all work out, that his brother loves you and that things will be fine... but he can't. because then he'd be lying.

the ride to your house is quiet. he wants to say something, anything, but it seems wrong to talk about anything lighthearted.

when he pulls up to your house, he parks and turns to you. you're staring out the window, silent tears streaming down your cheeks.

"hey," he asks softly. "you okay?"

you look at him then, really look at him, and for a moment, he thinks he sees something in your eyes — a flicker of... something. he doesn't know what it is, and he doesn't bother trying to find out when you reach out for his hand.

he freezes. it's a small point of contact, one he's not ready for.

he tries not to tremble as you hold his hand, but you're so close to him and he can't make himself pull away, so he does the only thing he can think to do — pretend nothing is wrong and and just sit there, praying you don't notice how his breath catches in his throat. praying you can't feel how hard he is.

you just want comfort, he tells himself. don't be weird.

he looks down at your fingers, how small they looked, your soft skin, the way your nails dig lightly into his skin.

"leon?" your voice comes out a small squeak.

"yeah?"

he tries to say something else, but its no use. all he can think about is how close your hand is to his dick. how easy it would be to move it a few inches and have you cupping him. he doesn't do that, of course. that would be messed up. but the thought alone is making him rock hard.

god, he feels like a fucking pervert, crossing his legs to try and hide his boner. you look at him with those big, beautiful eyes, and he nearly melts. he wants nothing more than to kiss you right then and there. but he can't. can he?

"i— uh, thank you."

you withdraw your hand, and the relief he feels is short-lived, because he watches you reach out for the door. he doesn't want you to go. not yet, anyway. "wait," he says, and you pause.

before he can stop himself, his mouth is on yours. it's just a small, chaste kiss, but it's still a massive step. what the hell is wrong with him? you're his brother's girlfriend for fucks sake! but you don't pull away, and he can't bring himself to do the same.

for a moment, he thinks you kiss him back. just for a second. it's hard to tell, since it's so quick, but he could swear he feels your lips moving with his. he pulls back, breathless, eyes wide.

"i'm so sorry," he whispers, knowing it's not enough, but not knowing what else to say. so he just sits there, staring at you, trying not to panic.

he can't think straight. all he can focus on is your lips, how soft they were, the way they moved with his. it was a real kiss. a tentative one, yes, but real. his mind is spinning. what does this mean? does it even mean anything at all? or was it just a momentary lapse in judgment? he knows he shouldn't have done it. he should've let you go, let you walk out of his life for good. but looking at you now, he realizes he'd do it all over again, whatever the consequences are.

this makes him bold. reckless. and he moves in for another kiss, hand cupping your cheek. this time, there's no mistake — you pull him closer, your tongue darting out to lick his lower lip. he can taste you on his lips, like really taste you. it’s incredible.

one hand moves down your side, to rest on your hip. the other cradles your head, fingers threaded through your hair. he pours all his emotion into the kiss — the frustration, the longing, the love he's kept hidden for so long. you taste like toothpaste and happiness, and it's the best thing he's ever experienced.

this goes on for a long time. like, a really long time. long enough that he starts to feel guilty, like he's taking advantage of you or something. but you don't seem to mind. you kiss him back, enthusiastically, and he swallows the small noises you make in your throat.

the kiss finally breaks, and you're panting. he is too. your lips are swollen and glossy, hands on his chest, pushing him away, but only slightly.

he doesn't care anymore. he's past the point of return. "i want you," he whispers, trying to memorize the feel of you. "i want you so bad. please," he begs, the plea raw in his voice. "i'll make it good for you, i promise.”

“leon,” you breathe out his name again. “this.. this isn’t right,”

he knows you’re right. of course you are. but he can't help himself. his desire drowns out whatever sense and reasoning he may still have. you're his brother's girlfriend. it's wrong, it's messed up, it's... “it doesn't feel wrong," he argues softly, thumb brushing against your flushed cheek. "does it?" you don't answer, just shake your head.

next thing he knows, his hand is sliding up your thigh, pushing your skirt up with it. he feels a scrap of fabric and the smooth skin it's covering. he stops, hovering just at the edge of decency.

“tell me to stop,” his lips hover just above yours. “tell me to stop, and i will.”

he waits. and waits. and waits. but no words come. you're quiet, neither denying nor confirming, and that's enough for him to take it as a yes. his hand continues up, past your knee, brushing the edge of your panties. he can feel the heat emanating from you, how your body is screaming at him to continue. to keep going. to take what he wants.

and he does. one finger, then two, slip in to push your panties to the side, and he's rewarded with a small gasp.

he shifts his fingers higher, seeking out your clit. he finds it, and rubs gently. you buck, just a little, and he freezes.

"this okay?" he looks at your face, searching for any sign that he should stop.

a tiny nod, almost imperceptible. "yeah," your voice is breathy. "yeah, leon." you grab his wrist, stopping him from retreating. "don't stop." he doesn't.

he goes back to rubbing your clit, fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles. one finger slips down to test your entrance. he pushes it inside, just the tip, and you tense. he groans in triumph at the feel of your slick walls, taking it as a sign to pushes further, sinking his finger knuckle deep into your pussy. you mewl, and he nearly comes in his pants.

your hips start to move, trying to fuck his hand, and he's happy to oblige. he adds another finger, hand practically punching into your dripping cunt. you're so wet and tight, so perfect for him.

“get in the back," he hisses through his teeth. "wanna have a taste.”

he doesn’t give you time, roughly shoving you into the backseat, and plopping himself down in a position where you straddle his face while his hands push your thighs apart.

he kneels down, and trails a finger up your inner thigh, finding your panties damp with arousal. he hooks his fingers in the elastic and drags them down, letting your soaked cunt be exposed to the air. he buries his face in your pussy, fingers spreading you apart. "fuck, you smell good," he groans, before closing his lips around your clit and sucking, tongue darting out to lick your juices.

you let out a startled yelp at the suddenness of it all, but he doesn't care. he's too busy breathing in your scent, licking and sucking at your little pussy, fingers digging into your hips as he pushes his tongue as far as it will go. he eats you like you're the last morsel of food on earth, desperate and ravenous.

your juices flood his mouth as he sucks and licks, fucking you with his hand while his mouth eats your pussy. he growls in the back of his throat, loving how you taste. he pulls away for a second, just long enough to yank your panties the rest of the way off, before diving back in. he can hear you whimper and moan, the sounds music to his ears.

the car lurches, and his face is buried in your pussy. he looks up, surprised, as you suddenly buck against him. but he recovers quickly, one hand reaching out to grab your wrist and pull you back down to his mouth, the other hand keeping the first two fingers of his other hand knuckle-deep in your pussy, pumping them slowly.

"i got you," he mouths around your clit, and continues eating you with renewed vigor, as if trying to prove a point. his tongue is fast, slick, and decisive, and he knows it's coming.

"tell me when," he mumbles, eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy.

he feels it. the way you go slack, how your muscles tremble and contract. he's already sucking hard on your clit, lips vacuuming up your little bundle of nerves, trying to suck your orgasm straight into his mouth.

“imma cum, leon, i’m—“ you start, but the words die down in your throat.

your entire body bows back, throat making a sound like a scream that tappers out. he drinks it all in, every single drop of your release coating his lips, tongue, and it dribbles down to his chin.

he pulls back, sitting back on his heels, hands pushing your knees together to keep you from tipping over.

"c'mere," he coos. gently pushing you back onto the car seat, he slots himself between your legs. his cock strains against the zipper of his jeans, and with a curse, he undoes them, freeing his shaft.

he helps you get in position, hands shaking slightly as he lines himself up with your entrance. he's hard, veins bulging along the shaft, the tip leaking precum.

“can i?”

you nod. just once, and it's enough. his hips buck forward, slow and steady, feeling you stretch around him, the intrusion making you wince.

"sorry," he whispers, before pulling back slightly. "’ts okay," you hum in response.

your walls resist, then give, slowly swallowing up his length. but he doesn't stop until he's buried to the hilt, hips flush with yours "god, you're tight,” he looks down, watches himself disappear into you, and it's the hottest thing he's ever seen.

he takes his time, letting you adjust, letting yourself get used to the feeling of him inside you when he starts to move, it's a slow thrust, pulling back almost all the way, then pushing back in, creating a slow rhythm.

he's patient, letting the rhythm build, in and out, in and out, feeling your walls relax around him more and more with each thrust.

his hips rise up, his abs flexing as he pulls back, then lower, feeling you swallow him up again.

"feels so good," he admits, voice strained with the effort of holding back.

his hands land on your hips, fingers digging in, holding you in place as he fucks you, slow and deep, with a pace that's almost lazy.

“leon,” your voice is soft, almost dreamy. “leon,” you repeat his name like a prayer.

“i’m—”

“i know,” he huffs against your lips, feeling his balls drawing up.

your nails rake down his chest. “i’m gonna—“ “cum.” he groans, hips bucking harder, trying to draw it out. your pussy spasms, milking him for all he's worth, and he's powerless to stop it.

he's coming all over your insides. your walls suck him dry, and he slumps forward, forehead pressed against your shoulder, chest heaving.

your hand threads through his hair, holding his head still against your shoulder. he nuzzles into the touch, feeling your warmth, your softness. he's spent. emotionally and physically.

he pulls out slowly, cock slipping free, and a pearly rope of cum dribbles out. he grabs a napkin from the glovebox, and gently wipes your lips clean. he looks over at you, taking in your mussed hair, your flushed cheeks, your half-lidded eyes. you look relaxed. content.

"you alright?" he asks softly.

“mhm,”

he smiles, small and shy. like he didn’t just fuck your brains out. “good.”

he tucks himself back into his pants, zipping up. it takes a bit of effort to extricate himself from the wreckage of the backseat. he turns to you, and just looks. you straighten out your clothes, carefully smoothing down the fabric of your rumpled shirt. he watches as you adjust your skirt, his gaze soft yet intense.

“well, uh,” you pull back, eyes meeting, and you swallow hard. “i should probably go..”

“oh, yeah, of course," he pauses, then adds. “i’ll walk you to your door.”

you climb out of the car, and he follows. the cool night air feels strange on your skin, and it makes your skin shiver. he walks you to your front door, hands shoved deep in his pockets. the walk is silent, but not uncomfortable. you stop at your front door, and you turn to him.

“thank you,” you say softly. “for tonight.” he smiles. and you smile back. and for a second, he thinks of kissing you again. but he doesn't.

"night," he turns to leave, but pauses. "i hope this is the last time i see you.”

as you watch him go, your heart feels full. and weird. you can't stop smiling, even as you go inside and lock the door behind you. you walk to the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. your hair is a mess. your face is flushed.

i guess now you know who the better kennedy is.

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon #leon smut #leons enormous cock #younger leon #older reader #re2r leon #re2 remake #smut #kissing #˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆greys fics #luvrgreyy

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moonstruckme · 10 months

Note

hey :)) first off, i love the hozier caption in your bio. second, I’ve been reading so many of your fics recently and i think you’re sooo talented! i wanna be like you when I grow up (im 20 almost 21 lol)

anyways, I’ve never really requested anything but i wanna give it a try. I was wondering if you could do a poly!marauders x reader fic or a just remus x reader fic where’s she’s driving and accidentally hits an animal and is really upset about it but they’re there to help to her move it and comfort her.

i just hit a cat and im not taking it well. we think it was just a stray cause I left my number with it in case but no one has called. my family kinda, but not really, made fun of me for being so sad about it and i kinda just need something with the guys being so affectionate and loving with her after everything.

it’s totally okay if youre not up to it! I understand that it’s such a hard topic so I won’t be offended if you don’t feel comfortable writing in this.

thank you again and im sooo looking forward to youre future work!! you’re talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before (lady gaga)

Mwah mwah mwah <3<3

-aves

(sorry this is so long)

Hi sweetheart, thank you so much! (Is your username a Lizzy McAlpine reference? I love that) I'm really sorry you went through this, I've been fortunate enough to have never hit an animal but I've seen it happen and it's so horrible, I'm really sorry you've been dealing with this :(( I think you did the right thing by leaving your number with it, and I hope the weight of that trauma and grief is starting to lift off you my love. Thank you for requesting <3

cw: mention of killing an animal, reader feeling guilty

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words

James hears the door and is up instantly, bounding down the hall to greet you and Sirius.

“Hello!” he calls ahead, eager for company after being left alone in your flat for over a half hour. “You guys took your time today, I thought even Remus might beat you home. Was traffic a riot, or…”

Sirius is looking at him with panic in his blue-gray eyes, clearly trying to convey one of those telepathic messages James has never been great at interpreting, and you…you’re looking at nothing. Your gaze is distant as you work off your shoe, the area around your eyes puffy and gray with smudged mascara.

“Hey,” James breathes, then feels stupid. It sounds like he’s accusing you of something. He tries again. “Is everything okay?”

Sirius gives him a look that says What do you think? and crouches beside you to help with a stubborn knot in your shoelace. Your hands are trembling, James notices. Dread settles like a stone in his stomach.

“I’ve got it,” Sirius murmurs to you, fingers gentle as they intercept your own, but the alarm doesn’t leave his expression as he watches your face. Ah. As much as it kills James to see you upset, Sirius will have no idea what to do with you in this state. Tears have always set him on edge.

James squats, joining the two of you on the floor. “Hi, sweetheart.” He does his best to keep his own anxiety out of his voice as his hand finds your ankle, fingers wrapping around the bit of skin between the hem of your jeans and your socks. “Has something happened?”

Your eyes meet his already full of tears, and James braces himself. Sirius does too, by the look of it, his shoulders tensing as he watches your face like you’re about to crumble away to nothing right here on their doormat.

“I—” That’s all you get out before you have to bite down on your lip to keep from crying. A tiny whimper escapes, and spider web cracks spread across James’ heart. A sluggish tear leaks from your right eye.

“It’s okay,” he swears, though he has no way of knowing it. You press the back of your hand to your mouth, trying to quell the sobs that shake your frame even with no air to feed them. “Oh, honey.” James leans forward, wrapping you in an awkward but very heartfelt hug, your knees between his chest and yours but your head crossing the distance to wet his shoulder with your tears.

A sympathetic pressure builds in James’ sinuses, but he does his best to breathe through it. Stability tends to help you more than sympathy in these situations, and since Remus isn’t home yet, it’s left to James to be the reasonable one (Sirius would have all sorts of jokes to make about that, but he doesn’t seem to be feeling up to them either).

He gives you a few moments of reprieve, a few passes of his palm up and down your spine, before trying again. “What’s going on?” he asks, gently as he can. “You guys are scaring me. Sirius?”

Sirius’ brow pinches like he almost doesn’t want to say it either, and the anticipation in James’ chest heavies. “We were driving home,” he says slowly, keeping a wary eye on you lest he worsen your upset, “and a rabbit ran in front of the car.”

Relief nearly chokes James at the same time as a sympathetic sorrow takes ahold of him. He pets the back of your head. You tremble with the force of your crying, leaning into his touch greedily.

“She was driving?” he asks quietly, though he’s nearly sure. If your reaction isn’t enough to go off of, he already knows that you usually pick Sirius up from work and drive the both of you home.

Sirius nods.

“It doesn’t sound like there was anything you could do,” he murmurs to you, cupping the back of your neck to encourage you to look up at him. You do, sniffling as your lip quivers, and James uses his thumb to brush a wet streak of mascara from your blotchy cheek.

“It must have been so scared.” Your voice breaks on the last word and James’ heart along with it, leaving a throbbing wound in the center of his chest.

“I doubt it had time to be scared, honey,” he tries to reassure you, but his own voice is fraught. He looks to Sirius. “Did you…do you know if it…passed?”

Sirius is half hiding behind his hair, a sure tell of his disquiet, and it brushes his shirt collar when he nods again. “We weren’t sure at first, so I got out to move it off the road. It was dead.” He winces at his wording, and you bite down on your lip harshly. His tone softens as he addresses you. “I really don’t think it felt any pain.”

You look nowhere near ready to believe him, and James is preparing to offer to make you a cup of tea and let you sort out your grief at your own pace when the front door opens again, stopping when it hits Sirius’ side.

“Oh.” Remus pokes his head through. “Hello. Why are we all sitting on the floor?”

Sirius scoots the rest of the way out of the door’s path before deciding to stand instead. He speaks to Remus in a low voice while James runs a hand up and down your side in an attempt to soothe you. He locks eyes with Remus over your shoulder, watching as the taller boy’s gaze takes on the weight of understanding.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Remus wraps Sirius in a half-hug, kissing his surprised boyfriend on the temple before stooping beside you. “That must have been awful to have to see. Let’s get you up, yeah?” He wraps a spindly hand around your forearm, more encouragement than anything, and James grips your other hand as he stands to pull you up with him.

Neither of them seem quite willing to break contact with you, walking you over to the couch like a newborn fawn despite your murmured I’m okay. Sirius follows close behind. The both of you look like you’re perching rather than sitting, unable to completely relax even now that you’re home.

“It must have been quite a scare,” Remus sympathizes, sitting on the edge of his favored armchair.

“A bit,” Sirius mutters, and your throat bobs.

Remus cocks his head. “What’re you thinking, darling?”

James almost wants to look away at the rawness in your expression as you raise your eyes to meet Remus’. “I just…I can’t believe I killed it. I’ve never” —your voice pitches, and you swallow again— “I’ve never killed anything before.”

“It was an accident,” James tells you, beseeching.

“You couldn’t have stopped,” Sirius says. His voice has an odd, desperate quality to it, and James sees Remus notice it at the same time as he does, both boys leaning forward to see Sirius better. For the first time, James notices—had he missed it before, or has it only just started?—that Sirius is trembling slightly too. James’ free hand twitches instinctively toward him, but his dark-haired boyfriend is only touchy when he’s in a good mood. He’s not keen on physical comfort; no matter how many years James has worked on him, Sirius has always preferred to keep his struggles internal. “Or avoided it,” he goes on. “It happened too fast.”

Remus nods at you. “As awful as it is, these things happen sometimes. Hopefully,” he adds when another tear slips down your cheek, “never again to you, but selfish as it is, I’m glad you didn’t slam on the brakes or anything else that could have gotten you and Sirius hurt instead.”

You glance at Sirius, and he gives you a weak smile, taking your hand and squeezing gently.

“Nothing you could have done,” he whispers.

Your lips tremble again. James watches as panic flashes in Sirius’ eyes, but he keeps it together. “I’m really sorry,” you tell him, voice wavering. “I shouldn’t have made you take care of the bunny by yourself.”

James' chest aches as Sirius takes a steadying breath. “You were frazzled. Understandably upset,” he corrects himself, squeezing your hand again. This time you squeeze back. “It was a one-man job anyway.”

You make a soft sound, leaning your head on his shoulder, and James has the sense something has settled a bit in each of you. He raises your joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of yours as Remus’ eyebrows furrow.

“Have you had a chance to wash your hands, love?” he asks Sirius, who blinks.

“No. I forgot.”

Despite the heavy atmosphere, James actually feels the beginnings of a smile tempting his lips as he watches Remus forcibly quell his horror. “Right, then. Why don’t we go do that in the kitchen now, and I’ll make us all some tea.”

“Good idea,” James says heartily, swiping his thumb back and forth over his own kiss on your hand. “Hey, could we take out the good cookies as well?”

Remus hums what James chooses to interpret as assent, shepherding Sirius into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” you say to James once the other two are out of hearing.

He looks down at you. “What for, sweetheart?”

You shrug, your shoulders remaining just a tad too high after the motion. You’ve stopped crying, and James is grateful, but he doesn’t think this shameful look is a vast improvement. “I feel like I’m being dramatic. And Sirius is the one who had to see it. He had to drive home too, I was too upset.”

James’ battered, broken heart wells for the both of you. He forgoes his attentions to your hand, wrapping his arm around your shoulders instead to tuck you against his side. “You’re not being dramatic,” he promises, “okay? You and Sirius were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you both had to witness something awful.” Your head sinks onto his shoulder, and he rubs your upper arm. “I think it’s alright to be sad for a while. For yourselves, and for the bunny. Just, don’t torment yourself, alright?” He withdraws enough to see your face, and you tilt your gaze up to his. “Please. You don’t deserve the guilt.”

Your eyes cast down, contemplative and a bit shy, a moment before your head comes back to its spot on his shoulder. “Thanks,” you murmur.

“No thanks necessary, babe. You can cry all night if you need to, I’ll be right here. Just do me a favor,” he lowers his voice, glancing toward the kitchen, “let me sit between you and Sirius if you do. Many more tears and I think he’ll have a heart attack.”

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