#but what strikes me is how she grabs the opportunity to speak FOR HERSELF rather than be presented by the men around her

[yanderenightmare]

uhm, yandere Katsuki with a small reader... like idk how to explain but fluff fear? like waking up together but all she can think about is how loud he sleeps and how BIG he is, also him being a total bitch about how small she is?

yandere kidnapper ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

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goodiebag WARNINGS: dubcon/noncon mentions, kidnapping, abduction, abuse, degradation

PUFF

Waking up warmer than usual was something she’d gotten terribly used to. 

It had only been a couple days. A couple days in a foreign house without anything to do except prance around in what lingerie Katsuki bothered to give her, or sleep the hours away. Where which the latter was undesirable, because she’d be risking getting snuck up on by the brute predator once he returned. So, she was left walking about, dragging tired limbs through barren hallways, stopping to take in the space of each impersonal room, half-naked and cold in the marble mansion, doing nothing but dreading the time her hero came home. 

And in the absence of things happening, those moments where she was in fact preoccupied with something became so much heavier and longer than what they were in reality. Expanded, to the degree where she could pinpoint almost every single detail within the moment. 

This was one of those moments.

She wanted to focus on the bed, soft material, caky and cloudy beneath her, but it was difficult to ignore the mass behind her. His nose poking into the top of her head, nuzzling in her hair, a good measurement of knowing how close his teeth were to her neck as heavy breaths ran down her neck like a chilling breeze, ticklish and disturbing like crawling mites. His chest, rising, pushing into her back, the beating of his heart rattling her ribcage. His hands, large and so very warm, warmer than they were supposed to be, scathed like sandpaper as they scratched in their presence by rubbing her hip, arms slung around her body haphazardly, caging her, suffocating her, pulling her close, holding her steady, trapping her. 

Like a dragon protecting his treasure, she thought, but quickly discarded of the notion. It sounded too sweet. 

Katsuki wasn’t sweet.

He’d come home yesterday, coated in smog, droplets of blood flecked on his sand-skin in no particular pattern. He didn't shower, he’d only grabbed her and walked off to bed. No words shared, only whimpers and dark, disturbing chuckles. She’d struggled, as much as she could against the brute, but it felt as though he enjoyed that more. Tightening his hold until she swore she began to hear her bones ache, bristle as he squeezed the air from out of her lungs. 

She was happy she was spared his painful cock that night, but she was sure it would be a short-lived mercy.

His hold; though still strong, wasn’t as tight in the morning. She took it as an opportunity to create more space between herself and the fever-heat and blinding smell of caramel. She almost wished she could smell the blood and smoke instead, something bitter to disrupt the sickening sweet. She wished she could smell anything else, but even the smell of herself was overcome by him. She’d walked around the house thinking of it the other day, how it was almost as though he’d scented her, as though they were animals.

He didn’t take lightly to the disturbing of his slumber, grunting and growling, stirring that overbearing sense of fear inside her gut, her stomach folding in every possible way. She didn’t want to stop, she wanted to fight, she wanted to roar. He tightened his arms around her, squeezed her hip, planting her ass better against his crotch and she froze.

He smacked his tongue against his teeth. “Now what?” He coaxed. She expected his voice to sound groggy in the morning, but she’d learned in the past days, it never shed its ugly tone. “You gonna cry?” His voice sounding almost hopeful as he bit down on her earlobe, earning a gasp that along the way turned into a delicious little whimper. She tried clawing at his hand, his own nails digging into her skin. “Do yourself a favor and relax” All his taunting, patronizing overbearing words, dismissive to her discomfort, rather enjoying it, if only she could see the cracked smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. She kept struggling despite the obvious futility. “Yer’ not going anywhere, yer’ exactly where you need to be... exactly where you belong.” His tone was casual as he sucked in a breath, sighing with a grumbling growl, still sleepy, yawning behind her, comfortable when squeezing her plushie little form, keeping her close like child with a teddybear. 

But he wasn't enjoying how her legs were kicking, despite the rest of her struggles being teasingly pleasurable.

Pushed down on her back, manhandled into position, he made to move himself between her thighs. Now, with more mistaken freedom, she tried pushing him away. Foolish fists hit against the stiff muscles of his chest, until he grabbed them by the wrists and pinned them above her head. His face so much closer now, but he didn’t kiss her, still longing to hear her speak up, to beg, to plead, to scream. But he remained close, knowing how every one of his words made her heart beat that much faster, and how those especially crude words made her quiver or better yet bleat, like a little lamb beneath him.

“Come on…” He hauled out. She barely made out the words, as far hidden in the growl as they were. His voice tickling her burning ear, his head resting its heavy weight on her arm. “I know I’ve been busy, but…” He spoke as though she wanted to spend more time with him. “It’s my day off.” His voice in singsong, as if she’d be excited, the tone sounding dreadful and wrong when coming from him, dark as it was. But it earned him what he’d been wanting, that soft and struggled sniffle, breath caught in her throat, an uncontrolled shiver breaking the sweet feeble noise.

Content with what he’d reduced her to, he rested his head on the pillow beside her face, his weight laid down upon her in a lifedraining fashion. He hummed, closing his eyes, enjoying her small frame beneath him. In her rightful place, he snickered. Eyes fluttering to look at her pretty face, hand covered in dried blood and smoke as it ascended to tug a lock of hair behind her ear, his thumb stroking over her lips when he made to retract it. The state of his skin made him cringe when he touched the fairness of her complexion. It felt wrong, he admitted. 

They needed to find an even ground.

“Let’s shower, I’m dirty.” She could feel his lips on her ear now, but she was too shell-shocked to snap her head away, knowing what was coming.

In all honesty, she wouldn’t mind a shower. She’d been there a while and didn’t exactly feel clean with him spread, smeared all over her, inside her. But, he’d insisted on being so very close at all times, she was sure the same rules would apply in the shower. 

She tried her best to fight, but it was all so easy to simply grab her arm and pull her with him, yanking on her like a child with a toy. Throwing her inside the large bathroom, with strength that almost had her falling to her knees.

“Take yer’ clothes off.” He commanded, having her backed up against the cold tiles of the walls. “Or… they’re not really your clothes.” He tugged at the black fabric of his shirt, one she’d put on after realizing her own clothes were far from wearable anymore, singed as they were.

Towering over her petite shape, enjoying how she had to tilt her head a drastic degree to stare up at him. 

She was so tiny, it sent pleasurable shivers down his spine to look at her, small like a little pet. His shirt hung around her in the same way you’d expect a tent would, reaching all the way down to her knees, only barely fitting on her narrow shoulders.

She wanted to sound strong. “N- no.” It came out weak.

Snickering, he placed a hand on the wall beside her head. “I was hoping you’d say that…” His smile was so feral, she began wondering if smiles were ever a nice gesture in the first place. Katsuki seemed to do it simply to show her those large teeth stored in his mouth, teeth that could rip her throat out if he were dedicated enough. “Better you learn sooner than later just how helpless you are to stop me getting what I want.” He leaned in closer, stepping further into her space, threatening to crush her toes under the soles of his feet, his much too hot breaths striking her face on repeat. “Weak.” He spat the word, as though it were venom on his tongue. “Defenseless.” It disgusted him, distaste clear in the growl lacing his tone. “Fragile.” 

He’d not gotten exactly what he wanted. He wanted her to scream, whether it was of rage or of fear, didn’t really matter. The tears were no less satisfying though, dribbling down her cheeks, eyes glossy and sparkling.

He grabbed the collar of the t-shirt. She felt the pull, but the tear still came as a surprise. The ripped fabric, now reduced to useless singed rags, pooling around her ankles, and she found herself regretting her wish to smell smoke because the burn of the textile at her feet was not the type of bitter like morning coffee, but bitter in the way that made her eyes sting. Her knees almost gave out when his hand neared her again, his other hand placed above her head, meaning to cage her in between his warmth and the freezing wall behind her. 

Her nipples perked at once when he made contact, which made him smile, hand still hot, much too hot. He cupped one breast in his hand, much too small to fill it entirely. He didn’t seem to mind though.

“So soft…” The disdainful tone was gone, but she found herself missing it as opposed to what lingered in his voice now. “So delicate.” Lust was so terribly more frightening than his distaste. “So…” He licked his lips, a hot breath fanned over her face and goosebumps sprung to the surface of her skin. He hummed in response and she was sure she might just faint. “So sensitive.” She yelped when he pinched. “Mine.” His voice was low and rumbling, hot like raked coals. Tugging down her bottoms as well, she did little to prevent it. 

Not that it would have mattered if she did.

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[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language and violence Warnings: Choking (kinda) Summary: Local feral human makes a friend, tries to sleep next to local mean vampire, then gets a taste of their own medicine Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!

3: Haunt Me Dearly

What a lovely crimson mess I’ve made, you think, watching as the last of the bloody water drained from the bathtub. There were still several splashes of red along the sides, where you had leaned on or otherwise touched. Frowning, you considered whether or not to clean up after yourself. Surely it wouldn’t be one of your captors doing the cleaning? In that case, you think, I don’t want to make any enemies out of the servants. First you had to finish binding your wounds. Wouldn’t want to risk getting them dirty so soon after washing them, after all. Except you weren’t even sure that you could properly wrap them on your own, considering the positioning of your injuries.

“Ah, fucking hell…” You muttered, scowling a little. Then you remembered that Cassandra had sent a maid to wait outside the bathroom for you. Maybe they could help? Nodding to yourself, you threw on your new undergarments and pair of trousers, deciding to save the shoes for later. Once you were ‘decent’, you slowly opened the door, peeking out from behind it. Before long you were making eye contact with an unfamiliar woman, who looked very confused. “Any chance you could help me bandage my shoulder? I can’t do it without help, and something tells me Cassandra’s not going to lend me a hand.” With that said, you gave her a friendly smile, hoping to make up for the awkwardness of the situation.

“Of course! It is my honor to serve a guest of my Lady,” the maid- servant, maybe- said, giving a short curtsy. Admittedly you’re a little confused by her response. Still, you gladly welcome her assistance, moving back into the bathroom to grab the gauze. Although you intend to do as much as you can on your own, the woman is quick to take over completely. “Please, allow me,” she continued, carefully beginning to wrap your wounds.

“Are all the workers here so polite? I can’t imagine anyone actually enjoys working here, all things considered,” you mused, squinting at the middle distance. At that, the servant tenses up, clearly not expecting you to speak ill of her employers. Well, she had called you a guest. “Don’t be surprised, friend. Less than an hour ago I was fit to be consumed by ‘your Lady Cassandra’. Only reason I’m not dead right now is because of a stupid blood bond,” you explained, tone dripping with irritation. This time the servant doesn’t flinch at all, instead nodding slowly, taking a moment to let your words sink in. During this pause, you decide to introduce yourself, just in case the two of you might see each other frequently.

“I… see. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, no matter the circumstances of your presence here. You can call me Daphne, though I must warn you that I am not one for, ahem, gossip about my masters,” she replied, finishing her binding of your shoulder wound. Next she searched through the cabinet by the sink, looking for a medicinal salve of some sort. Once she found it she was right back to work. The substance stung a tad on your skin, but you could hardly complain, seeing as it would help fight off possible infections.

“You sure about no gossip? What if we call it ‘helping me get acclimated to my new situation’? I’m a fish outta water here, Daphne,” you suggested, turning your head to look her in the eyes. At first she ignored you, focusing on rubbing the medicine into your skin. Eventually she meets your gaze, briefly, and releases a quiet sigh.

“You are free to ask questions-” you start to celebrate, though not for long- “just as I am free to withhold answers. Though I may be more responsive if you can tell me one thing… Why was Lady Cassandra’s dress wet?” Daphne asked, making you freeze in place. Of course she wanted the one answer you didn’t feel confident about giving. She’s quick to notice this, though, and laughs to herself. “Well, I suppose some things must remain a mystery. Now let’s get your face cleaned up…”

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By the time you make it to Cassandra’s room, the sun is starting to rise, leaking in through the castle windows. Exhaustion weighs you down, making you want to fall immediately into the nearest bed. As it stands, that was none other than your soulmate’s, though it was currently occupied. For a moment you hover in her doorway, contemplating whether or not you should steal her blanket. Floor can’t be too bad, you think, right? Before you can decide you notice Cassandra stirring from her sleep.

“What took you so fucking long?” She asked groggily. Now she’s sitting up, blanket clinging loosely to her body, and you realize that she’s not wearing a shirt. Though a blush rishes up your cheeks, you’re certain it’s too dark for Cassandra to notice. Or at least you hope so. Wanting to think about something other than what she was (or was not) wearing, you focus your energy on responding.

“Isn’t it obvious? I got invited to a sick orgy on the way back, and I wasn’t about to turn that down, so…” You trailed off, gesturing idly with your hands. The movement stretches your shoulder more than you’d like, resulting in an ache that lasts several seconds. It distracts you to the point where you almost can’t catch the object Cassandra promptly throws at you. “What the hell…?” It’s a shoe, as far as you can tell, that definitely would have hurt, had it hit its intended target. “Such a lovely gift, babe. I will treasure it for the rest of my days, forever keeping it as a reminder that you-” your tone shifts from a false joy to deadpan- “are a piece of shit. Now, seriously, where am I supposed to sleep? Is there a walk-in closet I can camp in? Or do I get the bed, while you sleep in a fucking coffin or something?”

Before Cassandra has a chance to respond, you’re walking further into her room, wanting to take a quick look around. There’s a large dresser that you quickly toss her shoe inside, as well as a window sill with a built-in reading nook. Trading your tiredness for sheer dickery, you throw open the curtains, letting the light pour in (and nearly blind you in the process). Half of you expects your soulmate to screech in response. Maybe even turn to ash. Instead, you hear her moving, and you turn to find her laying back down, facing away from you.

“When you’re done fucking around, come over here and sleep. I will knock you out if I have to,” Cassandra muttered, still sounding half asleep. As much as you wanted to know if she’d go through with her threat, you are exhausted. Begrudgingly you approach the bed. It’s certainly large enough for two people, even having enough room for you to be completely separate from each other. When you start to climb in, you find yourself overwhelmed for a moment, surprised at the quality of the sheet fabric. Exactly how rich were these vampiric assholes? This room alone seemed to be worth more than you had ever known.

This was, perhaps, the one bright side to your situation: A comfortable state of existence. Well, as comfortable as one could get in a place like this. So lovely on the outside, a muse worthy of a thousand artists, yet hiding far darker horrors within… much like the woman you now found yourself laying beside. Why me? Why her? What could possibly bring the two of us together, you think, other than a cruel fate? There’s a pain in your chest, dishearteningly similar to heartache. Damning the universe, and your blood bond, and yourself, you think ‘fuck it’ before sliding closer to Cassandra. One arm drapes itself over her waist, while you slowly lean your head against her back.

In an instant she’s tense, not even breathing, waiting for you to reveal whatever trick hid up your sleeve. But no trick comes, just your hand meeting hers, squeezing softly. Suddenly the tension is gone. None remains, not even lingering in the air, and the two of you soon drift off to sleep...

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Shaking, body made a wreck through tremors, tears staining her cheeks. Breathing comes hard, each shift of her lungs bringing with it a mighty ache. Someone’s holding her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, fingers tracing circles against her back. But she’s lost in her dream, eyes clenched shut. Visions flash before her gaze like lightning in a storm. There’s no time to process, no opportunity to prepare for the thunder that follows. Every strike is a punch to the gut she can’t ignore. When release finally comes, it is not a gentle kiss to her forehead, or a reassuring hand on her own, but rather an intense surge of pain that jolts her awake.

Cassandra nearly screams as she sits up, hands reflexively going to hold her head. One of them stings, bad, and she notices what look like bite marks on the side. For a moment her confusion acts as a welcome distraction. Then she’s looking next to her, and the puzzle practically puts itself together. There you are, one hand in your mouth, an eyebrow raised as you stare at her. Ignoring the lingering memories of her dream, she turns all of her rage towards you. Quickly she grabs ahold of your arm, forcefully yanking your hand out of your mouth, even though it makes your teeth dig in a little deeper. It takes more willpower than she wants to admit to stop herself from strangling you right then and there.

“I didn’t know monsters could even have nightmares,” you taunted. Before you know what’s happening, Cassandra is lunging towards you, pressing her forearm against your throat. There’s just enough pressure to make talking difficult. Both of her yellow eyes are filled with hatred, aimed right at you, but you can’t help but laugh. “Ya know, I did try to wake you up nicely. I should have known you only respond to violence. Next time, though, I’ll remember to stay a safe distance away.”

“You don’t know anything, dipshit. Anyone else would know better than to spout so much fucking ignorance, but nobody taught you how to behave, huh?” Cassandra growled, applying more pressure with her arm, leaving you unable to reply (for once). “You’re a goddamn mutt, aren’t you? Thrown to the street like the garbage you are, left to live in the gutter, feeding off of trash like a fucking cannibal. You should be honored to be allowed anywhere near me. You should be worshiping me, for fuck’s sake!” Black dots form in your vision, a dark halo edging into the corners of your eyes, as your lungs beg for air. But you’re grinning. You’re showing your teeth, bright and proud, knowing full well that you have won this round. As soon as realization dawns on Cassandra’s face she’s pulling herself off of you.

Still, you are left gasping, clutching at your neck as she hurriedly gets dressed for the day. By the time you can see properly again, she’s left without another word. Even as she stalks down the corridor, eagerly rushing away from you, she hears your laughter howling through the castle. It digs into her brain, taunting her. Soon enough you’ll stop, light headed, but she will still hear it echoing inside her mind. You’ll haunt her just as much as her wicked dreams. Hopefully more.

[wizkiddx]

...surprise part 3

{part1} {part 2}

I got there in the end!!!! sorry I felt like this dragged quite a lot but just quite happy to get it done ahah. Any feedback / advice would be greatly appreciated :)

TW: this is pretty heavy angst, miscarriages / thoughts of self harm / death pls don't read if this could strike a cord x 

Summary: Y/n has absolutely not a clue how to tell Tom and that only strains the both incredibly. 

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The drive home was deathly silent. Tom’s Audi seamlessly drove down the near-empty roads on a sleepy Sunday evening. The whole time Y/n sat with one leg curled up by her chest as she absently stared out of the passenger window. Honestly, though, she was not taking anything of the view in, all processing power in her brain was in overdrive. Souly focused on how the fuck she was going to tell Tom what she had done. She knew Tom kept glancing over at her, with the panicked hint to his eyes- no matter how comforting he was trying to appear. His grip on the steering wheel was every tightening, he felt as though right now that was the only control he had. Still with no idea what was going on - but this time his mum knew too. And his mum when she came to get him from the living was not calm either.

Something he always admired about his mum was how cool she was in a crisis. Even if Paddy likened her to the ’rage monster’ at times when she was pissed because he’d left the freezer door open, or something equally as stupid, when it came down to it, when there was a really serious issue… she was composed. Calm and collected. So when she came in and called Tom, taking him away from his brothers, he could tell something was wrong by the look in her eye. She was upset, that was clear to him, but there was something more. It wasn’t straight up panic (not like if Y/n had passed out or something) but it was… it was a quiet urgency.

It meant it was bad.

Without the need to ever consider it, Tom knew this wasn’t anything to do with Y/n being unfaithful. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. And that meant, something must've happened personally to Y/n - which maybe scared him even more. If it was a betrayal of him, that would principally hurt Tom himself - which would kill him, but he would deal with it. It was the fear of the unknown and the complete powerlessness in this situation that had Tom wishing the drive away so he’d finally understand.

The drive felt painstakingly long for Tom… yet far too short for Y/n to come up with a plan.

When the pair finally pulled into the driveway, they both didn’t even exchange glances before heading out the car and slamming the doors shut. The crunch of their shoes on the gravel path to the front door was deafeningly loud as Tom fished the keys out of his pocket - this time with a sense of dread that contrasted so strongly the excitement he’d felt less than 24 hours ago doing the exact same thing.

Tom held the door open for her, as she fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve; eyes still glued to the floor. He flicked on the light to illuminate the hall as she slipped off her shoes. He mirrored her action and then for the first time since his parents' house looked her in the eye. Just that action had him near spilling his guts about how worried he was about her, before Y/n beat him to it.

“I’m…I’m gonna take a shower.”

And it had him floored. How could she just ignore the bloody massive and luminous elephant in the room? He couldn’t even respond, his brain was so confused as to what the fuck was going on. So she just nodded smally and headed straight upstairs. Leaving him in a stupor by the doorway.

Meanwhile, Y/n was just about holding it together until she got behind the locked door of their ensuite. Then it broke. She broke.

She pulled the clothes that drowned her off frantically, scratching and grabbing until the garments ripped off her body and were thrown across the room in haste. In the mirror, the reflection of the person that stood there somewhat had her transfixed. Tilting her head to the side, Y/n took careful steps up toward it - her eyes transfixed on her exposed abdomen. She was hollow. So very empty and it had her hypnotised. How barely weeks ago she was growing a real human inside there - creating something that should’ve gone onto laugh and smile and grow and learn. And love.

Now she was empty.

The poor thing though had been so deprived by their own mother; so unwanted and hated. They had been starved of all love by the person who was supposed to love them the most. The person who was supposed to be half their world for the first few years at least.

It was her fault.

Y/n hated herself, heck she wanted to punish herself for what she’d done. And yet, there was something so pure about her stomach, about where that angel had been. She wanted to punch herself, to kick and hurt, to make her feel pain. Except for this little life force, or the remnants of them - had her respecting it. Instead, she gently rubbed her stomach, which was flat rather than full like it should’ve been, and yet it felt like a relief. At a snail's pace, she trailed the tips of her finger across her belly just drawing (what she thought were) random patterns - however to anyone else they would have noticed the silhouette of a small human.

She took her time int the shower, having the water close to blisteringly hot but not quite there - using it as an attempt to purge her body of the thoughts, of the guilt. Eventually, though she couldn’t drag out the bathroom routine any longer, she had to go and face him. In reality, Y/n was well aware of how unfair this was on Tom - he had been terrified on the way back here, she knew that. But the thought of admitting to him this truly abhorrent thing she’d done, selfishly she didn’t want to tell him tonight. Just one more night sharing a bed with him, one morning of seeing his puffy eyes and bed hair, one last time hearing his gruff morning voice. Before he found out the real her and before he left.

Thankfully, when she finally drew the courage to unlock the door and leave her sanctuary, their bedroom was empty and she took that opportunity. As fast as she possibly could, Y/n changed into an old nightshirt before huddling under the covers. Tom had been so careful with her feelings today, he might just leave her be. Delay the conversation till tomorrow. It was the dream.

And dreams don’t come true.

Tom walked in, she could hear the soft pad of his feet on the cream carpet as she tried to act fast asleep - regulating her breathing and relaxing every muscle she could. When in fact that the whole process was the opposite of relaxing, she was on such high alert, waiting for a sign of him leaving her alone for the evening. Quite expectedly though, it didn’t quite go down that way. She heard him sigh, felt him sit on his side of the bed as her body rippled with the dip on the bed, felt his eyes piercing her.

“Y/n…” the tone of his voice had her wincing internally, he was hurting. “Y/n please… just talk to me?” She was too scared to move. “ I know your awake Y/n we both know who’s the actor here” Y/n knew Tom was trying to lighten the mood, trying to make her feel a bit more comfortable but then he switched back to an underlying hint of desperation. “Please talk to me.” She didn’t have a choice, he wasn't going to let up - Y/n could tell. So she rolled over and opened her eyes facing him.

“I’m tired, Tom. Can we do this tomorrow?” His face completely morphed and she knew she fucked up. He wasn’t upset or worried or scared any more.

“I’m sorry but that is not fair.”

“Please just-“

“NO. ah” He sighed, as if disciplining himself for the instinctive angry tone. “Look- I-I’ve been going at your pace. I’ve been treading on eggshells all day. I didn’t want to push you but I’m bloody terrified! I mean you told my mum! And she’s worried so that means I’m even more stressed and-…. Just please Y/n. You know I’d never judge you I’m just worried because I care.”

And just like that, she didn’t have a choice. She was really hurting the man she loved.

As a result, Y/n pushed herself up into a sitting position, still hugging the duvet around her in a protective blanket as she looked into his glassy eyes. It tore her heart out.

“I’m really sorry” she pursed her lips blowing out an exhale, trying to collect all her thoughts, feelings and emotions together. “I’ve been trying to all day but-.. it’s just I’m finding this really hard to express in words.”

“I don’t mind if it takes all night, just I-I want to understand.” He was just too kind and she didn’t deserve it. So picking at the duvet while pulling her legs closer in protection she nodded.

“Okay, so-so I just take you through it chronologically? And-and then I can go to Y/f/n’s place so.”

“Why would you got to hers?” He asked, his eyebrows drawn tightly together in confusion. He knew you hadn’t been unfaithful - his mum most definitely wouldn’t have reacted in the way she did had Y/n betrayed Tom.

“Just… just listen first.” She didn’t want to answer that question, to speak it into existence. Him kicking her out, in a rage of fury and anger at how evil she could be. She thought he’d just reply and accept it, not feel the need to calm her.

“I could never ever hate you Y/n please, it’s a bit insulting to me that you think I would.”

His words had her a little shocked - she had definitely not expected that reaction. His offence.

“Umm okay just… just don’t promise till you hear.” He gave her a stern look, not enough to make her back down or change her mind from what she thought was inevitable. “So. So it was when you were away. You’d just gone to Atlanta I think and-and I woke up one morning and was sick and it was weird I don’t know… um so I took the day off but I was okay until the next morning and-and I was sick again. It was weird so I took the next day off because you know Elliot I work with? He’s-he's got some broken immune system or something so we really can’t go in if we are ill. But I was fine until the next morning again and-and then it kind of hit me. I hadn’t had a period in ages and-and yeah.”

“Your pregnant?” Tom asked, trying to wrap his head around the current situation and what she was saying.

“Was…” Her voice wavered and she paused a second “ I-I was. I was shocked you know? We…we weren’t ready.” Y/n shifted uncomfortably, pushing herself closer to the headboard. “You said you didn’t want kids now and I mean … we- we are barely adults ourself right? It-it was so stupid but I couldn’t tell you could I?… Phone you up and say by the way I’m pregnant with a kid you don’t want!...” She dared to look at him, only for a second, seeing the way he just stared at her as though transfixed. She couldn’t keep looking at him.

“So I was waiting till you would get back … er next week, well when you were supposed to be back anyway.” She scoffed lightly at that, how the whole entire situation had been completely flipped on its head. “I would have had the scan then. And-and I went and it so stupid because they were a blob but-shit. They were so beautiful.” She hadn’t even noticed, suddenly absorbed in what she was saying but Tom leant over to grab one of her hands because it was trembling so vigorously. It wasn’t that he wanted to comfort her, he needed to. Because really? When it mattered, he hadn’t and that was already eating away at him.

“And I stupidly…. So fucking stupidly… I thought what if? I got excited and in my head… I don’t fucking know I just thought that I-it, it might work. I really - really thought it could work.” She couldn’t feel it but Tom wormed his arm around her shoulder, squeezing her into his side. “But by that point, I’d already filled them with so much hate. I wanted them out for so long and…and then I just- well I got what I thought I wanted.”

For the first time since she started her speech, Y/n wasn’t absorbed in retelling the story. Noticing her position with Toms arms protectively wrapped around her, she dared to look up into his eyes. And they weren’t right. It was wrong. Because here he was still looking at her with these incredibly soft warm brown eyes, his thumb rubbing up and down on the back of her shoulder blade.

“Love, I’m so so sorry.”

She was bemused. What the hell was he doing? Was this just a double bluff, acting all soft before he was about to rip her heart out - even if it was what she deserved, that was exceptionally cruel?

“No Tom your not listening. I-I couldn’t keep your baby alive! I-I wished them away… I wanted them gone!” Now she was plainly hysterical, shouting and yelling at Tom as her hands shook.

It broke Tom’s heart. He knew this was his fault - at least a little. Clearly, she should never have been in a position to have to deal with this herself, that was obvious. And it made him guilty… but what hit harder? She had very clearly implied she was worried about his reaction, he should never have let her worry. Because Tom knew he loved Y/n unconditionally, at this point that should be a given - for all he cared there was nothing, within the limits of reason, she could do that would make him seriously reconsider his opinion of her. Even then, if his opinion were ever forced to change so dramatically... he still knew he wouldn’t be able to stop loving her. Loving isn't an option, it is not a choice. You helplessly surrender yourself to it. And yet she was apparently less sure of this fact.

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with this by yourself.” And he meant it. He truly meant it. However, Y/n was not having it at all - in her state, in her frame of mind, this was him just torturing her; acting it out only to break her heart. His words and her position wrapped protectively in his arms dawned on her. It had her leaping up from the bed, tears streaming down her face as she gestured wildly.

“Tom that’s not fair! Don’t you get it? I KILLED YOUR BABY! They were alive and then I wasn’t enough for them! IT’S MY FAULT!” To put it simply, she looked insane. Screaming, with tears streaming down her face, arms flailing about as she yelled at Tom, who was still sitting on the bed.

He’d never seen her like this- with so much anger. What was even more disturbing was the fact that it was targeted so inwardly at herself.

“This isn’t your-“

“BE ANGRY TOM. For fuck sake… I-“ She choked out a sob “I murdered your kid! RAGE AT ME SHOUT AT ME it’s-it’s what I deserve.” It was insane but the look in her eye was one that seemed to Tom as though she needed him to hate her. As if in some fucked up narrative that was how the story should end.

He was not having one bit of it, tearing his eyes away from her maniacally shaking frail frame and instead to the corner of the ceiling. There was no precedent, no guidebook on how to deal with this, no past experiences to rely on. Unlike if Y/n had had a shit day, Tom knew then to subtly keep her within reach, to silently be there so she could literally and figuratively lean on him when she was ready; unlike when she was angry at ignorant politicians, he knew not to argue but prompt her to explain more, give a more reasoned argument so anger became thought through intellect; unlike when her grandma had died, when she just needed his contact, she needed his thumb rubbing against her hip, needed to sleep listening to the rhythmical thumping of his heart. None of these were applicable - his touch seemed to make her worse; his words seemed to anger her more; his mere presence didn’t seem to be doing an awful lot of good.

And yet, he couldn’t leave her even if it seemed to be the most logical option. Because she was wild, not herself and not logical and he, for the first time, was terrified of the danger she could be to herself.

Y/n stared at him, wide-eyed, waiting for him to react. She saw his Adam's apple bob up and down - readying his voice to scream at her. She saw his brown eyes collect a sheen of tears of rage - ready to bore holes into her skull as he degraded her to what she was worth. Which was very little. Then, as if in slow motion, his sharp jawline tilted back level and his eyes met her. He was frozen as if a statue, ready to rage at her.

“I love you both. So much and equally.”

Tom was pretty sure he could imagine Y/n’s runaway train in her head slam on the breaks. Her eyebrow twitched a little, as she stood completely still trying to analyse his words. Because to her, it didn’t make sense. So he took this moment of (at least surface level) calm to smoothly and slowly stand up, actions much like mirroring how someone approaches a spooked cat on the streets. Movements slow and preplanned, trying not to set off the fight or flight response on the women in front of him.

“That little baby you made… I didn’t know he ever existed till minutes ago but…but I know for a fact I love them.” He was trying to both figure out and decode his own emotions while explaining them in a way Y/n would accept and understand.

“I love them because… they are made by the love of my life. And that’s incredible and indescribable and just… just part of you, an extension of everything you and me together are… They would never have been perfect right?” Tom softly asked, though realistically knowing he wouldn’t get a response from a still motionless Y/n - besides a single tear, which appeared to have a mind of its own, escaping over her bottom lash lid. Tom watched it roll down her cheek as he composed his next words. “No they wouldn’t, no ones perfect… neither me nor you. But they would’ve been safe and have been loved. They were loved, you-you loved them right, even if you didn’t think you did or when you were terrified?” This time Y/n nodded minutely and Tom mirrored this, taking a small step a little closer to her. “And I did love them while they were in your stomach because they were part of you and I always always love you…. So they were so full of love okay? There's no rhyme or reason to why what happened happened but it’s… it’s definitely not because they were starved of love okay?” Y/n still didn’t have appeared to have released a single breath since Tom stood up, so he made a calculated and risked assessed movement to reach his hand out to touch her upper arm. In reaction, she sucked in a sharp shaky breath and then expelled it just as quickly - just like Tom knew she would. He physically felt a pull in his chest seeing the torment in her glassy eyes, now barely a rulers length from her.

“This, it’s an awful… awful situation. It’s sad and heartbreaking but I really need you to know that it changes nothing about how I feel about you. I need you to really understand how much I love-and always will-love you, and how I love them too.” Another tear escaped the same eye and Tom reached up with his other hand so his thumb could brush it away before the glassy orb met her pronounced jawline. To be honest he was quite grateful for the moment as he felt his voice getting a bit sticky in the back of his throat. She still wasn’t ready to speak yet and he was okay with that.

“We’ll never forget them and we will always love them, but I want to do that with you, as we get older together. They tie us closer and I refuse to disrespect them and force ourselves apart….a-assuming you don’t want to either?” Still cupping her cheek with his left hand Tom felt as well as saw her nod, this time more emphatically, her eyes darting between focusing on his left and then right eye - as though she was just checking they were saying the same things as his mouth.

“I’m sorry I-“ Finally feeling the connection between her brain and voice box, Y/n stated to jiltedly speak but was interrupted as Tom tentatively feathered his lips on hers. “You can be sorry for scaring the crap out of me today, you can be sorry for shouting and you can be sorry for not telling me at all… I don’t think you should, but if you’re staying sorry that’s all you can be sorry for.” He was barely speaking, more like just moving his lips against hers, yet they knew and understood each other completely Y/n got everything. So she sighed and repeated.

“I am sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for you not having the faith to know I’d be happy, that was my fault. I’m sorry for not being here and not noticing when you were struggling on the phone. I’m sorry I crept up on you last night. But I don’t think there’s anything else for either of us to apologise for.”

“Okay” Y/n then pressed her lips firmly and almost desperately against his, feeling his warmth wrap around her, as he literally wrapped his arm around her waist, from where it had been on her upper arm. And really she was very incredibly desperate since it was very very incredibly clear now with him pressed against her that he might’ve been all she needed this whole time. Tom went with it for a couple of moments, but then broke them both apart - it sounds odd but he sort of felt like he was taking advantage of her.

“Darling you’re grieving. We can tackle this together …. But your grieving so we need to look after you first. And, and we’ll remember them and face this. But we gotta look out for each other too and…”

“I’m ill aren’t I?” He was oh-so relieved that she could see it too.

“I’m not a doctor but I think so… think we need to get you eating properly.”Y/n nodded and Tom kissed her forehead, pulling her completely against his chest - only exacerbating and exaggerating his awareness of how boney she felt. It hadn’t gone unnoticed how she’d spent the whole of Sam’s dinner pushing the meat round on her fork - rearranging it numerous times- whilst picking at a few carrots. “We can do whatever you feel will help you this evening but you need to tell me what you want to eat.”

*

You agreed but you still felt incredibly nauseous, so managed to put off the whole snacking thing in lieu of cuddling up on the sofa with Tom. You were still incredibly confused, feeling slightly detached from reality if you were completely honest. And you knew Tom was a good actor, his career kind of speaks for himself yet, all the same, the sheer truth in his eyes, voice, heart. It had you feeling safe. He no longer felt a flight risk and although you still couldn’t understand why he was forgiving you so easily, you believed he was. In the softest voice, he kept just saying ‘your grieving’ when you tried to challenge his logic- admittedly proving difficult in your scattered and hazy mind.

So you found yourself lying almost completely on top of his right side, your head tucked underneath his chin, a fluffy blanket weighing down on your back to keep you nice and toasty. Silently Tom had trailed his fingertips tentatively, under the hem of your t-shirt, round over the top of your hip to his stomach. Initially, it had felt like the worst and most alien feeling in the world- but he told you to relax and you listened; he told you to take deep breaths and you listened; he told you he loved you and you listened.

It must’ve been incredibly boring for him, I mean the TV wasn’t on neither was the radio and you knew his phone was in a pocket you were currently lying on. He didn’t complain though, he just let you lie there. Just sort of being with him.

*

At some point Tom realised she’d drifted off, after a long time fighting exhaustion, as though she were worried about what Tom would do once she finally gave in to sleep. It wasn’t surprising though, considering her energy intake from food for today was limited to a couple of roasted carrot slices, Tom knew her falling asleep on his chest was inevitable. The time it took had also given him enough time to fully digest and process the whole day as well as for deciding what he needed to do. So once she appeared fully out of Tom dared to worm his hand between their bodies and, with a few muted grunts of effort, phish his phone out his back pocket.

‘Hi, I know this asking a lot but would you mind getting Sam to make that pasta bake Y/n likes and dropping it round? Just she’s asleep but I don’t want to leave her alone but could do with getting something in her?’

‘Sams already on it and it doesn’t take long. I’ll be at yours in about an hour, shall I just let myself in?’

Tom was so grateful for his family, and for how they’d taken Y/n in to. Although she’d never admit it, her tougher than average upbringing always had her feeling a bit isolated- she never had ‘her’ people. The people who completely accepted her for who she was and never judged her. But as soon as he’d introduced her to them, it was as if she'd always been there. He endlessly appreciated the talks Nikki and you had, the way his Dad would come over when she was home alone to help with the simple stuff like knowing what lightbulb to buy for the lamp that had blinked out.

She had a place in his family.

Quite impressively, Sam had managed to bake the dish and then Nikki had managed to drive round before barely three-quarters of an hour had passed. Y/n was still completely out, so when he heard his mum unlock the door with her spare key, he felt able to wiggle out from under her without disturbing at all. He met Nikki in the kitchen, leaning against the door frame as he watched his mother fly about the kitchen - preheating the oven on a low temp to keep it warm while pulling plates and cutlery out the drawers so it was easier for Y/n and Tom when you woke up.

“Thanks for all this” Tom announced his presence with a soft sigh as he padded further into the kitchen. Nikki instinctively threw her arms round her eldest’s shoulders, squeezing him tightly.

“You guys okay?” Tom replied with a rather uncertain hum, before recounting the evening to his mum in a low voice - as though Y/n could be disturbed from the other side of the house. Nikki was in two frame of minds at this point, clearly heartbroken for the pair; but also incredibly proud of her son because it appeared he’d reacted and said exactly the right things.

“And you?… it must’ve been a shock?” To be quite honest, Tom hadn't thought about his own emotions yet, he’d put himself on the back foot for the time being.

“I mean it’s just a bit surreal… I don’t know I didn’t really have anything to do with it but - I just know that it's made me so certain that one day we will... you know?” Nikki hugged her son again with a little nod.

“Well I won’t outstay my welcome but I do want you to give this to Y/n too.”’ With those words, she fished a square box out of her handbag - it was about the size of two matchboxes and Tom raised his brows in curiosity. “She’ll understand when she sees it.”

And with a brisk parting gesture, Nikki left, Tom tucking the box into his side pocket before getting the pasta ready.

////////

Waking you with a gentle rub on your upper arm, you mewled a groan and pushed your head hard into the sofa below you in an attempt to alleviate the tension that instantly rippled through your skull. With hazy eyes, you blinked heavily, slowly focusing on the pale yet soft skin of the boy crouched opposite you.

“Hey darling, nice nap?” Nodding gradually, you still tried to completely recollect and piece together everything that had happened today “… you need some grub before we head upstairs yeh?” Again you nodded in compliance because at this point, even having been asleep for the last however long, you really didn’t have the energy for any conflict or disagreement. With a little prompt and poke from Tom, you reluctantly sat up, grasping the plate he offered to you while still rubbing one of your eyes. Busying himself with running back to the kitchen and grabbing his own plate and drink, you had time to look at the food and notice what was served to you. Tom plopped himself next to you and turned his head with a small smile, meeting a bemused and slightly suspicious look from you.

“You didn’t cook this…?” Really it wasn’t a question. You knew for a fact Tom was not and would never be a good chef. No judgement though, since neither were you, meaning the pair of you heavily relied on the ingenious invention of uber eats most evenings. Tom chuckled at your perceptiveness and admitted defeat without even trying to feign it.

“Nah mum dropped it round. Though I think Sam cooked it so a joint effort.”

“-didnt have to-“ You hated feeling like a burden. You hated people worrying because you just felt bad. Not worth the attention and effort. And Tom hated you feeling like that - naturally then, he had the need to shut you down instantly.

“No, you’re right. But they did.”

The air was filled with the quiet clinks of ceramic against the silver or the cutlery as you forced mouthful after mouthful down your throat. He was trying to be subtle, and yet you could feel Tom’s concerned glance checking you were eating. Truthully, you really didn’t feel like eating at all (even if it was Sam’s gorgeous tomato and sausage pasta bake - an odd combination but it worked). However, what more crucial in that moment was not disappointing your incredibly sweet boyfriend.

After having consumed as much as you physically could - which Tom deemed suitable with a small nod- he took your plates away and came back to sit beside you. More and more silence.

“Are-are we okay?” Whispering quietly you felt Tom’s body seize up into a rigid state, his face whipping round to look at you. He chose to reply with actions first reaching up so that his hands cupped your cheeks, he turned your head and then slowly leaned into to press his lips softly against yours. Once retracted, he pressed his forehead onto yours.

“Of course. I bloody love you and we’re going to get through this together.” His eyes were almost intimidating, with the seriousness he placed in his gaze - just to make sure you knew he meant it.

What you had done to deserve this boy you’d never know. But you were so incredibly grateful for him.

It gave you the confidence to take the first move this time, pressing your lips against his, holding for a moment before arching away - a small yet real smile on your face.

“Oh… nearly forgot” He muttered, leaning forward and grabbing a black leather box that you’d failed to notice had been placed on the coffee table. For the second time this evening, you were caught off guard and bemused as to how he’d sourced this item within the time frame. “It’s from mum… she wouldn’t tell me what it is but said you’d understand.”

His words had you biting your lip, in a weird way eager to see, purely because you knew Nikki understood you. And understood what you were going through. With one last look to Tom, you reached out and grabbed the box, thumb running over the sleek leather exterior. Once your thumb reached the bottom you flicked the lid up, unveiling a simple silver chained bracelet. It had five dainty silver charms hanging off it, they looked a bit like leaves but were kind of too small to tell. Moreover, it looked a little worn and preloved but it didn’t stop your eyes from watering when you saw at the bottom another charm, not yet attached that looked newer and pristine.

5 charms already attached and 1 new one.

“Oh” Tom muttered, also clearly very much intrigued, hovering off you left shoulder to see properly. ”That’s mums bracelet. She never really takes it off… that’s nice I guess?” He was obviously confused and it had you chuckling wetly, at how oblivious he could be. You did love your dear idiot.

5 charms for her 5 pregnancies… and now one for yours. One to wear forever, to love, to keep close to your heart.

They were tears of happiness, you were certain of, however, Tom was not at all sure why your flood gates opened again and was worried.

“You-you don’t have to take- I mean if you don’t like it don’t worry-“

“I love it” You breathed, looking up at him with glassy eyes before hastily picking up the extra charm and with shaky fingers clasping it onto the chain next to it. Tom perked up, if still bemused, wrapping his arm around your shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t know how you convinced her to take it off, I’ve been trying to buy her a new bracelet for years but she’s always stuck with this old thing.”

“Because it’s beautiful!” You yelped in argument, making him laugh at how suddenly you’d switched into a happy and overexcited mood. Though don’t get me wrong, he was loving it.

“You Holland women I will never understand.” He whispered into your ear whilst you looked back at the chain, fixing it round your wrist. His comment made you freeze up, as you felt his grip tightening on your waist as he realised exactly what he might have just let slip out. “No I er- I don’t mean… but-but one day maybe if-if you wanted.”

“I love you” You sighed, kissing him once again to save him the embarrassment of watching his cheeks flush and ears pink up.

“I’m serious though… one day because… because you’re my family and when it happens our family will grow too.”

He was right. And you would, one day,

But you would never forget the two little lives remembered on this bracelet.

tagging people that might be interested (sorry if u don't care ahah): @wayfaring----stranger @vanillanestor @333dolans @thevelvetseries @whitewolf51 

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (4)

(Y’all ready to read the next update??? Enjoy part four of this fic and if you’re interested, feel free to check out the mini series connected to this called the Journal Entries. It’s just little journal snippets from the two dorks that I decided to write for fun :D)

Ch.1 / Ch.3 / Ch.5

Chapter 4: Get to Know You

Marinette slipped on her white, non-flour-covered leather jacket and pushed her pigtails back so they wouldn’t be tucked into her outfit. She then smoothed out her pink dress with a smile, admiring the black flowers that she’d stitched along the bottom. This dress had been one of her stress-relieving projects, but it turned out quite well, in her opinion.

Once Papa had finished teaching her friends how to fold the dough, he put their croissants into the fridge to chill them and instructed everyone to go upstairs and wash up. Marinette dutifully took them up to her room where her personal bathroom was and taught them how to use the shower, but when she tried to lead one of them to her parent’s bathroom as well, they insisted that she take a shower there herself. 

“What kind of gentlemen would we be if we forced the ladies to wait on us?” Claude had said light-heartedly, though she could tell he meant it. Allegra’s smirk as she walked in the bathroom to take a shower first was proof of that. 

The notion had warmed Marinette’s heart, coaxing a giggle from her each time she thought about it. It might be hard to see sometimes, but Claude, Allan, and Felix truly were a considerate and chivalrous group of boys. 

Now, She’s finished her shower in her parent’s bathroom and gone back up to her bedroom, where Allegra, Claude, and Allan had been patiently waiting. Allegra was nice and clean again, wearing the long, purple shirt and black leggings that Marinette had given her, and Claude appeared to have just exited the shower, his damp hair sticking to his face and dripping across his borrowed, black and blue “O.K” shirt. Allan was still covered in flour.

Allegra smiled at Marinette from her spot on the chaise as she re-braided her long, golden blonde hair. “Thanks for the extra clothes, Mari! These are amazing.”

“Yeah!” Claude agreed enthusiastically, holding out his with a grin. “This shirt is awesome!”

Marinette glanced down to hide her blush. “I-It’s the least I could do.”

“We still appreciate it.” Allan replied.

“Oh!” Marinette said, suddenly thinking about the fact that Allan was still covered in flour. “Allan, do you want to use Maman’s shower? You don’t have to stand around waiting for Felix.”

That who she assumed was occupying the shower, anyway. The water was still running, and everyone but Felix was present. 

Allan waved a hand. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll be getting a shower soon if Felix would hurry up.”

Marinette chuckled at Allan’s obvious call to Felix, even more so when Felix shouted back from the bathroom, “You’re the one that let me go first!”

“I didn’t know you would take a day and a half!” 

“That’s still your fault then, isn’t it?” Felix shot back.

Allan scoffed and crossed his arms, causing Marinette to offer her parent’s shower again out of guilt. She had been the one to throw flour on him, after all.

“Are you sure you don’t want to-”

The bathroom door swung open, effectively cutting Marinette off, and Felix stepped out with one hand on his hip and the other hand on the towel that was draped across his head. He shot Allan a glare, practically growling the words, “There. I’m out. Are you happy?”

“Delighted.” Allan responded sarcastically.

Marinette might have been concerned about the growing conflict had she not been focused on Felix’s outfit. Or rather, how well it suited him. The black, three-quarter-sleeved shirt that she’d given him, along with the plaid green, button-up shirt she’d provided to go underneath, clung to his waist, revealing his surprisingly slender figure. The dark grey jeans he wore in place of his dress pants didn’t fit the outfit exactly, but they worked well enough, and Marinette eagerly started taking mental notes for future adjustments.

Allan grabbed his clothes and walked into the bathroom, while Felix glared daggers at him until the bathroom door closed. 

“Woah~” Allegra crowed, easily breaking the tension. “You should wear casual outfits more often, Felix. They really suit you.”

Claude smirked. “No kidding. I swear you’ve worn the same suit for the whole two years we’ve known.”

Felix turned his glare to Claude with a scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve worn plenty of suits, each one made differently.”

Allegra snorted. “That wasn’t.. That was not the point, Felix.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, the barest hint of confusion finding its way to his features, and Marinette took that opportunity to speak up.

“How’s the outfit? Does it fit alright?” She asked. Hopefully she can find the original measurements for the outfit if it does fit fine, because Felix was most likely going to become a regular customer. Maybe he wouldn’t hire her for actual commissions, but she might end up making something for him on impulse. (as you do)

Felix caught her eye, his glare slowly fading as he registered her question.

“The fabric is extremely comfortable, and the clothes fit perfectly.” He said after a moment. “You said you made these?”

She nodded. “With my sewing machine. I was thinking of putting a green paw print on the shirt too, but I haven’t gotten around to it.”

Felix hummed, idly pulling his towel from on top of his head to around his shoulders. “I see. Thank you for lending them to me.”

Marinette blinked, suddenly finding herself captivated by the way his hair fell across his face. Still being damp, various strands stuck to his forehead and cheeks, and he reached up to brush them away. This brought her attention to his face, which, for some reason, she hadn’t quite noticed before. The defined jawline, the subtle-yet-there cheek bones, the pointed nose- all of his features were sharp. Even his eyes held a silver tint to them that reminded her of steel. 

These observations dragged her to one, rather important revelation: Felix Culpa was actually a fairly handsome person.

“Marinette?” Felix said, drawing her from her thoughts. “Are you alright?”

A rush of heat swarmed her cheeks, and Marinette straightened. “W-what? I mean yes! Yeah, I’m totally fine, I.. yes.”

“Hey, speaking of clothes!” Claude piped up, graciously saving Marinette from her own awkwardness. “How’s my prince costume going?”

Marinette twirled around in her rolling chair and grabbed for her sketching notebook. A distraction was definitely something she needed right now.

“I’ve got a few different ideas, but you need to come tell which one you like best.” She explained as she flipped open the notebook.

Claude hopped up from the stray chest he’d been sitting on and practically bounced over to her seat. She let him scan each page, smiling when he started humming “Ooh’s” and “Aah’s”.

“I can only pick one?! But they’re all so good!” Claude remarked, almost exasperated.

Marinette chuckled. “Well.. I guess I can make all of them for you, but you at least need to choose which one I start on.”

Claude gasped. “You mean you’re going to make all of these for me?”

“It’s going to take a month or so to get them all done.” She warned. “But-”

Claude scooped her into a bone-crushing hug, briefly reminding her of her father. “Thank you, Mari! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!”

Marinette laughed and gave him a light pat on the arm. “You’re welcome.”

Her smile widened as Claude eagerly grabbed the notebook and ran back to his designated chest to look through the drawing again. It was nice to see someone who was also enthusiastic about fashion. She’d gotten tired of talking to people who simply didn’t understand the hype of creating unique styles of clothing. 

“You know he’s never going to leave you alone now, right?” Felix commented next to her.

Marinette offered him a glance as she said, “I think I can live with that.”

Felix shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

She smiled at that. Felix may be striking, but that didn’t have to change anything. Lots of people were striking. And lots of people remained friends despite that.

“Oh,” Felix muttered, seeming to remember something, “Where do you want me to put my clothes? They’re still in the bathroom because of Allan, but..”

“Uhm.. I think Maman said she was going to wash them.” Marinette answered. “She wanted to try to get them clean before supper for all of you.”

“Ah, supper.” Claude cut in, heaving a jokingly wistful sigh. “I can’t wait for that. If your mom’s croissants can taste that heavenly, then her full meals must be amazing.”

He sunk against the chest for emphasis, not realizing that there was a gap between the chest and the wall. The sudden weight threw the chest off balance, and it tipped forward, causing Claude to get jerked backwards. He flailed his arms briefly and yelped before crashing to the floor. The front of the chest hit the ground as well, and the impact popped it open, scattering various objects across the floor.

“Oh, Claude!”

“Are you okay?” 

The girls rushed to his side to help him up, but Felix shot him a flat look.

“First the kitchen and now her bedroom.” He said curtly. “Should we tear up the living room next? Or perhaps the dining room has more fragile items?”

Allegra rolled her eyes. “Felix, can you at least try to be sympathetic.”

“I am being sympathetic. Marinette doesn’t have the money to replace things at the drop of a hat like we do. It’s rude to behave so recklessly in her home.”

Marinette glanced up at Felix, not sure whether to find his words sweet or offensive. “Trust me, it’s fine. This chest is old anyway.”

Felix’s frown told her that he didn’t agree on the matter, but before he could argue further, the bathroom door swung open again.

“What happened?” Allan asked, his hair still dripping wet. “I heard the crash. Is anyone hurt?”

“Only my pride.” Claude groaned in response. He was sitting up now and rubbing his head as Allegra switched between scolding and coddling.

Allan sighed with relief. “Oh, good. You can’t hurt something that’s not there.”

“Hey!”

Marinette giggled at the comment. “Allan, how is your outfit? Do I need to make any adjustments?”

Allan glanced down at his clothes. She’d given him a maroon shirt with a blue heartbeat line in the center, a black and blue shirt to go underneath, and a pair of black jeans. He didn’t appear to be wearing the second shirt, though.

“Oh, they fit great.” He said, twisted his torso a bit to get a better feel for the new clothes. “I didn’t have time to put on the second shirt, though. I heard the crash and panicked.”

Marinette offered him a smile. “That’s fine. I can just put it back in the closet.”

Allan nodded and looked down at the mess. “So Claude spilled this chest?”

“Yeah, he was being an idiot.” Allegra remarked as she picked up one of the trinkets. “You know. Nothing new.”

“Wow. can you guys lay off for two seconds?” Claude huffed. He reached forward to pick up one of the objects as well, curiosity overtaking his annoyance. “What is all of this stuff, anyway?”

Marinette glanced at the miscellaneous objects to check- she had several trunks that acted as ‘junk drawers’ -and immediately cringed when she recognized a black hat with rainbow colors stitched along the bottom.

“Oh..” It was Adrien’s gift chest. She’d almost forgotten that she had it. “They’re, um.. They’re just crafts, really.”

“Just crafts?” Claude repeated, holding up a crocheted Ladybug doll. “These are awesome!”

Marinette watched them for a moment. “...do you want them?”

The group looked up in shock, and Marinette quickly added, “Y-You don’t have to take them! I’ve just.. Uh.. they’re like junk? I mean, not junk, but this is my junk chest.. Sort of. I’ve just been meaning to get rid of them. So if you want them, you can have them.” 

Allegra frowned. “Are you sure? It looks like you put a lot of effort into these.”

Marinette nodded. “Positive. Take whatever you want.”

Although hesitant at first, the group continued to look through the gifts, and little by little, they started to take some. A smile came to Marinette’s lips as she watched the pile of Adrien junk dwindle. She had spent a lot of time on making the presents, but there was no way she’d be giving them to Adrien now. So what was the point of keeping them in her room? To serve as a mocking reminder of how blind she had been while loving him? No thanks.

By the time they were done, the chest only had half the gifts it used to, and Marinette quickly decided that she would donate the leftovers once she got the chance. 

“Thanks for the stuff, Mari!” Claude said cheerfully, his hands full of various objects.

Allegra nodded, holding a few things herself. “Yeah, you really do spoil us.”

“Which is saying something, considering we’re rich.” Allan teased, pocketing the two items that he’d decided to snatch. 

Marinette chuckled. “You’re helping me more than I am you.”

She stood up and walked to the bathroom to grab the boys’ old clothes. “I’m gonna bring these down to Maman, but feel free to look around until I get back.”

The group voiced their agreements, and Marinette climbed down the trapdoor ladder with the pile of clothes in hand, feeling like another weight had been lifted off of her shoulders.

Getting rid of Adrien’s gifts was one more step towards happiness, and she couldn’t wait to keep walking.

~~~~~~

One can tell a lot about a person by their bedroom. How clean they were, whether they were sentimental, which things they found important- a bedroom could quite literally be considered a box in which someone stored their entire personality. That’s why Felix had been anticipating this part of the visit. Someone can be a master manipulator, but their room would always show their true selves. And it only took one look for Felix to know..

Marinette really loved the color pink.

Seriously, she had it everywhere. The walls, the furniture, the carpet- How was she not sick of the color by now? Felix was sick of it, and he’d only been there for about twenty minutes!

Pushing the pink thought aside, he continued poking around her room. Marinette had gone downstairs to pass his clothes off to her mother, so that gave him a bit of time to inspect the space unsupervised. Not that he was planning on doing anything scandalous. It merely gave him the opportunity of observing Marinette’s room on his own terms.

When she told him that her room was up in the attic, he’d been understandably shocked. The attic didn’t sound like a spacious place to sleep, let alone work on homework and other personal things. Seeing it now, though, Felix realized that that wasn’t the case. The attic was actually quite open. There was a desk, a closet, various chests, a bathroom, and she still had a good portion of the room empty. He wondered if that was thanks to the original size of the room or thanks to Marinette’s resourcefulness.

Her cleaning style wasn’t too bad, either. Don’t get him wrong, there were things scattered everywhere, but it was a specific type of scattered, like an organized chaos. He had a feeling that she knew where most of her necessities were. 

Felix moved to her desk, where most of the mess was focused. There were papers, sewing needles, scraps of fabric, and pencils spread across the surface. Her interest in fashion certainly shined through, as most of the papers were filled with various sketches and measurements. He found that admirable. When someone usually speaks of their ‘dream job’, they speak of it as a fantasy, one that they never intend to fully pursue, but Marinette was obviously reaching as high as she could to grasp her goal. She even had a mannequin in her room.

“Marinette’s room is so cool!” Claude exclaimed from the loft up top. “She even has a balcony!”

Felix glanced upwards, briefly setting the papers he’d been studying aside. There’s a balcony upstairs? He didn’t recall seeing a balcony on the way in.

“Claude, you have a balcony.” Allegra reminded him with an amused smile.

“Yeah, but mine only extends from the side of the building.” Claude defended. “This one’s on the roof!”

Ah, so that’s why Felix hadn’t seen it.

Allan frowned. “Really? Isn’t that a little dangerous?”

“It’s got a rail.” 

“Oh, okay. That’s fine then.”

Allegra chuckled as she brushed her hands against the hat on Marinette’s mannequin. “Marinette’s room is pretty neat, though.”

“I think it’s just Marinette who’s cool.” Allan remarked.

Allegra and Claude heartily agreed, and Felix nodded. “Cool” probably wouldn’t be the exact word that he’d use to describe her, but overall, it wasn’t far off.

“Can you believe we’ve only known her for a week?” Claude asked as he climbed down to their level. “It feels like we’ve known her forever already.”

“Yeah, but I think that’s just how she is.” Allegra smiled. “She draws you in and makes you feel like family.”

“Her parents are the same way.” Allan said. “You can really tell where she gets it from.”

“Where who gets what from?” 

Felix, along with the rest of the group, turned to the trapdoor, where Marinette was standing about halfway through. She didn’t have the clothes anymore, but she did have a tray of drinks.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Allegra said dismissively. “What are those?”

Marinette set the tray on the ground long enough to climb through and close the trapdoor as she explained, “Maman and Papa thought you guys might be thirsty, so she sent me up with a bunch of different drinks to choose from.”

“Sweet!” Claude grinned, swiftly walking over in case she needed help. “Do you have Dr. Pepper?”

Marinette smiled and turned the tray to reveal a deep red can of soda. “Yep! I know it’s your favorite.”

“You truly are a blessing.” Claude replied, grabbing the soda off of the tray.

Marinette giggled and brought the tray forward for the rest of them to pick. Allegra chose a pepsi, while Allan snagged a coke, and Felix grabbed the slim cup of coffee that sat to the side.

He took a sip of it, enjoying the warmth of the bitter liquid. It didn’t escape his notice that Marinette had brought up all of their preferred drinks. She even got his coffee right (Black with three sugars). 

Despite how scatter-brained she could be, Marinette still paid attention to details, which was impressive. Felix didn’t know anyone else who could space out during an entire conversation, yet remember the exact type of drink everyone ordered during lunch.

“So what do you guys want to do now? We still have about half an hour before supper is finished.” Marinette asked, setting the tray aside. 

Allan shrugged. “What do you have?”

Marinette thought for a moment. “Well, we have board games, card games, Mecha Strike 3-”

“Mecha Strike 3?” Claude perked up. “Yes, please!”

Marinette laughed. “Is everyone else okay with that?”

“Sounds great.” Allan smiled.

Allegra shrugged. “I’m fine with it.” 

Felix, being satisfied with his inspection for now, sat down on the chaise. “I’ll watch.”

The rest of the group huddled around Marinette’s computer while she turned it on, and after a bit of debating, they decided on ‘winner faces next player’ and started with Allan and Claude. Felix watched the first two games, just long enough to see Marinette cream Allan, before reverting back to his studious ways. He scanned the bedroom again, hoping to catch something new, when his gaze landed on the trunk that Claude had tipped over earlier. With everyone bustling around it, Felix hadn’t gotten a chance to sift through it, but now that they were occupied with Marinette’s game..

Felix shifted in his seat and re-opened the chest. It was only half full, as opposed to its previously overflowing contents, but that didn’t bother him. There were still plenty of things inside, such as shirts, figurines, hats, and other things. He pulled out a jacket and turned it in his hands, admiring the handiwork. The hood, along with the cuffs of the sleeves and zipper were pitch black, but the rest of the jacket was a deep red, save for the black spots that littered it. “Miraculous” was written on the back in cursive as well. Was this supposed to be based off of the Parisian superhero Ladybug? Why would she want to get rid of this? At the very least, she could make a profit by selling it.

What did she use to make this? The material is so soft.. Felix thought as he unzipped the jacket. It was completely black on the inside, save for some tiny, golden lettering near the section wear the pocket would be.

“To: Adrien

From: Marinette”

Felix frowned. How strange. Why would Marinette be giving away things that she made specifically for someone else? He dug through the chest some more, this time looking for names, and what he found was shocking. 

Almost every gift had the name ‘Adrien’ on it somewhere, whether it be a card or stitching or marker. Some gifts didn’t have a name, but at that point, Felix felt it was safe to assume that everything in the chest was supposed to be for this ‘Adrien’ person. 

That begged the question, though: Who was Adrien? And why would she create so many gifts for him just to give them away?

A small card stitched on the ear of a stuffed cat gave him his answer.

“Dear Adrien, 

Happy 19th birthday! It’s officially been five years since we’ve known each other. Isn’t that crazy? Anyway, I just wanted to say happy birthday (even though I’ve already said it) and that I’m really happy we got to meet. Enjoy the cat!

With all my love, Marinette”

Felix glanced up at Marinette, who was blissfully ignorant of his findings as she defeated Claude for the second time at Mecha Strike 3. Did she intend to use all of these as birthday presents? How many gifts were in there? Did she expect this person to have the same interests twenty years from now? He couldn’t decide if this level of planning was due to over-thinking or just plain obsession. Maybe both.

“Hey, Felix!” 

Felix flinched at the sudden call of his name, weirdly feeling as if he’d been caught in the act of some crime. He looked up to see Claude waving a controller at him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to play?” The brunette asked.

“Talk to me when you have chess.” Felix replied shortly, going back to the chest. He had hoped that seeing Marinette’s room would provide more answers to her life, but it only issued more questions. Did she have this amount of gifts for all of her friends or was Adrien special? If he was special, what way would it be? Was he possibly an ex-lover? She dated him for a while, and they had a recent falling out, which was why she was getting rid of the gifts. That would make sense.

“He just wants to talk.”

Her words from last week resurfaced in his mind. The person who chased her that day was the only one she reacted bitterly towards. Was Adrien trying to get back together with her? 

Was he the reason she left her old school in the first place?

My, my Dupain-Cheng. Felix thought. Aren’t you just full of secrets?

Tag List:  @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce

[pollylynn]

Title: Character WC: 1100 Episode: Lucky Stiff (3 x 14)

She’s perplexed by her conversation with Martha. Well, first she’s blindsided, then she’s perplexed.

He leaves the two of them to chat while he goes off to change into something appropriate for the kind of club that has high-end dealers and grab the keys to a car he apparently drives so infrequently, she didn’t even know he owned it. Martha waits until she’s lost visual on him, though it’s not clear why. She asks her blindsiding question in the stage whisper she comes by honestly—You two going out on a date?

A blush races all along her skin. She feels the back of her neck positively blazing with heat where it presses against the wide curve of her faux fur collar. She pulls the coat close around her body, despite the uncomfortable warmth, acutely, uncomfortably aware of just how much of her skin is on display, poised to betray her, courtesy of the LBD beneath.

Oh, no! The stuttering denial is accompanied by an unconvincing laugh and, for some godforsaken reason, a follow-up that definitely sounds like a double entendre. Just doing a little undercover work.

She wrenches the subject away from herself and redirects it toward Martha, but she’s only half-listening at first. The jolt the question has given her subsides, and she finds she’s perplexed, because shouldn’t Martha know about Josh? The very existence of Josh negates the LBD and the tousled hair and the northern latitude of her hemline, preventing the evening, absolutely, from being a date. And shouldn’t Martha know that?

The question set sets off a second rush of blood to the surface of her skin, because what does she think—that he’s so obsessed with her that his mother gets nightly updates on her personal life? She writhes internally, first because the very idea occurred to her, and second because it might well be true.

Memory serves up the kiss for the one-thousandth time since it happened, and the intensity of it has not diminished one iota. Memory serves up the kiss, and she thinks there’’s a distinct chance that he’s cried on Martha’s shoulder out of guilt or longing or sheer embarrassment at just how dumb his dumb plan got.

By sheer force of will, she shakes herself out of memory’s grasp. She focuses her attention on Martha, who is, after all, going through something of far greater import than her own I-have-a-boyfriend drama. But that conversation is perplexing, too.

Martha is in free fall about the money. She’s taken the hard step to do the right thing, as she sees it, only to meet resistance from the children of the man whose heart she was about to break—children who know she was about to break it. She feels absolutely unworthy of Chet’s last gesture. She’s experiencing the money’s magnifying effect, and all she can see is her own flaws, her selfishness and petty fixations, rather than her ferocious love and fearless resilience.

To Kate, the solution seems so obvious. It seems like one he certainly should have presented to Martha, given that it was his stupidly insightful observation in the first place. But Josh seems to have company on the list of things he and his mother haven’t talked about.

She fights down a third embarrassed flush and metaphorically knocks their heads together. She quotes him in his own home—within earshot of him—and she wonders hw badly she’ll end up paying for that. She has visions of enduring smugness from him, but she speaks anyway. She says what needs saying: It just magnifies who you are. You cared about Chet . . .

Some of the misery flows out of Martha. Her spine straightens and she is so much more herself in the effusive, understated-for-Martha moment when she voices her thanks. Kate almost thanks her back. It’s almost an endless spiral of thanks, because she finds the moment of connection curiously, perplexingly poignant. She is, herself, grateful for the opportunity to help—to say the thing that needs saying.

He’s back before the two of them can get caught in the spiral. She almost expects the smug attack to start right away. She braces for him to spoil the moment, because she knows he was lurking there in the doorway. She knows he overheard. But he changes directions. He’s smug about the car. He’s over-the-top flirtatious about it, and she’s relieved. She’s grateful.

He is, too. He drops the smug the minute they’re out the door. He lags three steps behind her, when she is champing at the bit to get behind the wheel of that Ferrari. He trails slowly enough that she gets impatient. She whirls to face him, ready to snap, but the timid, searching look on his face pulls her up short.

“Thanks,” he says quietly. “My mother . . . I just wanted to say thanks.”

He’s serious enough that it unnerves her. It perplexes her and she’s sure he’s poking fun. She’s sure that he’s about to, so she strikes first. “Not going to sue me for plagiarism?”

“No,” he laughs. “Not when you improved on the original.” He shakes his head. “She heard you. She wasn’t ready—or maybe just couldn’t—hear it from me.”

She gives him a nod, and that’s the end of it. It’s the end of actual conversation about it, but the idea stays with her—that it’s not just the things we hear, but who we hear it from. It sounds like nonsense, but she thinks it isn’t. She knows it is, and that’s what drives her to challenge him when the case is finally done—No more questions about my innermost jackpot dreams?

She wants to know. She wants him to tell her something about herself that she can only hear from him. She wants to be ready to hear it, whatever it his.

And he does not disappoint. He shows up on her doorstep. He pushes right into the apartment that, a week ago, he was too timid to enter without an offering of flowers—without asking where Josh was.

But there’s no mention of Josh this time. He pushes right in and announces who she is, what she would do, what she’ll be able to do with his help—you would use the money to honor your mother's legacy.

She tears up as the declaration settles on her, a truth about a dream she didn’t know she had until he said it—until he told her. She tears up, and she is grateful.

Thank you, That’s really sweet.

A/N: There is no morphousness to how others see us; Josh, it goes without saying, remains unseen and without morphousness

images via homeofthenutty

[oceantoast-writes]

Ryugoro week prompt: Childhood Friends 

Title: Sunflower 

Word Count: 1154

@ryugoroweek “You want me to do what?” The look on Akechi’s face could only be described as incredulous. 

To his credit, it was the middle of the night, he had school in the morning, and the thunderstorm outside was a nightmare, and yet somehow Ryuji was standing on his porch with bleach and yellow hair dye in hand. The gaudy color doesn’t strike Akechi as something particularly intelligent for the amount of trouble Ryuji naturally draws without breaking the dress code. Despite this Ryuji doesn’t seem to think anything’s off with this scenario. 

“Dye my hair, I can’t do it on my own.” Oh yeah, like that’s a normal and not at all inane idea to have in the middle of the night. 

Akechi rolls his eyes and opens the door enough to let Ryuji inside. He can’t exactly let the idiot catch a cold out here since his apartment is half the fucking neighborhood away. It’s now that he takes the opportunity to ask what in god’s name it is that Ryuji is thinking. 

“What gave you this genius idea?” 

Ryuji gets this dopey grin, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s clearly a little embarrassed by the answer, even if said answer was good enough to wake Akechi at…

2:07 in the goddamn morning. 

“Well uh, there’s this girl in my class…” A girl, Ryuji is doing this to impress a girl. Akechi isn’t sure why he’s shocked at this point, ignoring the ache of his heart. Ryuji didn’t like him, never would, and Akechi was never going to be prioritized over a girl. 

“...She keeps getting picked on cuz she’s a natural blonde. Kids keep saying this awful stuff about her and I can’t stand it so I figured that I’d dye my hair so they pick on somebody else.” 

At least he wasn’t trying to impress her. At least he’s only doing this because Ryuji is such a bleeding heart that he can’t watch other people get harassed and do nothing about it. Before Akechi’s mother passed away, kids would bother him about not knowing his father, about his mother being single. Ryuji found himself in many playground fights that way. 

Akechi turns on the light. 

“Alright take your shoes off so you don’t track mud into the house, bathroom’s this way.” 

Ryuji complies, taking off his shoes and going to the bathroom. Akechi trails behind him, only pausing to get his phone and come back downstairs quietly enough to not wake anyone else. This family slept like the dead so he didn’t think he had much to worry about, but one could never be too cautious. 

While Ryuji gets himself situated Akechi scrolls through his phone, picking a random playlist to quietly begin so that he has something to listen to other than the rain. The one he chose is predominantly pop punk given that he knows Ryuji won’t listen to anything heavier than that even if he dresses like some edgy delinquent. 

The rubber gloves that came with the dye set are much too big for his hands, but there’s no use in complaining. As soon as Ryuji’s hair is this sickening yellow color he’ll go home and hopefully Akechi can get some much needed rest. The room is quiet, both of them terrified of waking up the other residents in the house, a heavy tension hanging even in the small bit of music that circles the space. 

“What’s her name?” 

“Huh?” 

“The girl. What’s her name?” 

“Oh uh Takamaki. She’s real quiet, keeps to herself most of the time. The people who whisper about her make some real awful assumptions. They think she looks down on everybody, that she dates multiple guys at a time just because she can. I don’t think that’s true.” 

The conversation drops once more. Akechi finishes up applying the bleach. It has to sit and even if he told Ryuji to sit still he knows Ryuji can’t listen or sit still to save his fucking life. He turns around to go to the kitchen, motioning for his friend to follow.

--

He sends Ryuji to wash the bleach out as quietly as possible, waiting for the boy to call him back. It takes at least an extra two minutes, including drying Ryuji’s hair off with a towel. Akechi wastes no time getting the dye since it has to be at least three in the morning at this point. 

“Why didn’t you just ask your mom to do this? She’s going to find out anyway.” 

“I didn’t want her to worry about me getting into trouble.” 

“She’s going to worry when you go home with your hair looking like a fucking banana.” 

“C’mon dude, don’t make this worse than it already is. Maybe the yellow will look good on me.” 

Akechi rolls his eyes and simply complies. He’s already an accomplice at this point, so there’s no use in arguing now. The room quiets once more, that tension hanging in the air again. 

The task is just about finished when Akechi decides to speak again. 

“Do you think it’s going to work?” 

“What?” 

“You’re trying to paint a target on your back so people leave that Takamaki girl alone. Are you even sure that people are going to take the bait?” 

“Bullies always have short attention spans. Those dumbasses will be so excited I did somethin stupid like this that they won’t talk about her for the rest of the semester.” 

Akechi hums slightly in response. 

--

They spend the last little bit of time waiting for the dye to set by quietly watching old Featherman episodes, arguing back and forth about the best characters and episodes. 

When the phone timer finally goes off Akechi sends Ryuji back into the bathroom to wash his hair once more. It takes longer this time due to getting all the excess dye out. Ryuji dries his hair himself and then walks back out with a grin. 

“How does it look?” 

He’s at a loss for words. Not even the sun could’ve outshined Ryuji at this moment. Akechi thinks he knows what it’s like to fall in love now. Shaking his head he looks away. 

“You look ridiculous,” He mutters. 

“Excellent.” 

It’s still raining rather hard as Ryuji heads for the door. “I can’t wait to show Takamaki.” 

There’s a split second when Ryuji puts his hand on the doorknob that Akechi stands up. His heart feels like it could burst out of his chest at any given moment, and he has to force it to be still. He has to shove back the words he truly wants to say. 

“Don’t forget to take an umbrella. The rain and fresh hair dye is a bad combo.” 

Ryuji nods and grabs Akechi’s umbrella. “Thanks, I’ll see you later.” 

“Good luck with getting teased at school tomorrow.” 

Ryuji gives him one final grin before leaving, his figure disappearing into the rain.

[apiratewhopines]

Thanks to @teamhook for giving me all the stubbly men

In the Offing

Chapter 17 — Hat Trick

Summary: In which our heroine believes in magic

Chapter 17 on AO3

“When you move

I can recall something that’s gone from me

When you move

Honey, I’m put in awe of something so flawed and free”

-Movement, Hozier

It had been a rainy couple of days since her trip out to the cabin with Graham. They had originally planned to meet up again and scan the area to see if they could find the Blanchard remains but the weather had prevented any chance of that. Instead, they had traded texts that included her thanking him for going on record with the paper to say she was no longer a suspect in the shooting. She had noticed a definite warming toward her by the citizens after his comments were splashed across the front page.

Of course it being Storybrooke, rumors had already begun to fly about who would take her place on the most wanted list. She avoided all requests for interviews and tried to focus on the task of finding the responsible party, encouraged every day by the positive news she received from August’s medical team.

Graham wasn’t the only one she had been texting with. As the date of the wedding drew closer, she started receiving messages from Elsa and her sister Anna, who happened to be a ball of chaotic energy that would put a toddler to shame. They were constantly inviting her over to help with this or that stage of the planning but she thought maybe it was really to make sure she didn’t disappear before the ceremony.

It seemed like the only person she hadn’t talked with was the one person to whom she actually had something to say. However, fulfilling his duties as best man had forced Killian into a last minute trip to Boston with Liam to pick up tuxedos and flowers arrangements. She had stopped by the cottage a couple of times to try to catch him, feeling that what she had to say would be better in person than by phone, but she never managed to connect.

So it was that Saturday evening under a clear twilight sky, she pulled up to the cottage. Nervously she ran her hands down her pale pink dress to smooth it as she tried not to think about the fact that she hadn’t spoken with Killian since she hung up on him several days ago. The front yard, which stretched down in a gentle rolling hill to a bluff that provided a beautiful ocean view, was transformed. There were a couple of large, white tents set up to accommodate the ceremony and the reception. Due to the heavy rain, someone had the forethought to have planking laid down in a walkway to the tents, which had also been raised on platforms and contained a beautiful hardwood floor to provide some protection from the wet ground.

As Liam had predicted, it appeared as though the entire town did show up. Waving at several people who caught her eye, she started to make her way over to Mary Margaret and David. Taking in the way their gazes never wavered from each other, she guessed that their wedding day wouldn’t be too far behind. Before she could reach them, Anna came flying over to her nearly vibrating with excitement. “Where are you going? I saved you a seat in the front row next to Kristoff.”

“Oh, that wasn’t necessary,” she protested. The last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself by sitting in a row normally reserved for family. Plus, if she was being completely honest, she wasn’t sure she could take being in close proximity to Killian while he was sporting a tux. The man oozed sexual magnetism in jeans so one could only imagine the allure of him in formalwear. She didn’t need a repeat of the kitchen debacle from a couple of weeks ago while the whole town was watching.

“Emma,” Anna whined with a pouty expression. “Do you see how empty the family section is? It’s embarrassing. Not to mention that Kristoff might fall asleep if you aren’t there to nudge him from time to time.”

“Fine.” She gave in easily when she sensed eyes drifting their way in curiosity. Trying to take her mind off the fact she felt like an animal in a zoo, she smiled at the other woman and said, “You look great.”

As Emma took her seat, Anna twirled in a circle and squealed, “I do, don’t I? This has always been a good color on me. I’m so glad we talked Elsa out of the all that ice blue. I mean, it’s a summer wedding. We need bold colors and lots of skin.”

“You will hear no arguments from me, babe,” Kristoff joked with a wink. As she was finding to be the case with the young couple, once they were honed in on each other she could do as she pleased because they were oblivious. Trapped by the puppy love playing out in front of her, she used the opportunity to study the lovely white roses and low lighting that showcased the tent to its best advantage. She couldn’t help but wonder how they had pulled off such an elaborate event with only days to plan.

Any thoughts she had about price tags and logistics were immediately frozen when she saw Liam and Killian step onto the stage about twenty feet in front of her. The Brothers Jones looked quite dapper and refined in their black tuxedos. Liam was calm and collected as always except for the faint hint of red across his cheeks, not even having one arm in a sling could diminish the happiness that radiated off him. Killian looked like a fantasy wrapped in a dream and dipped in chocolate.

Unfortunately, as she was feasting on him with her eyes he must have become aware of her idolizing stare. His penetrating blue gaze met hers full on for the first time in almost a week. Her heart beat out a painful thump at the emotion that flooded her but she couldn’t look away. He was perfect, from the top of his rumpled hair to the bottom of his precisely polished dress shoes. And she was an idiot.

“Geez, girl. Am I going to have to get you two a room so you don’t burn down the tent?”Startled out of her staring contest by Anna’s teasing, she looked over to see her companions watching her with matching grins. “Elsa mentioned there was something going on but she didn’t warn me that it was combustible.”

“Cute,” Emma said in tone that warned against further commentary. “Speaking of Elsa, shouldn’t you be helping your sister get ready?”

“Oh crap! I was supposed to be grabbing her a glass of water. See you guys later!”

For the next several minutes, Emma did her best to keep her gaze from wandering back to the stage even as she felt Killian’s eyes burning a hole through her. Kristoff was helpful in that regard because he was as much of a talker as his girlfriend, although in comparison he was still the shrinking violet in their relationship. The hum of conversations increased as the tent filled until the opening strains of the Wedding March began to play. As everyone stood to see the bride enter, she snuck a glance out of the corner of her eye and smiled shyly when she saw that Killian was staring back at her.

To no one’s surprise, Elsa made a beautiful bride. Her white blonde hair was styled in a complicated braid that looked soft and elegant. Her slender form was hugged by a white lace gown that looked fit for a queen. It was her serene expression that truly made her a beauty though. She had the look of a woman who couldn’t wait to start her future with the man waiting for her at the other end of the aisle.

Just like that, Emma felt tears forming. Luckily, she wasn’t the only one. There were several sniffles and weepy smiles in the tent as the pair shared their vows and promised to love and cherish each other for the rest of their lives. Liam’s deep voice never faltered and when the minister pronounced them man and wife, he didn’t hesitate to kiss Elsa soundly in front of God and everyone. And for rather longer than strictly necessary.

Laughter ringing out at the groom’s enthusiasm, the crowd began clapping as the newly married couple led the way to the reception. They were followed by the best man and maid of honor, whose heads were bent together as if they were plotting to overthrow the government. Knowing the two of them, Emma couldn’t completely rule out the possibility.

Kristoff offered her his arm to guide her into the other tent but she waved him on. She needed some time to collect herself so she continued to observe from the fringe of the crowd. The first dance was a slow romantic matter replete with loving glances and sighs. The cutting of the cake was a dignified event regardless of the taunting of some of the more rowdy members of the audience. As the band struck up a new song, couples started making their way to the dance floor. She was pleased to see Mary Margaret and David were one of the first to go, smiling at each other with the kind of fondness that would never fade.

Trying to calm her racing heart, she knew she had put off her conversation long enough. As she stepped out of the shadows, she heard a familiar voice ask, “May I have this dance, Emma?”

Shocked out of her anxiousness, she turned to find Graham standing behind her with his hand extended. He looked striking in his suit, she had to admit. Not fantasy dream chocolate level, of course, but not hard on the eyes. Putting her hand in his, she allowed him to lead her out to the floor. “I’m surprised to see you here, Sheriff. Didn’t you used to date the bride?”

Cringing a bit and screwing up his face, he looked at her through one eye. “There’s that adorable directness. It was one date, a rather hopeless affair I’m afraid.”

“Oh well, there are other fish in the sea,” she murmured encouragingly, a little concerned at the longing she saw in his stare when he looked at her. He shuffled her around the edge of the dance floor, his eyes searching hers for something.

“There is one fish that I have an interest in,” he admitted. “But I’m afraid I might be a little too late to catch her.”

With regret for the hurt her next words would cause him because somewhere along the way she had come to really like him, she confirmed, “Yes, I think you might be.”

Nodding with understanding, he shifted his glance to the front of the tent where the wedding party was currently enjoying dinner. With a rueful smile, he commented, “I’m guessing by the daggers that Killian is currently shooting my way that I have been bested by another Jones.”

Touching his cheek gently to bring his attention back to her, she teased, “Third time is the charm, my friend. To my knowledge, there aren’t any other brothers to contend with. Go forth with confidence and find yourself a lady worthy of you.”

Graham smiled down at her. The song ended but he held her an extra second, squeezing her waist affectionately before stepping back. Taking her hand in his, he brought it to his lips and swept a soft kiss near her wrist while looking at her with eyes full of laughter. “Let’s see if that brings your erstwhile suitor running.”

Shaking her head at him, she grinned at his back as he disappeared into the crowd. She started toward an empty chair a couple of tables away when she felt someone approach from behind. She knew without turning that it was Killian. The air around her electrified when he got near.

“Swan, where do you think you’re going?”

“I was going to sit down and enjoy dinner, Dr. Jones. What brings you by?”

“I want to dance with you,” he stated, his gaze roaming over her like a caress. Holding out his hand, he continued, “You have the rest of your life to avoid me, love. Where’s the harm in one dance with a partner who actually knows what he’s doing?”

He really had no idea of the hold he had over her. He was still under the impression she planned to walk away. Yet there he was, reaching out to her as if her touch wouldn’t leave bruises. He may be the bravest man she ever met.

“I think I’m willing to risk it,” she whispered huskily as she eased into his arms. It was like coming home.

—

The night passed in a blur of champagne and dancing. Once Killian had her in his arms, he seemed loath to let her go, to the point of glowering at any man who approached. He did allow Liam a dance, and David and Kristoff grudgingly, but he always returned to her side as the final notes of the song played and pulled her into his arms again.

“I thought I agreed to one dance,” she teased, bracing herself one-handed on his shoulder as she tugged off her right shoe and massaged her foot. It was after midnight and the crowd had started to thin now that Liam and Elsa had run through a minefield of bubbles to the limousine that waited to take them to New York City for a mini-honeymoon. “I’m not sure my feet are going to recover.”

“Darling, if you can run down skips in stilettos a couple of dances with your many admirers shouldn’t be a problem,” he pointed out, dragging her out to the dance floor again. Willing to pay any price to continue to be this close to him, she plucked off her other shoe and tossed it gently under a nearby table. He abandoned his normal poise, wrapping his arms around her back and settling her against him in what amounted to little more than a hug. The world faded away as she rested her cheek against his chest.

The slow, romantic song continued to play in the background and he hummed the words as he swayed them gently in time to the music. She felt a tingle start at the base of her spine and work its way through her entire body. She didn’t even bother moving apart to say goodbye to Mary Margaret or Anna when they passed by to let them know they were leaving. When the band started to pack up and the caterers were tearing down tables, she observed quietly against his collar, “I think I ate too much cake.”

“You speak of the impossible,” he murmured into her hair.

“Killian,” she said in a hushed tone.

“Yes, love?”

“Will you take me home?”

Tightening his grip a bit, he answered, “Of course, Swan, but I let Kristoff and Anna borrow my truck so we’ll have to take your car. Where are your keys?”

“No,” she replied with a smile up at him. “To the cottage.”

Eyes widening in understanding, he asked, “Are you sure? There will be no coming back from this. No more running away, no more secrets. There’ll be no getting rid of me.” He waited patiently, his face inches from hers. She thought she detected the hint of a smile forming.

“I’m ready if you are,” she promised as she went up on tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

With a predatory grin, he deepened the kiss and before she knew what he was about, she was upended over his shoulder with her eyes having a very nice view of his lower back and beyond. “Let’s sail away, love.”

Shrieking over his laughter, she asked, “What in the world are you doing?”

“I can’t have you trudging through the mud and muck in your bare feet, Swan,” he explained with a fond pat on her bottom. She felt him glide through the tent and buried her face in her hands when she heard him say good night to several of the staff as they passed by.

“And you couldn’t carry me like a normal person?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Too caught up in muttering promises of revenge, she didn’t realize they were at the porch until he gently lowered her to the floor. “There you are, my lady. Safe passage to the front door.”

They were eye level with each other since he was standing on the stair below her. The blue gleam of his gaze was unearthly. His mouth was curved in a playful smile but she could tell he was nervous. She thought he was probably afraid she would run again and realized that he stopped there for a reason, as if he wanted her to commit to this and move inside on her own two feet. Taking his face in her hands, she stared at him and hoped he could see everything she was feeling. “I’m sorry. For a lot of things, really. Most of all, I’m sorry if I made you doubt me, doubt this. I’ve wanted you since before we even met.”

“I never doubted you, Swan. Not for a moment. But you are an impossible woman sometimes,” he whispered, twisting his face to press his lips to her palm.

Stepping away from him, she reached out and let her hand trail slowly down his chest. With a saucy smile, she opened the door and backed into the living room. To her surprise, he didn’t trip over himself trying to get to her, rather he followed her inside and braced against the closed door, seemingly content to drink in the sight of her.

“I’ve dreamed of you every night since you left,” he admitted, hunger in his voice. “There were times I nearly got in my truck and drove to the loft.”

At this, he moved closer. His eyes never wavered from hers. She felt as though she had lost the ability to speak. He was the only person who could do this to her with nothing more than a look. He was standing so close she could feel the warmth of his skin, smell the champagne on his breath but he didn’t touch her. Instead, he leaned in and murmured, “Tell me, love, would you have let me in?”

When she did nothing but shiver, he continued, “If I had gotten down on my knees and begged, would you have opened your door?”

His lips skimmed softly over her cheeks, then forehead, then her chin. Fleeting caresses that felt like gossamer against her heated skin. “If I had promised to be your devoted subject and do your bidding always, would you have allowed me to share your bed?”

“Need I remind you what happened the last time you took your time,” she teased, her head light with desire. She had never felt like this before, this swirling, chaotic emotion that caused her to tremble. “Please.”

“Please what, darling?”

“Seal the deal,” she joked weakly, biting her bottom lip as she fought against the force of the passion that rocked her.

“You do have a way with words,” he teased. “I’m afraid the deal was sealed the minute we laid eyes on each other. Perhaps even before then. Fate hasn’t always been kind to me, love, but I’ll pay whatever price is needed a thousand times over to ensure that for the rest of our lives you continue to look at me the way you’re looking at me right now.”

With a whimper, she gave in to temptation and closed the distance between them. The magic he weaved with his honeyed tone and bewitching words was nothing compared to how it felt when he reached down to pick her up and wrapped her legs around his waist. Without breaking their kiss, he carried her to the bedroom where he proceeded to show her how much he meant every single thing he said.

—

They didn’t leave the cottage for two days and she was certain there was not a surface that wasn’t put to good use during that time. It was as if the outside world no longer existed and Emma was happily ensconced in some odd alternative universe where she was content and loved.

Eventually she emerged long enough to let Mary Margaret know she was still alive, to chat with Henry, to check in on August, and to cancel search plans with Graham. She knew sooner or later she would have to go back to the loft to collect her things if nothing else. Luckily, her slovenly ways and hasty exit from the cottage after their fight had proved useful in one regard. She had left enough of her belongings behind that she wasn’t walking around in her wedding outfit the whole time. It had done strange things to her heart to realize that he had collected all the clothes she left after their argument and neatly folded them, placing them in the top drawer of his bureau.

She noticed other signs of him making room for her in his life and, beyond that, making her feel welcome. Her preferred coffee cup was always clean and ready for her each morning. He had stocked her favorite shampoo in the shower, although how he knew it was her favorite when she never mentioned it she was still trying to figure out. He had added a couple of books to his shelves for her after a late night conversation about classics she had never had the chance to read.

Even when she had left, even when she had pushed him away, he hadn’t retreated. Not entirely. He had merely given her space to figure out what he had probably know all along...that they were good together and that needing someone wasn’t something to be feared.

So it was with some chagrin that she awoke Tuesday morning to find the bed empty. The quiet of the cottage was like a slap in the face after several blissful days of being adored. Even knowing he had to drop Anna and Kristoff off at the airport before meeting a client that morning at the marina, she was still surprised at how lonely it was. She, the woman who prided herself on her independence and self-reliance, was pining for a man after a mere five hours apart.

The wizardry of Killian Jones was limitless.

Looking over at the clock, she realized that yearning was all well and good but breakfast would be better. Taking her time to get showered and dressed, she walked out to the kitchen island to find a vase full of yellow flowers, a package of strawberry poptarts, and a note from her—whatever Killian was to her now—inviting her to join him at the marina when she woke up.

Grabbing a cup of cold coffee to go and the breakfast he left her, she ventured outside for the first time in days to find the sun shining brightly and the temperature pleasantly warm. She hastily ate her breakfast one-handed while driving to the marina with the windows rolled down. There was absolutely no traffic on the road and she pulled into the parking lot convinced that she was the only living soul in the area. Locking her car, she made her way to the last dock where the pirate ship was moored passing only one person on the way, a strikingly familiar redhead that caused her to do a double take.

Staring after the woman, she heard Killian shout. “Swan! I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up.”

Dragging her eyes away from the retreating figure, she faced the man who was responsible for the increasingly frequent smile to be found on her lips. “Never, Dr. Jones.” Climbing aboard, she gave him a quick kiss that he seemed to take as a challenge to extend. “Was that—“

“Ariel?” Killian continued to pepper her face with sweet kisses as if supremely unconcerned that there was a Hollywood starlet wandering around the docks. “Yes, she was the client I was meeting with this morning. The studio sent her to be briefed on pirate lore. I had intended to introduce you but my little Sleeping Beauty couldn’t be bothered to roll out of bed at a decent hour.”

Snickering because they both knew why she needed the extra sleep, she allowed him to pull her into the Captain’s Quarters and promptly make her forget her own name.

[no-whump-on-main]

Apartment 307-7 (This is for Your Own Good)

this is for your own good-requested by @magpiewhump

TWs: Heavy chapter overall. Creepy, sadistic whumper, noncon nonsexual touching, branding, victim-blaming, passing thought of emeto but none actually shown, thoughts of death

Clyde started to worry about Elora when she still hadn’t woken back up at six p.m when he got back from work, over ten hours after she passed out due to him completely exhausting her magic. He walked in and checked on her the very moment after he put his things down on the kitchen counter, and there she was, still passed out, curled up on her side like a little terrified animal. He left, deciding to let her sleep some more-he was concerned, of course, but not terribly so. She did seem rather drained when he left. He would’ve loved to spend the evening with her, but he resolved to show a little sympathy and let her sleep. Still, he checked on her about every hour, only to find her still passed out in the exact same position every single time. He began to get irritated when she still wasn’t up around eleven-he just wanted to sleep, at that point, but he was worried she’d wake up at any moment and start causing a scene. Screaming, trying to escape, doing whatever it was she did-hell, he didn’t know. She was unpredictable.

He still didn’t even know what he thought about her. He was fascinated, of course, by her magic, by her mere life-that’s why he had to have her-but he still didn’t know how he felt about her as a person. She was awfully stubborn and had terrible language for a young woman, but she was beautiful, exquisitely so, especially when her eyes were watery with tears and she had that determined expression despite the fear he knew was crippling her.

God, he just wanted to break her. He wanted to study her first and foremost, of course, but as a side project of sorts, he wanted to see that iron resolution dissolve, just like that, because of him.

He decided to head to sleep, freshening up in his master bath before heading to sleep. His room was nothing special; it smelled like a mix of dirty bath mats and moth balls, and all it really had for furniture was a desk on the verge of collapsing, a mattress on the floor, and boxes that still hadn’t been unpacked despite him having moved in over a decade ago.

But that night, he went to sleep happy, unbothered by the chaos and dirty apartment and his seemingly menial life. Because he knew what to do. He had direction, for once. Elora brought him that. She was like a quest, a puzzle to solve, and he’d had a eureka moment. To break her, he’d have to teach her that she wasn’t her own anymore. That she was his, because clearly, she’d been struggling with the concept.

And he knew exactly how to do it.

~

When Elora woke up, she felt like she was having the worst hangover she'd ever experienced, multiplied by ten. She was dizzy, her mouth was dry, and a pounding headache had settled in the back of her skull, each throb feeling like a firework exploding inside her head.

It was pitch black, not a single ray of light coming in from the crack underneath the door, so she assumed that it was either the middle of the night or early morning. That meant she slept for, god-eighteen, twenty hours? That was probably half of why she felt like shit. Draining her body of all the energy it had like that was both excruciatingly painful and awfully exhausting. It was also decidedly horrible for her body-she was never supposed to work herself like that. Hell, she wasn’t sure how she even survived exerting that much.

At the very least, she had some time to herself. It was nice to be alone for a while, to recoup between sessions of vicious torture.

She sat back against the wall, staring up at the pitch black ceiling. Time was fuzzy, but she thought it was...Tuesday, now? So her mom certainly knew she was gone, and she had told the police, and they were looking for her.

She hoped. She just-she really, really hoped that someone was coming for her soon. Before anything worse happened, while she could still come back from it. While she could still come home alive, herself, shaken, but herself.

She ended up dozing off for a few minutes and waking up again a few times as the hours passed by, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She knew exactly when the sun was rising; the crack underneath the door slowly began to get less dark, going from black, to an inky gray, to a pale orange, and finally, to real yellow light. A little sliver of a sunrise. Even after just a couple of days, she missed the sun. The bathroom was windowless, and that alone made it suffocating. She’d do anything, pay any amount of money in the world, just to go outside, see a sunrise, and breathe. Just breathe, for a moment, just catch her breath.

As excited as she wanted to be about the taste of a sunrise, all she felt was dread. Every morning she’d been awake to see the pattern, so far, she’d noted that he came in just after sunrise.

So she only had a few minutes, then.

She just hoped that he would make the pain brief.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply when she heard his footsteps pattering down the hallway, exhaling when she heard the doorknob turn.

He flicked the light switch on and the sudden brightness hurt her eyes, so much so that she quickly wrenched them shut. And when he spoke, it felt like his voice was booming, much louder than it actually was. She wanted to cover her ears, but resisted the urge, much too scared to take out another sense and be so vulnerable to him.

He acknowledged her reactions with a hum, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Jeez, you’ve been out for a while. It’s about time you woke up. What’s the face for? You okay?”

Elora shook her head, replying bitterly. “Not supposed to use that much magic. Feels kinda like a really bad hangover.” He always smelled like cheap beer. Maybe he’d have some sympathy for that.

“Mh. You’ll be fine. We have things to do today.”

Elora opened her eyes, at that point, looking over at him despite the deep burning sensation in her eyes. He was holding something behind his back, out of her view.

“I-I’ll do what you want,” she said shakily. “Whatever magic shit. I don’t care. We can-h-how about we just act symbiotically, huh? I’ll do whatever you want and you just don’t hurt me. Easy deal on your end, really.”

The man scoffed. “Funnily enough, I actually don’t need anything from you today. Just for you to stay still and be a good girl. I’ve got something to teach you.”

Her throat felt like it was coated in honey. She wanted to spit back that the last thing she would ever do is be a good girl, but she couldn’t form words. It was hard to breathe properly. She knew she was panicking. What did he mean?

Casually, he revealed what was behind his back. It looked like a big pen, with a long cord on one tapered end and a thick, linear metal tip on the other. He plugged the cord into the wall and set it down. Dimly, Elora wondered where she’d seen a weird pen like that. She knew it seemed familiar, it was for crafts, but she couldn’t remember quite what it was for. She blinked, her panic slowing her thoughts-

Woodburning. It was used for woodburning.

Her mouth dropped open in shock, her eyes instantly tearful as she looked on in pure horror, knowing what was going to be done to her. Clyde basked in her terror, grinning as he watched realization and fear strike her.

She was frozen, shocked into silence, so he took the opportunity to speak first. “You seem to be having a hard time with the concept that you’re mine. And what better way to mark that something is yours other than putting your name on it? That’s how I get my coworkers to stop eating my tuna salad from the community fridge.” He stopped to laugh at his own joke. No one liked tuna salad but him. His coworkers would never touch it. Elora looked utterly terrified. He didn’t care a bit, and went on. “But of course, you don’t need to know who I am. You don’t need my name. All you need to worry your pretty little head about is being good for me, got it? So what better than to teach you than to just mark you as mine?”

As panicked as she was, Elora suddenly went into survival mode, no longer able to just stand there and wait to be hurt. “NO!” she screamed. “No, please, I c-can learn! Please, you don’t need to do that. I-I-I told you, I’ll do what you want today, please!”

The man grinned, wagging his pointer finger at her. “Uh-uh-uh. We’re past that, little lark. You already showed me that you don’t know who you belong to when you so rudely refused to do as I told you with the plant and adamantly denied to heal yourself up until I made you.”

He stepped towards her, and she screamed, scrambling back to the other side of the bathtub. It didn’t do much, of course; he was still able to grab her just as easily. She kept screeching, and she fought, she fought tooth and nail, scratching, kicking, trying to bite him, but nothing worked. She was already getting weaker by the day.. He managed to unlock her handcuffs and lift her out of the tub within a minute, completely stopping her desperate fight when he threw her down on the hard tile by the sink where the pen was plugged into an outlet, knocking the breath out of her. She sputtered and coughed, trying to roll on her side, but before she could, he stopped her, straddling her waist, pinning her legs down with his own, and both her arms with his left, pulled tightly across her chest, his elbow digging into her right arm, keeping it in place, and his hand holding down her left. With his right hand, he grabbed the woodburner, the cord just long enough to reach down to the floor.

He frowned as he looked down at her screaming, thrashing form, then put the burner down. For a moment, Elora thought she was free. She thought she was free, she thought he was safe, she thought he reconsidered, she thought he wouldn’t do it.

“Woops. Forgot a step. You’re too damn much of a fighter.” Instead of letting her go like she wished, he fumbled to unbutton all three buttons on the top of her polo shirt. She felt like vomiting the entire time his fingers brushed against the skin of her chest, undoing the buttons painfully slowly, one by one. She shivered, but the room felt hot.

He picked up the burner again. “This is for your own good,” he said, his voice gruff and firm. He pulled her unbuttoned shirt to his right and brought the hot metal tip down upon her left collarbone.

The agony was blinding. She saw pure white as she screamed, keening, much louder than she had been before. She dimly felt the pain move up against her skin as the woodburner stroked upwards, then down diagonally, then up again diagonally, then back down. It left a trail of searing, red-hot pain. M. Mine.

Three more letters to go, and she already felt more blinding pain than she thought was possible.

Clyde frowned at her screaming, briefly putting the woodburner to the side, exchanging the pain for a gentle touch, softly running his hand through her hair. She continued screaming and tried to wiggle away from his hand, yet he ignored her blatant discomfort.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Quiet, my darling, it’ll be over soon.”

His words were far from comforting, though her screams did stop for all but a moment. They continued when he brought the woodburner back to her skin, drawing out an I, three torturous burning strokes. She thought she might pass out, might vomit, might die, the pain was so bad.

“Halfway there,” he said gently, when he finished burning the I into her skin. His voice had become gentle, kind. She didn’t understand it. “Shh, you’re alright. I had to do this, you know. This is for you. To help you learn.”

She shook her head madly, tears falling down her face and onto the tile floor. “Stop,” she croaked, her voice breaking. “Please, stop.”

He seemed genuinely apologetic. Maybe this was too much for him, too. Or maybe it was all an act. Elora couldn’t tell.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. We’re halfway done already. It would be strange to stop here, with half of a word, no?”

And with that, he went on, with just as much brutal carelessness for her pain.

N. She had been switching between staring up at the ceiling blankly and squeezing her eyes shut while he branded her, but she was looking up for this letter, watching the ceiling spin, watching black spots dot her vision, watching as she slipped in and out of consciousness for a few seconds at the time.

She couldn’t even say that she was getting used to it. It hurt just as much now, a minute later, as it had when he started.

The smell started to catch up with her halfway through the N. It was awful, the overwhelmingly sickening scent seeping in and filling her nostrils. She couldn’t escape it. She had to breathe, had to inhale the scent of her burning flesh. There was no choice.

Just as the last upward stroke of the N danced like fire across her skin, the man’s hand carded through her hair again, his fingers rubbing her scalp kindly.

“Almost done, honey. Almost done. You’re doing great.”

She didn’t even have the strength to shake her head. She wasn’t his honey, she wasn’t doing great, this wasn’t for her, it was for him, he was crazy-

Her screams began to die out, her throat burning and raw, begging for air. They turned to weak, sobs, her expression twisted with agony.

E. A stroke up, one to the side at the top of that, another sidestroke in the middle, another at the bottom. She started to feel like she was up on the ceiling, floating. She couldn’t handle this.

What she felt was more than pain. She didn’t know how to describe it. But it was much, much worse than any sort of pain she knew. The burning agony mixed with the scent of her charred flesh in the air, the sensation of the man’s weight on top of her, his hand in her hair, his fingers unbuttoning her shirt combined to create the the most horrific thing she’d ever felt.

It was a new kind of misery. Something much worse than she even knew existed.

She gasped for air as the man slowly eased off of her, her chest finally able to expand properly. He let her arms go first, as a trial. She didn’t make any attempt to retaliate, so he got off of her legs, too, and stood. She laid there, half disassociated. The pain was too much for her to bear. Even though the woodburner was no longer directly on her skin, it still hurt just as much as when the hot metal had been making direct contact with her collarbone. It was still pure, utter agony.

“Remember,” the man’s voice boomed. “This was for you. You chose this, with your actions.”

She didn’t shake her head no, but she didn’t agree, either. She stayed perfectly still, right where she was, sobbing. She just sobbed. That was all she could do.

“Ice,” she begged weakly, her voice hoarse from her screams.

The man chuckled. “Oh, no, sweetie, no can do. Don’t want you getting any sort of first aid. I need it to scar as much as possible. That was the whole point.” He chuckled. Another sob ripped from her throat, and he began to feel slightly guilty.

“Here. I can do something for you. He opened the bathroom door and left, the burning flesh scent thankfully beginning to waft out. Elora knew that she should have gotten up and ran for the door the moment he left. She knew that she was missing what was probably her only chance to escape.

But she couldn’t make herself do it. She couldn’t make herself move.

He was back a few moments later, with a pillow and a blanket from his bed. He lifted her head up and placed the pillow beneath beneath it, shielding it from the hard tile. He draped the blanket over her body, smoothing it down around her with care. She’d be disgusted by his falsified kindness if she weren’t so distracted by the pain.

“And I’ll let you stay uncuffed for a while. I’m sorry, Elora, I really am, but this was the only way. You and I both know that. I’ll have to call out of work, can’t trust you alone and unchained. But that’s fine. I’ll just stay right here until you’re feeling a little better.”

He slid down the wall and sat across from her. All he could see on her face was pure sorrow. She didn’t sleep, despite the pillow and blanket; she wasn’t tired. She just hurt. She lay there, limp, weak, and crying, the pillowcase soaking up her silent tears as she pressed her mouth into a tight, thin line.

Clyde stared at her for several minutes then sighed and lit a cigarette. They’d be here for a while.

Tags: @exploringspaceinpyjamas

@badthingshappenbingo

[nineteenninety-six]

hey babe,can u write somthing where , a time after grace dies,lizzie is there to help tommy, hoping one day he will love her back,them he meets the oc, and behave like he used to,when he first meet grace and lizzie gets jealous? btw,love ur writing

I made Lizzie into crazy bitch, I’m so sorry.

Also thank you for 700 followers! You guys are the best! I promise once my deadlines end, I’ll post more frequently <3 

Also, has anyone been having problems in receiving notifs that you’ve been tagged in smth? Like I’ve gotten the odd email but other than that I haven’t got anything, so I’m sorry if you’ve tagged me in something and I haven’t responded :((

REVITALIZE

Tommy was drowning in the pain of losing Grace. The love of his life and the mother of his son was gone and it was his fault. He couldn’t sleep and he self-medicated with alcohol, he knew he should do better, especially for his who cried at night for his mother but he couldn’t pull himself out of the hole he was in. 

He also knew he was pushing the limits of his family’s patience and sympathy, they knew he was going through hell but they weren’t going to enable his destructive behaviour and after his disappearing act to Ireland, they were at their breaking point. John and Ada had also lost their significant others but who he was as a person prevented him from reaching out for help.

When he woke up one day stinking of sweat and vomit and having no recollection of the past week did he finally decide to do something. Anything was better than drinking himself sick every day so he stuck himself in work. He spent more than half the day in his office or off somewhere in the country for business and only came home for a few hours each day to spend time with Charlie. Being home was painful as it only held memories of Grace but he could not find it in himself to sell the house, the memories were painful but he wanted Charlie to grow up there. 

Despite his distracted mind, he wasn’t oblivious to Lizzie’s actions. The woman thought it was a great opportunity to place herself within the family and try to get with him but he wasn’t worried as she had been trying to get into the family as long as he had known her and she had tried her way with each of the older Shelby brothers but to no avail.  

After a long day immersing himself with work, the last person he expected to see was his Polly. He knew she came around often to check up on him and make sure he was feeding himself and that Charlie was okay but finding her in his office caught him off guard.

“Pol.” He said as a greeting, “What can I do for you?”

“The staff here aren’t equipped enough to raise Charlie, I think you should hire a nanny.” Polly, as usual, went straight to the point.

“A nanny?” Tommy scoffed, “I don’t need help raising my son, Polly.”

“You’re barely here enough to see him when he’s awake, Thomas. Charlie needs round the clock care at his age and the maids you have aren’t good enough to do it.” Polly argued

“So what, you want me to waste my time conducting interviews for nannies?”

“No. I’ve already done it and she’ll arriving on Saturday.” Polly stood up from her seat and made her way to the door, “Make sure you’re there to greet her and you’re sober.”

With that, Polly left his office and Tommy listened to the clicks of her heels until she left the house. He hated to admit it but Polly was right, Charlie needed a nanny and him denying it didn’t solve the situation. 

When Saturday came, Tommy and Charlie stood on the steps outside the house and watched as a car drove down the long driveway before pulling to a stop in front of them. Polly stepped out first and she was shortly followed by a young woman around Ada’s age. The woman politely smiled at the driver who passed her, her bags before she followed Polly to where he stood.

“Tommy, this is (Y/N). Charlie’s nanny.” Polly introduced them to each other.

“Hello, Mr Shelby.” (Y/N) greeted the man and smiled at Charlie who was looking at her curiously

Tommy merely nodded before he turned around and walked into his house. Charlie poked his head over his father’s shoulder, still curious about the new woman. 

“Don’t take it personally, that’s just how Tommy is,” Polly explained, not wanting the poor woman to think she upset Tommy in some way.

“Come. I’ll show you around the house and introduce you to the staff.” Polly walked into the house and motioned her to follow.

Once she had gotten the tour of the large house and introduced to the staff, Polly had taken her to the family room where Tommy and Charlie had escaped to. (Y/N) didn’t know what to think of Tommy Shelby, everything she was told about him came from his aunt but she could tell that there was hurt within him that didn’t just come from the death of his wife.

“I’ll be going then. Give me a call if there are any problems.” Polly smiled at (Y/N) before she turned to her nephew and shot him a look, “Behave.”

They sat in awkward silence, neither of them willing to speak first. (Y/N) was too nervous and Tommy didn’t care about the nanny enough to strike up a conversation. It wasn’t until Charlie made his way over to the new nanny did the awkward silence in the room end.

“Hello, sweetie.” (Y/N) cooed at the little boy who toddled his way over to her, “It’s very nice to you meet you.”

The boy giggled and grabbed her hand before he attempted to haul himself up onto her lap and once he had gotten on, with a little help from (Y/N), he shuffled forward and pressed his small hands over her face, as if he was mapping it out.

Tommy silently watched as his son and the nanny began to get to know each other, the little boy was utterly fascinated with her and it was rather adorable. He had never seen Charlie act like that with a new person ever and he unsure how he felt about it.  He was unsure of how he felt about the nanny as well, she was pretty and so far gotten on well with Charlie but he was going to be cautious until he knew she could be trusted. 

As the months went by, Tommy found himself getting closer to the nanny, he wouldn’t say he liked her but there were times he did feel soft for her. Her relationship with Charlie also become closer, the little boy refused to be out of her arms for the most part and you could always hear his bubbly laughter and squeals during the day. 

Though like always, Tommy’s brief moment of happiness didn’t last long and it’s disruptor came in the form of a storm named Lizzie. The woman noticed the change in Tommy’s behaviour coincided with the arrival of the new nanny was it was safe to say she was fairly miffed at the woman’s effect on Tommy. 

For years, Lizzie had been trying to become a member of the Shelby family in some way, she had offered to get married to John and said that she’ll look after his kids but that was quickly foiled by Tommy. Tommy had also used her services a few times before Grace came back and there were moments where she hoped she might become pregnant but she didn’t and now that Grace was dead, she hoped she had another chance but the new nanny was making that difficult. 

Tommy’s late nights at the office no longer existed, he always left early enough so he could arrive back at Arrow House before Charlie was put to bed and along with the fact that Tommy’s shoulders weren’t always tense and he smiled easier, made her burn in jealously. She wanted to be the one was behind his positive behaviour changes and she would even bet that the nanny didn’t even know the effect she had. Hell, Tommy probably didn’t even know how much he’s changed.

Tommy was off in London so Lizzie decided to put the nanny where she thought she belonged. 

Lizzie loudly knocked on the front door of Arrow House and pushed past Mary who had opened the door.

“Is Tommy in?” Lizzie pulled off her coat and rudely passed it to the housekeeper.

Lizzie walked around the foyer, her heels loudly clicking against the floor as her eyes took everything in.  

“No.” Mary was unamused, “But you’re his secretary and you should have already known that.”

Lizzie shot Mary a nasty glare and began to round her but was interrupted by soft footsteps and quiet giggles. (Y/N) walked into the foyer and Charlie ran in after her, they had been playing tag and the little boy had been running after his nanny.

“Mary? Is there a problem?” (Y/N) asked as she walked closer to the housekeeper.

“I’m looking for Tommy.” Lizzie interrupted.

“Well, he’s not here.” (Y/N) frowned.

“Miss Stark knows this. She’s Mr Shelby’s secretary.” Mary wasn’t holding back.

Lizzie scowled, “How dare you--”

“Mary, would you be able to entertain Charlie for me for a few moments? I shall deal with Miss Stark, it shouldn’t take long.” (Y/N) interrupted.

Mary narrowed her eyes at Lizzie before she slowly nodded, she unceremoniously through Lizzie’s jacket to the side on one of the chairs that rested there before she gently began to guide Charlie away.

“Is there a message I could pass to Mr Shelby for you?” (Y/N) asked, after she was sure Charlie and Mary were safely away

“No. I actually came here to speak to you.” Lizzie sauntered over to where (Y/N) stood.

“Me?”

“Yes, you.” Lizzie rolled her eyes, “Listen, nanny. I don’t know who you think you are, waltzing in here, acting as you’re a member of this family.”

“I-i don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m only here to look after Charlie.”

“And then what? You plan to seduce Tommy and slip into his bed?” Lizzie stalked towards (Y/N) and pressed her against the wall.

“Seduce?!” (Y/N) didn’t know what to think.

“Stop acting clueless and innocent! I’ve had my sight on Tommy Shelby for years and I won’t let some tart that’s been picked up off of the street to take that from me!”

(Y/N) could only gape in shock at the woman who stood in front of her. Lizzie was red in the face and her hands were shaking in anger.

“Lizzie.”

Tommy’s voice caught both of the women’s attention, their heads whipping to the door where he stood. 

He walked to where they were standing, (Y/N) was still pressed against the wall and Lizzie had taken a few steps back as Tommy made their way over to them.

“Want to explain why you’ve got my nanny corned to the wall?” Tommy’s face wasn’t betraying anything but his voice held a warning not to lie to him.

“We’re just having a talk.” Lizzie straightened out her clothes like she hadn’t been caught threatening someone.

Tommy’s calm facade crumbles at her lie and he glares at her, “I warned you not to lie, Lizzie. Now, I want you to leave my house and I’ll deal with you on Monday.”

“Tommy--” Lizzie began to defend herself.

“Lizzie out!” Tommy roared, making both women jump.

Lizzie quickly ran out of the house, so focused on leaving as fast as she could, that she left her coat behind. 

When the door slammed shut behind her, Tommy turned to (Y/N) who was still stood against the wall.

“Are you okay?” He held his arm out for her to take and when she did, he guided her into the family room, calling for one of the maids to bring her some tea.

“Yeah…” (Y/N) nodded, “How much did you hear?”

“Most of it,” Tommy admitted, “But I’ll make sure she’s dealt with.”

“She seemed determined.” (Y/N) quietly noted

Tommy sighed, “Yeah, that’s Lizzie but she overstepped the line here. I apologize.”

(Y/N) smiled at him, “You don’t have to apologize on her behalf it’s fine but I would like an apology from her.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, “It won’t be sincere.”

“No, but it’ll be humiliating.” (Y/N) smirked, “What do you think about inviting your whole family around to watch?”

Tommy couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, “You won’t hear any complaints from me. Or them for that matter.”

It was at that moment, Tommy finally realized how much (Y/N) had an effect on him. He smiled more and felt less strung up. She was a blessing in disguise.

[thepancakeboi]

99. “Do it. I dare you.”

I don’t normally make a note on these writing prompt stuff outside of tags but I feel I have to warn that this one does get very dark and angsty, up to including the potential of character death (no one dies though, I promise). Now, on with the show!

“Let’s go,” Joker’s voice rings out, echoing against the walls of the Mementos station.

Mona jumps onto the tracks, transforming into his car form in midair. The rest of the thieves sans Joker starts to get in. Not everyone had been able to come today. Haru had business involving Big Bang Burger that she had to attend to, leaving it down to the nine of us to finish our Mementos requests. She had apologized profusely in the group chat, but the others reassured her that everything was alright.

I go to get in the back of the vehicle but am stopped by a hand grabbing my arm. I give Joker an unamused look as I ask, “What do you want?”

“You know where you sit,” he replies with a cocky grin to match. I sigh in frustration as I get in the front row after Joker. Every single time, he always wants me to sit right next to him. He refuses to take no for an answer on that. No matter how much outward annoyance I show, I secretly am content with this seating arrangement. I’m fairly certain that he is aware of this as well. It’s even more apparent today since, with Noir not here today, Violet ends up deciding to sit with Panther and Queen in the middle row. Joker echoes my thoughts as he remarks, “Hey, look at that. It’s just the two of us. Anything can happen~”

“Joker, if you try anything, you’re going to lose a limb or two.”

“Sounds fun,” he hums, laughing as I sulk and look away from him. I can’t even threaten him without his goddamn danger kink making its existence known.

“God, get a room, you two!” Oracle yells from the back.

Joker laughs even harder at this. “I might do just that.”

“No,” I say, refusing to entertain this idea any further.

“But Akeppi-”

“I said no.”

He looks disheartened for a brief moment before he smirks. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t Joker starting to sing, “♪ I want your love, and I want your revenge. You and me could write a bad romance~♪”

I whirl around as I hear Panther join in with, “♪ Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!♪”

Joker apparently has no intentions of stopping. “♪ I want your love, and all your lover’s revenge. You and me could write a bad romance~♪”

At that point, Oracle decides it’s her turn, “♪ Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh! Caught in a bad romance!♪”

“Would you three shut up already?” I yell, turning so I can glare at all of them at once.

It’s quiet for all of one second before Oracle and Joker both, of course, decide to ignore me like the menaces they are, simultaneously singing, “♪ Ra-ra-ah-ah-ah! Roma-roma-ma! Gaga, ‘Ooh la-la’! Want your bad romance~♪”

I groan at their antics. It’s the one annoyance that comes from sitting next to Joker. It’s not the first time something like this has happened. The chances of it being the last are minuscule at best.

The banter between the rest of the thieves continues as we continue to drive through Mementos. At some point, Joker took one of his hands off the steering wheel so that he could hold me close. He still has his arm around me when we run right into a Shadow that decides not to immediately disintegrate upon impact.

“Get ready, everyone!” Mona says in car form. “This one wants a fight.”

“Oh, hell yeah!” Skull shouts. “We’re gonna kick its ass!”

We quickly exit the vehicle while the Shadow is still stunned from being hit head-on by a cat-turned-vehicle. Almost as soon as Mona transforms back into a cat, the Shadow bursts into a black liquid, revealing itself as a Forneus.

I had been hoping for this fight to be done quickly, but this Shadow is decidedly stubborn. We’ve managed to knock it down a couple of times, but it simply refuses to die. After the third such time, it fires a Mapsiodyne that manages to hit all of us. “Queen!” Fox calls out as she collapses.

No communication is needed. Joker and I pull back to tend to her while the rest keep fighting. I bend down so that I can drag her out of harm’s way. However, I pause, sensing Joker’s eyes on me. Not this again. “Joker,” I start, moving Queen as I speak, “maybe you should be a little more concerned about Queen lying unconscious on the floor rather than staring at my ass.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right.”

He quickly summons Sandalphon to revive her. Queen’s eyes flutter open, surprisingly unalarmed that she had been knocked out. It’s such a common occurrence with this group. How they’ve survived for so long, I have no idea. “She’s awake,”  I say, turning back to Joker. “We should get back to the fight.”

He nods. “Let’s go-”

“Joker, look out!” Panther calls out just as he is engulfed in a magenta aura.

He tries to move out of the way, but it’s too late. There’s nothing any of us can do without Noir and her Persona’s Amrita Shower. The aura clears. Joker stands there, his eyes closed. “Joker?” Queen asks from behind me, having gotten herself to her feet.

A sinister grin creeps across his face as he opens his eyes, his attention focused on the two of us. His eyes glow with an unnatural purple light as he rushes at us. “It’s not him!” I yell, blocking his dagger with my sword. His grin only widens, a frenzied look in his eyes. “He’s been brainwashed by that damn Shadow!”

“We gotta do something!” Mona calls out from the frontlines, where he’s working with Skull and Fox to keep the Shadow occupied. “He’ll keep attacking us if we do nothing!”

In an instant, I make my decision. “Keep attacking it, all of you. Oracle, make sure they don’t die doing it.”

“It’ll be easy peasy!” Oracle replies from above in Al Azif.

“I’ll keep Joker occupied while you do that until he snaps out of this brainwashing.” 

“Got it,” Panther responds, her Persona pelting the Shadow with fiery strikes as Makoto charges forward on Agnes.

With Joker’s next strike, I grab ahold of his wrist, fully intending on pulling him away from the fight. However, I’m distracted by Violet tentatively asking, “Is senpai gonna be okay?”

“Damnit,” I hiss as Joker escapes my grasp, his dagger slicing my wrist. “Quit your worrying. He’ll be fine.”

Ignoring Violet, for the time being, I regain a hold of Joker and manage to get the bloody dagger out of his hand. I drag him away, leaving the others to take care of that pesky Shadow. The moment we’re out of its vision, I turn to Joker, sheathing my sword for now. “Pull yourself together, idiot!” I snap, resisting the urge to slap him across the face. “We’re your friends.”

“Friends?” he asks, the first words he’s said in his current state.

“Yes, friends. You have those, remember?”

“No. You’re my enemy!”

He throws himself at me with little regard to the fact that he’s currently unarmed and I have a sword at my side. I struggle against him, trying not to hurt him. My sword stays sheathed. I can’t bring myself to cause him harm, even when he has me backed against the wall. “Joker, listen to yourself! I know you’re still there. You’re brainwashed. The Phantom Thieves are your friends. Don’t you understand? They’re not the enemy.”

“You’re right...it’s just you.” Nothing could have prepared me for what comes next. In one swift motion, he pulls out his pistol, pointing it at my face. His grin becomes wicked and full of malice as he sees my eyes widen in shock. “How does it feel, traitor? Knowing you’re about to die.”

“You won’t shoot me. You can’t.”

Despite how confident I try to sound, my heart pounds in my chest. Chills run down my spine. It takes a considerable amount of effort to hide any possible sign of trembling. I refuse to show any vulnerability to him. I don’t care that he could kill me. Even brainwashed, there’s no way he’s capable of shooting me. This isn’t him. Joker would never do this...would he? “Are you afraid?” he mocks. “Are you going to beg for me to spare your life?”

I look Joker dead in the eye...and laugh.

I am aware of the situation I am in, that Joker has a gun pointed at my head and could shoot me dead at any moment. At the same time, the irony doesn’t elude me. The tables have turned, and now it’s me on the receiving end of the gun. “Do you really think I would stoop so low? I know you’re brainwashed, but I think you’re bluffing.”

“Someone’s eager to die. What was it you said? ‘Case closed. This is where your justice ends.’ But it’s not my justice ending, detective: it’s yours.”

“Then, by all means, pull the trigger. Do it. I dare you.” When he doesn’t immediately react, I add, “Here. How about I make it easier for you?” With slow, deliberate movements, I remove my mask with one hand and push my bangs aside with the other as I tilt my head forward. He has a clear shot now, the cold metal of the barrel pressed against my forehead. Yes, this is reckless. I know that...but he deserves this chance. An opportunity to enact swift judgment on me for my crimes. I’m not worthy of a quick death like this, even with it mirroring my actions in the interrogation room. It doesn’t matter, though. If this is how it ends, then so be it. I couldn’t ask for a better executioner.

I stand there, eyes closed, waiting for death to take me. But the gunshot never comes. I open my eyes, staring past the pistol to the boy currently holding me at gunpoint. His grin isn’t quite as wide as before. He’s faltering. “What’s the matter, Joker? I didn’t hesitate when the situation was reversed. Go ahead,” I say as I close my eyes once again, my voice slowly rising in volume as I continue to berate him, “put a bullet through my skull. It’s only fair, isn’t it? I’ve murdered countless people. I even tried to kill you twice. I don’t deserve to be alive, so get on with it and fucking shoot me already!”

All I hear is a gasp, the gun clattering against the ground. I look up to see Joker, no longer brainwashed. It’s clear that he’s shaken. His lips are parted as he stares at me in wide-eyed horror. “A-Akeppi?” he hesitantly says, voice trembling. His mask isn’t able to completely hide the tears threatening to spill. He’s trying so desperately to pull himself together, but for once, it’s not working. I’ve never seen him so visibly distressed, and it hurts.

“You were brainwashed.” It’s the only thing I can offer as reassurance that I don’t blame him, that it wasn’t his fault.

“You’re...not hurt, are you?”

Figures, he’d ask that question. As always, he’s more concerned about my own well being than his own. “No, of course not,” I lie, hiding the blood on my wrist.

He isn’t fooled. He sees right through my response, as observant as ever. His touch is gentle as he moves my arm into his line of sight. The corners of his lips twitch when he sees the cut. “You are. I didn’t hurt you anywhere else, did I? Tell me the truth.”

“You didn’t.”

We stand there in silence, neither one of us sure how to proceed. I personally want to ignore it and move on, but I can sense that Joker won’t. His inner guilt is eating at him, I can tell. Meanwhile, something tells me he knows I’m hiding something from him. I just don’t want him to know that I had believed he was capable of killing me, even for a second. It’d be too much for him, I’m sure. Joker’s the one to break the silence. “Akeppi, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I instantly respond.

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not. I could have killed you.”

“You didn’t kill me, tho-”

“But I could have,” he interjects before starting to ramble. “I could have killed you. I had my hand on the trigger, and you were willing to just die. What if I had actually shot you...and you had died? Akeppi, I don’t want to lose you again.”

“I’m still here. You wouldn’t have fired the gun.”

“But what if-”

He abruptly goes silent, likely shocked that I’ve pulled him into my embrace, dropping my mask in the process. “Ren, trust me,” I say in a slow, hushed tone, dropping the codenames for now so I can get through to him. “It’s okay. I’m here for you, and I will continue to love you as much as before. Nothing will change that.”

“Goro...” His voice hitches as he returns the hug, desperately holding onto me as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he doesn’t. I can hear his ragged breathing as he finally breaks down and cries. Taking cues from what he would do if the situation were reversed, I pull off one of my gauntlets and gently stroke his hair with my ungloved hand. My own tears run down my face, but I refuse to acknowledge them. I have to be strong, for Ren’s sake. He’s always been that way for me, and it’s about time I return the favor.

A few minutes pass before he starts to calm down. As he pulls back to look at me, I move his mask up so I can wipe the remaining tears from his face. “Even crying, you’re still beautiful,” I muse to myself, not meaning to say the words aloud.

“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that?” he asks with a little chuckle. “You look like you were crying, too.”

I shake my head, refusing to confirm or deny his statement. His chuckling continues as he replicates my actions, although his hand lingers on my cheek longer than I had. I turn my head as I hear Skull’s voice. They must have brought down the Shadow without us. I reach down, grabbing my mask from behind Joker and putting my glove back on my hand. “We’ll keep this between us, alright?”

“Okay.” He moves his own mask back into its proper position. Even up close, it’s hard to see that he had just finished crying. “Hey, Akeppi?”

“Yes?”

“Can we cuddle when we get back home?”

The request is not exactly unexpected. We both know he loves to cuddle and that it helps improve his mood. He already should know my answer. After all, how could I refuse him after what happened? “Of course. Come on. Let’s meet up with the others.”

Prompt list

[starrierknight-main]

Just North of Paradise - Chapter 10

A/N: I warned you in the blurb. Just saying ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

Pairing; Sirius X Reader

Words; 3,533

Warnings; swearing, pining, hurt/comfort, angst, dialogue-heavy

Series Masterlist

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

The bell for the end of classes rang throughout the castle, marking the end of the day for the students. Y/N and Mei left the Arithmancy classroom, slowly walking their way back to Ravenclaw Tower to drop off their bags before going to the Great Hall for supper.

“I can’t believe we got given so much homework! Are they trying to induce a breakdown or something?” Mei groaned as Y/N laughed at her, their arms linked as they winded their way through the crowds.

“I think a part of me died when Burbage said she was setting eighteen inches of parchment for her stupid essay-” but she was stopped as Vance McLaggen stood in front of her and cleared his throat.

“I’ll leave you to it then?” Mei asked, sidestepping the burly Gryffindor and walking to the next corridor, leaving Y/N feeling rather defenceless under his gaze.

He was just shorter than Sirius, and by all means broader. He had heavy set features and thick blond curls that stuck to his head. He had beady blue eyes that scanned Y/N’s face as she became increasingly nervous. She was pretty certain she had heard of him to beat up Slytherin first years, much to her distaste.

“Hi?” she asked more than greeted, sliding the straps of her bag further up her shoulders.

“Hi. Look, I’m going to be blunt. You’re pretty cute, and we both don’t have dates to the Yule Ball... Would you like to go with me?” Vance asked, rocking back on his heels.

“I appreciate the offer but-”

“No need for an explanation,” he said, marching off in the opposite direction.

What the hell was that? Y/N thought to herself as she turned the corner, looking to Mei who could barely contain her laughter. She opened her mouth, but Y/N cut her off.

“Before you say anything, no, I don’t want to talk about it,” Y/N shot at Mei, linking arms with her again before giving in to her long-overdue laughter.

“I’m sorry, but what was that?” Mei laughed, stumbling into a suit of armour instead of looking where she was going.

“I really don’t know,” Y/N said, sighing as she rubbed her temple with her free hand.

“Ouch, another one bites the dust. What is it now? Three and counting?”

“Shove off!” Y/N said, throwing Mei a scowl as a smile betrayed the expression,” You know perfectly well that the first was three years younger than me, we don’t even know the second since they didn’t sign their name on the letter and the third wasn’t - Sirius!” Y/N gasped, unlinking her arm from Mei’s and jogging to Sirius, who had turned the corner into the next corridor.

“I’ll see you later!” Mei called after her, but Y/N wasn’t paying attention.

Ever since Lily had hinted that she was in the all-clear to try speaking to Sirius again, Y/N had been on the lookout for an opportunity to speak to him. He was almost always with his friends, but even when he wasn’t, striking up the nerve had been a challenge. After all, Animagi and werewolves were sensitive topics.

Sirius looked over his shoulder, seeing Y/N jog to catch up with him, same Y/H/C hair and same face he remembered, but she still looked different to him in a way he couldn’t place. Perhaps more beautiful than he remembered? He shook his head slightly. He was getting ahead of himself.

He slowed down, waiting for her to catch up. She threw an anxious glance his way - it was now or never.

“I know about you and the boys. I know that Remus is a-” but Y/N never finished. Sirius grabbed her hand and pulled her into an empty classroom, slamming the door behind him.

“What do you know?” he said quickly, looking at her with his intense grey eyes, just how she remembered them to be.

“Everything,” she breathed.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” she laughed uneasily, fiddling with the cuffs of her sleeves.

“About me and the boys? And Remus? Everything?” he asked in disbelief, running a hand through his curls as he paced around the classroom, the floorboards squeaking with each step.

“I mean what I said. Everything.” He reached out to grab her hand again, freezing halfway.

“Sorry, I should ask...” he trailed off, not meeting her eyes and preferring to look at the cracks on the wall behind her instead.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just... Where are we going?” Y/N said softly.

“My dorm. I don’t want anyone to overhear us,” he said, pausing when he realised how that sounded, “Not like that!” he added hastily.

She laughed, and Sirius felt his heart pound harder in his chest. It had been such a long time since he’d heard it. They were finally talking again, and she was finally here.

“Shall we get going then?” she said, holding out the hand he had previously tried to take, a blush dusting her cheeks she noticed he had been staring.

He took her hand in his, feeling how much smaller it was as they rushed through the stone halls, getting strange looks from students and ghosts alike. Paintings whispered as they ran past and teachers called after them, but they didn’t care. They had been waiting too long to care.

--------

Y/N shut the door behind them, hearing it lock with a satisfying ‘click’ before turning to Sirius. They took a moment to just look at each other. It had been so long since they could do so freely, secrets holding them back. They couldn’t hide from each other anymore.

“Should we go back to the common room and get the boys?” she asked after a moment.

“No, I’ll tell them after. I just,” he paused,” I just wanna know how. How the hell did you work it out?”

“Oh, well, it was easy enough,” Y/N said, picking up random items as she walked around the dorm room.

She picked up a photo of the Marauders from what looked like their first year from a bedside table. James was messing up his hair, same boyish grin on his face. Peter barely reached Sirius’ shoulder, smiling dazedly as he looked around. Remus was trying to inconspicuously step out of frame, being dragged back in by Sirius who was laughing. Y/N could almost hear his laugh just from looking at the picture. They had only gotten older, but they hadn’t changed. Not really.

“It was?”

She turned to face him, looking at his disbelieving face. She let out a shaky laugh. “Okay, so maybe it wasn’t. After our little - or rather my little spat, I got to thinking.”

“Sounds about right,” Sirius said, taking a seat on his bed, the springs squeaking slightly.

She let out another shaky laugh, nervously fiddling with her hands out of habit. “Well, I just listed all the possibilities I could. I went to the library, did some digging, and well... I found a lunar calendar. It all matched up. I remembered what I said, and I knew that was why you became Animagi. Because werewolf bites don’t hurt them like they hurt humans. Merlin! I don’t think I’ve ever felt more stupid about something. I can’t believe I thought that it was about me! It was so self-centred and I just... I feel terrible about it. I’m so sorry that I figured something like that out. Something that should’ve stayed private,” Y/N said weakly, head in her hands, hiding the hot tears that had slipped from her eyes. “I can’t believe I butted in on you and your friends just trying to make Remus’ life easier. And I’m so sorry that I yelled at you. You didn’t deserve that at all... I can’t believe you can even stand to look at me anymore.”

In one swift movement, Sirius walked from the bed to Y/N and wrapped his arms around her. He held her as she cried into him, resting her head on his shoulder and gripping his robes as if she would never want to let go. The familiar smell of leather and gasoline washing over her, momentarily making her feel better before she was reminded about why she was crying. New thick tears pooling in her eyes as her sobs were muffled into Sirius’ chest.

“I can’t believe you’d think that. But it’s okay now. It’s okay,” he said into her hair, rubbing circles on her back as her shoulders shook.

“It had nothing to do with me. I’m so sorry, Sirius. I’m sorry,” she repeated over and over, sounding more broken each time she did.

“You’re forgiven. It’s okay, really it is. Just please don’t cry anymore,” he said gently, taking her face into his hands and brushing any remaining tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

Y/N swallowed back another sob. “Is there anything I can do?” she whispered.

“For what?”

“To help. For Remus,” she clarified, her Y/E/C eyes memorising his face as he smiled softly.

“No. Although I suppose he wouldn’t say no to some Honeydukes chocolate.”

And she laughed again, a watery one, but a laugh all the same and Sirius thought he would never get tired of hearing it. She rested her head against his chest, just listening to his heartbeat and revelling in his presence. It had been far too long.

“I’ve missed you,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the fabric of his robes.

“I’ve missed you too,” he said, the last word getting caught in his throat as he hugged her just a bit tighter to him.

--------

Sirius and Y/N made their way down the staircase, laughing as if weeks hadn’t gone by. They were halfway across the common room when she stopped, looking over her shoulder at the rest of the Marauders who were indiscreetly pretending not to watch the pair of them. James slapped Peter upside the head when he looked for too long, the latter letting out a yelp of surprise.

“Are you sure I-”

“Yes. Just let me deal with it, okay?” he said, giving her a gentle push towards to exit.

She sent him a small smile before climbing through the portrait hole. He watched her leave, finding the whole situation almost rather surreal. He couldn’t quite believe it had been fixed. After weeks of not talking it only took them minutes to reconcile-

Remus cleared his throat. “How did it go?”

“Fine. She knows. Worked out everything without me having to tell her. She swore not to say anything,” Sirius said, finally walking over to his friends who shared a look.

“Okay, good. Great, even. But did you ask her?” James said, sitting forward on his chair. Sirius sent an inquiring look his way whilst James gaped.

“To the Yule Ball, he means,” Remus clarified, putting a bookmark between the pages of his novel and looking up expectantly at Sirius.

“No. Was I supposed to?” he said, the warmth from his chest finally leaving after she hugged him.

“Yes, you dolt!” James said, throwing a sofa cushion at him.

“After weeks of not talking, when better to ask?” Remus said, watching his face fall even more. “Although, it’s a long way from Gryffindor to Ravenclaw. You could catch her if you run.”

Sirius didn’t need telling twice.

He sprinted out of the common room and down the stairs, cursing with each step he took. Could he be more stupid? It was the perfect moment! he thought as he ran past some girls, hearing them giggle as he slowed to a jog to catch his breath. Normally he didn’t have to run so much in a day, considering when he did, he normally found a place to hide so he wasn’t caught by a teacher.

He was walking now, pausing only because he walked straight through the Grey Lady (who shrieked, floating away as she cursed his name) and felt as if he had taken a dip in the Black Lake again. He came to a standstill when he heard her name.

“Y/N?” a male voice asked hesitantly.

“Oh, hi. Everything alright?” Y/N asked politely.

“Yeah. Listen, I was just wondering if maybe you might like to go to the ball with me?” he asked.

Sirius waited for her answer. But she said nothing. Was she considering accepting? Of course. He was too late. The ball was only days away, and this boy seemed perfectly nice. Of course, she would say yes, he thought as he as walked away from them. He would too if he were in her shoes. And yet a poisonous wave of jealousy washed over him anyway.

“I really appreciate the offer, and I’m very flattered, but no. Sorry,” Y/N said after a while.

“Sure, I understand. Can I ask why?” the boy smiled.

“Well, it’s a bit difficult to explain, but there’s someone who I want to go with, and I’m pretty sure they’ll ask me,” she said uneasily, not sure how he would take it.

“Fair enough,” he shrugged, before bidding her good night.

Sirius should have known better. He walked past the group of girls he had previously ignored, running a hand through his hair in frustration and then cringing when he heard them giggle. He stopped in his tracks, spinning on his heel to face them. Immediately, they stifled their giggles and began to twirl their hair around the fingers, practically undressing him with their eyes. He shivered. He always hated it when people looked at him like that. But he put on a brave face, ignoring the feeling.

“Hey McKinnon?” he called out.

“Yeah?” a pretty girl with auburn ringlets stepped out amongst the crowd of girls, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Wanna go to the ball with me?”

“Sure,” she shrugged easily, turning back to her friends who seemed to be taking the news by openly giggling.

At least Sirius had a date now. He wouldn’t have to spend the night alone. That had to be better than nothing, right? Yes, it was the right thing to do. He was Sirius Black, and he had a reputation to uphold. If Y/N could go with someone else, then so could he.

--------

Not even forty-eight hours after Y/N and the Marauders had made up, Y/N got a note from Lily handed to her in Transfiguration inviting her to go to the Marauders’ dorm for a sleepover on the day before Christmas Eve. Naturally, she agreed.

Y/N walked her way to the portrait of Florence the Fat Lady, where she was chatting to Sirius as he waited for her. In the weeks that they had been apart, Y/N’s memory didn’t do him justice to quite how handsome he was. His black curls were pushed carelessly away from his face as he laughed, grey eyes shining with humour as they crinkled as the Fat Lady attempted opera signing. He radiated a casual grace that would be impossible to pull off for anyone but him.

“I’m very sorry to interrupt, but my friend’s arrived,” Sirius said, sending Y/N a wink and breaking her train of thought.

“Oh, well. I’ll turn a blind eye this time, but no sneaking students from other Houses in!” she said, falsely annoyed as Sirius gave her a lazy salute before beckoning Y/N into the common room as the portrait door swung open.

“And what was that?” Y/N said, quirking an eyebrow up at Sirius as he slung an arm around her shoulder whilst they crossed the common room.

“That was me artfully getting you into Gryffindor this holiday,” he said, sidestepping a couple of first-years who had singed off their eyebrows whilst playing Exploding Snap.

“Artfully?”

“Well, not on her part. But I had to patiently listen to her shriek; only way I could smuggle you in. You’re lucky I like you,” he grinned, bopping her on the nose for emphasis and making her give a half-hearted scowl in the process.

Sirius opened the door to their room. The mattresses had been taken off the beds and copious amounts blankets and pillows were strewn across the floor. Lily had taken some multicoloured fairy lights from her dorm and strung them off the bedposts, and Y/N had no idea what she had plugged them into. She also saw a Monopoly board, stray Wizard’s Chess pieces and bottles of firewhiskey laden about the room.

“We were wondering when you’d show up,” Y/N heard a Remus’ voice say before she had the wind knocked out of her as Lily wrapped her into a rib-cracking hug.

“I — can’t — breathe,” Y/N gasped as Lily pulled away, a dazzling smile on her face.

“I was worried Sirius wouldn’t be able to get you in!” she said, pulling Y/N further into the room.

“You underestimate me, Lily dear,” Sirius said before belly-flopping onto a beanbag that let out a gentle ‘poof’ as he landed.

“Oi, that’s my girlfriend!” James said, chucking a sweet wrapper in Sirius general direction.

“Looks like you have competition,” a new voice said.

A beautiful girl with auburn hair popped up from under a blanket, smiling at Lily who beamed back at her. She looked like a model from a muggle magazine, her brown eyes accentuated by perfect winged eyeliner. They looked like they could be cousins if you squinted.

“Y/N, this is Marlene-,” Lily said as Y/N sent her a questioning look,”-Sirius’ date to the ball.”

It was at this point that Y/N felt as if her heart had been pricked with a needle and was racing around her head like a balloon releasing air. Once her brain caught up, she plastered on a smile, not noticing Sirius’ apprehensive look after the news had been announced.

“Awesome. It’s great to meet you,” Y/N said, flashing her a polite smile that she hoped didn’t look as forced as it felt as she settled herself next to Remus, handing him a bar of Honeydukes’ finest, which he readily accepted.

So Y/N played laughed with them, noticing how Marlene laughed loudest of all and Y/N joked with them, noticing that Marlene would always press a kiss to Sirius’ cheek when he told one. And she felt sick with herself for noticing and caring as much as she did. Jealousy bubbled painfully in her veins as she watched them; Marlene completely doting on him and Y/N thought she was becoming nauseous. Either that or the overwhelming smell of artificial sweetener from James sweets was getting to her.

“Right, Wormy, it’s your turn to go to the kitchens,” James said, tossing sweet wrapper into the bin that was starting to overflow.

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t stuff your gob,” Peter grumbled, snatching up the Marauders map and heaving himself off the floor.

“I’ll go too,” Y/N volunteered, walking out from the room before anyone could ask questions.

Peter caught up with her on the stairs, their footsteps echoing around them and filling the silence. The corridors were almost empty and Y/N guessed curfew must be soon. The cold night air refreshed and cleared her head as she walked. She had felt trapped in the dorm, helplessly watching Sirius and Marlene be sickeningly sweet together. It was so stupid to have gotten her hopes up. They had spent over a month not talking to one another, why would she expect him to hold out as she had?

Y/N tickled the pear, entering the kitchens and watching as Peter asked the house elves for sweets as they happily complied, bringing platters of various hand made candy - boiled sweets, toffees, hand whipped marshmallows - everything. Once they were holding enough sweets to probably give a person more than enough cavities for a lifetime, Peter and Y/N made their way back to Gryffindor.

“How come Sirius is going with Marlene?” Y/N asked in a small voice, letting the words reverberate off the walls around them.

“‘The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese’,” he said dully, tripping up the stairs.

“Dumbledore’s advice?” She clapped a hand to her forehead. “Bad timing. Naturally,” she sighed, stopping in front of the portrait as Peter muttered the password to the sleeping Fat Lady. “I can’t believe Dumbledore predicted this.”

“Innit. Bit creepy,” Peter said as they continued to climb the stairs to the dorm. Y/N wondered how often he replied with sentences that were more than two syllables unprompted.

“Ah, the heroes of the hour are back!” James cried, relieving Y/N and Peter of their sweets before they even had a chance to knock on the door.

“We’re about to play adult Wizard’s Chess. Wanna join?” Marlene asked, holding up a bottle of firewhiskey and addressing Y/N specifically.

“I feel a bit funny. I think I’m gonna head to bed,” Y/N smiled weakly.

“You sure you’re okay?” Sirius asked, sounding genuinely concerned and making her heart hurt just that little bit more.

‘Yes, I’m doing absolutely fabulous watching you move on. Simply wonderful!’ Y/N bit back. “I’m sure,” she said, shutting the door and leaning against it.

“What the hell did you say, Peter?”

“Nothing!”

She heard their muffled voices from behind the wood, making the familiar feeling of acidic tears prickle behind her eyelids as her back slid down the door. You’re being over dramatic, her mind screamed. But her heart knew better and she hated it.

Sirius had moved on. It had only been a matter of time and she was an idiot for thinking otherwise.

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[lastluvbug]

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR DOING MY REQUEST since love it so much, I'm asking another one! This time it's gonna be full on angst but there will be happy ending so let's get started! =D can you do a request with a mc who had a terrible back story of abuse? She ended up losing her eye when she was four years old because her father threw a wine bottle at her and age blames herself because he killed her late older sibling and mom when she tried to cheer him up by playing a mini harp? Can be with anyone.

Very angsty, I’ll see what I can do!

Warnings: Mentioned/referenced abuse, mentioned self harm, drinking, and langauge. If sensitive, please do not read!

A Sweet Melody

Once upon a time, music had been so precious to Yuu. It had been her world, her rock, her solace when she couldn’t sleep at night.

She’d pull out her harp, and hum a tune in sync with her elegant plucking. She remembered those nights, dreamt of how free and pure the sound was, how calm she felt as the tension was poured into her song.

She remembered how much her mother and sister loved to listen—after a stressful day, before school, a nighttime lullaby.

All of it seemed so distant, like a fragmented dream that only appeared in flashes, gone so quick the only trace left was the bitterly addictive flavor of nostalgia on her tongue.

Music now was nothing more than a hatred whorled spit in her face. Music had been the thing to lead her younger sister and mother into their coffins six feet below ground. Music had driven her father insane.

It started when she was just barely out of her toddler years, when Yuu was first gifted the stringed instrument. While it overjoyed her to have something so beautiful, her father was nearly steaming with rage.

Yuu’s family was the farthest thing from rich. Her parents worked two, three jobs at a time, hardly creating a stable income as her father squandered his opportunities again and again. Over the course of her short life, Yuu often found herself to be at the receiving end of his fury, whether that mean harsh chastisment scented of alcohol on the smallest of mistakes, or a plain backhand across the cheek.

The day before, Yuu’s father had wasted yet another night at the bar, filling himself the disgustingly thin liquid until he couldn’t walk, nor speak.

“You bitch! How did you afford that? You doin’ something behind my back? Is that it?” He bellowed at her mother, Yuu standing in front of her one year old sister defensively as he stood from the rugged couch, stumbling over to the cluttered counter.

“Dear, please. It was just a gift!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me! How did you afford it?!” He grabbed her mother’s arm roughly, twisting it with his superior strength as she bit back a wince too late.

“Daddy! Don’t hurt her! She just wanted to do something nice!” Yuu interjected, latching onto his free hand.

“Get off me, brat. If it weren’t for little money suckers like you, we would’ve been dining like kings!” He slapped Yuu away, the short girl tripping over her feet and landing on her side.

From across the room, her sister began to wail, clutching her hand-me-down stuffed pet and wiping away fat tears. Yuu noticed how her father whipped his head to the child, eyes ablaze with a plan to shut her up. Acting quickly, Yuu rushed to her baby sister, pulling her out of the kitchen and up to her bed, where she tucked her in.

“Don’t get violent! Not on our daughter’s birthday!” Her mother shrieked as Yuu tramped back into the kitchen, freezing as her father slapped her mother.

“Shut up! You don’t understand what you’ve done, woman!” Just as her father raised his hand to strike her mother yet again, Yuu threw herself into him, temporarily knocking him off balance.

“No, Daddy! Leave Mom alone!” She stood in front of her mother, who fell to the ground on her knees, her arm out beside her as she tried to protect her despite only having just turned four.

A black rage darker than Yuu had ever seen laced every muscle and tendon in her father’s face, fear spiking through her heart and crumbling her resolve as the man recovered from his shock, standing to his full height. “So you think you’re better than me now? You think you can stand up to me? You’re father?” His hand trailed across the counter, searching.

“Dad...?” Yuu began trembling.

“I’ll teach you...” he mumbled, towering above his daughter, “I’ll teach you to stand up to me!”

He raised his hand, and in that split moment, his eyes were clearer than Yuu had ever seen before. He moved with such swiftness, it made her wonder why he’d never invested such concise movements into playing with her or her sister, why he sat drinking his life away on the couch instead of helping her mother work.

That was the last thought she had, before her world was sliced in two.

First, it was the immobilizing pain that made her drop to the floor. Her bones groaned in response to being dropped so unceremoniously on the tile, but was little heeded as her head blew up in flame, her scalp stinging like a thousand wasp penetrations as something warm and sticky dripped down her tear streaked cheeks.

She hardly recognized the scream that pierced the air as she looked around, hand wandering to her eye as she realized... it wasn’t working. She could only see out of her right, and the left was pure, black darkness, not even the silhouette of the room appearing in the emptiness. Yuu stared at the floor, at the blood falling from her face and onto the glass shatterer before her, encircling her like a broken cage.

Her ears rung, and she couldn’t process what happened next. Briefly, she recalled being carried, the sound of her irregular heartbeat, and the flooding of throbbing lights as she faded in and out of consciousness.

Yuu had her father’s words left in her head, imprinted in her brain like a branded cow. “Next time, learn to hold your tongue, bitch.”

All her life she carried the reminder of that day, marred upon her skin and forever labeling her as the “Outcast.” She never saw herself as beautiful from that time forward, and after the death of her mother and sister a mere two years later, never spoke unless spoken to.

<————>

Yuu awoke with a start, being shaken by someone rather roughly.

“Yuu? Wake up, class ended.”

The girl looked to the source of the sound, meeting the wide eyed and worried face of her only friend in all of Night Raven. “...My apologies, Epel...” She mumbled, lifting herself from her crossed arms.

“It’s alright, just... what was your dream about?” Epel asked, standing beside her.

“Nothing i-important, why?”

“You’ve been crying.”

“Hm?” She reach up to her cheeks, her fingers wiping something wet streaked down the plains of her face. “Ah... It really was nothing.” She waved off his inquiry, as well as her tears with her sleeve, seeing that Grim had already long since left her behind.

“If you say so... hey! Since it seems yer—ahem, you’re, not busy, did you want to come with me back to Pomefiore? All this time, and you’ve never been, right?” Epel prompted, making Yuu look up at him from her seat.

“Go with you to Pomefiore? A-Are you sure that would be fine? You guys are known for your beauty, I don’t think I would be very welcome...” Yuu shyly said, ghosting over her scarred eye.

“With the way Vil primps himself daily, I doubt anyone would notice you. Not to mention Rook—the guy’s lost one too many of his screws. He’ll probably be kissing up to our marvelous dorm head, so I’ll be off the hook.”

“What would... what would we even do?”

“We could study? I know I’ve been failing pretty terribly in some of my classes. Or... oh! Come with me!” Epel took Yuu’s hand, dragging her fragile figure down the hallways.

“What? What’re we doing?” Yuu asked, jogging to keep up with the boy.

“We’re going to the kitchens!” Epel laughed, sparking the girl’s confusion.

It was a bumpy run, the two weaving between students rather easily thanks to their short statures, and rounding corner after corner until they approached the gran cafeteria. Following their beelines, they pushed through the rows of starving students, barreling into the back kitchens pleasantly smelling of a mix of foods.

Yuu kept her mouth shut, following timidly behind Epel as she subconsciously covered her eye with a hand, glancing around nervously. Only a handful of people looked her way, that she could tell, and either smiled or laughed, both reactions causing her ears to redden.

“Okay, do me a favor, would you?” Epel broke the tension, turning to Yuu.

“S-Sure.” She answered, biting her tongue for stuttering.

“Grab the peeler and a few of the carving knives. I’ll get the stuff from the fridge!” He gestured towards the row of drawers, Yuu simply nodding.

She watched as Epel bounced to the largely oversized refrigerators, refusing conversation but smiling to himself. She’d never say, her voice hushed from years of humiliation, but she loved the way his soft purple locks fell over his shoulders, or the way his powdery blue eyes sparkled every time he laughed.

It took all of her will power to keep herself from tearing up, that light he shone reminding her too much of her forever dimmed sister’s.

Turning back to her own job, she searched through the drawers, pulling out her materials, nicking her finger on the peeler. Staring at the glimmery bead as it snaked its way down her hand, her body briefly remembered the feeling of metal slicing through her skin, long since healed over her wrists, but recorded upon it nevertheless.

Once upon a time, she’d been so broken that the only sort of release she could find was through blades. The one who’d helped her through those seemingly endless hours of struggle was none other than Epel Felmier.

When Yuu first met Epel, she was a stuttering, anxious mess, tripping over her words and avoiding eye contact like it was the plague. Epel was no better himself, holding his tongue and only making the smallest of conversations. If it weren’t for the one day he caught her stained in her own blood and sobbing in a restroom stall, Yuu believed without a doubt that there’d be no one by her side.

“Yuu! Ready to go?” Epel tore the meddling girl from her mind, who wiped the bead on her pants and carefully arranged the blades in her arms.

“Yes, let’s go.” Yuu nodded, supprssing her inner turmoil.

She’d put that behind her, and had long since forgotten her practices of old.

Epel gave her a soft smile, a bag of scarlet apples dangling from his hand as he encouraged her to go forward.

<————>

“Yuu, quick! Hide over there!”

The girl leapt back, disguising herself behind the curtains draped over a window as Epel stood in front of it, feigning ignorance.

“Ah, you runaway fiend! The great trouble you cause dear Vil! He wishes for your presence in the ballroom immediately.” An extravagantly dramatic voice cooed, and from her spot behind the curtain, Yuu could just barely make out the sight of blonde hair covered by a rather stylish hunting hat.

“Rook-san...! Lovely to see you as well. Actually, I can’t join you today, I’ve uh—I’ve come down with a terrible headache. Send Vil my apologies!” Epel not so cleverly lied.

“Is that so? Would those be get-well fruits then?”

“H-huh? Oh these? These are... well, Crowley gave them to me, said they were a gift from my hometown! I figured I’da bring ‘em to my room, y’know, n’ keep ‘em safe!” Yuu cringed to herself, knowing all too well that Epel was not selling his act.

“Oh my, Epel-kun, please. You may return to your quarters, but do something about that distasteful chatter of yours.” Rook croned, tipping his hat and heading off.

“Tch, “distasteful chatter”? Stupid beauty, what do they know anyway?” Epel grumbled, stepping away from the curtain as Rook’s figure faded away. He pried it open, the sudden flush of light causing Yuu to wince. “We’re alone, you can come out now.”

“Why don’t they like your accent, Epel? Aren’t they beauty enthusiasts?” Yuu asked, stepping into the open hall.

“Hell if I know. They only care about your face, not whatever you are on the inside. It reminds me of the poison apple the legends talk about; gorgeous to the eye, death to the soul.” Epel frowned, slinging his sack over his shoulder.

Yuu deflated, taking the words to heart. If that was true, then she was most surely not welcome in a dorm as proper as Pomefiore. “In any case, let’s just hurry to my room. They usually don’t bother me there.” Epel continued, storming down the corridor.

“Right...” Yuu followed, suddenly feeling unbearably self conscious.

Much to her surprise, the dorm looked empty as Ramshackle, not a single person lounging around or even passing by as they walked. “Where is everyone?” She thought, readjusting the dangerous items as Epel kicked a door open, allowing Yuu inside, almost gasping as she stood at the doorway.

The room was wide and quaint, with a large bay window, an intricately designed table, and a four poster bed that instantly made Yuu jealous. “Impressive, right? I honestly think it’s too much, even tried to convince Vil to give me something smaller.”

“I-I can’t believe this is your room... it’s so pretty...” Yuu marveled, setting her instruments on the table.

“Take a seat, we’re going to be here a while.” Epel instructed, laying his bag down and grinning impishly.

<————>

“I’m done! I’m done—I did it! Look Epel, look!” Yuu burst what seemed like hours later, hands flying to her mouth after she realized how loud she’d been.

“It’s a little lopsided, and it’s not symmetrical, but it looks great! Almost subpar for a rookie!” Epel clapped, looking up from his own work.

Yuu squinted, holding up what she thought was her masterpiece. The apples that Epel had brought were used to teach her how to carve delicate pictures and designs into their flawless flesh, some of which were horribly mutilated in the process, but in the end led to the beautiful fruity art before her. “I don’t see anything wrong with it... you’re such a difficult person to impress, Epel.” Yuu whined, comparing her apple to his.

“Ah relax! I’m just messin’ around!” He joked, waving his hand. He laughed at her dumbfounded face, ruffling her hair in an older-sibling like way, and for once, Yuu found herself smirking, if only in the slightest way.

“Epel Felmier! Do my ears deceive me or are you really—pardon?” Both teens froze in place as Epel’s door flew open, welcoming in a tall boy dressed in Pomefiore’s overly pompous uniform, head adorned with the same hat Yuu saw behind the curtain.

She flinched as his gaze settled on her, and she instinctually pressed a hand over her eye, concealing the horror that further proved the loss of her vision. “Rook, get out! Who do you think you are, barging in like that?” Epel complained, rushing over to the senior and attempting to push him away.

He was abrubtly dropped on the floor as Rook swerved around the boy, stalking closer to Yuu like a predator. “What have we here? Who might you be?” He asked, scrutinizing her face.

“Rook, leave her alone!” Epel demanded, pushing himself from the floor.

Too easily, the blonde pried her hand away, observing the story written in scars over the left side of her complexion. “Oh my...” Rook stared and stared, unexpressive and too close for comfort.

Tears started to brim in Yuu’s eyes, and using what little strength she had compared to the taller boy’s, she ripped herself away, running out of the room and down the hall.

Her heart raced in her veins, in her ears, as she flew down the forever twisting and turning passages, this time crowded with people. She could only dodge and weave between them, with their questioning gazes burning holes into her skull as tears dripped onto the flooring.

Yuu couldn’t seem to escape, the walls wanted to enclose around her, stretching and warping as the path swayed beneath her feet. She could do nothing but dizzily run away, mind lost in her own abyss as she leapt into a dark room, only ignited by the light from outside.

Collapsing in a heap on the hardwood floor, she wearily recognized where she was, or at least the type of place she’d ended up. On one wall, a slenderly long window stretched high above her reach, the opposite completely covered by a mirror. It was a dance room.

Sitting on her knees in front of the mirrored wall, Yuu stared at her pitiful self, tears breaking free of the dam they’d been collecting behind for days. Her hair was messy, falling around her shoulders and sticking to the sides of her face, dampened by the salty liquid. Her cheeks were rosy, nose carrying the same color.

And... her eyes.

One of them, the functional one, was puffy and tear clouded, and the other—the other was gorgeously ruined. A jagged, cracked scar trailed from her forehead to mid cheek, splitting her eyebrow and so thick that it spanned the length of her eye. The iris had lost its color and gone a milky white, the tears almost unrecognizable over the glazed sheen that glimmered over the orb.

Laying a hand on the mirror, Yuu stared into the mutilated gateway, seeing a story that had been left untold for far too long. She saw the death of her family, the heartache they bore through, her failure to preserve the things she loved most.

“Sorry—I’m sorry! I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, I’m sorry I look like this... I can’t breathe without hurting someone!” She curled her hand over the mirror, slamming her fist over it as she rested her head on the cool surface, her tears rolling down and leaving streak marks on the pristine aluminum paint.

Much to her surprise, the lights flicked on, though she did a fine job camouflaging it beneath a mask of melancholy. “So my potatoes were telling the truth. There really is a lost little sprite in my ballroom.” A new voice clucked.

Yuu ignored him, turning around and pulling her knees to her chest, burying herself in her arms. She didn’t want to be ridiculed anymore—didn’t want anyone else to resent her simply because they lacked the patience to break down her defenses.

The click of his shoes against the too cold floor reverberated off the walls, piercing her ears as they came closer, eventually stopping right in front of her.

“Look at me.” He commanded, the girl refusing with a shake, “Why not?”

“Because...I’m ugly, and everyone here is jaw droppingly gorgeous. I don’t belong here, I don’t belong anywhere...” she whispered, almost inaudibly.

“Nonsense. Look at me.” He commanded, this time not giving her an option. Tenderly prying her arms open, the mystery boy lifted her face up with the back of his hand.

Reluctantly, Yuu made eye contact with the person who struck fear into her heart like no other, either for his esteemed position in the school, or his famous physical beauty and harsh words. She stared into the amethyst eyes of Vil Schoenheit, who reflected her terrified and crippled visage in the hues of his irises.

Pushing his arms away, Yuu began weeping again, wiping the forsaken water roughly with her hands. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry for intruding. I-I’ll go.” She sniffled, in the midst of standing when Vil placed his hands over hers, plush and soft.

“Stay. Whatever would you have to be sorry for, dear?” He asked, urging her to sit.

“B-Because—Because I...I...!” Yuu’s voice became strained as she struggled to release the words that so desperately clawed at the knot in her throat. And then—

Vil opened his arms. Inviting, warm, unjudgemental.

“V-Vil...!” She dove into them, wrapping her arms around his middle as she did her best to stiffle her cries. Vil stroked her hair, his eyebrows raising in awe at how silky it was. “I-It’s my f-fault... all of it is my fault! I could’ve s-saved them, b-but I was just so scared!” She lamented, spilling the secrets that should’ve long ago been honored.

For once, Vil didn’t spit out any harsh criticisms, he just sat there silently, awaiting the end of Yuu’s bottled up pain brought to life. When it came, the girl released the boy who embodied beauty, trying to hide her swollen and scarred face. “I’m so sorry for using your time, Vil-san...” Yuu apologized, voice cracking.

“The least you could do is look at me when you speak, darling. Please, look here.” Yuu obeyed, eyes widening in confusion as her chin was rather roughly pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

Vil uncapped the top to his specially created lip gloss, “Hold still.” He said, applying the makeup over her thin lips, “There. See? You’re beautiful, we just... need a little concealer, and some contacts, and you’ll be good as new—partially.” Vil gave her a genuine smile, fooling Yuu into believing that maybe, just maybe he wasn’t going to judge her like everyone else.

“Yuu?!! Yuu?”

The two whipped to the doorway, and were greeted by a familiar lilac-haired first year, who skidded to a halt before Yuu and dropped to his knees, holding onto her shoulders. “I looked everywhere for ya, but this place is just so goddamn huge, it was like weavin’ through a maze! Rook had me runnin’ ‘round the halls like a chicken with its head cut off! Ain’t nothin’ hurt, o-or bleedin’, right?” Epel fast-talked, country accent in full affect as he tripped over his words.

“I’m fine, Epel. All good, see?” Yuu held out her arms, displaying her unharmed frame.

“A-ah, now that’s a breath’a fresh air! I see you been talkin’ with—dorm head Vil!” Epel gasped, face blanching as he sweat dropped.

“Epel. Felmier. What a pleasant surprise.” Vil growled through his teeth, bearing a deceiving smile. “Recovered from your headache, mister?”

“W-well, ya see here, I just—“

“Silence, I’ll not be listening to your excuses. And for the love of the Queen, get rid of that horrid native tongue of yours!” Vil demanded, berating Epel.

“...Yes, Vil. My humblest apologies.”

“Much better. Now! Would you like to explain our little visitor, and why she is here unannounced?”

After a long and tedious process of introducing and expounding her life, Yuu and Epel sat in edgy silence as Vil digested the information, going through a myriad of emotions as the air buzzed with electricity.

Yuu had her fingers crossed that she wouldn’t be sent away, as she’d been so used to.

“It’s decided then. Yuu, dear, follow me, and be hasty.” Vil nodded to himself, standing to his proud height enchanced by his heels as he flipped his hair, clicking off.

“I wish you the best of luck, my friend. You’ll most certainly need it.” Epel sniggered behind his hand, Yuu sending him a withering glare from over her shoulder.

“Oh just you watch. I’m about to sparkle like a million fireflies.”

<————>

Sparkle was a disgusting understatement for the transformation Vil put the poor girl through.

Though it was getting late outside, he still gave her a luxury treatment, which ultimately meant minutes upon minutes of face moisturizers, skin creams, scar healing oinments, and anything in between. Her face was stiff from all the rubbing, almost simulating numbness.

Once that had been finished, Vil wasted absolutely no time before pouncing onto makeup, his specialty. Concealers, eye accentuates, lip plumpers, blush, it made Yuu dizzy with the sheer amount of items the world of cosmetics had to offer.

It felt strange to be touched in such gentle ways, to receive the soft stroke of a brush to her eyelids instead of a slap, or to feel the way the concealer was mixed into the darkly scarred skin of her left side instead of the shattered glass tearing through flesh.

By the end of it all, Yuu didn’t sparkle, she emanated the radiance of a thousand suns, and even though she could only see half of her complexion, she knew beyond a doubt that she was more gorgeous than ever.

“There we are, darling.” Vil clapped, spinning her chair so that she could look at herself in the vanity.

Yuu’s jaw dropped to the ground, her breath hitching as she resisted the urge to cry.

Her scar was no longer visible on her face, the ugly line replaced instead by smooth, seemingly unmarked tan. The bags under her eyes were gone, making her seem at least a year younger, and a pretty blush was blended into her rather squishy cheeks, dusting over her nose. A flawless cut crease was executed over her orbs, the shimmery silver gradient backing to her elongated lashes making her eye pop.

But truly, the most spectacular of all what was lay within. Her irises were both... colored. What was once damaged and ruined was semi-fixed, a contact that matched the color of her functional eye creating the appearance that both were natural.

“V-Vil! Y-You... this...!” Yuu folded her hands in her lap, rendered wordless.

“A simple thank you will suffice, dear.” Vil chuckled, but nearly fell over when he was suffocated in a bear hug.

“Thank you! Thank you, thank you so much, Vil!” She bubbled, letting go after said blonde pushed her away.

“You’re welcome—just be careful! You’ll mess up one of our faces!” Vil snapped, rearranging his hair.

Yuu giggled, still staring at herself in the mirror, when a knock broke the calm partial quiet. “Come in!” Vil articulated, welcoming in two people, Rook Hunt and Epel.

“Yuu?!” Epel stood slack jawed, eyes nearly bursting out of his skull with how wide they were. “You’re so different, it’s amazing. You look amazing!”

“Indeed, madmoiselle! Delicate like the petals of a rose, and crystal clear as the water that rains from the sky! You are truly the sight to behold.” Rook added, earning an elbow to his side.

“Thank you, so much. I just—never thought I would look so whole again, especially after what happened to...” she trailed off, twiddling her thumbs.

“Nonsense, don’t let anyone lie to you. Never take criticism from someone you didn’t ask it from, alright?” Vil instructed, taking her by the hand.

“...Of course, Vil-san.” Yuu answered, for the first time in a long, long while settling into a comfortable laugh.

She’d been broken, far too many times to count. Torn down, crushed beneath the foot of life itself.

But, perhaps with the help of the people she used to shake in her shoes merely thinking about, perhaps she could turn that rubble into a cairn of her success. She’d have to fall to reach her peak, sometimes more than once, and sometimes she’d have to hit the bottom.

Right now, she was inching towards grabbing that first stone, that first layer to her cairn.

Soon, she just might reclaim that sweet melody lost to the tomes of time.

This took a little longer than I expected... I had to rewrite it because my first draft would... probably have gotten me flagged.

I want to say that you. Are. Beautiful. It doesn’t matter if you’re giant or mini, scarred or clean, because you. Are. Beautiful.

On that note, thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed!

Stay lovely!

[sergeanttpoliteness]

Spiderverse Gwen x Reader where The reader is out as les/bi/pan whatever and Gwen is scared to tell her she likes her?

 AND➝  Gwen is ready to start letting people back into her life after the events of Spiderverse. MJ, aware of Gwen trying to open her social circle, tells her about a nice girl from her apartment building and brings the reader along at their next band practice to introduce her. Gwen sets eyes on her and is VEEEERY attracted to this VEEEERY pretty girl.  In Gwen’s bisexual distress, she starts rambling nervously, and probably says something embarrassing about herself. MJ saves them from an awkward situation and starts band practice, Gwen doesn’t see reader outside of school again after that, but Gwen shamelessly stares at her during class. Gwen starts to overthink the situation and gets worried she blew her chance. Later, there’s a situation that she as Spider-Gwen saves reader from. Reader is minorly hurt but SG has to go before she can help reader as authorities arrive. Feeling guilty, her spider sense leads SG to the reader’s apartment, she goes to check on her that night. Confident with her mask on, she strikes up a conversation, compliments her and even drops a bit of a flirty remark about reader before taking her leave. I didnt know where to go from there I’m new to requesting so I hope this isn’t too long but I hope that’ll be enough to get the ball rolling? -🍀

deeply sorry it took me so long to get to these again! i changed a few things, but it’s pretty much still the same idea. i hope the nonnie who requested this finds it and doesn’t think i ignored them :( ily, y’all deserve better.

——-

➹she plays bass➹(spider-gwen x fem!reader)

That feeling when there’s a cute girl who plays bass in your band and you don’t know what the hell to do about it.

Gwen needs help figuring out her feelings. Like, immediately.

word count: 11.6k (oops i did it again)

a/n: i’m sorry this new fic is the size of the bible like the last one, i’ll try to make the next one shorter lmaooo. but it’s what my fave girl deserves due to the unacceptable lack of stories about her on this site. plus, i swear that once you read it it’s so much shorter than it seems. i’m hoping i can post at least one more story before the end of the year, but if i don’t, happy holidays and new year ! y’all were the best part about my 2019 :) hope whoever is reading this has a lovely week. mwah.

warnings: violence, guns, swearing.

——-

She played bass. 

You played bass, to be more specific. And Mary Jane Watson took satisfaction in believing that she was nice. More than simply ‘just nice’ on good days, even. Being the most courteous person was a duty she considered to be hers ever since she was six-years-old and accompanied that girl who always seemed to be left behind in the playground, and years later, in high school when she punched a creep hassling one of her bandmates. Last but most certainly not least, Betty Brant, bass guitar player of the Mary Janes, slipped and fell backwards one unfortunate evening, and she shot out her left arm behind her to break the fall and save her ice cream from hitting the ground. Good news: her ice cream did not hit the ground. Bad news, however, her left hand did— in an odd, twisted position. Needless to say, Betty Brant now had a broken wrist.

At first glance, they’re all unrelated events, stars belonging to separate constellations, and they would have remained so— undisturbed, simply coexisting in the same sky. That was, until Gwen came into the picture and drew a line connecting the bright flecks when she opened her mouth.

In the moment that she admitted to MJ that the idea of meeting new people sounded more appealing each day, she scribbled down the equation in her bandmate’s brain and hit ‘solve’. The redhead’s face lit up, putting to shame a Christmas tree as that sense of responsibility called for her attention. Immediately, she felt obligated to make the Nobel Peace prize-worthy move of texting her neighbor she just met, who also played the bass, to join them on the coming Saturday for band practice. That night, as she prepared to go to sleep, Em Jay cracked an accomplished smile at the reflection in her mirror.

However, two weeks had passed since your first practice with the Mary Janes, and MJ’s pride dove off from where it sat on her shoulder as she observed from afar with furrowed brows how Gwen so fucking blatantly ignored you after you tried to give her a high five. 

“What the hell was that?!” She hissed at Glory who stood beside her, cringing as you awkwardly dropped your hand and turned away from Gwen. Sighing, MJ rubbed her face with sheer desperation— a rather drastically different action from her naïve smile many nights ago. “I put an opportunity right on her fucking lap to make a friend, and she can’t act like a nice normal human being!”

Glory bit the inside of her cheek, sporting her own grimace. “I dunno, maybe they’ll click soon—”

“It’s been two weeks, Glory!” MJ whined. She crossed her arms across her chest, eyes narrowing into concentrated slits, and her gaze returned to an oblivious Gwen who shot at your back what she thought in her mind was a discreet glance. “I can’t let this fail. I gotta step in.” Glory raised a brow.

“Or you could just, you know, let them get to know each other at their own pace?“ 

“That’s dumb.”

Glory opened her mouth but gave up immediately, seeing MJ’s persistence as a lost cause she, in all honesty, did not want to waste any energy battling against that day. “Follow my lead,” MJ elbowed her, winking before she caught Gwen’s and your attention. “Who wants pizza? I do, and so does Glory. You guys want to go out and eat?“ 

“I don’t really feel like going out.”

“Glory, what the fuck?” MJ said under her breath, but later shook her head, a smile stretching across her face. “It’s fine! We’ll just go get it and we can eat here." 

Glory frowned. "But—”

“I mean, sure. I’m definitely in the mood for pizza.” You shrugged, the corner of your mouth lifting upwards. Gwen, however, eyed Glory with suspicion, who in return flashed her an apologetic smile. MJ clapped her hands together, cheering.

“Great!” She grabbed Glory’s hand and dragged her out of the room, glancing back at the two other girls. “We’ll be back in fifteen!”

Not even five seconds passed after they closed the door before you jumped off the couch and muttered to Gwen that you were going to the bathroom, an action that Gwen chose not to spend any time analyzing for her own sanity; but even if she had decided to, the ringing of her phone would’ve interrupted her nonetheless. After she took out her phone and saw MJ’s contact name, she let out the longest sigh in her entire seventeen years of living.

“Couldn’t you have just called for the pizza?” She went straight to the point— no greeting or anything, which left MJ stumped for three seconds, and surprised she had caught onto what was going on in record time.

“No, otherwise my plan wouldn’t have worked. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“What plan and why am I welcome?”

MJ scoffed. “I’m giving you another chance to talk to Y/N, seeing as you completely blew every other one you had.” Gwen perked one eyebrow, confused.

“How come?”

“She tried to give you a high-five and you left her hanging, Gwendolyn.” She said with an obvious tone. “And that’s just one example of many.”

Gwen sat straight, her eyes growing wide. “Wait, I did?”

“Yes, you fucking idiot!” Gwen shut her eyes closed, covering her face with her hand. “How did you not notice, it’s so painfully obvious she’s trying to be your friend but you’ve gained the award of dickhead of the day.”

Gwen rolled her eyes, although let out an amused huff of air through her nose. “Did Glory agree to this little plan of yours?”

MJ took a moment of silence. “No, but her opinion doesn’t really matter right now.”

“Yeah, I bet she didn’t, because it’s fucking stupid, Mary Jane.”

“Em Jay.” 

“You called me Gwendolyn.”

“Whatever,” MJ grumbled, “you asked for this, Gwen. Be thankful, ‘cause I’m really tryin’ here.”

Gwen heard you flush the toilet, and not too long after, the sound of the faucet running. “Hell, okay, fine.” She whispered into the phone. “She’s coming, I have to go.” Before MJ could utter a word, she ended the call right as you walked out of the bathroom and flashed her a tight-lipped smile. You sat back down on the couch, an obvious distance between you two. More time passed while you hunched over your cellphone and Gwen eyed you sideways, gripping her hands together in between her knees, her heart speeding up each time she dared to speak up, and her face heating up albeit she hadn’t directed a word at you yet.

She cleared her throat. “So!” 

You made eye contact with her and she felt obligated to flash you a nervous smile after the silence continued. Eventually, the corner of your mouth lifted upwards. “So what?” You questioned, curious. Gwen’s smile gradually fell. She should’ve contemplated what she was going to say first before she spoke. 

“…What’s your favorite pizza topping?” Gwen hit herself mentally. There literally was no excuse for why she was acting like this— hell, she herself couldn’t even find one. But, on the bright side (however, perhaps not so much for Gwen), whilst the girl was sure this was an agonizing and slow death from embarrassment, your amused grin widened with her visible anxiety.

“I don’t know. There’s a lot of options.” You shrugged, your attention moving back to your device. Gwen considered leaving you alone, seeing as this conversation very obviously wasn’t going anywhere, but that option disintegrated as soon as she imagined Em Jay intentionally delaying her arrival with Glory and the pizza so she could take full advantage of her ‘chance’, which she was ninety-nine percent sure was the case. 

“I really like pepperoni.” She blurted out. Your eyes momentarily traveled up to Gwen and you pursed your lips, nodding slowly.

“Cool.”

My God, you really were not collaborating even an ounce— it was a reach, but it was as if you were voluntarily trying to make this as difficult and socially traumatizing for Gwen as possible. Gwen scratched her head, searching for more conversation ideas, but her brain remained as empty as a desert in the middle of nowhere, except for the one tumbleweed happily rolling along its way which was her last idea, and the main purpose of this sad conversation.

“I’m really sorry for that high-five you tried to give me earlier,” Gwen muttered, incapable of looking at you straight in the eye for long. “Em Jay just told me about it.” 

Finally, you tore your concentration away from your phone and focused on Gwen. You didn’t know whether it was the seriousness of her voice combined with the absurdity of the sentence, but you found yourself struggling to hold back your giggles. Gwen’s eyebrows twisted with puzzlement as she saw your blushing cheeks and you biting your lip hard, your shoulders shaking ever so slightly.

“That’s… adorable. It’s alright. It happens to all of us, I guess.” You laughed out. In Gwen’s never-ending humiliation, she couldn’t discern your expression from simple amusement or judgment. 

Gwen stuttered, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Okay, cool. I-I just didn’t want you to think that I hated you or something like that.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I did not.” 

“Good. Because I don’t. Obviously.” She continued, forcing out a chuckle. “I really don’t.”

You smiled hesitantly. “Again… don’t worry, I get it—”

“I just, I wasn’t paying attention to you.” Gwen clarified but closed her mouth immediately, regret drying her throat. You pressed your lips into a straight line. “But I don’t mean that in a rude way, hah. I’m always looking at you.” She dug herself deeper and her eyes grew wide, a tense cough fleeing past her lips after you raised your brows.

“I mean, no, I’m not always looking at you, like, staring, but like, looking forward to whatever you have to say…?” She talked slowly, questioning her own words. “Why would I look at you, anyway?” Ah, fuck, that’s not what she meant.

Your expression transformed into an offended look and she rushed to correct herself. “No! I mean— you’re, like, very, very pretty, don’t get me wrong.” She let out a frustrated sigh, “Again, I don’t mean that in a weird way, I just—”

“Okay! I get it.” You stopped her and stood up, pointing at your phone. “I have to go, it’s pretty late, so I won’t be able to eat with you guys, but, uh… thanks anyway. Maybe next time.” You explained, uncomfortable. You both dubiously gestured goodbye to each other before you nearly ran out of the door. 

From then on, Gwen kind of wanted to hide in her room for the rest of her life, or at least from you; but sadly, she couldn’t do either. She could’ve moved on and just let it be a memory she could laugh about in the future, but she couldn’t hide what had happened to MJ— she retold her and Glory the encounter, and the trauma returned as Glory burst out laughing right in her face and Em Jay simply stared at her like a disappointed mother. Again, she really was determined to forget the whole ordeal, but later in the evening, when all she wanted to do was plop down on her bed and call it a night after another day of patrol, she answered her landline only for her ears to be attacked with MJ’s pleas for her to go fix things since ‘she was so embarrassed for her she literally couldn’t go to sleep’. Gwen hung up on her.

As she originally had intended before MJ disrupted her night, Gwen jumped onto her bed and rolled onto her back, promising in her head that she’d take off her suit in a minute. She stared up at the ceiling for longer than a minute, thinking about MJ’s words. What was the point in going to apologize to you again, anyway? Gwen wasn’t going to do it simply to please her. MJ could gladly go and shove her microphone up her—

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Gwen said to herself as she stood outside your school building. She looked down at her watch. She could’ve been doing so much right then. Someone was probably getting murdered, or a robbery was going on, and she had homework to finish, but she was wasting her time waiting in front of a school like the creep of the block. However, she thought she might as well stick to it in the instant that students began to swarm out of the entrance doors.

She considered leaving. It was her first thought when she ultimately saw you walking amongst the crowd, talking to your friends. You hadn’t noticed her. It wouldn’t make a difference if she spun and ran out of there, like a scared child fleeing from the monster living in her closet. You turned your gaze away from your friend whilst laughing, and similar to the demon (no offense) peeking through the slit in between the closet doors, you found yourself staring into a familiar pair of blue eyes.

There was no going back.

Gwen breathed in profoundly and flashed you a sheepish smile, waving weakly with her shoulders raised. She watched you say goodbye to your friends before you hesitantly approached her, your eyebrow lifted in a questioning manner. “Gwen?” 

“Yup. That’s me, hah…” She moved her hair away from her face after the wind disheveled it, brushing it behind her ear as she avoided your eyes. “I know you’re wondering—”

“What you’re doing here? Yes, yes I am.” You said, the humor distinctive in your voice, but Gwen scrunched up her nose, shaking her head.

“Don’t worry, I’m not… stalking you,” She laughed nervously and stopped herself before history repeated itself. “I would’ve texted you, but my phone…” Now has a bullet hole. “Broke. Em Jay told me I could meet you here.”

You folded your arms across your chest, shifting your weight to one leg. “Well, I’m here, you’re here, so what’s up? Did you want to continue talking about how you don’t pay attention to me?” You joked, tilting your head. 

Gwen winced slightly, cringing. “Actually, no.”

“Okay, good.”

“I came here to apologize. A real apology this time.”

You let your arms drop by your sides, interested and waiting for what she had to say. “I was really awkward. Painfully awkward, and I made you uncomfortable. So, I was hoping that we could maybe… start over again?” She held out her hand.

You briefly glanced down at it before glancing back up at her biting her lip anxiously. You giggled, nodding. “You’re so dramatic, dude.”

You shook her hand.

“So… we’re good?”

You smiled. “We’re good.” Gwen grinned back, her tooth gap having a peculiar effect in your stomach. She peeked at her watch a second time with the intent of leaving; but before she could say goodbye, you adjusted your backpack straps and spoke up. “Actually… now that you’re here, how about we go get something to eat?” 

Gwen blinked, her finger coming up to point at her chest. “M-me? And you?” You agreed with your head, laughing.

“Obviously, you dummy. I don’t see anyone else here.” You playfully punched her arm and she looked down at the spot, her eyes narrowed.

Ah, well. There was no going back.

If there was one thing, one enemy that constantly played with Gwen’s sanity, time was a top-three candidate which popped into her head immediately. Popped wasn’t perhaps even the correct word, for it remained there everlastingly as a nagging fear— a deafening, continuous tick-tock reminding her of how little, or what a painstaking amount of time she had in her hands, and all the things she could or could not do during it. Being Spider-Woman, pages and pages of school work, the Mary Janes, Mary Jane and Gwen’s duty to answer her messages the moment she received them, her aspirations, her dad— it messed with her brain, tangled all the connections into an indestructible knot she could purely helplessly stare at. But when she read the time and realized how late it had become, the panic merely bubbled and spread in her chest. Rather you laughed and she felt the necessity to look away from the numbers to focus on you, despite the tick-tock still present and blaring like a tsunami alert in her ears.

You sat facing her in the restaurant booth, smirking as you bit into a french fry. “You know, I gotta say, you impressed me quite a lot with your drumming.” Gwen bashfully moved a piece of lettuce around her plate, propping her chin upon the palm of her hand.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” She shrugged, smiling at you. You maintained your gaze on her for a moment until you shook yourself out of your odd trance, lowering your head.

“Thanks for hanging out with me. I was tired of hanging out with myself, you know?”

Gwen furrowed her brows, adamant on fixing her look on the most boring stray lettuce ever. “Why? You’re a fun person.”

“Really? ‘Cause it doesn’t seem like that’s what you think about me.” You teased her, masking the undeniable bit of hurt. 

Gwen’s finger’s movements came to a halt and she placed her hands on the table, leaning towards you. “What?! What do you mean?”

“Alright, then what do you really think about me?” You put your elbows on the hard surface and mimicked Gwen, a crooked smile adorning your features. Gwen bit her lip in thought, raising one shoulder.

“You’re cool.” She said simply, trying to appear nonchalant. An ‘oof’ slipped past your lips and you clutched onto your chest, dramatizing the insulted expression.

“That’s it? Just cool? I’m a bit hurt.” 

Gwen rolled her eyes, laughing. “What else do you want me to say?” 

“I dunno, last time you said I was— and I quote— ‘very, very pretty’” You recalled, using air quotes. Gwen scratched her eyebrow, left blank on what to reply because— oh, yeah right— she did, in fact, say that. 

The smugness lingered on your face as you waited for her to break down and repeat herself, but she composed herself and cleared her throat. “Hey, it’s not fair if you’re the only one asking questions! Being interviewed is hard work, you know.” She raised her hands defensively, her eyebrows lifted. You immediately caught onto what she was doing and pointed an accusing finger at her.

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“Well, where’s the fun in knowing all the answers to the universe?”

You had to agree. But you leaned back and crossed one leg over the other, accidentally (or was it?) nudging her leg with your foot. “I don’t know. I like honesty.” 

Oh dear, Gwen narrowed her eyes, her chest throbbing. “Hey—” The both of you jumped and looked at the source of the greeting— neither of you knew when exactly, but the waiter stood there with a polite smile, holding three menus close to his stomach. “Just letting y’all know that since Valentine’s Day is coming up, the milkshakes are on discount for couples.” Gwen leaned far away from the table, from you, and let out an uncomfortable chuckle.

“Oh, no, we’re not—”

“Oh, great!” You exclaimed and grabbed Gwen’s hand. “Do you want to share one, babe?” 

Gwen froze, her shoulders and the hand you clutched onto tense, prickling at your touch. You looked at her attentively, and your lovey-dovey eyes left her stunned, grabbed onto her voice and trapped it in her throat— intimidated her. She had to give it to you, though, your acting could fool anyone or leave anyone wondering…especially her.

Seeing as the seconds continued to pass and she never replied, you chose to take it as a sign that she was following you and you glanced up at the waiter. “We’d like a vanilla milkshake, please.” You smiled. 

Following the waiter’s departure, Gwen looked at you surprised. “I thought you liked honesty?” She laughed in disbelief, pretending to judge you intensely. You innocently picked up another fry, hiding your growing beam.

“Hey, I’m not gonna turn down a discount.”

Gwen giggled, shaking her head. “Fair enough. But you’re crazy.”

“But you still love me, right babe?” You smirked and lifted your connected hands. When Gwen realized she hadn’t let go yet, she first thought about pulling away. But she didn’t. Instead, she timidly squeezed your hand, forcing out a scoff.

“Right. Of course, babe.” 

Finally, you unclasped your hands and Gwen’s hand slowly curled into a fist as she considered something. “Hey, where are you headed after this?” She rushed out. You tilted your head.

“Home. Why?”

She swallowed her nerves, thinking about dismissing her own question and shrugging it off. She had to get back home as well, after all.

But she didn’t want to yet.

“Can I walk you back?”

The walk back to your place dragged on for longer than usual, and you both pretended to act shocked, as if it’d been a glitch in the matrix and time ticked away slower than normal; but in the back of your heads, the two of you knew it’d been no accident, that you weren’t too engulfed into your conversation enough that you ended up taking the long way back home without noticing. Perhaps the two of you wandered longer, slowed down your pace much more than necessary— clung onto the moon and kept it in its place in the sky with your excuses so the night would stay, last as much as you wanted it to. Your efforts were partly successful, but of course, it had to come to an end eventually. 

Your meetings didn’t, though. No, they were just getting started.

On Valentine’s Day, you might have taken advantage of another discount for couples, but no one really needed to know that. After that day and after Gwen finally got a new phone (it took her a few days to tell her dad, since she knew he wouldn’t be the happiest once he heard how her phone got destroyed in the first place), you sent her a message which she couldn’t deny made her insides feel a type of way: ‘If you ever need a fake date, don’t hesitate in calling me’. 

And a winky face. She couldn’t forget the winky face.

But, in all truth, neither of you needed a ‘fake date’ as a reason to see each other. Every once in awhile, Thursday and Saturday after band practice, the two of you would abandon the girls and simply hang out. It didn’t matter where— sometimes you didn’t even have a place in mind, but somehow, gladly for your brain fearing rejection, Gwen would agree nonetheless. She didn’t think much about it until one afternoon, once you were done telling a bad joke that embarrassingly enough made her laugh, she realized she hadn’t checked the time. Not once.

During band practice, MJ and Glory noted that something had changed. Mainly because they soon realized they hadn’t witnessed any new embarrassing events between you two for them to laugh at behind your backs in a while, but your peeks at each other weren’t fearful anymore. They were now… something which they couldn’t place their finger on, but it was different enough for them to share a look and raise their eyebrows. Naturally, it didn’t take long before Em Jay had to jam herself into your affairs and asked you what you thought about Gwen, using as a justification that you had gotten a month and a half to get to know the band. 

If Gwen could’ve gotten the opportunity to travel back in time to step in and prevent Em Jay from getting close to you with her blabbering mouth, she would’ve taken it immediately.

“When were you going to tell me you two fucking knew each other?!” MJ’s shriek hurt Gwen’s ears and left her speechless for a few moments after she walked into the room. Then, she succeeded in processing her question through her brain, and her face was now considerably paler than before.

“Hello to you too?” 

MJ glared at her and walked away from her. While she moved around the many cables on the floor with her foot, Gwen dropped her backpack near the door, eyeing her. “How do you know?”

“I talked to Y/N.” She simply responded. Gwen huffed, unbelieving, and crossed her arms. 

“And why did you talk to her?”

MJ gave her an obvious look. “Because, uh, she’s my bandmate? And my friend?” Gwen rolled her eyes and crouched down to take her drumsticks from her bag; meanwhile, Em Jay wasn’t over the topic yet. “I can’t believe you kept that from me. Unbelievable. I’m the only one who knows about your little spider secret!” She threw her hands in the air, as if her attitude wasn’t already dramatic enough. Gwen looked up at her with squinted eyes.

“Because you found out on accident. Did you also tell her about that?” She scoffed, standing up. Em Jay followed her to the drums, pursing her lips.

“No. She wouldn’t believe me anyway. But in my defense, Glory and Betty never do either, so you’ve literally got nothing to worry about.” 

Gwen sat down on the drum stool. “We met last year, but we never became friends, though. We’re just acquaintances, I’m sorry. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Em Jay shrugged, her expression unchanging. “Yeah, I guess. Now I’m embarrassed for you again, though. You have to apologize to her.” 

Gwen’s mouth hung slightly open. “I already apologized twice! Why would I do it again?!”

“You acted as if you didn’t know her when you first met! Like, who does that?” However, before Gwen could explain herself, you and Glory walked through the door, carrying your instruments plus a milkshake in your hand.

“Sup.” Glory nodded her head at the two girls. MJ shot finger guns at her and you walked up to Gwen before you stretched out your arm, holding the milkshake up to her face. 

Gwen quirked a brow. “What’s this?”

“I got you a milkshake, babe.” You joked, smirking. Gwen’s cheeks and ears reddened and she hesitantly accepted it, her mouth twitching. “Since we haven’t had the chance to hang out in a while.”

MJ and Glory shared another of their looks, the one with which they telepathically communicated with. After you left Gwen, MJ kneeled down beside her, grinning knowingly. 

“She told me she thinks you’re great, dude. Do whatever you want with that information.”

Gwen chose not to do anything with it. At least not for now. 

Summer break came along to free Gwen from the suffocating hold school had around her neck, and more importantly, to give her time to focus on patrolling, the Mary Janes, and, well, you. Texting you in the morning, texting you at noon, texting you in the afternoon after she managed to stop a robbery at Junction Boulevard, texting you at night; and she couldn’t forget, of course, spending time with you whenever you could. How could she forget? It seemed almost impossible now, for you had implemented yourself into her routine, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint in what moment. She didn’t even come upon the realization until you left the state for a week, and she found herself waiting for your texts.

However, once you returned and the band reunited, Em Jay wasted no time and suggested having a ‘girl’s night’ at her place, claiming it wasn’t because she ‘missed you all, or anything, but for band-bonding’. She sent you and Gwen to the store to buy snacks (and, unsurprisingly for Gwen, winked at Glory as you two walked out of the door), and right now you both stood in front of the freezers, Gwen observing you as you put all your concentration, your tongue poking out of your mouth, on combining two sodas into an empty water bottle. Gwen gagged dramatically, laughter escaping her throat nonetheless. “That’s fucking gross, man.” She grimaced while you giggled maniacally.

The new beverage fizzled and you analyzed it closely, your eyes following the bubbles dancing in the liquid. “I can’t believe they sell bacon and ranch dressing soda here. This place is nuts.”

“And you’re mixing them together.”

“You could say I’m a scientist.”

Gwen scoffed at your statement, a grin lingering on her face. You sniffed the soda, and held it up to her face. “Do you want to try it?”

Gwen pushed the bottle away with her finger, wrinkling her nose. “You could have me at gunpoint and I still wouldn’t try it.”

You pouted, screwing the cap closed. “Okay, your loss, I guess. I’ll have it here just in case you change your mind.” You waved the bottle and placed it on a shelf before you kneeled down to inspect the bags of marshmallows. Gwen shook her head, her smile reaching her eyes.

“Trust me, I won’t.”

You picked up a bag, eyeing her sideways. “You know what?” You stole back her attention and she hummed, tilting her head. “You’re my favorite member in the band.”

Gwen’s face softened, although she wondered if she was crazy, or if her hands were all of a sudden clammy. “Me? Your… your favorite?” She asked, her voice small. You looked down, hoping she couldn’t see your timid expression.

“Yeah. I mean, no offense to Em Jay or Glory— they’re both awesome, but… I really like you, Gwen Stacy.” You shared eye contact, the corner of your mouth quirking up.

Gwen searched for something to distract herself with, and wound up snatching a random bag of gummies and pretending to read the ingredients. “Are you just trying to get me to pay for all of this?” She joked, gesturing to the casket of food. You let out a dramatic sigh, grumpily looking away from her.

“Aw, man, you caught me.” You made a sad face, but it was fleeting. “…But, no. I mean it. For real.”

Gwen bit her lip, her face the shade of the cherry candy in her hands. “Yeah, well… you’re pretty cool as well, Y/N L/N.” She copied you, shrugging. You groaned in annoyance, staring heavenward.

“Don’t give me that ‘you’re cool’ bullshit again.” You warned, mocking her voice and she giggled, placing the candy back in its place.

“What? It’s the truth!”

“Is that really all you think of me?” You feigned disappointment, playing with her. 

No. Most definitely not. Gwen had grown to form many opinions about you other than solely ‘just cool’. Her thoughts varied. Sometimes she liked the way you made her laugh so effortlessly. Other times she couldn’t wrap her head around how, with you, the concept of time was both nonexistent and eternal, a concept you took its meaning away from, for it became irrelevant. She loved how you played bass, and how you gave it a voice, personified it into a dancing body that mesmerized her. She liked the way the corners of your eyes crinkled when you smiled, and how you tilted your head sometimes when you were confused like a puppy. She liked your way of talking, your hair, how you dressed, your posture, your face and the flaws in your skin. 

Maybe she really liked you. And that scared her.

When she didn’t answer, you gave up and stood up, stretching your legs. “Okay, at least I’m glad you think I’m cool. It’s what I’d expect from my fake girlfriend.” You winked at her playfully, but she wasn’t fully paying attention now. “Okay, last question, though—”

Gwen sighed, her shoulders dropping. “What now?” You moved your arms behind your back, drawing a circle with the tip of your shoe on the floor.

“You never answered if you really think that I’m pretty.”

Gwen almost choked. She thought she had escaped that question months ago. Without thinking, her gaze landed on the soda hybrid sitting on the shelf and she grabbed it. You didn’t know what was happening in front of you until Gwen was sputtering after taking a big gulp of the drink. “What the fuck?! Why did you do that!” You gasped, your eyes wide and the laughter daring to climb up your throat.

Gwen stuck her tongue out and coughed, her face scrunching up with regret. “If I drink the soda then I don’t have to answer the question.” You couldn’t believe she was willing to do anything instead of giving you an answer.

You doubled over, cackling and holding your stomach. “Since when is that a rule?!”

“Since now.”

For the record, Gwen did think you were pretty. Very, very pretty.

As time went by, Gwen couldn’t help but stare during practice. Stare at your fingers, sliding down and up the neck with ease; your head, nodding along to the music, lost in it enough that you didn’t notice the obvious ogling from her part. And your face. She tried focusing on it most of the time, but it resulted a lot more difficult than she originally expected. You either moved it too much whilst you played, or you faced away from her since—well— she did play the drums. 

There was also the third reason. The unsettling burn in her chest that sped up her breathing if her mind went too far, which occurred if she thought about you too much. Too deeply. But, God, did she try, and God, did she take advantage of every time you looked back at her, because you inexplicably dissolved that uneasiness in her.

Late at night, with your blankets wrapped around you tightly, you stared at your phone screen, mindlessly scrolling and double-tapping every picture you came upon. Not a minute passed before you opened a conversation, however, perhaps for the fourth time— not that it was anyone’s business, anyway— awaiting for another text. Gwen’s text, to be more specific. You didn’t want to come off as obsessive, but it had been an hour and thirteen minutes yet she hadn’t responded, and you… were missing her? You shook your head. Well. There was a possibility that you were. Maybe, you couldn’t get her off your mind, and maybe, you wished you could simply think about her and she’d integrate right there in your bedroom—

A knock on the window disrupted your train of thought, and as if on cue, a notification rang from your phone. ‘It’s me’, you read. Gwen had sent the message. “What the fuck?” You muttered, confused. Needing to see it for yourself, you jumped out of your bed and ran to your window before you unlatched the window lock and slid it open. 

Of course, as the text message said, it was indeed Gwen, in your fire escape, and not a prank she elaborated to scare the life out of you. “Hi.” Was all she said. You tilted your head, your brows knitted together.

“Hi? Is that all you’re going to say?”

She thought for a second. “…How are you?” 

“What are you doing in my fire escape?”

“I got locked out of my house.” She shrugged. 

You let out a huff of air in disbelief, moving out of the way so she could climb inside. As she threw one leg over the sill, you placed your hands on your hips, shaking your head. “You get locked out of your house, and the first place that comes to your mind is my place?” You questioned, amused. Yet again, Gwen raised and dropped her shoulders. You went to close the window, but not before glancing out, imagining all the struggle she must’ve gone through to lower the ladder and then climb up five stories. “And how the hell did you even get all the way up here?” You muttered to yourself, but Gwen heard it.

“It’s a fire escape, my dear. They’re there to, you know, get out of the building so you don’t die if there’s a fire?”

You rolled your eyes and sat down on your bed. “Okay, just be quiet, ‘cause I don’t think my family would be very happy about having an unexpected visitor this late.” Guilt sculpted Gwen’s countenance.

“I mean… I can leave if you want—”

“No.” You said quickly, too fast for your liking, actually. You cleared your throat and smiled, patting the area beside you. “No, it’s alright. You can stay however long you want. They don’t have to find out.” You waggled your eyebrows jokingly. She was grateful the sole lamp rested on your bedside table, far away from you and its amber touch embracing you alone, for she didn’t need you seeing the blood rapidly rushing to her warm face. 

Gwen sat down where you motioned her to, although kept some distance, and squeezed her hands resting on her lap together. “Thanks… it’ll just be a while. My dad had an emergency, and I really don’t know when he’ll be back, so…” She explained and popped her mouth after her sentence died out. You nodded understandingly, shuffling somewhat closer to her.

“I’m glad you came here. I wouldn’t want you staying out there and freezing to death. Plus, I was pretty bored.”

Gwen raised a brow. “Bored? Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” 

You scoffed with a faint smile. “Shut up, hypocrite. You were out so late that you got left out of your house.”

“I was busy!”

“Doing what? Selling drugs?”

“Maybe. You’ll never know.”

You began to fan yourself. “Ooh, a drug lord, so hot.”

Gwen scrunched up her nose, giving you a judgemental look. “Is that what turns you on? Drug lords?”

“Nah, that’s not quite it…” You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye before your gaze shifted to your lap, your fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

Gwen didn’t know whether she was reaching— but oh. She didn’t know what courage the universe granted her, either, for she then focused on her nails and pretended to be uninterested. “Huh, then what does turn you on?” Your eyebrows almost reached your hairline in surprise, but you quickly composed yourself. 

“Why do you want to know?” You asked, leaning closer to her. She shrugged one shoulder.

“I mean, you never know. What if a friend of mine wanted to ask you out?”

You bit your lip. “Depends. Is she cute?”

“I never specified their gender. And it’s theoretical.” She cleared up, raising one finger. You laughed, moving even closer to her.

“Well, then, I really like blue eyes.”

“…Really?” Her shy voice made your organs jump, which you didn’t know if it was normal or a serious medical condition you should get checked out. You hummed, holding yourself up with your arms behind you. “They’re cool, I guess.” Again, she tried to sound as if she didn’t care, or as if your comment didn’t make her as happy as it secretly did.

“Short hair is also pretty cute.” You added. “Especially if it’s a cool hairstyle.”

“A cool… a cool hairstyle, huh? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” Gwen now knew how frustrated you felt when she avoided your questions. “What about you?” You looked at her, insecurity threatening to overpower your current confidence.

“Oh. I don’t know. Musicians are hot.” She showed you a crooked smile. You wanted to squeal, embarrassingly enough.

“Do you like bass guitar players?” A bold move, indeed. Gwen faked entering deep into thought.

“…Eh, I think drummers are hotter.” 

You shoved her playfully, laughing. “Rude!” 

“Hey, you asked what I liked.” You both giggled, struggling to keep your noises down, but eventually, your laughter dissipated and she played with her fingers. “But bass players are pretty cute, too.”

You gulped, Gwen’s shoulder touching yours spiking your nerves. “Yeah, well, I agree that drummers are cute, too.” 

You both glanced down at each other’s lips, holding your breaths. However, before you could do anything, Gwen got to her feet. “You should try getting some sleep. I don’t want you being sleep deprived because of me.” She laughed nervously, taking off her sneakers. 

Disappointment invaded your brain, but admittedly, your eyes did feel a lot heavier than before. “What are you gonna do?” You questioned, remembering her situation. You definitely were more worried than her, who was unfazed.

“I’ll just wait I guess.”

“You should catch some Z’s as well.”

Gwen didn’t argue. She climbed into bed with you, although insisted she didn’t need any covers or blankets since she was just going to take a nap. After that, you couldn’t resist the sleep threatening to spread through your system and you passed out. It felt like minutes passed at most, until you were suddenly gently shaken awake. 

You fought to open your eyes before you squinted and looked up at whoever had woken you up. Slowly, the indistinguishable figure transformed into Gwen’s apologetic smile dimly lit by your bedside lamp. 

“Hey, sleepyhead.” 

You groaned, rubbing your bleary eyes and sitting up. “What time is it?” You croaked out. Gwen squinted to discern the numbers in her watch.

“Two in the morning.” 

“Two in the morning?!” She nodded, laughing quietly. “Do you have to go?” You would’ve been embarrassed by the heartbreak in your voice, but you were too out of it to dwell on it.

“Yeah, but it’s okay, you can go back to sleep. I just wanted to let you know.” 

You didn’t quite process what was going on until you saw her backing away to the window. Suddenly fully awake, your eyes widened and you threw your covers off of you. “What are you doing?” 

Gwen opened the window and glanced back at you, lifting a brow. “Leaving?” 

You yawned, shaking your finger at her. “No, no, no—” You rubbed your eye and laughed at her. “How about I lead you out of the door like a normal person?” 

Gwen blushed, slowly closing the window. “Ah, well, I guess that’s an option.”

“I don’t want to wake anyone up, though, so just stay quiet, alright?” Gwen simply nodded and you wrapped your hand around her wrist, guiding her towards your bedroom door. You opened it as silently as you could, holding your breath, almost afraid that if you breathed, the entire house would be blown away. There’s only darkness, but you walked into it unbothered, while Gwen followed you like a loyal animal. Now that her sight was gone, she fully took in your touch as your soft hold tugged on her arm. You suddenly stopped and she mimicked you, patiently waiting for the sound of the unlocking of the door. However, all she picked up was the shuffling of your feet before you held in your breath. Then, she felt your other hand grab hers.

“Gwen?” You asked quietly, your voice so timid the darkness and the silence could’ve easily engulfed it. Without the view of your face, your skin against hers seemed too much, nearly unbearable. 

“…Y-Yeah?”

“Can you see me?”

She shook her head, until she recalled that if she couldn’t see you, neither could you see her and the gesture was nothing more than useless. “Not really.”

“Okay. Cool.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

You giggled, and it didn’t knock over the walls, but it most definitely almost did her body.  “No. Do you want me to?”

“Eh… no, thanks.”

“Ok, dork.” You chuckled, but it instantly came to an end. Your breathing wasn’t steady anymore— it trembled, sounded heavy. Then, out of nowhere: “If I kiss you, are you going to run away?”

Gwen just blinked. Despite the darkness, white dots exploded in her vision. “W-what?” Her voice almost failed her.

“Can I kiss you?”

In the room, there was nothing more. It was just your nervous breaths, your loud fridge, and Gwen’s heart. Her heart at full volume, pumping fast, doing its best to keep her awake, sane, on her feet. It was just you and her. Solely you, your gentle hands, and her. She blinked again.

“Okay.”

Your touch disappeared but then reappeared on her cheek, and absentmindedly, she placed her hand over yours. Your thumb, shaking, searched for her mouth, until it successfully brushed against her lips. Gwen gulped, her skin tingling as your breath fanned over it.

It was just you, her, and your lips. Your lips and her own.

You both remained with your eyes closed after your lips lost contact, although it didn’t make a difference in any way. But Gwen’s eyelids fluttered open, and a beam began to blossom.

“I’m glad you didn’t kill me.”

You kissed her a second time before she left. 

It would be a criminal understatement to say that Gwen freaked out after she arrived back home. When she made the decision to start letting new friends into her life for good at the beginning of the year as another New Year’s resolution, she took a gigantic step. She then spoke to MJ, which was a leap in itself, and you joined the band. She stumbled, balanced herself on one foot at the edge for a while, but eventually, she managed to jump to the third step once she waited outside your school and apologized to you. She was convinced that would be it; the final and toughest stride, because if she managed to get past through all the previous ones, then it had to mean she was ready, right? 

She was just finding out she was wrong, though.

The plan was to make a friend. A friend and nothing more nor nothing less. However, without being fully conscious of it, she continued to sprint up the stairs, past what her original intention was. And now, as she stared so far up at the next colossal step— at the feelings that kept growing for you, at your kiss, at you— she felt herself tipping backwards. There was no way she could climb that. She’d only slip and plummet down to her death.

Somehow, though, when you two agreed on meeting up at an arcade two days later, she decided she might as well go for it. 

Gwen eyed the time for what she felt was the millionth time that day and her mask muffled the groan that followed. She had at least thirty minutes left of patrol and— she knew it was a dramatic statement— she didn’t know if she would be able to make it through them. I could call it a day earlier, she thought. It had been the most uneventful day lacking any major criminal activity, after all: all she did was help a little kid get back to his father and stop the usual theft, but other than that, she spent the day swinging around and even had the time to take a picture with a fan. 

Her phone began to vibrate. You were calling her. “Hey… you…kid…” She cringed. How was she supposed to greet you from now on? Things weren’t the same. 

She heard you snort at her hello. “Hi. Just wanted to tell you that I’m on my way.”

Gwen’s brows snapped together and she checked the time one more time. “Already? You’re early.”

“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to get started earlier so I don’t have to walk back home too late, but also so I can beat your ass and get more tickets than you.”

“Are you challenging me?”

“Not really, because I already know I’m gonna win.”

“Don’t sound so confident,” Gwen smiled and lied down on her back, staring up at the sky. “But if you do win, you better get me a prize.”

“Why would I get the loser a prize? I’m gonna get myself something cool and big and rub it in your face.” 

Gwen scoffed but giggled nonetheless. All of a sudden, you went dead silent and she sat up, perking her ears for any further noise. “Y/N? Are you still there?”

It took you a few seconds to answer. “I just heard something weird.”

Gwen’s face drained of color and she jumped up, the tingling present in the back of her head. “Are you alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Get out of there. Now. Find somewhere that’s crowded.”

“Don’t be so paranoid. I bet it’s nothing. Could you imagine if I, like, got murdered, though?” You laughed nervously, trying to ease both of your nerves but Gwen’s sting in her head was only strengthening. “How tragic. Anyway—” 

Your voice halted. A distant strangled cry left the speaker. “Y/N?!” Gwen called for your attention, frantic, her heart nearly breaking out of her chest. Something was not right.

“Hold on.”

It was all you said before you ended the call. She wasted no time nor hesitated— she ran to the end of the rooftop and jumped off, shooting a web. She swung as fast as she could, to the point where her aim nearly missed a building. Her thoughts were rushed, hectic, created the worst scenarios so vivid the bile began to make her way up her throat and she had to blink the dampness of her eyes away.

Hiding behind a dumpster nearing the end of an alleyway, you held your phone up to your ear, your legs aching from the speed with which you ran away. You could barely breathe. It was just a messy attempt of ragged breaths that despite how hard you tried to make them quiet, you simply couldn’t. “Please hurry up.”

“We’re trying to get there as fast as we can, miss. Are you hurt?”

“N-No, I’m fi—” A loud bang shook the dumpster next to you and you involuntarily yelped in fear. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth, but it was too late. 

The woman and the man who chased you quickly found you, and the guy gripped your arm, yanking you out of your hiding spot. “What the fuck did you see?!” He spat in your face, holding you trapped against his body with his arm choking your neck. “Tell us or you’re fucking dead, hear me?!”

You sputtered and your fingernails scratched his arm, trying to get him off of you. When you realized you weren’t getting anywhere, your eyes flickered down to your hand. You blindly moved it up to his face, and once you grazed his eyelashes, you dug your fingers into his eye with all your strength. 

He cried out and let go of you. Without thinking, you spun around and went in to punch whatever area of his face you hoped your hit landed on. But he recovered quickly and caught your fist in mid-air. All you could do was stare at him in horror. You didn’t quite process what was coming at you until he struck your eye. 

“Bad move, kid.” The woman said and you glanced up at her with watery eyes, shielding the throbbing left side of your face. She took out her gun, pointed it at you, and your heart dropped. 

You had lost all hope, until a ‘thwip!’ echoed in between the walls.

Out of nowhere, a web stuck to the barrel of the gun and, in the blink of an eye, snatched it from the woman’s grasp. Spider-Gwen came into your blurry vision before she spun the gun and smacked it onto the stranger’s head. 

She stumbled backwards, grasping her head. Meanwhile, Gwen shot two webs at the wall behind the older girl. Holding onto the strings tightly, she pushed herself off the ground and knocked her down with a kick at her jaw. As she webbed her to the wall, her eyes suddenly widened. She swiftly ducked under, dodging a punch coming from the man behind her. Crouching down, she swiped her leg under him and sent him down. 

After he fell on the ground, Gwen towered over him, her fists shaking with fury. As soon as he opened his eyes, she drew her arm back and smashed her knuckles into his nose, a painful crack resonating clear and loud. 

She panted loudly, her chest rising and falling quickly as she trapped the now unconscious man’s hand to the gravel. She continued to observe him, her lip twitching, the sirens approaching in the background, until she heard a dry sob behind her. She looked back, only to see you backed up into the corner, hugging yourself.

Gwen ran up to you and kneeled down in front of you, holding your hand. “H-Hey, hey, you’re okay now.” She shushed you, her hand almost coming up to your cheek until she stopped herself. She wanted to stay with you and ask more questions, but two police cars parked themselves at the start of the alleyway. Her heart screamed at her not to. It cursed at her, begged for her feet not to move. However, she looked down at you one last moment and she shot a web up at the sky, zipping out of there.

She watched over you for an hour and a half as you talked to the police, and then when the paramedics attended you. She couldn’t stay long, though, since you furrowed your brows and then glanced up, your sight focusing on her. She instantly hid away, deciding that it’d be best if she just waited at your apartment.

Gwen tried telling herself that you were now fine. She saw you there, not missing a limb or anything, breathing and alive. But despite that, she couldn’t rest in peace. The image of you in the corner— your entire body shaking, your rough appearance, the tears that abandoned your eyes. Broken. It wouldn’t fuck off despite how many times she told it to. 

She couldn’t help but recall Peter Parker’s face as she shakily held his corpse in her arms. And then she remembered why she had given up on letting anyone get close to her in the first place.

She had lost track of how long she’d been staring at your window. The window which she climbed through just three nights ago when she got locked out of her place. The night your warm smile greeted her. The night you first kissed her. The night that, perhaps if it hadn’t occurred— if she hadn’t forgotten to take her key with her, or she had left her window open, if she had gone to Em Jay’s, Glory’s, or even Betty’s place instead of yours— if she hadn’t been in the picture, you wouldn’t be in the situation that you were in now. 

Because of her, you could’ve lost your life.

She’d texted you— as Gwen— asking if you were alright. It didn’t help that you straight up lied and said that you weren’t feeling alright so you decided to skip the night. At last, the light turned on in your room and she snapped out of a trance. It didn’t take long before she was trying to look through your window as discreetly as she could, her heart starting yet again with its running when she made out your silhouette. It moved around the room, until it stopped in front of the window. To her nightmare, your figure grew bigger as it came closer and closer, and opened the window. When she saw your face, her insides twisted.

You nearly screamed as soon as you saw Spider-Woman outside your window. You jumped back. It was the Spider-Woman. Unbelieving, you blinked at her— a bad idea, you then realized, considering your bruised eye. 

“…Spider-Woman?”

“Uh, hi there.”

You touched your head, closing your eyes. Maybe the blow you received was worse than you thought. “Am I hallucinating?” 

Gwen laughed weakly. “Nope. I’m very real right now.”

“Oh, okay.” You stared at her, disoriented, a million questions running through your brain. “Can I— can I ask what you are doing here?” You chose to ask first. 

“I, uh, wanted to check up on you after the incident that happened earlier. I didn’t really have time to say anything.” It wasn’t fully a lie. You nodded slowly, tilting your head.

“How’d you know where I live?”

She couldn’t judge you for asking so many questions, but God, coming up with a lie on the spot was turning out to be problematic for her. “Uh… spider-sense?”

She tried.

You were yet more perplexed. “Spider what?”

“It’s a thing… I have…” She tapped her head. Again, it wasn’t a full-blown lie. Thankfully, you didn’t continue budging and instead hummed, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. “You don’t have to answer— only if you want to talk about it, but…what happened?” She asked quietly, afraid of your reaction. Your body went rigid and you hesitated. 

“I was going to meet up with a girl I like when I heard and then saw someone getting beaten to death.” Her white eye lenses grew big. “The two out of the three people doing it saw me and began to chase me. I tried to hide, but they eventually caught up to me.” You whispered.

Her fingers touched her mouth. “Oh God… I’m so… I’m so sorry. It’s my fault.”

You raised a brow. “…What do you mean? You saved me.”

“But I…” Gwen choked up and you furrowed your brows. She checked her watch, her body so weak she was surprised she was standing up. “I have to go. I’m sorry you had to go through that. You don’t deserve it.”

Before you could reply, she scurried away from your window and leaped off the fire escape. You watched as she swung away and eventually disappeared, feeling hazy and more puzzled than ever.

After she thought she had gotten far away enough, Gwen dropped down on a random rooftop, stumbling and falling to her knees. She felt trapped inside the mask. Almost as if it were stuck, permanently sewn to her skin, and if she tried to rip it off, she’d tear every last inch of skin off with it. She was the mask. She was Spider-Woman, and would forever be. It’s a responsibility she was doomed with for eternity unless she lost a fucking limb or her own life, and there’s nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t simply walk away, or dispose of all the criminals and villains, all the calamities and traps hurled at her which sent her defenseless body flying, hurting it, along with everyone else in the way. Everyone else like Peter. Peter and now you. 

Her trembling hand ripped off her mask, her wet face nearly freezing as the wind attacked her skin. She took out her phone and searched for your contact, wiping her nose with her gloves. “Hey…” She typed, but stopped. Keep going, she urged herself. Just fucking write. Her thumb hung above the keyboard, her teary eyes fixed on the cursor blinking, taunting her. 

“If you don’t do this, I’m going to hate you for the rest of my fucking life, Gwen.” She hissed at herself and hiccuped after. It didn’t matter if you hated her. It had to be done.

You inspected with a frown at your bruised eye in the mirror, your fingers ghosting over the swollen skin. But your grimace vanished and a faint grin took over your features when you received a message and read Gwen’s name. Rapidly, you opened the text, the overwhelming heaviness burning in your chest immediately flickering out.

It was only temporary, though.

Gwen read the message one last time, and her heart dropped down to her stomach the instant she saw you had opened it. Her own words repeated themselves in her head, slashing her skin with regret, mercilessly cutting her heart apart into unfixable bits.

“I’ve been thinking lately, and I think it’d be best if we’re just bandmates. You’re cool, so I hope that there are no hard feelings between us.”

She turned off her phone and closed her eyes, letting out a long breath. Somehow, she still hated herself.

You didn’t reply. Not a word, no phone call. Nothing. You explained to MJ and Glory what had happened and missed band practice for a week, saying you wanted your eye to heal as much as possible. You never told Gwen anything, though. The girls were in charge of doing it, and she had to act surprised and repress the regret that stabbed at her. Glory was shocked she wasn’t the first to find out and she questioned her about it, but Gwen solely shrugged and forced out a laugh when MJ joked that getting hurt was a curse running for bassists in the band. 

The week had finally passed by and you came to Thursday rehearsal. You still greeted Glory with your secret handshake and MJ with the usual hug, as enthusiastic as always. But you ignored Gwen, and she didn’t fight against it. She had now made a promise to herself she couldn’t break. 

You’d been practicing for an hour longer than usual, stuck on the same song since Em Jay would stop in the midst of it and insist that you started over again. Everyone knew who was— or, to be more correct— were the culprits, but no one dared to speak up. MJ broke away from the mic, rubbing her face in frustration, and raised her fist in the air to end the playing. “Okay, that sucked. Yet again. But it’s okay, let’s start over from the top.”

Glory let her fingers run down the keyboard, creating what you could say was the loveliest catastrophe of a melody, and sighed. “Em Jay, I think we should take a break—”

“No, no, no, we’ll get it right this time. Let’s just get it over with, okay?” No one agreed, but she continued nonetheless. “One, two, three!”

You began again. At first, no one was messing up, and Em Jay’s hope returned. However, a minute into the song, both the drums and the bass went their own ways and invented their own pace, and MJ turned around, her hands on her hips. “I didn’t want to say it, but you two really need to get your shit together.” She pointed at Gwen and then at you. 

Gwen glanced at you. “Y/N’s a bit late.” You opened your mouth in disbelief and faced her.

“You’re going way too fucking fast!”

“No, that’s the right tempo.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Uh, yeah, it is.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Since when?”

“Since always!” Gwen exclaimed, sharing your scowl. “I’m the one who’s been here since the beginning, I think I know better.” 

You couldn’t keep your mouth shut any longer.

“Shut the fuck up, you don’t know shit, okay?!” You yelled at her, taking an intimidating step closer to her. When MJ noticed Gwen gripping her drumsticks hard, she tried to intervene.

“Guys—”

“Leave it, Mary Jane.” Gwen warned her, her face stern, and MJ stared at her, expressionless.

“It’s Em Jay.”

“I don’t fucking care!” 

“Yeah, you very clearly don’t, huh?” You said, laughing without humor and stepping even closer to Gwen. “You don’t know shit, and you don’t give a shit about anyone. It’s scary how you pretend to care about someone, but you don’t. You just fucking use them to keep yourself entertained for a while, until you get bored and then decide to leave.” You were now right in front of her, and you pointed an accusing finger into her face. Gwen tensed her jaw, fighting hard against the wetness of her eyes.

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, don’t fucking lie, Gwen.” You glared at her, shaking your head. “Don’t act like I don’t know you.”

You both shared eye contact for a few moments, and as Gwen began to blink hard, you scoffed and took a step back. “Whatever.” You muttered and turned away. “I think I’m done for the day.”

The room stayed dead silent while you packed your things up. Glory and Em Jay communicated with each other through their gazes, both equally as confused, but Gwen stuck her sight to the floor, her lip trembling as she curled her hand so tightly around the drumstick it snapped. You slammed the door shut, and Em Jay cleared her throat, biting her nails. 

“What the fuck just happened?” MJ and Glory moved their stares to Gwen. “Gwen?”

Gwen rubbed her eye, sighing. “What?” She mumbled. MJ approached her slowly, frowning.

“You got something to tell us?”

Gwen shrugged. “Maybe.” Glory raised her brows. “I messed up long ago.”

“She seems too mad for it to have been long ago.” MJ laughed nervously, but Gwen wasn’t taking any of it anymore. She stood up and pulled her hair, groaning.

“God, Em Jay, this wouldn’t have happened if you had just fucking stopped trying so hard to make our friendship work. You don’t even care about me making friends, you just wanted to feel good about yourself for helping poor little me!” She shouted, nudging MJ with her drumsticks. Em Jay remained quiet, visibly hurt, and hugging herself.

“Gwen.” Glory repeated, her strict voice shocking both Gwen and MJ. “I think you hurt someone. And I think you owe them an apology.” 

Gwen took a moment to breathe, and that was when she realized what she had done. She looked at MJ and grabbed her hand, squeezing it. “I’m sorry, Em Jay. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. Thank you for trying. I should’ve tried harder as well.” She whispered sadly.

The corner of MJ’s mouth quirked upwards, and gripped her hand back. “Thanks. But I think you’ve got one more apology left.”

It felt like February all over again. Back when MJ called her to tell her the same thing, and one day later, Gwen waited outside your school. However, this time, she knew she had to apologize for real. For the correct reason.

Gwen let her drumsticks fall to the floor and she jumped over the cables. Speeding out of the door, she hoped she still had the chance to catch up to you and hadn’t lost you again. To her relief, you were at the end of the corridor, in front of the opening elevator doors when she called out your name. Your ears perked up, but your expression hardened when you saw her running up to you. “Y/N, listen—”

“Fuck off.” You laughed and moved to get into the elevator, but Gwen grabbed your arm and spun you around. 

“No!” You stared at her, shocked. “N-No, I’m not going to… fuck off. Not this time.” Her eyes were big, begging. 

You clutched her wrist and pulled her hand away from you. “I think it’s too little too late, Gwen. I’ve had enough.”

“I made a mistake.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Just let me talk, please.”

“No.” You shushed her, breathing heavily. “Let me talk, okay? Let me tell you about this little mistake of yours. Not only did you act as if you didn’t know me months ago and said we were never friends when I joined the band, but you acted as if you hadn’t already done this. You played with my feelings. Not once, but apparently fucking twice! And you didn’t even apologize!” 

Your voice broke as you finally let out your repressed feelings, and you hated yourself for it. You despised yourself for still listening to her, for still caring about her.

You left Gwen speechless. “You wanted to talk, and now I’m giving you the chance. Say something.” You begged, prepared to be let down. But she looked up at you and let out a shaky sigh, sniffing.

“I don’t… I don’t know. I thought I liked you a year ago when we first met. I really did. The feelings were there, b-but…”

“If you never liked me, then why’d you come back?” You asked, broken-hearted. It hurt Gwen to see how much pain she had caused you, all because she was too much of a coward to own up to her feelings. 

“That’s the thing.” She breathed out, shrugging. “Maybe I do.”

Your face softened. “What?”

“Don’t make me explain it, please.”

“You have to.”

“I can’t.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, groaning. “For fuck’s sake.” Gwen shook her head and her shoulders began to shake.

“I can’t…”

“Why not—”

“Because it scares me!” She cried out, a sob finally breaking free from her system. You frowned.

“Why?”

“B-Because…” She wiped her nose, struggling to spit it out. “I really like you. I really do. And I don’t know if I’m ready for something like that. I can’t lose you.”

You gently grabbed her shoulder, while your other hand held her chin. “I’m not going to run away from you. I’m here.”

It wasn’t as simple as that. “I can’t.” She said again, even if she didn’t want to let go of your touch. You bit your lip.

“You can’t or you don’t want to?” 

She didn’t know what to answer. Your hand slowly sneaked down to hold hers, and you looked at her for permission, your expectations not as high. But she clutched your hand hard. “You can do it, Gwen. You can’t spend the rest of your life like this. If you do, you will lose everyone.” You smiled sadly. You quieted down, pondering, but eventually, you breathed out and closed your eyes. “I really like you, too. I always did. And if I have to wait, it’s okay. Just… don’t disappear again, okay?”

Gwen analyzed your face. She wondered what you must have looked like that night back when you kissed her. And since she hadn’t done anything right before, she wondered whether she could try again. 

In a second, she squeezed her eyes shut and pecked your lips. You were caught off guard as your fingers came up to touch your mouth. “Nah, you’re right. I think it’s about damn time.” She bit back her smile.

She took the big step.

[sanemreid]

tehlikeli oyun. — self para.

( feat. the spawn of satan elliott langham )

After locking up the studio — which hadn’t happened until a good little while beyond actually closing up for the day from classes and lessons, not uncommon for her to be the last one out whether staying late because of business related things, or simply to take advantage of the serene atmosphere to work on routines. Tonight’s reasoning stemming from the former — she’d popped over to her previous home in Goldfinch to asses a few things before officially putting it on the market. Would there have been a better time in the day to do this ? Probably, however this week proved to be busy for a myriad of reasons, thus for her this so happened to be the best allotted free moment, at least just to do an initial sweep. Luckily enough too her sister was out of town for a job so it could really just be a quick pop in. Regardless if she didn’t have a current ETA on the when she'd have it up for sale, more than likely after the wedding, she still wanted to be sure in the case anything might’ve needed to get revamped, it could get done sooner rather than later. 

 Truthfully though the place was in fairly as peak condition as it’d ever been since she lived here, plus the youngest of the Bayrak clan seemed to have the same trait of immaculate upkeep. The basement was probably the only feature that may need attention, seeing as it’d remained partially unfinished this whole time. Making her way downstairs after grabbing a forgotten item from the move into the manor, the plan was to raid the kitchen before actually heading home, when a knock resonated through an otherwise steady silence, halted Sanem on the second to last step. Weird. She’d hadn’t expected anyone obviously, maybe it was one of Damla’s friends, but wouldn’t she have mentioned she’d be gone. Maybe it really was old Edith coming back to haunt her. Brows furrow with a slight perplexity before continuing her movements, this time towards the entrance, another knock came halfway.

Opening the door – not fully – she was first able to catch a glimpse of the figure opposite’s profile against the front light, more features coming into view as he turned. There’d been an indistinct familiarity that the dancer was now trying to rack her brain over, all the while as his own vision landed on her a grin spread over his features that unnervingly could only rival the Cheshire cat. ❝ Sanem, hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time, ❞ Beginning with a tone that was saturated with far too much pleasantry, especially in the way her name fell. He knew her and yet she didn’t or — did she ? ❝ Mind if I come in, it’s kind of cold standing out here. ❞ Words fly in one ear and out the other as she continued to search for how and where she possibly knew him. Then like the cogs of a machine did the wheels start slowly clicking things into place, it might’ve been almost a year ago, but deep within her memory did she place him, outside the courthouse when she’d waited for Allison after a case. When she first laid eyes upon none other than the ghost himself.

Elliott fucking Langham.

Second passes when the realization hits, that she’s immediately moving to slam the door in his face, but is stopped before it can happen, his hand catching and pushes it along with herself, essentially shoving his way inside. ❝ Now that was just rude, here I thought we could just have a little talk. Guess there’s no need for formal introductions either then. ❞

Fleetingly stunned; she stood her ground just a short distance from him, almost rigidly on guard, arms crossing tightly over her chest. Attempting to keep calm though that bubbling ire was igniting beneath her skin, while he appeared rather cool and collected. ❝ Not sure what we possibly have to talk about — not unless it’s how you decided to force your way in here, ❞ A pause as dark hues narrow. ❝ Or maybe, you wanna talk about how you’ve been stalking around, making ominous phone calls like some d-list movie villain. Otherwise I suggest you walk back out the door and all the way to whichever hole you slithered out from. Better yet, straight into the ocean, please do the world a favor. ❞

One corner of his mouth twitched upwards, as if he merely felt amusement in every syllable uttered, smugness radiating the atmosphere around them. ❝ They were certainly right about you — you know you should be a little more respectful to the people who are supposedly about to become family, in what, a couple weeks now is it. ❞ nonchalantly his eyes dart around the interior as he speaks, inspecting, or more probably scrutinizing. All she could do was scoff, no surprise in the slightest to hear Rachel and Christopher were in the mix in conjuncture to him. Contempt curls on his features briefly as his line of sight returns to her. ❝ You’re a smart girl.. well, enough that I’m sure you already know what, or who, we need to discuss. I’ve been very considerate with Allison, letting her have her fun with — whatever this is, but now my patience is starting to grow a little thin. ❞

Again she hears his voice but she doesn’t listen, at least not anything beyond her partners name rolling off his tongue, sending a bristling sensation down her spine as embers ignite into full flames behind her stare. If only looks could kill. ❝ Don’t you ever fucking say her name again, ❞ She spat venomously first, a warning while she took a step closer. It may not have been the best idea to create a smaller gap between them, but the more her emotional level steadily rose, the less better judgement crossed through her mind. ❝ Let me be as clear to you as I was to them, there is nothing for us to discuss, much less my fiancée. I don’t care what kind of plan you have cooked up, or how you think attaching yourself to Christopher and Rachel like a parasite is gonna help and I’m just assuming you’re here because they ran and told you how mean I was to them at the gala. You won’t be getting anywhere near her again, I’m sure you’re smart enough to understand that. But maybe not, I mean really how pathetic do you have to be to resort to playing these games— ❞ One by one the words cascaded away from her like lava towards his direction, hoping to slowly engulf and vaporize his existence. 

Perhaps if she hadn’t been so focused on that, she might’ve caught the shift in his demeanor, to an extent her proclamation was working, maybe too well. It happened in the flash, before she could even react to Elliott’s movements, one hand reached out easily to clasp around her neck. While she feebly attempted to pry his arm away, he kept firm, sending her backwards till she was pinned against the nearest wall, wincing a bit as the back of her head made a thud. Sanem could feel his palm pressing against her trachea, though not quite hard enough to cut the airflow. Glint of fear was overcast by a grim determination not to give him the satisfaction of seeing. ❝ Has anyone ever told you, you have too much of a smart mouth for your own good. It’s cute what you’re trying to do but it’s only making things more difficult, and that’s over now. You really think you and that little dance studio are good enough ? I know what’s best for her I can give her the life she deserves. Allison is just a little confused, and I’m simply here to remind her of that, how good it was before, how we loved each other. ❞ Possessively menacing did he spit back.

Snorted laugh involuntarily erupts from her throat, humorless – mostly at least, because was he being serious, did he not hear himself right now ? Judging from the expression though he certainly wasn’t expecting to garner that reaction. ❝ You really are warped, ❞ Retorting against a partly strained voice. ❝ That’s not love, you sadistic fuck, that’s control. Of course you don’t know the difference... all you ever did and keep doing is hurt her, but you won’t have that power over her anymore. She is so much stronger and better than you know.. threatening me is only gonna make her hate you more.. ❞

Now; if just stepping closer had been a terrible idea, then antagonizing him was surely an even worse call — made evident by his grip squeezing harder as soon as the last declaration left her mouth. Was he just desperate or truly unhinged, both seemed the most plausible. Sanem never considered herself a fighter, not in the physical sense, in fact anytime her fight or flight response kicked in it almost always veered towards the latter. Nor had never found herself in this sort of situation before. Though in the same vein, she wasn’t clueless or weak, and if that’s the assumption he’d been under, the it was one on the list of mistakes made coming here. Adrenaline rushed through her system, induced by a mixture of fear and fury, between the belittlement that came from him and the Hawthorne parents, but importantly the negligent grief they all imposed on Alli. 

There was a futile attempt to pry his hand away, so in a less than thought out, survival instinct way, she reached out to grab his face, digging her nails in, before wildly kicking out a leg that made contact with some part of his body. Less than graceful but worked to release her as he stumbled back with a harsh groan, gasping for a breath while in the process of commotion did her temple managed to clip against a shelf. Hissing and silently cursing her choice of décor momentarily. Glancing towards him with sharp intakes of air, hazardous ire still beamed off both, but including her tempestuous emotional state, it drove Sanem to ball a tight fist and strike it across his face. Did the connection send an ache through her hand, yes, but it was worth it still. ❝ Stay the fuck away from us ! ❞ Shouting at the top of raspy vocals before taking the opportunity had to go for her phone sitting in the living room. 

She’d fully expected him to be close behind, but managing to secure the device her line of sight peered up, frantically glancing around to find no one. Scrolling through the contacts, in the back of her mind ebbed the notion that she should call the lawyer — knowing she would have to tell her no matter what — but aware of the frenzy it’d only send her in at the moment. Instead tapping the next name to flash in her mind, who’d luckily lived in this very neighborhood now, Lily. Shakily putting the phone up to her ear, she took tentative steps back towards the entrance, Elliott, for all she’d been aware, was gone, leaving just an idly open door, and affrighted Sanem, in his wake.

[straight-outta-kaer-morhen]

Silver & Scars <Chapter 3>

This is the fluffiest thing I’ve ever written. I guess I was in some type of mood this week? Anyways, maybe Eskel is too playful in this? Might be a bit out of character? Idk let me know what you guys think!

Chapter 3: The Drowner Contract

"Let's talk about my reward." Her lips were pulled into a coy smile. 

Eskel attempted to keep his grin at bay. It was clear she knew how Witchers worked, and found amusement in teasing him. He stepped closer to her, leaning down, his voice husky against her ear, "and what kind of reward do you seek?" 

Amber eyes watched her body involuntarily shudder. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, "a book." She breathed. "I can't seem to find a copy in Vizima." She explained. "If you ever find a copy during your travels, all I ask is that you bring it to me when you get the chance."

Eskel pulled away, surprised at the simple request, "and if I can't find it?" 

She just shrugged as she grabbed the kettle from the fire, "every year that you come back without it you'll have to spend the day with me, doing whatever I want." 

The (petite/lean/curvy) sorceress was cunning. Pulling him back to her doorstep with an innocent promise. Eskel couldn’t deny the attraction he felt for the woman, and a possible friendship with her warmed his heart. He could only imagine what kind of hoops the woman would have him jump through, but he found himself eager to please her. “Deal.”

She stuck out her small hand for him to shake, an amused smile pulled at his lips. All of his contracts refused to touch him on the account they believed him to be a monster, but here was a woman who appeared as a delicate flower standing before him eagerly waiting for the transaction to be sealed. He took her hand, and was surprised to find a firm grip. 

“Negotiating is quite the thrill.” She commented. “I think I would make a wonderful Witcher.” She teased as she turned to pour two cups of tea. 

A laugh bubbled inside Eskel’s chest, “Perhaps Vesemir will take on another trainee.” 

“Is Vesemir the head of your school?” (Y/N) inquired, leading him to two chairs in front of the fire. 

“Yes, he trained Geralt and I.” Eskel said, taking a seat across from the sorceress. 

“Geralt?”

“We grew up together. He’s like a brother to me.” Eskel explained. 

“I had brothers,” the (h/c) mused. “A long time ago.” She added.

They spent the better part of the evening in each other’s company. Neither one wanted to admit they were tired. The comfortable conversation the two had conjured was magical. Both feared that if  either stepped away it would break the chemistry the two shared. 

It was Eskel who suggested sleep when he noticed the sorceress’s drooping eyes. She had stubbornly refused, and Eskel found himself carrying the (petite/lean/curvy) woman to bed after she fell asleep in her chair. 

*

**

*

The pair had made their way to the docks early the next morning. Eskel shouldn’t have been surprised when the sorceress suggested teleporting to the swamp. The thought of teleportation made him uneasy inside. “The ferryman isn’t too expensive.” 

She thought of teasing the man, but hesitated seeing the genuine unease in his feline eyes. “I trust you to help me ashore if the boat sinks.”

“You can’t swim?” Eskel raised his brows in surprise.

“Oh I can swim...just not very good.” She admitted gazing into the dark water. 

The sun was just cresting  the hill when the two climbed into the boat. Y/N was seated across from the Witcher as the ferryman guided the rickety vessel through the water. The trip was silent, except the gentle waves that lapped the side of the boat.  

When they finally stepped onto the spongy earth of the swamps, Eskel paid the ferryman. The sorceress had occupied herself with collecting some fools parsley. Eskel was silent to approach her. He took the opportunity to bask in candid moments of the sorceress’s life. The small facial expressions she made, or the ease in which she did most things brought a warmth to the Witcher he couldn’t quite comprehend. The simple, silver embroidered tunic she wore was practical, as were the worn black boots and cloth pants. 

He’d expected an extravagant outfit when she’d met him at the foot of the stairs this morning. Yennefer and Triss always seemed to be adorning the latest fashion whenever they had wintered at Kaer Morhen, so he’d assumed she would do the same. Perhaps his knowledge of sorceresses was lacking. 

(Y/N) glanced up at him, with a soft smile. “Are you ready?” She stood up before he could reply, tucking the herbs into a pouch that hung from her belt. 

They picked their way through the swamp. The sorceress took care to avoid the many bogs that were disguised as shallow puddles. Having learned the hard way the sorceress now knew better. 

The trip through the swamp was a little slower then Eskel was used to, but in no way unpleasant. The sorceress’s legs were much shorter than his, so he understood. She managed to fill the time speaking about various books she’d recently read. Occasionally when the conversation died down, Eskel could hear her singing under her breath. 

It was around noon when the sorceress came to a stop. “It’s just over that hill.” She said, gesturing to a steeply sloping mound. A few trees were scattered along the hill, and a few patches of long stemmed grass. The mud that coated the mound would make it difficult to climb.

“Do you have a plan, or are we just going for it?” The (petite/curvy/lean) woman inquired. 

Eskel looked surprised, “you want to help?” 

A huff escaped her pout, “I didn’t trek miles into these swamps to not get my hands dirty.” She said tossing her (h/c) hair behind her shoulder. “Besides, someone has to watch your back Witcher.”

The stubborn, feisty streak that came out occasionally in the sorceress had Eskel feeling things he hadn’t felt since he was a boy. He thought he became immune to crushes long ago, but this (e/c) eyed beauty was determined to prove him wrong. “Kill as many as you can.” Was Eskel’s only comment as he began wading through the swamp to scale the slippery hill.

The sorceress was quick to follow. They crested the hill both covered in mud. There was little either could have done to avoid the muck. Eskel was about to pour some oil on his blade when a yelp escaped the sorceress. His eyes snapped up in time to see the ground give way beneath her feet. 

She was helplessly sliding down the muddy slope towards the drowners nest. There was no purchase for her to grab onto. Electricity crackled at her fingertips, she’d decided her best option would be to prepare for a fight. The drowners had come running for her as soon as they heard the sound of earth moving. She threw a bolt of lightning at the closest drowner. The air grew hot and heavy from the electric currents in the air. Thunder rumbled in the sky as she pulled a bolt down from the sky.

Eskel was surprised to see the sorceress managing so well. He felt a raindrop on his forearm. As soon as a crack of lightning came down on a drowner, the skies opened up and sheets of rain came falling down. Eskel slid down the hill on the soles of his boots. His left hand behind him kept him balanced. He threw out igni at the first drowner he came across. Quickly lopping its head off. 

He soon found himself fighting next to the sorceress. Her sopping clothes clung to her skin, and something behind her eyes crackled with life. “You look magnificent.” Eskel commented signing Igni at a group of drowners.

A chuckle escaped her as she brought down another strike of lightning, “you’re rather impressive yourself.” 

With a final stroke of his sword the drowners were dispatched. The two made their way over to the nest. Eskel lit a grape shot tossing it into the middle of the nest. “Back up.” Eskel said instinctively, grabbing her hand pulling her away from the nest straight into his arms. 

He could feel the energy still crackling under her skin, and her eyes had turned smoldering as he tilted her chin up to him. He leaned down, hesitating a moment, but she stood on her tiptoes to guide him to her lips. 

Her lips were cold from the rain, but he was pleasantly surprised at how passionately she kissed. Any doubts or insecurities he may have had were put to rest. There wasn’t a thing she’d rather be doing, as she took her time exploring his mouth. 

The snap of a twig was all he heard. Eskel quickly shoved the sorceress behind him, his silver blade already in his hand. A bloedzuiger has emerged from the murky pool. The sound of the grapeshot going off had drawn the monster to them. 

“Run.” Eskel said flatly, backing up from the monster keeping the sorceress behind him. By the Witcher’s tone she did not hesitate to obey. She scrambled up the hill, out of the Witcher’s way. She’d never come across this type of monster in the swamp and had no knowledge of what the monster was capable of.

It looked terrifying; sharp teeth ringed its mouth, and long needle claws swiped at Eskel. The dark haired Witcher was quick on his feet. Using igni and his silver blade in unison. The way he dodged, and striked looked like a dance to the (short/moderate/tall) woman. 

Eskel’s silver blade sank deep into the monster’s flesh. It appeared that the fight was over. In the blink of an eye the monster exploded into a mist of lizard green acid. “Eskel!” The sorceress cried, slipping down the muddy slope, running as fast as her legs could carry her. 

She found him laying face down in the mud. She fell to her knees to check for any signs of life when two strong arms shot out wrapping around her waist, pulling her down into the mud with him. She let out a startled squeak, as he rolled on top of her planting a kiss right on her lips. He broke the kiss as chuckles rumbled through his body. Dark hair tickled her cheeks as she peered up at his feline eyes. 

“I cannot believe you!” She cried. “Making me think you were dead, and then basting me in mud.” She propped herself up on her elbows, “don’t think your boyish charm is going to get you out of this on-“ he cut her off with his lips. 

Her mind went blank at the feel of his full lips. The unabashed kisses came as a bit of a shock to the sorceress. He’d been so guarded the first time they met, and one kiss was all it took for the man to open up. The kiss was over too quickly, “please let me teleport us to a bathtub.” The sorceress muttered inspecting her mud soaked clothes. 

Eskel chuckled, pulling her to her feet, “you’ll get used to it.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes, “I take that as a no to the teleportation to a bath.” 

“No to the teleportation.” He said, leaning closer to murmur in her ear, “I never said no to the bath.” 

The sorceress turned red as she watched the departing Witcher. She knew he had a smug look on his face. He knew exactly how to push her buttons. “You coming?” He asked turning, walking backwards a few steps waiting for her to catch up. 

“You’re helping me up this hill.” She stated, as he graciously held out his hand to pull her up the steep slope. 

The trek back through the swamp was slower than before. The sorceress was miserable in her wet boots, and she could tell the Witcher was fairing the same. 

Twilight had hit when the two finally reached Y/N’s home. “I’ll heat up the water.” Y/N said walking up the stairs. Eskel followed a bit slower taking in the various artwork that hung on the wall. Y/N had already stripped herself of her boots when Eskel leaned against the wooden bathing screen. “Rose hip, or lemon verbena?” She inquired, studying two glass bottles. “Lemon.” She muttered to herself pouring a generous amount in the empty tub. 

“Would you fill the tub?” She inquired, as she grabbed some more soap. The cauldron was awkward, as Eskel poured the water in the tub. He placed the empty cauldron over the fire where it hung. Y/N had started to undress when Eskel brushed her hair aside, his voice husky in her ear, “allow me.”

Tag List:

@mishafaye @nvmnd @rebellicorne

[bakubabes-tatakae]

The Man With The Shadows

Author’s Note: If anyone wants to be in a taglist for this feel free to let me know! Happy to do it for anyone!

(Yami Sukehiro x Reader)

Summary: Yami has his hands full with the Black Bulls. Y/N might be a member of the Silva house, but she was disowned for being in love with a commoner. Together they lead this band of misfits, one chaos driven mission at a time.

AO3 Link

Part One:

Word Count: 2,090

It was a normal day in the Black Bulls hideout. Pandamonieum was always afoot, there was never a dull moment in this place. Magna and Luck flew about the place, fireballs bounced off furniture, lighting strikes left marks on the floors. Charmy sat at her usual table, enjoying some delectable snacks made by her sheep cooks. Gauche sat at another table, admiring a picture of the adorable Marie, something we all thought odd, but we let it happen anyway. Vanessa laid on the couch, still hungover from the night before. Everyone was just the same as they always were, just a little more intensified with the Captain not here to supervise. 

Yami Sukehiro, the Captain of the Black Bulls, was out at the entrance exams for the Magic Knights, looking for some fresh meat to bring home to us. When Yami was away I was in charge, something that I tried my best at, but the luck just wasn’t there. You would think that being the girlfriend of the big, bad, Yami Sukehiro, would at least strike some fear in them, but these jokers didn’t seem to have a fearful bone in their body. They all knew that when Yami returned and saw the place in shambles they were all in for it. 

When the doors opened nobody but I seemed to notice. A young boy with ash blonde hair pushed it open and stood in front of us. “I’m the newest member of this squad, fresh from Hage village.” A fireball from Magna that was just hit back toward him by Luck began careening toward the boy. As he began to speak again the fireball hit as his feet, sending him flying out the door as he hollered his next words. “I’m Asta!” He name began to echo as he got farther from the door. I cringed as I saw Yami’s figure start to appear. 

The rest of the squad hadn’t even noticed. Magna was screaming at Luck again. “Okay, now I’m really mad. Are you ready to take me on!?” 

Luck was jumping away from him. “Nope, not really, but lets go!” 

Fireballs started to fly everywhere again. I face palmed and looked around at them all. Vanessa was starting to awake next to me. She sat up a little and smiled at me. “Hey baby girl.” 

I smiled at her and laughed. “How’s your head feel?”

She groaned. “Why is it so loud in here? I should have skipped those extra drinks. My head is killing me.”

Gauche was getting agitated really fast. I could see it in his body posture. Finally he exploded, turning to face the two fighting in the common area. “Enough! Shut up damn you!”

The young boy hollered again, trying to get everyone’s attention. “I’m Asta from Hage village! I’m a Black Bull now too. Some day, I’m gonna become the Wizard King!”

I watched him and glanced at Yami, giving him an apologetic smile. Yami took a drag from his cigarette and shrugged at me. 

Gauche was getting angrier by the second and so was I. He exploded for a second time before I could even get a word out. “Come on, give it a rest you idiots! You’re going to wake up my sister with all the noise you’re making! DAMN IT!” 

Vanessa’s hangover was just making her grumpy. “Get over it you freaky sister lover!”

I slapped her arm. “What the hell happened to you?”

She scratched the back of her head. “I remember getting into a drinking contest with some guy, but after that…” She smiled at me and laid against my shoulder. “Will you please shut up!” She hollered at the two that were destroying the hideout. “I’ve got the mother of all headaches.”

Magna stopped what he was doing and looked at her. “That’s your own problem you drunk!”

Vanessa and I stood up quickly, the three of us got right into each other’s face. Vanessa was seeing red. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

I pointed at him. “At least she’s not a virgin street punk!”

“Virgin street punk, where do you get off calling me that?”

Luck flew over to where we were. “Better be careful,” He spoke to Magna. “Get distracted and I’ll get you.”

Magna’s short attention span once again got the best of him. He turned and started toward Luck. “Oh yea, then come here and give it your best shot.

I groaned loudly and walked away, headed toward Yami. More chaos went on behind us as I got to him. He wrapped one arm around my shoulder and kissed the top of my head. Our height difference made it a perfect opportunity for him. I looked up at him and gave him the same apologetic smile from before. “I tried to keep them in line, but you know how they are.”

Yami chuckled. “Don’t worry about it princess.” Princess was my name when he knew we were the only two to hear it. Finally, Yami had had enough. The power of his magic radiated off of him, a shade of purple surrounded his body. “Alright, I’ve had enough.” He took his arm off my shoulder and before I could object to him doing it, his fist hit the wall beside us as hard as he could. “Quit breaking stuff already!!” The wall collapsed a lot more around where Magna had sent a fireball through the door. 

Asta was in shock. “Oh man, now it’s way broken.”

Everyone finally turned around, finally noticing that Yami had come back. The group all came running toward us, all talking to Yami at once. Magna fought his way to the front. “How was it? Did you find us an arrogant newbie? I can take him down notch if you want.”

Luck shoved Magna’s face and moved him to the side. “Please sir, can I go against you today?” He began to punch the air. “Come on, don’t hold back. 

Vanessa grabbed my arm and pulled me into her, shoving herself in front of Yami. “Now, now, forget all about these little brats. Wouldn’t you rather come out for a drink with us?”

Charmy sat patiently, waiting for Yami to look over at her. “Hey, hey, try this.” She held a cupcake out to him. “It’s really good. Take a big bite, go on.”

Gauche was impatient as usual. “I’m sorry, I can’t take it anymore, may I please go see my sister?”

Yami laughed at them all and grabbed my arm, stealing me back like Vanessa had from him. “Yea, yea, glad to know how much you all missed me.” He took another drag from his cigarette. “Now shut up, will ya?”

They all sat down at once on the floor, like obedient little dogs. They spoke together. “Sorry sir.”

“I’d like you all to meet our new…” Yami looked around. “Huh? Where’d he go?”

We all looked over when we heard the faint talking of a young boy. Asta was underneath Grey, whom was in her form of a giant man. “Please help me. I can’t breath.” Asta was reaching out for us. 

Instead of helping him Yami got frustrated. “Quit messing around!” Grey stood up and Asta made his way over to us, standing next to me since Finral stood on the other side of Yami. “Now, as I was saying, this shrimp here is our other new member.”

Asta looked over at him. “What do you mean other?”

Yami ignored him. “Go on, tell them your name or something.”

“Yes sir. My name’s Asta from Hage Village. It’s really nice to meet everyone.” 

Everyone was quiet for a second, until Magna broke the silence. “You’re from Hage? That’s out in the middle of nowhere.”

Yami looked to his left. “Finral, introduce everyone, would you?”

Finral looked at the group in front of him. “Sure thing sir. Let’s see, where to start.” He looked to his left. “You know Gordon Agrippa. Not always the easiest guy to talk to, but he’s good people.” Finral moved on. Next he stood in front of the pink haired witch. “Next we have Vanessa Enoteca. Tends to pick fights when she’s drunk, but she’s good people.” 

Vanessa glared at Finral. “Picking fights? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She looked over at Asta. “Hage village, way off on the outskirts of the kingdom?”

Asta smiled. “Yea!” 

Vanessa got close to Asta and he blushed and looked shocked. “To make your way from a little back water village like that to a Magic Knight Squad, you must have worked so hard. Nice kiddo. How about I give you something as a reward, huh?” Before she could say another word Vanessa threw up on the floor in front of her.

I turned and hid my face in Yami’s shoulder, trying not to let her see me laugh at her expense. Finral continued, not even acknowledging Vanessa anymore. “Alright, let’s continue, shall we?” 

Luck stood up in front of the two of them as Vanessa threw up again. “Hey, do me next!”

“Luck Voltia, a battle freak who’s addicted to fighting, but he’s good people.”

“Nice meeting you.” Luck smiled. “So hey, do you like to fight?”

“Uh, sure.” Asta didn’t seem to confident in his answer. 

“Yea?! That’s cool. I love it.” Luck punched the air again. “What do you say? Wanna go?”

“Well, uh…” Before Asta could finish speaking Gaucha stepped up to him. 

Gauche held out a sister of Marie in front of his face. “Hey, see her?” Asta was confused now. “This is my sister Marie. She’s an angel.”

“Yea?”

“Listen, if you lay a finger on her, then you die.”

Asta yelped a little and Finral interrupted. “Gauch Adlai, loves his sister a tad too much, but he’s good people.” Finral pointed toward Charmy. “This here is Charmy Pappitson, a big eater, but she’s good people.”

She raised her arm while eating a muffin. “Nice to meet ya!”

“And this is Grey, I don’t really get him, but he’s good people.” They walked over to Magna. “Then there’s Magna Swing, a street punk, but he’s good people.” He pointed to himself. “And I am Finral Roulacase. Lady Killer.” 

I stepped forward a little and smiled, interjecting. “But he’s good people.” Asta turned to me and smiled a little, chuckling. 

Finral’s eyes flattened some. He knew I was mocking him. He put his arm out toward Yami and I. “And finally, we have the Black Bulls fearless leaders. Co-Captain Y/N Silva and the great Captain Yami Sukehiro.” 

Yami took a drag of his cigarette and wrapped his free arm around my shoulder again. “There are other members, but they’re either on missions, or on leave, or… I don’t know…” He smiled at Asta. “Think you can play nice newbie?”

“Yes sir! We’re gonna get along so well! Like I said before, IT’S REALLY NICE TO MEET YOU GUYS!”

Vanessa stood up and walked over to me, leaning into my arm. “My god, is he trying to kill me?”

Yami chuckled. “That’s something I didn’t notice before, you’re as loud as you are short, aren’t you?”

“Yea!” 

“Shut up.” Yami turned and looked at him menacingly. “Alright, let’s go. Give him a good workout, but don’t kill him.”

Magna was the first person to stand up. “Did you hear him? Yami wasn’t us to make sure you get a good workout.” Magna had a diabolic look on his face. “That’s just what I’m gonna do.” He crossed his arms. “A pathetic runt like you? And from where? Hage? A village almost no one had ever heard of before. Not much mana either. And you’re the newest member of the Black Bulls? You gotta be kidding me? I don’t know what some magic poor hick like you could have possibly done to impress Yami. Do you wanna wear the robe that will prove you’re a member of the Black Bulls?” 

Asta was like a starving animal, he reached for the robe. “Yea, I do, gimmie, gimmie!”

“Wow, you’re really excited. You want it that bad? Okay, but first you need to earn the approval of Yami’s chief subordinate, me, man among men, Magna Swing. This marks your entry to the black bulls. A true baptism by fire.” 

I looked over at Yami, hoping he would stop Magna, Magna had never been one to go easy on people. Yami smiled and kissed the side of my head. “Don’t worry Y/N. Everything will be fine.”

Updated: 5/13/2020