#ch 1: worlds collide

[half-life-collide]

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 1 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader, Hoseok x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: alcohol, curses, jungkook is lowkey a cocky asshole but we love him, mentions of ghosting (reader to Hoseok), mentions of frosh week, mentions of Nabi spraining her ankle, a frat party, beer pong, Sam Hwang, peach, explicit content: overhearing someone having sex, female masturbation, sex toy (vibrator), praising, nipple play, hickeys, dom!Hoseok, sub!reader, degradation, Hoseok likes being called sir (lmao), whip (sorta, with a belt), choking (with a belt), safe word, oral sex (male receiving), mouth fucking, balls fondling, jerking off, spitting in the other's mouth, Hoseok does not believe in aftercare (rip)

☆word count: 11.8k

☆a/n: CHAPTER ONE!! LET'S GET THIS JOURNEY STARTED BABY!!! thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, January 17th 

If there is one thing you’ve figured about Jeon Jungkook, it’s that he is an insufferable prick, yet an endearing one. As your older brother’s best friend, Jungkook has taken a liking to teasing you, treating you like his own little sister. It was weird at first – the day you  met him, you were struck by his looks. Who wouldn’t be? Jungkook is tall, has a sleeve of tattoos, and he rocks an eyebrow and two lip piercings. 

It took you all but three days to realize that he is a too full of himself asshole. And had you known what you were signing up for when Taehyung suggested that you move in with him when his friend Jimin moved out to live with his girlfriend, maybe you wouldn’t have accepted.

You love Taehyung. He’s an incredible brother, has always taken care of you when you were younger and your mother was never home to do so. You love him enough that you didn’t mind moving in with him even though there was a third party you didn’t know.

Jungkook, that is.

It’s been months now. Months of living with Jungkook, of waking up to his insufferable smirk and even worse teasing, whenever Taehyung is not around. Because, of course, when your brother is here Jungkook is an angel, never once saying anything to you that could be taken the wrong way.

Thing is, Taehyung has always dreamed of studying abroad, in Paris. Has always wished to experience the French lifestyle, to wake up to eat croissants and gaze at the Eiffel Tower in the distance. So when he got the opportunity to do his winter semester over there, of course he jumped on the chance. 

You’ve been living alone in the same apartment as Jeon Jungkook for less than a month and you already wish May to be at your door and for Taehyung to come back.

It’s late. Sometime close to two am, and the bed creaking in the room next to yours, the one banging into the wall, has been keeping you up.

Or maybe the intermittent high-pitched clipped moans are what are keeping you up. Because, mind you, the walls of your apartment are paper-thin. So paper-thin sometimes you think you’re in Jungkook’s room while he’s ramming some girl he probably doesn’t even know the name of. Sometimes, you think you can almost picture him. Almost see the muscles of his back move under his skin as he jack-hammers into yet another girl, almost see his powerful thighs slap on hers each time he pushes in, almost see his fucked-out face when he comes with that loud grunt of his…

You miss Taehyung being around because Jungkook wasn’t as loud then. Still brought girls home every Thursday like clockwork, but made sure he wasn’t loud enough for the whole building to hear him. With Taehyung gone, Jungkook has stopped caring, and you have been suffering the consequences since then.

In truth, it hasn’t been that long. Less than three weeks, and you’ve heard Jungkook fuck like four times? You reckon it could be a lot worse… but he could also be respectful and not fuck people when you’re trying to sleep because you have a nine am class the next day.

The first time it happened, you were mortified. You listened to music, hoping you wouldn’t hear it anymore but, the thing is, his headboard bangs against the same wall your headboard is against. So you still felt it, and you suffered through the whole ordeal hoping you would disappear through the floor.

The second time it happened, you were annoyed. You considered knocking against the wall to tell him to shut the fuck up – or rather to tell the girl to shut the fuck up – but you resisted. Solely because you didn’t want to stir shit with Jungkook. You considered asking Taehyung to tell Jungkook to be more respectful, but it sounded childish and stupid so you eventually let it slide.

The third time it happened, you were… aroused. Maybe because it had been a long time since you had sex – the last time being in late November with Hoseok, a guy studying in the same major as you, though he’s Jungkook and Taehyung’s age. Yet, even though you felt aroused, you focused on all the ways you were going to murder Jungkook the next day.

Today… today the arousal is winning the game. It’s been making your heart run wild, and your grip on your sheets has your knuckles turning white, skin stretched taut over how hard you’re clenching your fists. 

And when you hear Jungkook say something that definitely sounds like “Good fucking girl”, you lose it. You’re too aroused, dripping from just hearing him, and you need to have the coil inside of you snap if you want to be able to sleep tonight.

With all the sounds emerging from his room, you doubt Jungkook is going to hear you. So you shamelessly rummage through the top drawer of your night table, searching for your vibrator, smiling in victory when your hand closes around it.

You’re wearing PJ shorts, and you quickly rid yourself of them as the girl lets out a short-clipped moan that makes you think you’re listening to porn, and not to your roommate fucking.

Though you reckon sex with Jungkook really does sound like porn.

You lie back in bed once you’re rid of your shorts, taking a hold of your vibrator. You turn it on, adjusting it to your favourite setting. You feel strange doing so, like you’re doing something you really shouldn’t be doing, but you can’t help it.

The second you press the vibrator on your clit, you forget all about how what you’re doing is wrong. All you can focus on is the pleasure that radiates through your body, and your eyes close tightly, images of Jungkook swirling in your brain.

When the girl moans again, and Jungkook tells her that she’s ‘taking it so well’, your free hand shoots to your breast, pinching your nipple through the fabric of your t-shirt. It’s not enough, and you’re quick to move it under the shirt. You pinch hard, and you let out a breathy sound as your thighs instinctively close on your wrist.

Jungkook’s headboard starts banging against the wall even more, and your brain produces an image of Jungkook between your legs, fucking you until all you can think is his name. It has you pushing your vibrator inside of you, and you lightly moan again at the pleasurable intrusion. 

You let go of your nipple, moving that hand to your clit instead, and your fingers expertly start drawing circles on it. You listen to Jungkook’s grunts all along, to the girl’s moans, and maybe you’re a little too blissed out to realize they’re done, but when you reach your high you can’t help the broken moan you let out, a little too loud for the paper-thin walls of your apartment.

As you’re coming down from your high, you realize the apartment is eerily silent, and you swallow the lump of awkwardness that’s formed in your throat. You wipe your vibrator with some tissue, knowing you’ll have to actually clean it on the morrow, but you don’t want to kill the silence of the night just so you can put your vibrator back in its hiding spot right away. 

But you’re not stupid, and you know you need a trip to the bathroom anyway. You put your PJ shorts back on, grab your phone to use it as a flashlight so you don’t bump into a wall on the way to the bathroom, and you tiptoe all the way over there, hoping to be as soundless as possible.

You have to walk in front of Jungkook’s room to get to the bathroom, and then halfway across the living room. You notice his door is closed on your way, and you peacefully make it all the way to the bathroom. You quickly pee and clean yourself up, washing your hands before you open the door.

Which, you reckon might have been your demise. Because when you open the door of the bathroom, it’s to let out a high-pitched startled yelp at the sight of a shirtless Jungkook on the other side. The sound of the faucet must have hidden his footsteps.

You stare at each other for a few seconds, and in the dim light, you’re pretty sure Jungkook is smirking.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks after the silence has started to stretch into awkwardness.

You clench your jaw, gaze dropping to the ground. “You were disturbing my sleep.”

He chuckles, cocking his head to the side. “Was I now?”

Your eyes shoot back to his face at the low huskiness of his tone, and you wish with all of your heart that you had the courage to punch him in the face. But you don’t, so all you reply is, “You need to start fucking your hookups somewhere else.”

His smirk falls into a pout. “I won’t go over to the girls’ places. But I can make sure they’re more silent next time.”

Your brain can’t help but wonder if he means ‘they’ as in he was fucking two girls or just they as in generally referring to a single person.

You obstinately remain silent for a moment, holding his gaze with surprising defiance. “Please do,” you finally choose to say, and the smirk makes its way back to his features.

“I promise,” he says, voice low once again, and you hate how it has something tightening inside of you once more. 

You hate it so much that you escape, wishing him good night as you walk around him. You feel the warmth of his body on the way, and you’re thinking about ways to stab him in the back when he says, “Sleep well, peach.”

Saturday, January 19th

You’ve taken to referring to last Wednesday night, or early Thursday morning, as The Incident. At least that’s what you call it when you talk about it with your friends, Ria and Nabi. Ria, who’s always had some sort of a crush on Jungkook is absolutely flabbergasted each time it’s mentioned, and Nabi thinks he’s proven that he’s the biggest asshole in college.

You relate to both, and mostly agree with Nabi. 

You’re supposed to go to some party later tonight. Ria convinced you to pre-drink at the girls’ dorm before you go, considering it’s closer to the party than your apartment, and the three of you are sitting in a circle on the floor, with music playing in the background. Needless to say, Nabi has been complaining ever since you got there, because she doesn’t usually do parties, and Ria is so excited she’s got you convinced that tonight will be the best night of your life.

Almost.

“Shots?” Ria asks as if you haven’t already taken two shots each.

She’s holding the bottle of tequila up, a red flush to her cheeks and mischief lighting her gaze. You don’t find it in you to say no, because you know that without the tequila Nabi is never going to make it to the party.

“Let’s do this,” you say, offering her a smirk as Nabi hides her face in her hands.

“You girls are going to kill me,” she complains. 

“Come on,” Ria says, playfully pushing her on the shoulder. “Maybe that cute guy you like is going to be there!”

Nabi has had a crush on someone from your major, Kim Namjoon, ever since you met her at the beginning of Frosh week last semester. He’s a tall guy, with dimples whenever he smiles, and you can see why she’d have a crush on him. Thing is, Namjoon has been dating someone ever since then, and Nabi has just been suffering in silence.

You still remember the moment you saw the crush bubble to life. It was day three of Frosh Week, and Namjoon was in charge of your team, along with Hoseok. You, Nabi, and three other first years were winning the relay race, figuring out the puzzles so quickly you had a good advance on the other teams. In a leap of happiness, Nabi jumped over a small stone wall on campus. One of her feet got tangled, and she ended up spraining her ankle.

Namjoon had been right by her side, asking her if she was okay. And Nabi has been in love with him ever since that day, though she’d never dare say it aloud.

“I don’t like anyone,” she grumbles, but the way her cheeks flush red is telling.

“Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon,” you singsong, offering her a shit eating grin. 

She retaliates by saying, “When’s the last time you’ve fucked Hobi? Didn’t you say he was the best lay of your life?”

Your mouth falls open in surprise, and Ria lets out a loud laugh.

“We stopped fucking in November, you know that!” you burst, feeling yourself turning crimson. “And it’s not like I have a crush on him, I stopped because it felt like he had a crush on me.”

Nabi has a winning smile on her lips. “And what’s so bad about that?”

“I mean…” you trail off, shrugging your shoulders. “The sex was good, but I didn’t feel like dating him. Simple as that.”

“Why not?” Ria asks, tequila forgotten. “You never told us.” She adds a pout to her sentence, trying to get you to explain.

There’s no explanation. You just didn’t feel like it. You tell them as much, but Nabi doesn’t buy it. Ria, on the other hand, lets out a sound that has both you and Nabi startling.

“I know why!” she explains.

You cock an eyebrow. “Why?”

“You live with fucking Jeon Jungkook, of course you don’t want to date Hobi. Especially after The Incident.”

You laugh, as it’s just as ridiculous as you expected it to be. “Not at all. Jungkook is Tae’s best friend.”

Both your friends look at you, as if what you said was the stupidest shit they ever heard.

“What?”

“What does it change?” Nabi asks with a small voice. 

“Well,” you let out, because you don’t really know. It’s just weird to you, and you don’t know how to explain it. “For one, I’m pretty sure Tae would kill him if he ever laid a finger on me.”

“Tae is in Paris,” Ria innocently says.

“Irrelevant,” you say, chuckling. “He’s going to be back in just a few months.”

“A lot can happen in a few months,” she adds, wiggling her brows suggestively.

You roll your eyes before reaching out between the two of you. “Give me the tequila.”

“I’ll fuck him if you don’t,” she teases, and she cradles the tequila to her chest. “As a matter of fact, maybe I’ll try to fuck him tonight.”

“Have fun!” is all you answer before making grabby hands at her. “Now, give me the alcohol, let’s get plastered before we get there so we don’t have to drink the crappy frat booze.”

*****

The frat house hosting the party is wild. Has always been – you’ve always found they go too far with most of their parties. But they also host the most memorable parties, and you know tonight will be a blast the moment you set in to see the strung LED light, shining different patterns of colours around the main room. A table in the corner is stacked high with every bottle of hard alcohol imaginable, and there are three coolers you assume are holding beer or something of the sorts. 

One of the guys – Dave? – shows you three where you can leave your coats, on a bed in the upstairs bedroom, and then he walks you to the alcohol table, offering to pour you some shots.

Nabi giggles, because by the time you left their dorm, she got quite drunk, claiming she needed it if she were to run into Namjoon after what you and Ria had said. She accepts the shot she’s handed, though half of it has spilled on her hand by the time the guy gives you yours. He puts salt on your hands, carefully, as Ria makes fun of Nabi, and you look around, scanning the crowd. You recognize a few people from your class, along with the usual party crowd of your college. You smile at two guys you’ve spoken to before at least once, before resuming your attention on Dave (?) as he hands you a slice of lemon.

When the four of you are ready, you lick the salt, knock back the shot, and then bite in the lemon to chase the taste of tequila away. It’s cheap tequila, and even with lemon the taste lingers while you prepare vodka cranberries for you and your friends. And though Ria loves dancing, you and Nabi win as you choose to head to the kitchen, where you know the music isn’t usually as loud.

The first thing you notice when you enter the kitchen is the beer pong table in the middle. Jeon Jungkook is currently playing, along with Jimin, another of your brother’s friends. As he sees you, Jimin raises his glass, offering you a wide grin, and then he punches Jungkook in his side before motioning to you.

Jungkook notices you then, and he offers you a smirk as he eyes you up and down. You feel shy for half a beat, though you know you look good. You’re wearing a green corset along with a pair of black leather pants, and you know the two pieces of clothing hug your body perfectly. Plus, Ria did your makeup, and Ria never fails when it comes to makeup. So you wait as Jungkook looks at you, hoping the foundation Ria put on your face is thick enough for him not to see you blush as The Incident inevitably comes back to your mind.

You look away, and then you see Hoseok hovering by glass sliding doors, along with Namjoon and their other friend Yoongi. Hoseok is busy with a conversation, and when he bursts out laughing you can hear it clear as day.

Why didn’t you want to date him? You don’t know. You actually really don’t know, because he ticks off all the boxes. But something was missing, you presume, and sometimes you hate yourself for it.

He must have sensed your attention, and he turns his head towards you. You don’t miss the way his smile falls a little, and he nods once in recognition. When you smile, his mouth closes to offer you one of those awkward tight-lipped smiles, and your gaze drops away to the cup in your hand.

Of course, Ria has a nefarious plan in mind, because she hooks her arm with yours and Nabi’s, pulling you towards the trio of guys. You’re fully aware that it’s mostly for Nabi, and that it’s stupid because last you’ve heard, Namjoon is still dating his girlfriend, but you let your friend pull you towards the men, gaze still stubbornly hiding in your cup.

You watch the liquid slosh around as you stop in front of them, and Namjoon greets you. Hoseok falls eerily silent, and Yoongi asks you all how you’ve been doing.

You only join in the conversation when you’ve taken a long sip from your cup to ease your nerves. Not that it really helped, but you reckon just standing there in silence would probably make things more awkward than anything else.

“Nabi is pretty drunk,” Ria is saying when you finally look up from the cup. 

“Am not!” Nabi insists, voice slurred. “Or maybe just a little.”

Namjoon laughs, while Yoongi chuckles. “As long as you don’t fall and sprain your ankle again, I think you’re alright.”

“Won’t fall again,” Nabi promises. “Not with these two with me.” She says that motioning to you and Ria, and it somehow brings Namjoon’s attention to you.

“I saw your essay on the synthesis and control of energy metabolism,” he tells you, a dimpled smile on display. “It was pretty good.”

You can’t help but slide your eyes to Nabi, who wrote a far better essay on human health and bacteriophage in your opinion, and you don’t miss the way her gaze drops to the ground.

“Thanks,” you reply to Namjoon nonetheless.

He’s started TA-ing to help out Seokjin, one of the biochemistry grad students. All of you are biology students, except Ria and Yoongi. Ria is in administration, and Yoongi studies music, his concentration being piano and producing.

There’s an awkward silence, and you glance towards Hoseok, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. He’s good-looking, even though he’s simply dressed in a T-shirt with some graphics on the front and a pair of discoloured jeans. Knowing him, he probably has a crazy jacket upstairs, because you know he’s good when it comes to fashion.

It’s what attracted you to him in the first place.

“How are you?” you ask him, and you notice Yoongi’s pointed gaze on you. It’s disapproving, you think, but the question left your mouth without you even wanting it to.

“I’ve been great,” Hoseok replies, though it’s a little colder than what you know him to be.

You nod, gaze dropping to the ground as Ria strikes a conversation with the three others, clearly trying to give you and Hoseok some space. It has the two of you just standing in aimless silence, until the sound of whooping behind you attracts your gaze to the beer pong table, where Jimin and Jungkook are celebrating a win. “I’m…” you trail off as you turn back to look at him. “I’m glad. How are your classes?”

He sighs. “They’re harder than first-year classes.”

You don’t miss the ghost of a teasing glint in his eyes, and you immediately latch onto it. “Oh, please, you struggled in molecular biology. I got A+ in the class.”

He chuckles, and you physically relax. Because you haven’t really talked since you ended things in November, finals coming in the way of partying and other events where you would run into him. So you didn’t know before today where you stood with him, and you’re relieved that he doesn’t seem like he’s holding a grudge.

“You weren’t in Lester’s class,” he points out. “Even Namjoon almost failed Lester’s class.”

You gasp in fake outrage. “No way! And now he’s the biochem TA.”

“I know,” Hoseok says, slightly shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

The renewed complicity between the two of you is easy, you realize, and when he suggests playing a game of beer pong, you immediately agree. Or maybe you only agree because you don’t know where Nabi, Ria, Yoongi and Namjoon went, only that they aren’t next to you anymore.

 Jungkook and Jimin are still undefeated at the table, and when Jungkook catches sight of you moving closer, he winks before shooting.

You’re not surprised when the ball goes right in a cup, leaving only one on the table. Jimin laughs as their opponents claim Jungkook cheated, and Jungkook shrugs his shoulders.

“You should know better than to call me a cheater, bro,” Jungkook says, and he runs a hand in his hair.

An infuriating small strand falls in his big doe eyes, but he seemingly doesn’t care. He glances at you once again, eyes trailing between you and Hoseok.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks when his gaze settles back on you.

You don’t miss the way his eyes dip to your cleavage before moving back to your face.

“I’m here to beat your ass,” you reply, and you offer him a shit-eating grin.

He laughs, and he sets his attention on Hoseok. “I hope you’re good, bro, because she’s just declared war.” And then he looks at you, smirking that insufferable smirk once more. His doe eyes narrow threateningly, and you find yourself wishing you had never heard him fuck before.

Because all your brain can picture right now is how you came to the sound of his grunts a couple of days ago.

“What?” you can’t help but say, though he looks away from you as the two other guys shoot, completely missing the three cups left in front of Jimin and Jungkook. 

You notice Jimin looking at you with an eyebrow cocked, and the smile on his lips means nothing good. You furrow your brows, because you know how much of a gossip he is, but thankfully enough for you, he has to throw.

You watch as he does so, landing it right in the last cup. Jungkook of course throws right in the cup too, claiming the victory for them as the two other guys grumble and leave the table, leaving the place free for you and Hoseok.

You meet Hoseok’s gaze, offering him a small smirk. “I hope you’re ready to get fucked.”

You only realize how crude your words sounded, especially considering your history with him, when he starts laughing, that contagious laugh you’ve always found cute.

“I mean, I’m a pretty good shot,” he says once you’ve calmed down. “Are you?”

You wince. “Once in a while I’m good,” you answer truthfully. “Most of the time I suck.”

“Well hopefully you’ll be good tonight,” he teases, gently nudging you with his elbow.

You offer him a determined nod, before turning to face Jungkook and Jimin. You quickly put the solo cups back in position, as Jungkook watches you with a half-smile on his lips. You don’t know what to make of it, so you ignore him.

A small, tiny, minuscule voice at the back of your head tells you he probably knows about The Incident, but you ignore it entirely like you’ve been doing for the past few days.

Turns out Hoseok really is a good shot. He lands all of his shots, but of course, it has to be the day you suck. You don’t land any, up until the redemption that brings you back into the game when Jungkook and Jimin are about to win.

It makes you scream in happiness, and you throw your arms around Hoseok’s neck, right as his hands lay flat on your waist. He pulls you close, laughing in your ear until you let go, and you have the decency to feel bad.

You’re pretty sure you broke his heart in November, and you’re pretty sure you’ll only end up breaking it again. But there’s just something in the way Jungkook is staring from the other side of the table, smile gone, that makes you want to cling to Hoseok. So you do, and when he stands behind you to help you with your next shot, you let him put one hand on your hip.

Your gaze meets Jungkook’s, and you watch as his eyes dip to the fingers on your hip. He cocks his head to the side, wets his lips, and then an infuriating smirk lights up his features dangerously until you feel like you need to look away or else you’ll combust. So you glance at Jimin, who is just smiling prettily because when is he not, and then you focus on the lone solo cup you have to aim for.

“What you want to do,” Hoseok says, leaning so he can speak in your ear. You’re infinitely aware of how his pelvis brushes your ass, and your breath catches in your throat. He continues, “is to throw in a parabola. That way you won’t hit the rim of the cup”. He grabs your wrist, lifting your hand. “From this height, it should work.”

You nod, because you don’t think you can answer, especially not as you can hear Jungkook snickering from where he’s standing. Instead, you really focus on the cup, and when you’re about to throw, Jungkook speaks up.

“Put it in, baby.”

Your brain short-circuits, and it’s no wonder you miss by a good, few inches. Jimin is a giggly mess next to Jungkook, Hoseok can’t resist his laugh, and all you can do is glare at Jungkook’s satisfied smile.

“What the fuck?” you let out.

He winks at you. “Gotta learn to not get distracted, peach.”

You hate the nickname. He knows that you do, and it’s the reason why he’s been using it for months now. Ever since one late night where you played Mario Kart together with Taehyung and Jimin, and you kept choosing Princess Peach as your character. When you went in the kitchen to grab a drink, Jungkook followed you and teased you about it, and now the nickname has stuck.

Though evidently never in front of Taehyung.

You wish you had a snarky retort in you, but all you can do is think about The Incident, and pray he can’t tell that your cheeks are burning up because of him and not because of the alcohol.

You end up losing the beer pong game, and you cringe internally as you watch Hoseok dapping Jungkook and Jimin up. You begrudgingly congratulate them, as Jungkook teases you for the loss.

“Would have thought your brother taught you better than this,” he says, nudging you with his elbow.

You roll your eyes, glancing at Hoseok, but he’s striking a conversation with Jimin. 

“Tae and I didn’t spend all that much time together, Jungkook,” you remind him. “You know I just moved in with you guys because you needed someone after Jimin left.”

Jungkook shrugs. “You seem pretty close to him.” 

He falls silent, pulling at his piercing as you glance at his features. You’ve left your liquid courage somewhere on the table, and you really wish you had it with you right now. Only so you could avoid the sudden wistful look in Jungkook’s haze, though it disappears so quickly you think you might have imagined it.

“He’s really protective of you,” he comments as you too remain silent, not knowing what to say.

You chuckle, because if there is a thing that is true, it’s that your older brother is an overbearing asshole. “That he is,” you agree, and you both laugh.

“Hey, do you want a drink?” Hoseok suddenly asks, and you realize that Jimin has disappeared. 

You’re pretty sure Jungkook is eyeing him up and down when you reply, “Please, I need a new drink.”

Hoseok beams, and you make to move towards him when Jungkook grabs your arm to stop you. Your eyes widen, The Incident flashing in your mind, but his tattooed fingers let go of you as you throw him an inquisitive look.

“I’m not drinking tonight,” he admits. “I came with my car, thought I’d offer to drive you home.”

At that, your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline in surprise. “What?”

He shrugs, corner smile back on his pink lips. “As long as you don’t get sick, that is.”

You ponder for a time, because you were supposed to sleep over at Nabi and Ria’s dorm tonight. You reckon heading home would probably be better, especially now that Hoseok has caught your attention again.

Maybe you can give Jungkook a piece of his medicine.

“Ayt,” you tell him, moving closer as a secretive smile moves on your lips, brought up by the evil plan that is just starting to form in your brain. “I’ll find you later?”

Jungkook looks down at you, tongue pushing on the inside of his cheek as he tilts his head to the side. A smirk moves on his lips and he glances at Hoseok before settling his doe eyes back on you.

He looks nothing like a doe when he says, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

And then he’s the one that walks away, and you can’t breathe for a few seconds as Hoseok waits patiently, either unaware of the situation or not caring. Though you know he knows Jungkook is your roommate – he probably just thinks Jungkook is being nice.

You inhale deeply, before turning to look at Hoseok as you let out your breath. “So, drinks?”

He smiles, genuinely, nodding his head as he offers you his hand to take. To your surprise, he pulls you close to him, and the way his gaze looks down on you makes you all too aware that you used to fuck him, and he used to fuck you good.

“What are you drinking tonight?” he asks, head dipping so he can ask the question in your ear.

“What do you want?”

His smile turns a little dangerous, and he looks over your head to the doorway to the living room. “Shall we?”

You laugh, nodding your head enthusiastically, and you let him pull you behind him. He guides you to the drink table in the living room, where he makes you a rum and coke as you scan your surroundings. You spy Ria and Nabi dancing, and you only understand why when you notice that Namjoon is nearby too, with Yoongi who’s just standing to the side, scrolling on his phone as if bored.

You know Hoseok likes to dance. That’s how you first kissed all those months ago, so you don’t hesitate to ask if he wants to join your friends after you’ve both drank a couple of sips from your respective solo cups. He obviously agrees, and you take his hand to guide him to your friends. You’re painfully aware of how Yoongi raises his head when you get closer, eyes dropping to your entwined hands. He furrows his brows disapprovingly, and you wonder if he’ll speak up.

If he’ll speak up and ruin your plan for you. 

He doesn’t, instead meeting your gaze as if daring you to do something. It makes you feel bad for a split second until Hoseok lets go of your hand to rest a hand on your hip as he nestles his lean body against your back.

“You know,” he says in your ear, and you look away from Yoongi, refusing to acknowledge his challenge. “I always wondered why you ghosted me.”

You gulp, and you follow his lead as he makes you sway your hips against him. Ria whistles and your eyes widen a little as if to say ‘please not right now’.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, and it’s true. “I didn’t really mean to ghost you, just got busy and…”

He laughs, and you’re surprised to hear it ring true. “Y/n,” he says. He leans even closer, and his lips brush your ear. It makes goosebumps rise all over your body, right as he continues, “You can say you got scared. I gave you plenty of reasons to be scared.”

Because you had agreed on no feelings, and he still had developed some, hadn’t he?

“I’m still sorry, ghosting you was shitty of me.”

He chuckles, and you’re starting to recognize the man that he is in the bedroom. His voice is low, husky, when he says, “Should I punish you for it?”

The Incident and Jeon Jungkook are thousands of miles from your thoughts when his words settle in, making heat pool at your core.

“You’d still want to do this?” you ask, breathlessly.

He nibbles at your earlobe, and you instinctively tilt your head to the side to give him better access. He kisses under your ear, tongue darting out to taste your skin, and this time Ria fully hollers in front of you.

You glare at her, only to see that she and Nabi are having the time of their life watching you.

“I haven’t been able to forget how good your pussy feels wrapped around my dick,” Hoseok replies after he’s sucked a hickey on your neck. “Trust me, if I can fuck you again, I’ll do it.”

You don’t hesitate when you turn around, resting your forehead against his. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

And you know you would. Especially considering how tense he was when you first talked to him tonight. 

“Sweet of you,” he comments, and a smirk grows on his lips. He pulls away from you, taking a sip of rum and coke. “I wasn’t catching feelings for you, if that’s what you were worried about.” He pauses as his face falls fully serious. “You just don’t like when people treat you right.”

You’re insulted. You really are, yet… he isn’t entirely wrong. The minute a guy gets too close, you dip – you blame that on the fact your father abandoned you and Taehyung when you were still kids.

“Is that why Yoongi is glaring at me?” you ask, a little colder than intended. 

The message still passes, and Hoseok shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t care what Yoongi thinks. He always thinks he knows me better than I do but, trust, he doesn’t.”

You’re surprised at just how bitter Hoseok’s sentence sounds. You always thought Yoongi and he were best friends. It’s strange to think that maybe they aren’t, or at least maybe they aren’t close enough to be.

“Anyway,” Hoseok adds when you remain silent for a little too long. “If you’re willing to fuck again, I’d be down. I haven’t found another pussy like yours since the last time we fucked.”

Which coincidentally is the last time you had sex with anyone. You’re not surprised Hoseok fucked some other people after you – with his easy charm, you know he can have anyone wrapped around his finger pretty easily. 

And if he wants to participate in your evil plan so willingly, who are you to tell him no?

“The night’s barely started,” you point out. “But maybe you can come back to my place later?”

You’ve never invited him over before, because if there’s a thing that scares you more than anything in this world, it’s Taehyung hearing you having sex with some guy. But now that your brother is in Paris, you figure it doesn’t matter.

Plus, if you want Jungkook to get a taste of his own medicine, you have to bring Hoseok home.

“Deal,” Hoseok tells you, and he seals the deed with a searing and unexpected kiss.

You still kiss him back, hungrily, your body remembering just how good Hoseok can make you feel. You just have to make it through a party – with Jungkook driving you home, you know it’s likely you won’t leave until the party is starting to dwindle down.

When you pull away, Hoseok licks his lips once, as if wanting to remember the taste of you, before saying, “I’ll find you at the end of the party”.

You nod, and begrudgingly let him leave when he walks over to where Yoongi is standing, now joined by a baffled Namjoon, who glances between the two of you a couple of times. You ignore him, instead focusing on Ria and Nabi as they drunkenly pull you away, laughing wildly.

“What the fuck was that?” Ria asks in between two sets of laughter as you emerge in the kitchen. “I thought you said you didn’t want him anymore.”

You don’t want to jinx your plan, so all you can think to do is shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. “It just happened.”

In a weird moment of soberness, Nabi says, “Please don’t lead him on. He’s a decent guy”.

You tell your friends what he told you, and they both seem taken aback, yet they don’t question it. After all, the amount of alcohol in your blood is enough to make it so it’s a little hard to think profoundly, and inhibitions have flown out the window before you even got to the party.

After the conversation is over, your two friends insist on playing beer pong, claiming that they need you to encourage them. You recognize Dave at the table – you think that’s his name – and you all cozy up next to him as you ask to be next. You linger behind, mostly because you’ve noticed someone you’ve been avoiding ever since you got to college last semester, and you hope he doesn’t notice you.

Maybe he’s one of the reasons why you’ve been struggling with people treating you right, like Hoseok mentioned. Because Sam was your first love, and he played you immensely.

If he notices you, he doesn’t look like he does, instead keeping his arm tightly wrapped around the girl next to him. You don’t know her, and you wouldn’t even care if you did – you stopped caring about Sam a long time ago. But you’re still a little put off at the sight of him, and when you catch sight of Jungkook and Jimin by the backyard’s sliding door, breathing in some fresh air, you decide to join them.

Which, you reckon, is a very stupid idea. Because they are Taehyung’s friends, not yours, but they feel safer for you than being in the vicinity of Sam Hwang right now.

“Weren’t you sucking face with what’s-his-name just a second ago?” Jimin asks straight away as you stop next to them.

You snort in your cup, taking a long sip from your drink. “Maybe,” you say once you’ve swallowed.

“Tae would have killed him,” Jimin jokes, looking at Jungkook.

You don’t miss the way Jungkook’s gaze is focused on a spot on your neck, and you rub it mindlessly. 

“Good thing he’s in Paris,” you point out. “And I can trust you two to not tell him?” 

You say it like a question, though you know it’s useless. Jimin is the biggest gossip you know, and you expect Taehyung to be scolding you by the time you wake up tomorrow morning.

Though that attracts Jungkook’s attention to your face, and he meets your gaze with that same infuriating smirk he was sporting earlier. 

“Lips sealed,” he says, uselessly because both of you know that Jimin is the real danger.

Before anything else can be said, Jimin points towards the beer pong table. “Didn’t feel like playing with your friends?”

You shrug, taking another sip of rum and coke. “They don’t need me.”

“Pretty sure you’d be a liability anyway,” Jungkook teases.

Jimin and he laughs at your expanse, and you’re stuck glaring at Jungkook, right as The Incident takes the forefront of your thoughts again.

You wish it would stop haunting you. Wish it would leave you alone, because you feel like it was the cataclysm to a series of bad decisions. The first event of a butterfly effect that is threatening to push you over the edge of the cliff.

“I did get the redemption shot,” you point out, and Jungkook playfully nudges you again.

“Doesn’t count, your little boyfriend got all the other shots for you.”

Your gaze widens. “He’s not my boyfriend!” you quickly defend.

Admittedly a tad too quickly.

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, wetting his lips before playing with his piercing. “Of course not.”

You narrow your eyes at him, though you remain silent because you feel like saying something else would be far too incriminating. 

“Leave her alone,” Jimin jokes. “She did her best.” And then his gaze settles on you, and you balk at the mischief burning in his eyes. “Not her fault if her best sucks.”

“Bruh,” you let out, and you all burst out laughing.

After that, the conversation moves on easily, as you ask Jimin about his girlfriend. He starts gushing about the girl – he always does whenever Sera is mentioned. He tells you about her latest publication, and Jungkook looks bored out of his mind by the time something catches his attention, and he walks away from you and Jimin.

You watch him leave, somehow disappointed, but you entertain the conversation with Jimin for longer still. And Jimin is fun to be around, easy to talk to, and you don’t realize but an hour has passed before he glances down at his phone.

“Shit, I gotta go,” he admits. “I told Sera I wouldn’t be home too late.”

Your solo cup has been empty for half of the hour, so you raise it and say, “Go home, I’m going to get a refill.”

He hugs you goodbye, though you both walk together towards the living room. You part ways as you head to the drink table, once again scanning the room in search of your friends. They are nowhere to be seen, so you set on exploring the house after you’ve made another rum and coke for yourself. 

You find the stairs, and you head upstairs thinking they might have needed to settle in a calmer environment. Knowing Nabi, it is to be expected, yet you don’t find them anywhere upstairs. There’s a closed door leading to what you think is a bathroom, but you refuse to look in there.

You almost let out a startled yelp as it opens, and Jungkook steps out, pretty lips swollen red as he leads a girl behind him. At the sight of you, he lets go of her hand, and she looks between the two of you curiously. As both of you remain entirely silent, she furrows her brow but then dips, running a hand through her visibly tangled-up hair.

You can easily imagine what she and Jungkook were doing just a moment ago.

“Really?” you tell him.

His tongue pokes his cheek, and he laughs. “You asked me not to fuck at home anymore.”

You purse your lips, actually surprised that he took your word into account.

“Didn’t expect you would respect it.”

He doesn’t fake the offence that paints his features. “I’m not an asshole, peach.”

The nickname is said condescendingly, and you reckon you should feel a little bad. Because you’re still set on bringing Hoseok home tonight, no matter if Jungkook decided not to fuck anyone at home again.

“Sorry,” you apologize, not knowing what else to say.

Silence moves between you, and Jungkook leans against the doorframe, arms folding on his chest. He watches you carefully, as if he’s never really seen you before and, frankly, you wish he’d looked at you like this before.

It’s a treacherous thought, and you push it away as best as you can. 

“Jimin went home,” you tell him, feeling the need to fill the silence with something, anything.

Before he can reply, a group of people move upstairs, talking loudly. Jungkook pushes up from the doorframe, walking towards you.

“Do you want to go home too?” he asks when he’s right next to you.

He’s tall. You have to tilt your head back to be able to hold his gaze, and damn you, you’re hypnotized. You don’t want to look away, don’t think that you can.

“You already want to go home?” you answer, wetting your lips, and his eyes drop to your mouth.

He scoffs, as if it’s an inconvenience, before shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not drinking, I don’t see why I’d stay longer.”

Right.

“Why aren’t you drinking anyway?” you ask, genuinely curious. 

He smiles, with no hint of that infuriating smirk for once. “Got morning shift at the library tomorrow.”

The fact he works in a library still makes no sense to you. Though he’s claimed it’s because that way, it’s easy to approach all the pretty, intelligent women who don’t go to parties. Easy targets for a fuckboy like him.

“Ah,” you let out. “Well…” you glance at the group of people as they get out of the room where the coats are. When you resume your attention on Jungkook, you’re struck thinking he’s moved even closer. “My friend is supposed to sleep over, can I go find him?”

You say it innocently, and you don’t miss the way Jungkook frowns slightly. “Who?”

You force Hoseok’s name out, mostly because the way Jungkook is looking at you right now is making you want to disappear through the floor.

“Ah, the guy you played beer pong with,” Jungkook comments. “Thought he wasn’t your boyfriend.”

You furrow your brows. “He isn’t.”

A smirk grows on his lips. “Then why are you bringing him home, peach?”

Your own smirk is easy to come to your lips as you reply, “I’ll let you imagine.”

“Your brother wouldn’t approve.”

As he licks at his piercing, you can’t help but look down at his lips. “Good thing you’re not my brother then.”

He doesn’t reply, only looks over your head as you hear the unmistakable laugh of Jeong Hoseok. It makes you take a step back, and you turn to see Hoseok appearing at the top of the stairs. To your surprise, he’s accompanied by Ria, Nabi and Namjoon, but Yoongi is nowhere in sight.

Namjoon is helping Nabi walk, as she’s clearly gotten even drunker since you abandoned them downstairs. You wince at her sight, knowing she’s going to be a nightmare tomorrow. 

Ria catches sight of you and Jungkook, and her gaze widens.

“Here you are!” she shrieks. “We were looking for you everywhere.”

You don’t miss the way Hoseok looks you up and down, and you thank your stars for making this so easy. “I was thinking of heading home,” you tell the group, and you glance over your shoulder to confirm it with Jungkook.

He’s got an unreadable expression on his features, one that makes you think you’re going to enjoy your payback way too much.

When you look back to the group, it’s to see Hoseok cocking an eyebrow as if to say ‘Am I still coming?’ You nod, and you take a few steps towards him, interlocking your fingers with his. Ria watches as if it’s a scene from her favourite movie, and you all enter the room with the coats. 

You find yours in the mess on the floor, fast enough to catch sight of Jungkook as he’s waiting outside the door. You recognize his coat in the mess, so you grab it before bringing it to him.

“Here,” you tell him.

He chuckles. “Thanks, peach.”

Hoseok is next to follow, and the two guys eye each other before you hear Namjoon say, “Are you sure you’re fine with getting her home?”

You look into the room – Nabi is now lying on the bed, laughing to herself.

“Hopefully, yeah,” Ria answers. “I’ve already called an Uber.”

Namjoon is watching Nabi with a strange expression on his features when he says, “You guys are still at the dorms?”

“Yeah, we are,” Nabi slurs. “Where else would we be?”

Namjoon chuckles, and he glances your way. You immediately look away, right as he says, “I’ll come with you guys, then.”

Your thoughts head to his girlfriend for a few seconds, feeling bad for the girl, though clearly, Namjoon is just trying to be a gentleman. When you see Jungkook and Hoseok waiting patiently for you, you forget all about Nabi, Ria, Namjoon and his hypothetic girlfriend, especially as you see the not-so-genuine smile on Hoseok’s lips, and the dark look in Jungkook’s gaze.

Maybe your plan was a little too evil after all.

*****

The night is cold outside ─ arctic ─ and you wish you were drunker. That way, you’d barely feel it, but no, you’re forced to a shivering mess as you walk behind Jungkook towards his car, which he was forced to park a few streets over because of a recent snowstorm. All that can be heard is the sounds of your shoes crunching in the snow and the distant buzz of the highway. Up above, the stars twinkle in the night, and smoke moves from your mouth to create a cloud over your head.

You hate winter. Always have, and always will. Especially when it’s so cold you feel like your face will fall off, and you reckon tonight is one of the coldest nights in a while. 

Your eyes trail to Hoseok, and you smile in relief – at least your bed won’t be cold tonight.

You finally reach Jungkook’s car, and he unlocks the doors, the sound reverberating through the cold air. You sit in the back seat with Hoseok, pushing Jungkook’s gym bag to the side, and Jungkook is quick to turn on the engine, blasting the heater on. He meets your gaze in the rearview mirror as he waits for the engine to be warm enough to actually start driving. 

For a moment, you forget Hoseok is next to you. All you can focus on is Jungkook’s gaze. Where it’s usually wide, big and innocent, his eyes are narrowed now, as if he’s eyeing you. Judging you, even. Judging your choices, and you think he’s full of shit for it – he’s the first one to fuck around whenever he has the opportunity, after all.

A moment later, he deems the car finally ready, and he looks away, focusing on the street instead. He turns up the music on the stereo, and you watch as he taps his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat. You do so until you feel Hoseok’s hand landing on your thigh, which attracts your attention to him.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Hoseok says, not too loud, but clearly Jungkook hears because his fingers stop tapping on the wheel.

You smile, glancing down at Hoseok’s lips. They look chapped from the cold, yet when he smiles that bright smile of his back, you can’t help but think they are still inviting.

“Please don’t judge the state of the apartment,” you whisper, leaning closer to him. “This idiot doesn’t know how to –“

Jungkook slams the brakes, and you whip your head towards him as the aftershock sends you back into your seat. His eyes are gleaming with barely concealed mischief, and the infuriating smirk graces his lips.

“Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t seem apologetic at all.

You roll your eyes, but that kills the conversation until you arrive at your apartment, which thankfully isn’t too far away from the party. Jungkook parks out front, and you all file out of the car, walking up the stairs to your door. You unlock it while the two men stand next to you, and you’re not sure what’s colder – them, or the actual winter night.

You’re not sure you want to know the answer either.

Warm air wraps you in its embrace as you open the door and step in, and you quickly shut it after the two men to make sure the cold doesn’t come in too much. By the time you’ve turned back around, Jungkook’s already halfway to his bedroom.

“Good night,” he says over his shoulder. 

For some reason, you expected him to be more of an ass about the situation, but you’re reduced to thinking he actually doesn’t care all that much. You watch him until he disappears in his room before your eyes slide to Hoseok.

He’s been observing you all this time, and the moment your eyes meet, he smiles.

“We can hang our coats in the closet,” you tell him as you unzip yours, and he follows your motion.

You grab a hanger for him, handing it to him before taking off your coat and hanging it. Once that is done, you head towards your room, pit-stopping in the kitchen to grab glasses of water. You reckon you didn’t expect him to be so silent, and it makes you slightly uncomfortable.

Even when you’re in your room, and you’ve plugged in your fairy lights, Hoseok still doesn’t say a thing. 

“You good?” you ask him, doing your best to calm your sudden nerves.

Was it a good idea to bring him here after all?

He grins, nodding once. “The apartment isn’t as messy as you let it sound like.”

Not expecting that at all, you let out a small laugh. But he isn’t wrong – out of the three of you, Taehyung is by far the messiest. And now that he is gone, Jungkook and you have managed to keep the apartment tidy and clean, though sometimes Jungkook does leave some dirty dishes around.

“Oh,” you let out, and you chuckle. “Yeah, we cleaned this week.”

Last Wednesday, actually. Right before Jungkook had his pussy appointment, it turns out.

Hoseok looks around, and you gaze at his honey skin for a time. It looks warm in the lights, and his smile is still just as blinding when he offers it to you.

“Like your room.”

You scan it as if you haven’t lived here for months now. You’ve brought most of the stuff you had at home – except your collection of plushies. Polaroid pictures of you growing up are hung on threads over your desk, which is a little messy from the project you were working on yesterday. Your laptop lays there unattended, screen black, and you walk over to shut it absentmindedly. 

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” you tell him, and you don’t have time to turn around for him to put his hand on your hip like he was doing earlier at the party. 

You take a long swig of water, before putting the glass down on your desk. Hoseok imitates you, and then his other hand finds a home on your waist.

“Feels like you,” he whispers, head dipping down so he can say the words in your ear.

You shiver, eyes fluttering shut, as he moves your hair out of the way before kissing on the hickey he sucked on your skin at the party.

“Yeah?” you breathe out.

He nods, and you feel him move against your neck. He pulls you closer, and your breath itches in your throat when you feel his dick against your ass.

“Fuck,” he curses. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you again for so long.” He nibbles at your earlobe, and one of his hands moves to your neck, holding you firmly into place. “But you had to run away, thinking you knew me. Baby,” he pauses, as his fingers dig in your arteries, making your head swim with the lack of oxygen, “you don’t know me at all. And I’m going to fucking punish you for it tonight. Understood?”

He releases his hold on your neck, and you suck in a sharp breath. “Yes.”

“Mmh?”

You know exactly what he wants, and it makes your insides boil again. “Yes, sir.”

He smirks against you, before biting at the skin of your neck. “You’ll be a good little slut for me?”

You nod, entirely unable to form a sentence. You’ve completely forgotten that the goal of tonight is to make Jungkook pay for how he’s been having loud sex. All you can think about right now is the man behind you.

“Then turn around, baby. Strip out of your clothes.”

You obey, mostly because Hoseok brings out a submissive part of you that just craves to do what he wants. Yes, you’ve always been more on the submissive side. But with other people, you can’t help the brat in you.

You fear being a brat with Hoseok would be a very dangerous game to play.

You don’t break the eye contact as you take off your clothes, slowly. He doesn’t look away from you, though he wets his lips as if the sight of you is making him hungry. 

Hoseok has a duality you have rarely seen before. Where he is an incredibly sweet person in his regular life, his bedroom self turns into a demon, a force to be reckoned with. No wonder sex with him is always so good.

When you’re finally naked, panties pooling around your ankles, Hoseok offers you a smirk. He doesn’t say anything, but he slowly undoes his belt, before motioning for you to get closer.

Only one step separates you from him, and then you’re standing right in front of him. He raises his hand, making you tilt your head back, and then he captures your mouth in a hungry kiss.

You can’t help but moan when he swats the belt at your side, the leather making your skin tingle. He pushes his tongue in your mouth, and your hands instinctively grab onto the hem of his shirt.

“Nu-uh,” he tuts, making you let go of it. “Get on your knees, baby.”

You drop to your knees, eyes darting to the bulge in his pants once before he makes you tilt your head back again. You gulp, right as he wraps his belt around your neck until the buckle is pressing against your skin. He doesn’t make it tight enough to hurt, but your hands still shake a little at being so vulnerable in front of him.

“You remember the safe word?” he asks.

“Red.”

He nods appreciatively. “And if you can’t speak, you tap my leg, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fuck you look so good like this.”

Not knowing if you can touch him, you just smile up at him, wetting your lips.

“Want to get a taste of me?”

You already know where this is going to lead. Hoseok fucked your mouth more than once in the three months you had casual sex with him. So you answer, “I want you to come down my throat.”

He smirks. “Good girl.”

With his free hand, he unbuttons his pants, before pushing them down his legs. He doesn’t step out of them, instead palming himself through his boxers. You watch the imprint of his dick, salivating at the sight, especially as precum is already wetting the fabric.

Hoseok doesn’t have a particularly big dick. But whenever he fucks you, it feels like he’s the biggest you’ve ever had, mostly because he knows how to use it. Knows how to move and snap his hips in a way that makes you think you’re seeing into the future. It also makes it so sucking his dick doesn’t hurt your jaw too much, so you’re able to do it for a longer period of time.

Tonight, you have an inkling that you’ll be doing it for a while.

He pushes his underwear down, freeing his dick. Your eyes drop to it, not surprised to see the angry, swollen tip. He looks like he’s about to burst, but you know it’s a trick of the eye – Hoseok has more stamina than one would think.

Holding the base of his dick, he brings the tip closer to your face. Your mouth falls open, expecting him to push his cock in, but he instead taps your cheek with it.

“I want to ruin you,” he says in a low voice. “I want you to never be able to fuck another guy because you still think of me.”

You gulp, tongue darting to wet your lips. He gets the cue, and he brings his dick to your mouth. You don’t hesitate before licking at his slit, the salty taste of his precum filling your mouth. You then wrap your lips around the head, giving a tentative suck as your tongue plays with the underside of it.

He grunts, cocking his head to the side. And then he starts pulling on the belt – just a little, not enough to hurt, but enough to make it so it’s a tad harder to breathe. He’s usually pretty safe in his sex practices, but you feel like this could be dangerous.

You only then understand what he really meant by punishing you, and it makes your pussy drip on your thighs.

You moan around his dick, before slowly pushing forward until he hits the back of your throat, and your eyes water. You swallow around him, keeping the gag reflex at bay as he circles his hips. You pull away from his cock to move to his balls instead, still not using your hands as you lick at the spot between them, licking up his dick at the same time.

“Hands on me, baby,” he commands.

As per usual, you obey. One of your hands moves to fondle his balls, and the other wraps around the base of his cock so you can jerk him off as you suck. And then you get to work, eyes shutting as you concentrate on pulling grunts out of him.

He doesn’t let you do it for a long time. He’s quick to pull on the belt more – it’s a leash more than a belt, is it? – which makes you pull away, lips parted as you struggle to suck in some air.

“Eyes on me,” he tells you. “I want to see you cry as you choke on my dick.”

When he guides his cock back towards your mouth, you keep your eyes on him, ever so a good girl, and you let him thrust in your mouth. The first two times he does it, your gag reflex doesn’t show up, but the third time you gag, spit rolling on your chin as he pulls away. A line of drool connects his tip to your mouth, and it breaks as he once again taps his cock on your cheek. Tears water your eyes, and he watches you blink them away, slightly shaking his head in disapproval.

You know that was your last chance when he pushes his dick in your mouth again, establishing a steady yet hard rhythm that has your gaze blurring. You moan against him, right as he grunts, whispering filthy curses entwined with mentions of your name. And when he starts going faster, the sounds of you choking get louder. It’s indecent, pornographic, and tears roll on your cheeks as he throws his head back, grunting loudly.

“Fuck, baby.”

He stops at the back of your throat, looking down at you. He wipes some tears on your cheeks as you swallow around him. His dick twitches inside your mouth, but you know he’s not about to come.

Soon, perhaps, but not just yet.

“You’re okay?” he asks, because even though he’s pretty rough, he always does care about his partner too. 

He lets you pull away to catch your breath, releasing his tight hold on the belt too. You breathe raggedly, throat feeling raw from the intrusion.

“Yes,” you breathe out. 

“Good.” He licks his lips, offering you a dangerous chuckle. “You’re going to let me come down your throat?”

You nod, and he taps the tip of his dick against your sealed lips. You don’t remember shutting your mouth, so you open it wide again for him. He pushes forward, slowly, until all of it is embedded in your mouth, head pushing against the back of your throat. He remains unmoving long enough for you to gag, and then he pushes forward even more before pulling back.

When he starts fucking your mouth again, you know he’s chasing his high. So you fondle his balls, moan around his dick, try not to choke whenever he hits the back of your throat. Evidently, you still do sometimes, and tears roll down your cheeks by the time he growls, “Open your throat up for me, baby”.

You moan one last time, as he pushes all the way to the back of your mouth, grunting loudly as hot spurts of his cum fills your throat. As his dick twitches, he pulls out a little, and you know better than to swallow right away. So you patiently wait as he finishes, before fully pulling away. 

He grabs your jaw, and forces you to tilt your head back. “Open up.” You do, and he spits on top of his cum before saying, “Swallow”. You do that too, and the next time you open your mouth, it’s fully empty. Only then does he let go of your jaw, and he also quickly takes his belt off from around your neck, letting it drop to the floor.

It falls with a loud thump, and you breathe in deeply for the first time in a while. Your throat aches, and you massage your neck where the buckle left an indent in your skin. Concern grows on his features as you chuckle awkwardly, getting up from the floor.

Your knees are already hurting, and you know you’ll have bruises by the time you wake up tomorrow.

“Is your neck okay?” he asks.

You drop your hand, and his fingers ghost over the spot. “Yeah,” you reassure him. “It’ll be okay.”

“Good.” He smirks, and then he captures your lips in another heated kiss. One of his hands moves between your thighs, and he feels your wetness, groaning in satisfaction. “You’re dripping for me,” he says as he pulls away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.

“I am.”

He licks at your mouth, before saying, “Too bad you won’t be getting some tonight, mmh?”

And he moves his hand away from your core to settle it on your waist instead.

“What?” you let out.

At this, he laughs, and it’s a little mean. “You think I’ll make you come when you’ve ghosted me for a few months?” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “Nah, you’re going to have to work for it, baby.”

You want to curse him, but somehow it just turns you on further. “When can I see you again then?”

He ponders for a time, pulling away so he can meet your gaze. “What about next weekend?”

You’re disappointed, but you try not to let it show. “Any chance you’d be available during the week?”

“Maybe,” he says, cocking his head to the side. “Will you be nice and not touch yourself until then?”

You bite at your bottom lip, nodding once. 

“Then yes, we can hang out this week,” he concludes. He frees your lip from your teeth with his thumb, before gently tapping your cheek. “But I’ve got to go now.”

It surprises you. Back when you were friends with benefits, you always stayed the night at his place, so you expected him to stay tonight. But he immediately steps away from you, putting his clothes back on quickly as you just stand there, naked and awkward.

“You’re leaving?”

He glances at you as he’s putting his belt back on. “Yeah, won’t have you think I’m into you like that again.”

It hurts just a tad little bit, but at the same time you agree with him. Not sleeping over is a good way to avoid feelings, so you decide to throw on a pair of sweatpants and a sweater so you can walk him to the front door.

Hoseok kisses your forehead once when you get there, before grabbing his coat. You watch as he slides his arms in it, draping it on his shoulders before he bends down to put his shoes on too. When he straightens, he offers you a hug and you gladly embrace him as he wishes you good night.

You’re somehow confused as you shut the door behind him, and you stay there for a few seconds, almost expecting him to come back. He doesn’t, and you’re left heading to the bathroom to brush your teeth, only so you can get rid of the taste of him, and then you head to your bedroom.

And as you lie awake in bed, the only thing you can hope is that Jungkook didn’t hear you after all. You’re ashamed of what you did, but you’re far too tired to think about it deeply. All you can do is stare at the wall in front of you, hoping that sleep will take you.

It doesn’t, not until the early hours of the morning, when the sun is starting to kiss the horizon, turning the sky to liquid gold.

Teaser | Chapter 1.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

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All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

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[ovaryacted]

WISH YOU KNEW || MASTERLIST

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x fem! reader

SERIES SUMMARY: After coming into Wade’s world following their team effort to save his timeline, Logan attempts to adjust to his new reality. In rebuilding his life from the ground up, your paths collide when he least expects it, throwing him off course. Despite knowing he’s a walking red flag, he can’t deny how you draw him in, and he wonders how close he can get before his fairytale falls apart.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Eventual smut. Foul language. Alcohol Consumption. Worst! Logan / Variant! Logan. Age Gap implied [Logan is his canon age, reader is mid to late 20s]. Friends to lovers w/Logan. Developing feelings & crushes. Sort-of Slow Burn. Mutual Pining. Dating & Courting. Wade Wilson plays matchmaker. Established friendship w/Wade Wilson. Angst. Emotionally constipated Logan. Miscommunications & arguments. Depictions of self-sabotage, doubt, and anxiety. Takes place after the events of the Deadpool & Wolverine (2024) movie. Mentions of other characters. Each chapter has additional warnings and context; heed the tags.

A/N: So, this idea has been brewing for a while, and now that I have it more laid out, I want to share it with everyone. I hope you all join me for the ride, and thank you for being here. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated! 

➣ Masterlist aesthetics are subject to change. All chapters are not shown.

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

▹ CH. 1 - KISS THE GIRL

▹ CH. 2 - TBA

▹ CH. 3 - TBA

↳ more to be added…

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[humanitys-strongest-brat]

Kintsugi - ch. 1

Summary: After an injury causes you to lose your spot in the World Figure Skating Championship your last hope falls into the hands of Levi Ackerman, a former Olympic competitor.

Pairing: Coach!Levi x Injured fem!Reader

CW: Injury, major themes of depression and hopelessness. 18+ mdni

wc: 3.2k

a/n: Starting off with a huge thank you to @i-lev-you for helping me throughout the process of making this fic and always listening to me yap about my ideas. This is my first chaptered fanfic and I'm very excited to share it~

dedicated song - dividers 1/2

You cry out as your hip collides with the ground. Rolling into a sitting position you pull your left leg up by the knee. Just resting your blade on the ice sends another shock of pain through your ankle and up your leg. You let out a hiss and squeeze your eyes shut. 

You refuse to believe it, deep down you know you just sustained a serious injury. You tell yourself it's not that bad.

get up.

walk it off. 

Come on. 

Your breathing staggers as you twist your body and pull yourself into a kneel, your good foot anchoring on the ice ready to stand back up. The pain is excruciating. 

“Stay Down!” your coach shouts as she races towards you. “Sit back down.” She demands, and you listen, carefully pulling your weight onto your left hip, carefully settling back down onto the ice. 

Coach Tarasov bends down, instructing you to extend your leg out. When you do she carefully applies light pressure to your boot, only nudging it a little to confirm her fears. Your hand immediately flies over your mouth, you curse and wince in pain. “Not good,” She breathes out “Let’s get you up and off the ice” she says, her voice stern and serious, you know now that it’s really bad, you don't want to believe it.

“Coach,” your lip quivers as you look up at her, you feel destroyed. Panic fills your body and your throat is burning. “...Worlds-” Part of you is humiliated. Sure, you’ve cried in front of Coach Tarasov before; during long sessions that never seemed to end, practicing jumps you couldn't land no matter how many times you tried, watching your peers excel on your bad days. This was different.

This was devastating.

Mid February, four weeks before the World Figure Skating Championship. It was just like any other practice. today you were doing triple toe loops and landed wrong.

You can’t contain your sobs as your coach helps you up. She urges you to hold your foot up while she pulls you to the rink’s exit. When you finally sit down on the bench you notice how tight your boot feels. Holding back your sobs causes you to shake as Coach Tarasov kneels in front of you to untie your skate. “I’m just going to look at it.” She tries to sound comforting, but you can hear the disappointment that laces her words, the acceptance in her tone. Like she knew you were done right then and there without even seeing it. 

Your panicked sob catches in your throat as she pulls the boot off, every surge of pain was just as bad as the last. You can't look, you keep your eyes on your coach. When she peels back your nylon sock she stops and stares for a second before letting out a sigh and dropping her head down in defeat. “You need an X-ray,” she says plainly, only confirming your worst fear. “You can't drive, I'll call an ambulance.” she leans back and requests an ice pack from the rink employee standing over the two of you, observing. You're only just now noticing he was there.

“Stay calm, we don't know anything yet.” You know she's lying. You pick your head up and see your fellow competitors have stopped to watch. Most look shocked, some seem to be showing pity. You lock eyes with your friend and fellow contestant Mikasa Ackerman, her eyes well with tears as she watches you. That’s when you finally accept that your dreams are ruined. 

***

You stare up at the blinding lights of the emergency room ceiling, waiting for the results the X-ray ordered to rule out a fracture. Arms folded over your chest, you simmer in the acceptance that everything you worked for your whole life is gone.

This was your first year qualifying and being invited to participate in the World Championship, you knew after your performances in the Grand Prix and Nationals that you had secured your place and a chance to take gold at Worlds. Competitive skaters everywhere spend their lives training and competing for the chance to get where you were, just as you had, only for one accident to take it all away from you and hand it off to the next person. 

You blink back more tears, easily warding them off since the initial shock of everything drained you. The uncertainty of your career plagued your mind. The excitement and determination to compete was gone, replaced with the dread of agonizing failure. All you wanted to do was go home and sulk. An apartment you rented in the city chosen to host this season’s training sessions with a handful of competitors. Everything reminded you of your loss, even the place designed for you to decompress at the end of the day, your apartment was a representation of the things you endured and achieved to make it to the World Championship to begin with, now it’s just a roof over your head to house you while you heal and watch your dreams slip through your fingers like sand. You're wiping away tears with the sleeve of your shirt as the doctor enters the room. 

He strides into the room, greeting you as he pinned your X-ray up and flicked the light on to illuminate the image. You pull yourself upright on the bed, even in this moment your chest fills with hope for good news. “It’s not fractured,” he says, pulling a pen from his breast pocket. You sigh out in relief. A fracture or break was the worst case scenario, and at least you’re safe from that. He lifts his arm, extending his pen out to the board and pointing at the areas of your ankle with speckled white spots “what you’re looking at is a grade two moderate ankle sprain, you have some torn ligaments” he explains, slowly circling his pen over the white spots highlighted by the bright glow behind the picture. “Based on your X-Ray, swelling, and pain level at intake, we’ll have you in a boot for two to four weeks.” Your heart sinks again, it’s not like you forgot that this injury took something from you, but you got excited too fast hearing it wasn’t as bad as you originally feared. You listen and nod as he goes through the details of the first phase of healing, just as you imagined, stay off of it, never put pressure on it, keep it iced and elevated. “After the boot comes off, you’ll start immediately with physical therapy. They will determine when you have the green light to return to your usual activities.” 

You stare at him, feeling it all come back. “Physical therapy? Isn’t that a little intense for just a sprain?” You plead, your voice shaking again. 

He points again to your X-ray, and those damned white streaks on your ankle. “This is not an injury to be taken lightly, I strongly recommend you stick to your treatment plan to prevent possible irreversible damage. Especially as an athlete.” He warns. 

You get your boot, and you’re promptly discharged and wheeled out to coach Tarasov’s car. They help you into the passenger seat and that’s it. You’re left to face this all on your own now. 

Before you leave, you hand coach your discharge documents and lean your head on the window. The sound of the pages turning as she skims through sends pangs straight to your chest. She rests a hand on your shoulder but you refuse to face her. “I’ll make the calls, I need copies of this and your X-rays” she said with caution. 

You cried the entire drive home. 

***

The three weeks of recovery before you’re cleared to take the boot off could be described as nothing less than hell. You barely left your bed for the first five days, you ignored calls, you didn’t take care of yourself. Your parents found out online, you only answered their persistent calls so they would stop worrying. Days started blending together quickly, when you weren’t crying you felt nothing, even your phone proved itself a shitty distraction. Your name was everywhere, the news of your injury and drop from the championship chased you on every app you used. 

After a week you deleted all your social media.

The start of the second week it dawned on you that the competition was just over two weeks away, and you wouldn’t be there. It made you sick to even think about watching it and keeping up with the scores. Several times a day you wonder how you would have done had your injury never happened. Would you have taken gold? Thinking on it now, if you knew this was the alternative you would have been happy to place at all, just to be there. You took it all for granted, high on success. 

At the end of the third week, you’re out of the boot and booked to start physical therapy, just this week you started eating and taking care of yourself again, you leave the blinds and windows open to let in some fresh air. Every step you take still reminds you of what you could’ve had, you walk with a limp. 

***

You decide to watch the Women’s singles program only, anything more would have only twisted the knife. You watch with a bottle of wine and a box of tissues. 

You feel genuinely happy to watch Mikasa perform, part of you was living through her as you watched. Mostly you’re happy she gets to experience this for herself, you know how much it means to her.

She placed 6th overall, you cried tears of joy for her.

***

You’re given an estimate of eight to twelve weeks of physical therapy. when you do the math, you can’t hold back your grin. Even the longest course of recovery would have you back on ice just in time for the start of the next skating season. You decide right then that you’ll be back on the ice competing in next year's World Championship no matter what it took.

Mid April you finish the first phase of physical therapy, three weeks of balance training taking a decent chunk of confidence from you. to put it bluntly, it was horrible. The pain was almost completely gone, it only hurt during specific exercises. Your balance was abysmal, any added weight beyond walking had your ankle shaking. You knew you could do it, you just had to make it past this part. 

Early May, during strength training with your physical therapist, your phone buzzes in your pocket. After your program you excuse yourself for a much needed break and check your phone to see a text from Mikasa, you catch yourself smiling. It’s been weeks since anyone reached out to you. 

Mikasa ⛸️💨

“Been too long, I miss you! Free for a quick lunch today?” 

You can barely contain your happiness, it shocks you how quickly you text back, letting her know what time you’d be available, and to your surprise it works out. You agree on a location and after your session you rush home to get ready, taking extra time to ensure you don’t look like a husk of your former self when you see her for the first time in over two months. 

When you approach her at the table, she stands up and immediately pulls you into a tight hug, gripping your shirt in her fists as she squeezes. You congratulate her on her placement in the championship and quickly you’re catching up on everything the two of you missed during your time apart. 

“So, how’s that going?” Mikasa asks about your physical therapy after you mention that you're about half way through, almost cleared to begin off-ice sport specific exercises. 

You look down, biting your lip before you respond “honestly? Not well.” You begin explaining how you’ve felt the past couple of weeks, even mentioning that you decided to return to competitive skating this upcoming July. “It doesn't feel like it’s enough. My ankle is still shit, it’s enough to gain back mobility but I can tell I’m not where I need to be.” Your voice shakes a little. Mikasa is a wonderful listener, she never breaks eye contact or interrupts, she lets you unload all your grief. “I know I can do better, they won’t let me push myself, my home based exercises are strict.” You explain. 

Mikasa doesn’t say much, and that’s okay, you were happy just to be here with her after weeks of seclusion, only leaving your apartment for physical therapy. It took weight off your shoulders to talk with someone about what you were going through, and no one could understand you better in this moment than Mikasa. 

When your lunch arrives the conversation dulls down to casual pleasant tidbits of information of Mikasa’s life post competition, eventually she tells you that she’s recompeting herself. You couldn’t be more happy for her. 

Somewhere in the endless chatting you can tell something is on her mind, she detaches from the conversation a couple times, staring down at the table before snapping out of it and apologizing. Eventually she excuses herself. “Sorry, I’ll be right back” she promises and makes her way outside. Your brows stay knit as you crane your body to watch her walk out until she’s just out of view. You sigh when you turn back, that was definitely odd, but you decide maybe it’s best not to press when she comes back. 

She’s gone for no longer than five minutes, when she sits back down it’s like nothing was ever bothering her to begin with. You’re tempted to ask but it couldn’t be too bad if she looked this relieved coming back. The two of you finish your meals and send your bills off to be paid, she grins at you from across the table. 

“What?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

Mikasa quickly reaches in her bag, grabbing her planner and pen from the bottom and dropping it on the table, she quickly flips to one of the back pages and scribbles something down fast. “Here.” She says, ripping the sheet from its binding and sliding it across the table towards you. 

You raise a brow and stare at the page that’s text side down. After a moment you finally bite “what is this?” You ask, pulling it towards you and lifting it up, looking back towards Mikasa. 

“My cousin is a rehabilitation coach,” she begins, letting her excitement take over. “For competitive figure skaters. He agreed to work with you for me.” 

You have no words, you just blink at her. When you finally take a quick glance at the page you notice a phone number and email address written across the page “Mikasa, this is..” you don’t know how to feel, this came up so quick “I don’t know-.. I appreciate-“ 

She cuts you off “Please take the offer, I insist. He has an opening.” She says “Levi’s great, high success rate. I can get you more information if you need it.” 

Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach “Levi..Ackerman..?” you breathe out, now staring down at the paper in your hands. You should have known he was related to Mikasa. Hell, you don’t even know why you never thought about it to begin with. They share the same last name. “He was injured at the Olympics all those years ago.” you think aloud, unable to take your eyes off the page. 

“That’s the one,” Mikasa beams “and he doesn’t like to talk about it. So maybe don’t start with that when you call him later.” 

You look up from the page at Mikasa “I don’t know what to say.” Truthfully you didn’t even know rehabilitation coaches even existed, your current coach and physical therapist never mentioned that as an option. 

“Don’t say anything. Just call him later, and tell me how that goes.” Her voice was firm, but her eyes were nothing but gentle. 

When the two of you eventually get up and walk out together you stop in the parking lot to give Mikasa one final hug before you split again. “Thank you so much.” you whisper.

“Don’t mention it,” she replies, pulling back and letting her hands rest just above your elbows, “and don’t be a stranger anymore.”

***

When you arrive home, you catch yourself staring down at the contact information that was given to you. Nervousness didn’t even begin to describe how you felt. This wasn’t just any coach, or another physical therapist. It was Levi Ackerman. He was a part of the best figure skating pairs, finally making it to The Olympics with his partner before the accident. 

You haven’t even come close to a skating rink since nearly breaking your ankle almost three months ago now. Working with a rehabilitation coach to get to your previous level of skating wasn’t even a fleeting thought. Hell, you didn’t even know those kinds of coaches existed until today. What if you were just wasting his time? Surely a coach like him is a privilege, right? Letting your nerves get the best of you, the contact info sits idly on your bedside table as you drift off into a world of ice and gold medals. 

***

The next morning, your dream fresh in your mind, you grab the contact from your nightstand. Ignoring the blaring anxiety, you dial the number without too much thought. The more you think about it, the more inviting backing out feels. The dial tone sounds, causing you to begin pacing your apartment. No more blaming the injury, no more blaming the physical therapy program. You couldn’t just keep sitting around, wondering about the what ifs when you were handed a golden ticket. You’d be crazy to pass this up, even if it was just a chance. 

“Took you long enough.” A rich warm voice answers the phone, stopping you dead in your tracks in the kitchen. How the hell did he even know it was you? How were you even meant to respond to a greeting like that anyway. “I was beginning to think you changed your mind.” He states

“Uh, no.” You reply quickly, tapping your fingers on the kitchen counter to give your free hand something to do. “No I didn’t change my mind, I’m interested.” you cursed yourself, trying to sound so formal. This was the type of thing coach Tarasov always took care of, you were completely out of your element. 

“Great,” he says, you have trouble reading his tone but you try not to think too much of it. Over the phone you hear a series of keyboard clicks and your phone buzzes against your ear “I sent a couple things to your email,” did Mikasa already give him your information? “Go ahead and authorize your physical therapy records over, send me copies of your X-rays and prescribed treatment plan, and sign the following documents.” He lists off “after that, I’ll work up a schedule compatible with your PT, I’ll be in contact.” 

If you were nervous before there wasn’t a word to describe how you feel now. “Thank you, I look forward to working with you.” 

“Have a nice day.” he says in the same tone, your phone beeps to indicate the call has ended.

Taglist: @amywritesthings @littlerequiem @humanitys-strongest-bamf @hideandgopeep (please let me know if i missed you and ill add you on to ch 2)

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to Young Master Shield's Chapter 210

TL;DR - GoD agrees with Cale. Sui and CJS versus the wanderer. The wanderer warns Cale. Cale's shield legend returns and he says the iconic line.

GoD Suspects Wanderers Too The reason why GoD left Cale's message on read was because he immediately began a secret investigation on all wanderers and their locations once he read Cale's message. He and CJS also support Cale's speculation that the Five-Colored Bloods were wanderers.

CJS Goes Flying Again There was a scene where Alberu questioned CJS about the wanderer. CJS had replied that it was an enemy and he was not allies with that wanderer. Alberu left to handle the situation, but not before warning CJS to not be reckless and cause trouble.

To be honest, I was confused with that scene. Was Alberu doubtful of CJS because he was a wanderer too? Or was it just MTL messing up the translation again? 🤔

Moving on, Sui switched to his bird form and flew straight towards the enemy. CJS followed him, and the three forces clashed. However... CJS got blown away again and fell on a building roof, destroying said roof.

Seriously, why does CJS always get blown away? 🤣🤣🤣 Alberu had warned him earlier to not cause trouble, and here he is, causing property destruction... 😂

Wanderer is Like CH? There was a scene where CH felt that the wanderer's power was similar to his. If you recall, CH's power was black (despair something something) with some white (hope) in it. And the enemy's power was said to be similar to it, though in a more perfected form.

Hmm? So the enemy had the same experience as CH? Okay, hear me out, I have a crazy theory. Is the enemy wanderer perhaps another Choi Han from a parallel world? After all, Cale's world was called Nameless 1, so it isn't strange if there's a Nameless 2 and Nameless 3, right?

The Wanderer and Cale We did not get any physical description of the enemy, except that it was hard to distinguish if their voice was male or female, and that they spoke coldly. The enemy called out Cale's name, asking if it was Cale who killed the Huayans patriarch back in Xiaolen because Cale was the last person the patriarch saw.

So it seems like they have an ability to see people's memories? But how did they do that when the Huayans patriarch did not even leave behind a corpse?

Anyway, the enemy continued, "You of Thames blood. If you want to protect it, meddle not. Your power is only this much." And the enemy proceeded to send an attack to Cale.

Now, I'm confused again on whom the enemy was referring to when it came to protection. Was it the Thames? Or the audience in the academy's plaza? It seemed to be latter based on the flow of their words, but it could also mean that the enemy would go after the Thames if Cale interferes with what they were doing.

The Shield Will Not Break HE SAID IT! HE SAID IT! Okay, Cale did not really, really, really want to say this iconic line (the amount of sentences in the chapter just describing that he did not want to say that line was 🤣🤣🤣), but he had no choice because people were panicking and he had to reassure everyone.

He was also worried because his younger siblings were present today unlike that time in the plaza terrorist bombing incident. Cale was mentally cursing several times while thinking of how to protect his siblings and everyone.

Of course, when he revealed his silver shield to block the enemy's attack (Raon and Alberu also deployed their own shields to assist Cale), everyone was in awe of the shield's beauty. After he said his iconic line of "The shield will not break," the enemy's attack collided with his shield, and... and... AND... IT'S A CLIFFHANGER! AAAAAAAH!!! 😭😭😭

Ending Remarks There wasn't any funny moments today, except if you consider CJS getting blown away for the nth time. 😂 Now, who is that wanderer? CJS said that the enemy was hundreds of years older than him, and seemed stronger, though he did not recognize the enemy.

Anyway, Cale's speech is as good as cancelled. Or maybe not? If you want to write a transcript of it, it would go like this:

"It's a pleasure to meet everyone." "Damn it." "Silence." "Everyone, please be silent." "Don't panic." "The shield will not break."

Well, Cale, your speech is indeed neat and short like you wanted earlier, right? 🤣🤣🤣

[sanjisluvbot]

YANDERE STRAWHATS X BLACK FEM READER CH 17

Masterlist

[ I’ll add ch 1-16 here tmr I’m just really tired <3 ]

The silences became unbearable so you decided it was best you spoke up. Your sentences collided, you both stumbling over what the other said. You shared a laugh and decided to let Law go first, anxiously waiting to hear about what was on his mind that made him go complete radio silent at the dinner table.

" Y/N-ya, This conversation is going to make you upset but it's a neccesary one." He started off.

you nodded and waiting for him to continue. He sighed and turned away for a second, anxiety dwelling in the pit of his stomach.

" Before we had really gotten close and I was traveling with you and the strawhats Robin invited me into her study because she had books that would be really interesting to me."

The shock was written all over your face, he was telling you about reading one piece. You gulped down the lump in your throat, Sanji was telling you the truth.

" I'm pretty sure you have an idea of what I am about to say but, I just want you to know I wasn't keeping this from you because I am trying to harm you, and I am not in kahoots with the strawhat crew. ”

You but your lip wondering if the anger was showing itself on your face. You wanted to tell, scream, or even jump him. That wasn’t the right answer though, you knew that, thinking back to all the times you’ve simply done something logical here you always ended up on the wrong side of the stick or sword.

You hummed and looked away from him, “ I choose not to be angry at you. I mean, speaking logically I had done the same thing. Reading the manga and then coming here. I’m just not as free to go back whenever I please as you are.”

Your heart swelled. You felt mature and dignified in this moment, the anger seemed into the back of your mind most likely going to rush forward when you’re alone again but that’s alright. As long as you don’t show them everything will be fine.

“ I mean still… Y/n-ya I betrayed your trust by not telling you this sooner. If I was in your shoes I would probably be screaming from the top of my lungs.”

You laughed. Of course you wanted to do that, to everyone that you’ve encountered in this mysterious world you wanted to scream from the top of your lungs hoping that maybe someone from your home can hear or that maybe god would rescue you.

Unfortunately that’s not reality.

Law spoke about how intrigued he was by your universe. The new technology, the advancements in medicine he’s never heard of. In such a short period of time he spent there he was able to see things people wouldn’t even dream of in this life time.

Bepo and the rest of the crew peeked out the doors and windows amazed to see their never catch him with his pants off captain be so lax. It was like an alien replaced him or he was possessed by a free spirit.

Although you haven’t spent much time with the heart pirates, they adored you. Like basically everyone else they were enamored with the girl from another world, you were this alien creature who spoke so differently, lived differently, just a ball out of left field.

They were more subtle but they watched you as much as anyone else did. They liked the way you did little things and they liked the way you made their captain easier to deal with.

As they watched you two go from awkwardness back to a regular conversation where Law’s smile was prominent and his posture slouched, they wondered what would happen when you went back home.

Of course the captain would miss you, he would probably be even more overbearing just because your presence is gone but they all knew too well what the right thing to do was.

After hearing your story and what you dealt with from the Strawhat pirates they couldn’t help themselves in wanting to protect you. You were too fragile for this world, even though you weren’t even a different species your world is so fragile and life goes so quickly for you. You deserved to enjoy it— even if it meant they would never see you again.

You would always be one of their favorite memories.

The weight on Law’s shoulders was removed. And your comfortable conversation about the stars and what not from your universe could lull him to sleep. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed around a person— even his own crew.

Your eyes shined under the light of the moon and the hue made a light shade of blue casting over your brown skin. He moved closer, wanting to get a slightly better look at you. After all you’d be leaving in the middle of Wano. That thought brought a sharp pain through Law’s chest and a vein popped out on his temple.

He didn’t want this to be one of the lady times he seen you. Law wouldn’t say it out loud— he couldn’t. Knowing you, you’d probably become spooked by his demeanor. But he was sure that he wanted you in his life for the long run, get to know you like the back of his hand and maybe… just maybe…

His teeth gritted- his own thought annoying him while he was trying to focus on you explaining different telescopes that would let you look at the surrounding planets.

He would have to work over time to at-least attempt in forgetting you. He chuckled out loud at that catching your attention.

“ What’s funny loser.”

Don’t

“ Nothing… I was just thinking of something— continue.”

You smiled and teased him once more making him shy away from showing you his reddening cheeks.

The night is still young and you had so much to talk about, he wanted to be all ears but you just made everything so difficult now.

Luffy was aggravated, you spend less and less time with him and everyone else now. He missed when you would spend all day playing games and just simply having your presence in his vicinity.

Robin told him what happened today and he wanted desperately to be happy but knowing that you and Law were ir already have talked it out made him want to destroy something in front of him.

Nami eyed him, her and Zoro were always first to read Luffy’s emotions and she was tad bit upset at how easily Robin opened her mouth. Telling him any of this isn’t in their best interest right now.

Nami wanted you to stay with them of course but she figured out a different way to ensure that. To ensure that both you and everyone else can finally be happy. But, with Robin or any other crew member coming to the captain every other day to report one thing after another it would be more difficult.

Usually Robin and Ussop would be in her corner but she’s all but alone as of now.

Her thoughts started giving her a head ache and Luffy’s anger was making her anxious. She was going to just put her thoughts to rest for the night. She’s have all the time in the world to figure this out in the morning.

Walking into the other room she bumped into Sanji, who had desserts in his hand and gave her his bright smile. When she declined Sanji’s facade dropped, concern ect he’d across his face.

“ Nami si everything alright?”

“ Yeah Luffy’s just agitated and Robin is adding fuel to his fire. I’m just gonna go to sleep we’ve got things to do tomorrow and I need to devise a plan.”

He told her to wait just a moment in the hall while he dropped off his treats, coming out in less than a minute he smiled at her and offered to make her melatonina tea. She obliged knowing he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and he was obviously worried for her and not up to any of his theatrics.

In the kitchen she sat twirling a spoon in her cup letting every thought and worry fly out of her mouth and Sanji listened intently.

“ I just wish you guys would not tell Luffy things about Y/N and Law so often. We need this alliance— especially right now. In order to win and have Luffy become an emperor we need the heart pirates. I get that we all-”

“ Everything’s going to work itself out.”

She tilted her head and he chuckled at how cute she was mentally begging himself to not make a fool out of himself.

“ We’re all just stressed, too much going on, too much focus on Y/n, and too much pressure from other crews and the people of Wano. I get you’re frustrated— I think we all are even the moss ball.”

“ Well yeah but-”

“ Robin wants to get a reaction out of all of us. Luffy is just an easy target. Luffy would get agitated if Y/n were to even look in Trafalgar’s direction.”

“ I’m just trying to come to an understand of why she wants this reaction out of him right now if all times.”

“ Because just like you she’s devising plans and having a captain who will pop his fuse at just one little thing right now must be vital for it to work.”

“ I guess? ”

She drank the rest of her tea sb headed to her room praying nothing disastrous would come tomorrow.

🏷️ : @chaichaiiskai @mizzhellsingsstuff @herwritingartcowboy @axulaphie @toshirolovebot @futmblr @rhicambo @marim0cha @sasukeswife3 @mitskikinnie100 @alaurannara @angstylittleb1tch

A/N: short chapter Ik but de next Sunday! <3 love you lmk what you thought !!!

[wardenparker]

The King's Queen - chapter 7

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Prince Javier of the Balearic Islands has always known that one day he would have to follow in his father's footsteps to be the caring and steadfast king that his people deserve. What he did not know is that he would be stepping into the next phase of his life alongside a woman he has never met before - and amidst a rocky sea of unusual circumstances of every kind.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 13.2k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: arranged marriage, age gap, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, mentions of American politics, deceased parents* Mentions of a funeral, shitty parents/family, coping with shitty family, SO much fluff and flirting. A slightly sexy moment with someone unexpected. Summary: Javi has a gift for you on the morning of your crowning, and an idea for an even greater gift that night. But of course, an otherwise beautiful day has to be spoiled by your demanding family. Notes: The sisterhood between Daisy, Maisie, and Gabriela is everything to me 🧡

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6

"Your majesty." Javi nearly sighs as someone else calls for his attention as he walks to the office. No wonder his father was sometimes abrupt when walking around the palace. He has felt like he was being pulled in several different directions, everyone offering their heartfelt condolences on losing the king. He turns to see one of the staff rushing towards him, an apologetic expression on her face.

"A message, your Majesty." The young palace page has a card on a silver tray that she holds out to the king, trembling nerves written on her face for having to actually speak directly to the new monarch. It is early in the morning and when he was the prince, King Javier did not have a reputation for being a morning person whatsoever. The only solace is that it is your brother's already familiar handwriting on the face of the card.

"Thank you, Constanza." He takes the note and flips it open to read it, smiling slightly at the strong, sharp writing and even more at the meaning of the words. The woman is still waiting, hovering at his elbow and obviously ready to take his answer back to the personal assistant to the Princess. "Sí." He nods. "Tell him yes. I will."

"Yes, your Majesty." She is off again like a shot, ready to convey the simple but seemingly all-important message, and barely manages to not collide with the king's personal assistant as he comes around a corner from the hallway. Julius has spent his morning running back and forth to make sure the king's needs will be taken care of this morning and is finally ready to report that things are on track appropriately. There had been a misunderstanding with the setup for the crowning that simply would not do. "Your Majesty," he manages to get the king's attention easily and moves toward him with purpose. "All is well. Everything will be ready in less than an hour, just as needed."

Javi nods, "We have the film crew discreetly placed?" He had only allowed the royal film crew to be present at the actual crowning in the gardens, his need for tightened security growing after news of the king's murder. The video would be streamed to all the public stations to broadcast to the country and world.

"They have been stationed where they will have three good angles, but not intrude on the ceremony in any way," Julius assures him. It will not be the grand, over-the-top event that some crownings have been, but the morning ceremony followed by an intimate reception in the garden will give the members of court a chance to meet their new Crowned Princess properly. Last night's state funeral was not an appropriate moment for such introductions.

"Good." He sighs softly, the weight of his father's funeral still bearing down on him, although it had been a beautiful state ceremony. Most of the country had turned out to pay their respects.

"For your lapel, sire." In his hand, Julius has a boutonniere just like the ones he had pinned to the previous king's formalwear many dozens of times over. The choice to have the country's national flower feature prominently in the decorations for the event today was a wise one and the small pink and white flowers of the almond tree will look beautiful against the king's black suit jacket. "And try to remember to breathe."

“I can’t make many promises.” Javi admits with a short laugh. “I have never been so worried about things going wrong in my entire life.”

"There is very little that is within your immediate control today, sire." His assistant advises him, fastening the flowers to the lapel of his suit carefully. "The princess has far more to be concerned about in terms of ceremony. As long as you can place the tiara on her head and bow, you will be just fine. The words to be spoken will be said by the archbishop and you will merely repeat them."

He knows that. It’s more that he’s nervous for you. Holding you extra close this morning and kissing you tenderly before having to let you go get ready for the moment you will become the Crowned Princess of Mallorca. “I wish for the Princess to enchant our people the way she has enchanted me.”

"I do not doubt it for a moment." Most of the palace staff is already enamored with the American princess, and those that are not are mostly stubborn about you being American or else they are loyal to the Count of Ibiza. "But for your own sanity, I have moved your meeting with the ministers to tomorrow morning." Taking his job very seriously is part of what Julius does best, and he had noted that the Senator and his wife are amongst the listed guests for the event today so he had sought to provide some small solace for the king. An afternoon with fewer commitments is no small feat.

“You are wonderful.” Javi groans quietly. “I understand our evening meal will include the Senator and his wife as well?” You had pouted slightly about that, but he had told you that if you didn’t wish to have dinner with your father, there were many ways to cancel that.

"They did arrive in time for the ceremony this morning, sí. And will therefore be present for photographs this afternoon and at dinner tonight." With the flowers pinned perfectly in place, Julius fusses momentarily with the placement of the king's pocket square before stepping back in satisfaction. "The Senator is reportedly quite pleased with his accommodation, and in a particularly good mood." This was, of course, according to Sebastian. Who would know his own father's mood better than most.

“Good.” At least the trip is starting off on the right foot. “Please make sure that the Senator is well attended to.”

"Of course, your Majesty." Julius nods, having planned on doing so anyway. "I believe..." he clears his throat quietly. "If one wished to see the princess privately before the ceremony, one might find her in the greenhouse."

“Thank you, Julius.” Javi bites his lip for a mere moment before he is turning and striding towards the doors that would take him to you. Eager to see you and calm any last moment jitters, yours and his own.

******

Pacing the greenhouse was the very best place you could think of to get away. Sebastian and Flores had been an expert team at keeping your father, stepmother, and sister busy all morning after breakfast and you had deflected by closing yourself in your suite with the dressmaker who carefully buttoned and fastened you into your ceremony dress. She assured you the myriad of fastenings would make sure the lines of the cream-colored lace tea dress stayed true in all the photography that would be necessary today, you had simply nodded your consent and stood still until she was finished. Now, as time for the ceremony rapidly approaches, you nervously pace through the fruit trees and beautiful blossoms of the palace greenhouse wishing that Javi was near.

Javi strides towards the little greenhouse, the purpose of the stone cottage changing over the years to where now it was more of a little tea house. His mother had changed it during her time as queen. He sees movement in the glass and wonders if you are pacing nervously. Walking up to the door and knocking since you were not expecting him.

The sound makes you jump, heartbeat pounding in your throat as you wonder if you’ve been caught by some member of the court — or press — or worse, if your father found you. But through the trees you see curly hair and broad shoulders at the greenhouse door and you sigh audibly. “Javi.” It doesn’t matter that no one can hear you, seeing him is a balm over your anxious soul and you move across the open room quickly to unlock the door and let him in.

"Margarita." You are stunning. The tea length dress is formal, but not too formal. The daytime coronation is one that the ladies on your staff and his own advisors thought should be less formal than some of the other monarchies' pomp and circumstance. "You look....stunning."

“Do you like it?” The dress had been agonized over, and though you love it, you are relieved to see that he does too. You are even more relieved to see him, though, and instantly sink into his embrace while being careful not to muss his suit. “You look like a dream, querido.”

"I love it, amor." He assures you with a soft smile when he pulls away. "You look like a princess, my princess."

As jittery with nerves as you are, breathing him in centers you in a way that you can’t describe. “I want to make you proud today,” you murmur, smiling reflexively when his own beaming expression washes over you. “The rest…the cameras, the guests…everyone watching? As long as you’re proud of me I know it will all be fine.”

"I am already proud of you, margarita." He promises, reaching up carefully to caress your cheek without smudging your carefully done makeup. "You were my rock yesterday when we had my father's funeral. You have been my safe harbor in the storm since your arrival."

“Thank you for letting me stand by you.” As deeply as you already feel for each other, he still might have easily decided that he wanted to stand alone at these events or that love did not immediately equate to trust — and you could not have blamed him for thinking either of those things. As it is, you’re grateful that he embraced you as a partner immediately. “And you did wonderfully yesterday.” The funeral was dignified, with a beautiful service and many meaningful tributes. Javi had stood tall for everything, always stalwart despite the crushing sadness of losing his father.

"I want to celebrate with you tonight." He's been spending a lot of time thinking about love and grief and the next steps he wishes to take. He cannot let his entire life be ruled by his job, or the loss of his father. His need to let his desires grow has been something he wants to discuss with you.

“What did you have in mind?” Thinking of something relatively simple like dessert on the balcony or taking a drive to the cliffs, you are ready to agree without hesitation.

"I—" He takes a deep breath, knowing that even if you are not ready, you will not chastise him or think badly. "I want to make love to you tonight." He admits quietly. "Celebrate that we are alive."

“I—” The lump in your throat is not nerves now but the touching sweetness of the man in front of you, and you feel the soft smile on your face blossom easily. “Mi amor, if you are ready, I am ready. I promise you.”

"I'm ready." He squeezes your waist. "If– there's no use in wondering what might have been." He decides after a moment. "We can only focus on what our future will be."

“Our future will be what we make it.” You wish you could kiss him now, but the makeup artist that came in to complete your look this morning was exacting. “Come to my room tonight like you always do, querido. We will let things happen naturally.”

"I love you." He murmurs quietly. "You are the queen I have chosen." It's important for you to know that he chooses you. That he will choose you every day.

“And I love you.” With his forehead pressed to yours, a wave of calm washes over you and allows you to smile widely. “More than I ever thought possible.”

"Then we will make sure that our people know that we share a deep love." He vows softly.

“I think that all they will need is to see how we look at each other,” you observe with quiet amusement. “My brother said that we looked like a fairy tale when he saw us before breakfast yesterday.”

"I think your brother is paid to find the positive in everything." Javi jokes. "Especially from the stories he was telling me about working with your father."

“He is an excellent person to have around when you need cheering up.” You can attest to that completely. “But he also knows me. And he knows how happy I am with you.”

"We had a talk yesterday afternoon." Javi tells you, not sure if Seb had. "It was very good."

“He didn’t mention it.” He must have decided that it was personal, or that you didn’t need your head full of extra things rattling around with the funeral that day. “But I’m glad you’re getting along.”

"It's standard practice for anyone who is coming to work on the staff to have a meeting with the king." He explains.

“I can take some of those meetings on for you after we’re married,” you offer immediately, knowing that he has more than enough to keep him busy. “To lighten your load a little.”

"I appreciate that, but I enjoyed meeting with him." He admits. "Especially since you so obviously adore him."

“He’s the second best guy in the world and whatever girl finally gets him to settle down is going to be the second luckiest woman in the world.” Second, of course, because you count yourself luckiest for having Javi.

Javi smiles, obviously getting the point behind your comment. "I will endeavor to make sure that your feelings about that never change." He promises, taking your hand and kissing the back of it gently.

“I don’t think you’ll have to work very hard.” The warmth in your cheeks that flashes through your whole body is proof enough of that, and you smile again. “How much time do we have?”

"Twenty minutes." Javi glances at the small, elegant clock that is sitting on the table. "Are you ready, my love?"

“As ready as I think I will ever be.” The crowds have been assembling in the rose garden for a half hour already, and you exhale deeply to steady yourself. “But you’ll be there with me, so I will be just fine.”

"Right beside you." He will already be wearing his own crown, but he smiles at the thought of sharing this momentous occasion with you. "I'll never let you do this alone."

“We will be each others’ rocks.” While you know that you came here to be his, it fills you with a sense of warmth and rightness to know that he wants to be yours.

"I have something for you." He gives you a small smile as he pulls a square of fabric from his pocket. "My mother–she adored the idea of you being my queen." That was an understatement, since it was because of her insistence that the contract was struck between her college friend and the crown. "She had these made for you. I–they were in father's things."

“What a—?” Your confusion dies when he presses the soft squares of linen into your hand, and you can not only see but feel what they are. Beautifully stitched with scalloped edging and subtle colors, the pastel handkerchiefs were obviously made by hand and lovingly attended to. The cream colored square has a butterfly stitched into the fabric, the mist blue has the outline of a dove, the dusty pink has the beautiful form of a stitched roses in the corner, and the golden yellow handkerchief has your initials in a monogram that includes the prominent letter ‘G’ for Gutierrez. While you immediately decide to carry the cream handkerchief today, you hold the yellow one up for Javi to inspect. “I’m going to save this one for our wedding,” you tell him with a waiver of awe in your voice. “Your mamá was planning ahead.”

"She was a woman who enjoyed planning." Javi admits with a smile. He's proud that you seem to love the handkerchief, even more so that you would carry one on your wedding day to him. It will be like having a piece of his mother there.

“The more I learn about her, the more I see how remarkable she was. Our mothers were alike in that way.”

"It is too bad that we could not have met them." He murmurs quietly. "I would have loved to see them together."

“If we are lucky maybe we will have two daughters just like them.” The smile you flash at him is broad and genuine, and you cup his cheek with one hand. “Or one little girl with both of their names, even.”

"I think that would be a good tribute to them." Javi hums dreamily, smiling at the thought of such a future. "A continuation of their legacy."

“It will be something to think about in the future.” Your thumb graces his cheek, smoothing over his warm skin. “And I am so glad to be able to plan my future with you.”

"Have they contacted Seb about the investigation?" He doesn't know if your brother would bother you with it today, but he's curious.

“Yes.” It is a lot to handle and to be coordinated, but you don’t want to put it off. It’s far too important. “I’m meeting with the investigators tomorrow after breakfast.”

Nodding seriously, Javi sighs. "I wish I could be there with you, but it would be best if we talk to the investigators separately. So it doesn't seem like we are conspiring."

“We would probably be best not to speak of it at all in private,” you admit, even though you know it will be hard. But being able to honestly say that there has been no discussion whatsoever is essential.

"You are probably right." Javi admits, squeezing your hand and sighing. "We will be cleared quickly and then we can talk."

“We’ll be just fine.” The best either of you has right now is the hope that this will all be over quickly and that the culprit will be caught. And you’re going to hang onto it like a lifeline.

“I know we will.” Of that Javier is certain, it wasn’t him, and he knows it wasn’t you.

“Chin up, mi amor.” It is becoming abundantly obvious that resisting him is not something you are good at, and you nudge your nose against his to keep yourself from kissing him and smudging your makeup. “Today, at least, will be happy.”

“Yes it will.” He hums softly. “You will be wonderful.”

“I hope so.” Glancing past him and out the windows, you can see Sebastian and Julius walking toward the greenhouse together and you sigh. “I think we are about to be summoned, mi amor.”

“The ceremony won’t be long and then the reception will be for you. A social engagement.” He smiles and nudges your nose with his. “Cocktails allowed.”

"And I will nurse those one or two cocktails longer than any other drink in my life." Being very well aware of your own tolerance, and having approved the menu for the day yourself, you know that you're not eating heavily at this event so you shouldn't drink heavily either. But then...as a royal? You'll never be drinking heavily where you can be observed ever again.

“Absolutely.” As a new king, he completely understands why you would have that outlook. “And I will be with you, and after..” he smiles. “We can have another few cocktails while we relax in our private rooms.”

"We've developed quite the routine," you hum, the softness and affection in your eyes completely obvious, thinking of those nights with Javi out on your balcony. "I like it."

“I’ve enjoyed it as well, but I was thinking…” he leans in right as there’s a discreet knock on the door. “We could use that tub tonight.”

Your eyes widen to an almost comical degree at the suggestion, and your mouth is nearly unhinged when Julius and Sebastian step into the greenhouse looking dapper and official. "Forgive the intrusion, your Majesty, but it is almost time to— your Highness, is everything alright?" Julius looks concerned immediately but Sebastian is doing very well to hide a smirk behind the older man.

“Everything is perfect, Julius.” Javi assures his assistant. “The princess was just surprised by a suggestion I had.”

I'll bet she was, Sebastian thinks as loud as humanly possible as he hands you the soft lace gloves that you will wear during the ceremony and reception today. "Flores is already standing by with pins so the tiara can be secured to your hair after the ceremony is over." He promises you.

"Thank you, Seb." Possibly the most difficult part of this whole thing is not the oath you will take or the ceremony itself, but the fact that you will have to balance that priceless tiara on your head for a full twenty minutes without it being secured in any way. Thank goodness your father was one of those people who still insisted on you learning good posture with a book on your head.

Javi smiles at the obvious affection between the two siblings in front of him. He had always wished for a sibling to share secrets and experiences with. It might be one reason why he had tolerated Lucas's presence.

“We should get the two of you into place,” Julius urges, although he has to admit that he is loath to let you at times like this. You had obviously been having an intimate moment.

“Of course.” Javi nods and squeezes your hand encouragingly. “Today we crown a Princess, one that will be beloved by her people and the world.”

“Let’s not get carried away.” You tease, even though your cheeks are warm from affection and bashful from the compliment. Squeezing Javi’s hand one more time, you put your gloves on and nod to the three men around you. “Alright. It’s showtime.”

Javi lets you walk out of the little greenhouse ahead of him, nodding to Sebastian and Julius before he follows you out into the gardens where music will be piped in through hidden speakers.

The staff had outdone themselves. The traditional gardens, with neat manicured bushes and flowering plants, look radiant with the changes they had made for the ceremony. Flowers had been trucked in from local florists. Red, yellow, blue, and white blooms, all the colors of the flag, arrange in pots that mark the path towards the center. A recreation of the flag in flowers is displayed on the raised bed, the perfect backdrop for photos when you are crowned. Even though it is daylight, the lights that are strung in the bushes, providing a festive celebration of the crown. Javi beams in pride as he walks behind you.

The string quartet that has been brought from the Royal College of Fine Arts is set in a portion of the garden and mic'd, their stunning rendition of the national anthem playing through the speakers that have been hidden amongst the bushes and decor. The rose garden looks stunning, and in the center of all are about a hundred and fifty guests surrounding the platform where the Archbishop of Palma stands beside a beautifully ornate antique Savonarola chair that you recognize from the photographs of Javi’s mother’s crowning. The Throne of the Princess of Mallorca may technically be small but its symbolism is enormous.

Javier knows how intimidating this can seem, having undergone his own coronation when he was of age in a traditional ceremony. He had been so scared he almost threw up.

The carefully curated path through the rose garden has been scattered with petals and every step you take brings perfume to the air. With Javi walking at your side – his hand holding yours up in front of the both of you and wearing a splendid suit with you in a white dress – it feels like a very deliberate rehearsal for the wedding that will follow in a few months' time. There is nothing accidental about the choice to put you in white, of course. It is the color of hope for the people of these islands, worn by kings and queens past as beacons of the future. Guides through dark times. Here, it is not brides who wear white to symbolize their purity, but leaders who wear white to symbolize their good intentions. It was why you wore that white day dress for your arrival to the country, if you are completely honest with yourself. And now, it is why you wear white before the eyes of the entire nation. To promise them that you have every intention of giving them hope, and that you have nothing but good intentions for their future.

Javier stands next to the archbishop and turns to face you, his own crown set on his head before he had walked out into the garden. Looking every bit a strong and confident king like his father had hoped for.

The longest part of this ceremony will be the archbishop’s speech. He begins with words of welcome as Javi moves slowly, gracefully, in a circle as you practiced and stops beside your throne to sit you down comfortably. Between guests and staff there are over two hundred people watching your every move in person and hundreds of thousands if not millions more on television — the sensation of needing to be sick is definitely one that Javi has warned you about but it’s stronger now than you ever thought possible.

Javier's heart pounds, both because he is nervous for you and because he's sad that his father didn't get to witness this. He knows the king would have approved of the elegance in your movements, looking like you have settled on this throne a thousand times before. His steps take him to stand beside you and he wishes he could hold your hand right now, but he cannot.

It will not be a full service of any kind, thankfully. Otherwise this ceremony would take place in one of the nation’s many churches. But the archbishop begins speaking immediately in his all-important tone, preaching to the assembled crowd and cameras as well as to you about duty, responsibility, and the importance of hope. Javi reminds himself that he’s not a child, he cannot look around in boredom. Or stare at you as the other two hundred people are doing. You are beautiful, regal. You are the Princess and future queen that his people deserve and today is the beginning of that legacy.

The guests assembled in the garden are inspecting you. You know they are. But that is part of what you are here for — to be seen and judged by the very people that you are wearing to serve. The thought had terrified you right until the second Javi stepped up to the small dais beside you, coming right back to your side. He makes the chaos of the world quiet around you. The strength of his broad frame at your side makes you feel invincible and the fact that he believes you can do this makes all the difference in the world.

The ceremony is beautiful, the words spoken by the archbishop ring out clear and true. Making Javi nod when he speaks of duty to the people. Listening to the words with a clarity and care he had never had before.

When the archbishop steps back from your other side where he had been giving his advice and instruction, he is also making room for Javi to come forward. The king, already wearing his crown, will be the one to take the selected tiara from its cushion and set it on your head. If this ceremony had happened even one week ago it would have been his father to elevate you in this way, but you will not let the moment be melancholy. This is, the way it is happening now, a monumental occasion. Javi is choosing you this morning — for himself and for his country — and you are grateful for it.

Javi lifts the tiara, holding it in his hand for a moment as he looks you in the eye. A small, subtle wink is flashed at you as he lifts the crown up to place on your head with dignity.

It has the perfect effect: making the smile on your face broad and sweet when the heavy bejeweled tiara is set into your carefully styled hair. The first moment of your life as a Crowned Princess is smiling up at the man you love, ready to take your place at his side. The flash of cameras is everywhere but you hardly notice, straightening your back and raising your head up to your full height on the small throne that is now your own. You look almost angelic, making Javier know that this moment will be the one that he wants made for you. Hoping that the sculptor will capture it. He knows it will be a moment he wants to cherish forever.

What is supposed to be a solemn moment of accepting one’s duty changes very quickly, and you swear you hear the applause begin very nearby but it crashes over the assembled guests like a great ocean wave. Instinct should always be trusted though — because when you glance to your left, Maisie is smirking in a very self-satisfied way from her seat in the front row.

"Your Royal Highness." Javier smiles at you, watching as you execute a perfect curtsey to him and he gives you a formal bow in return. Then he can take your hand and press a kiss to the back of it.

“Your Majesty.” It is not customary for you to give a speech, thank goodness, because right now you’re sure you would faint or stumble or forget every word. Instead you accept the larger leatherbound volume that is being offered to you by the Archbishop — a printing of the laws and rules of Balearica that symbolizes your agreement to uphold them with honor — and you begin the long walk back to the greenhouse where Flores is waiting with hair pins and hopefully encouragement. Javi will follow you. The only time in his reign as king that he will ever walk behind another member of the court.

Your dress is beautiful and you walk with such grace that Javier beams with pride. As soon as you are around the topiaries, he is rushing forward to take your hand. “You were perfect, margarita.”

“Really? I swear I was shaking the entire time.” As much as you want to dive forward into his arms, you only reach out to squeeze his hands and stand perfectly still as Flores attacks your hair with the fist full of pins necessary to secure the tiara. You will now wear one to each and every formal occasion thrown by the palace or royal family and it’s going to take some getting used to.

“You were beaming.” He promises. “Glowing with pride for your station.”

“I am proud.” You can promise him that, just like you can promise him that you love him. They are both deeply true, but the mood is light so you can afford to joke. “And I am also proud that I managed to walk back here without the tiara falling out of place.”

“You were as regal as any princess and queen that have come before you.” He assures you, guiding you into the greenhouse. It will be just a moment before you are needed back out in the gardens, but there was time built into the schedule for a moment to breathe.

Once inside, pins in place and away from the eyes of the court, you pull Javi to you without hesitation. He is what is grounding you today, nothing else. “Te amo.” Even whispered, the words ring clear and true, and you soften under his proud gaze.

“Te amo, mi amor.” Javi wants to kiss you, but he knows that your lipstick is going to transfer. “My queen.”

“Your Majesty.” The voice behind Javi belongs to Julius, but you can tell even without looking that he is smiling. “Your Royal Highness. Very well done. You will be expected at the reception momentarily.”

“Of course.” Even as he answers Julius, he is staring at you. “We will be right out.” He assures his man. “But for now, I need a moment alone with the Princess.”

“Of course, your Majesty.” It is oddly reassuring to see the young king so enraptured by his princess, and Julius blocks Sebastian from entering the greenhouse with a firm but kind hand on his arm. “Give them a moment,” he advises with a smile.

“I have to admit that I wish that we could skip the reception.” Javi admits, leaning in and kissing your cheek, his lips grazing your ear. “I think you should wear the tiara to bed tonight.”

“Javi!” With breathless disbelief in your voice, the shiver that rolls down your spine is delicious. “I promise to choose something very easy to remove when I change after the reception.” This dress will be moved into a special closet of items worn for ‘historic’ events and probably not be taken out again for quite some time.

For the first time since his father has passed, his gaze is more lecherous than loving and he smirks. “It’s good to be the king.”

“I think it’s probably good that I can’t kiss you right now,” you murmur, surprised but not at all upset to see this side of the man you’ve fallen for. “We might not stop.”

“It is a very good thing, mi corazón.” Javi chuckles, leaning in and kissing your cheek again, letting his lips linger. “Later.”

So this is the playboy prince, you think with a grin, reflecting for just a split second how easily his charm comes when he is not burdened with grief. You saw it the first day you were here and seeing it again now is just a confirmation. And you certainly can't fault any of the women who came before you for their good taste. "I think you might be a tease, mi amor. Let's see how long you keep whispering in my ear at this reception and perhaps you will prove me correct."

“I will whisper in your ear all night.” He promises with a wink as he steps back. He’s aware that he has an obligation, as do you. Indulgences can come later.

Apparently the biggest challenge of the day just became keeping a straight face while your fiancé murmurs – possibly dirty – sweet nothings in your ear, and that sounds like exactly the kind of challenge that you are up for. You let him wrap your hand around his arm to lead you back out to the party and arrange your face into something approaching serene instead of your honest expression of eager anticipation. You are very much looking forward to tonight already.

You are never a step away from him. Javi makes sure of it as you begin to make the rounds. This is your introduction and it is only right that it be by his side. His hand settles on the small of your back as he talks, introducing you to those you have not been acquainted with while constantly looking over at you in both awe and reassurance.

There are as many members of court as there seem to be stars in the night sky, and you really are doing your best. But by the time you are able to take a deep breath and have a sip of the drink that you have been carrying so as to politely avoid any attempts at shaking hands or other embraces, the warm cup of tea has turned cold. Thankfully you could not possibly care less, because Javi is still right by your side and the moment to breathe is well appreciated.

“Do you wish for a flute of champagne? “His question is soft, noticing that your tea has gone cold. You have been wonderfully approachable, holding conversations with everyone who wished to speak with you.

"I suppose it's appropriate." He's being very doting and sweet, and you have to admit that you're basically a puddle on his arm at this point. "Since we're celebrating."

“We will have our own celebration later.” Javi reminds you, leaning in to whisper enticingly. “Perhaps we should have a bottle sent to your room?”

“We could certainly do that.” When he puts the glass in your hands it takes all the strength you have in that moment not to react to the enticing spark of his fingers caressing yours. Even for such a small touch, it takes over your entire body. “Our private little treat?”

“With some strawberries.” He hums. “Strawberries enhance the flavor of champagne.”

You have to smirk to yourself a little, because he seems to be approaching the idea of tonight very romantically, but your filthy mind had already conjured up the image of Javi drinking that champagne off of you, not from a glass. “Whatever you wish, querido.”

He catches the small smirk and the physical portion of his attraction and love for you takes over, making him twitch in his pants. “I believe we should both be satisfied, my love.”

“And I have absolutely no doubt that we both will be.” There is heat in his eyes, and probably in yours too, but this would be a very improper time for that to be shown to anyone but each other. “I have a feeling we might be speeding through dinner tonight,” you hum, amused at the thought of it.

“I’m ravenous.” Javi hums. “But not for food.”

“You’re going to be the death of me.” Being only the vaguest of chastisement, it’s really more about the fact that Javi had a lot more practice keeping his poker face on at very important events than you do. You have never needed to not look horny in front of a few hundred people before. Looks like you’re going to learn.

He knows that it's not proper to tease you at your first formal function so he decides to dial it back a bit. Knowing that you will be meeting a lot of important people. "Only after a lifetime, my love."

******

There really has been no peace today, and through meetings and everything else the only thing that has kept your mind clear is looking forward to seeing Javi in private again. It’s the only thing keeping you sane while you sit in formation on a set of carefully arranged chairs in the conservatory of the palace with you father, stepmother, brother, and younger sister being photographed for innumerable royal press releases.

“You there.” Your father snaps his fingers at Julius. “Make sure my office gets copies of these.” He commands, eager to have his own press release again, to remind his constituents what he brings to the table during the election cycle coming up.

“Julius doesn’t take orders from anyone besides the king, Dad.” You murmur, keeping your polite smile plastered to your face and managing an apologetic expression in the direction of your fiancé’s assistant. It isn’t strictly true, since Julius frequently takes direction from you, but he certainly does not take it from your father. “I’ll have Seb send them to your office when they’re ready.” Even though your brother is right there a few feet away, you’re not about to turn and give him orders right now.

Frowning, there’s a disapproving sound from your father, but he doesn’t protest further, getting his way is all that matters. Giving a terse nod and then turning back towards the cameras.

"When do I get my tiara, Mommy?" Though she's smiling as she's been taught to do, your younger half-sister's voice is full of a pout.

"Princesses normally receive their first tiara when they are thirteen." Javier explains quietly, looking towards you and tilting his head in question at the girl's question. "That is our custom here."

“So next year!” Michelle bounces in place, her eyes turning to her mother expectantly. She knows she’ll be scolded for moving during photographs but she wants that tiara more than she wants to sit still. “Next year I get to be a princess too?”

Gently clearing his throat, Sebastian steps forward. Figuring that he would be the one to break the news to the half sister you share. "Unfortunately, that's not how princesses happen in this country, honey." He kneels down and pats her knee. "You either have to be born a princess or marry a prince, just like the movies."

Unfortunately for everyone present, the preteen’s reaction is instant. Her chin starts to wobble and water springs to her eyes, and she turns on the pout that makes her mother cave to every single whim. Very few people ever tell her no successfully. “But…” she looks down at Sebastian and back up at her mother. “We’re supposed to share.” It’s infuriating when Michelle plays the ‘little girl’ card because she’s actually quite clever. Being clever and spoiled has made her greedy and manipulative, though, and you can’t believe you didn’t anticipate this. Of course she’s whining about wanting all the attention you’ve gotten today. God forbid the middle child get anything nice. “Sharing is important, Michelle.” You give a subtle signal to the photographer to pause for a moment and turn toward your little sister. “But there’s more to being a princess than wearing a tiara. And I know you wouldn’t want to give up spending time with your friends and riding your horse to move across an ocean and become a princess just for the tiara.”

"But...." Her eyes narrow in calculation as she weighs the need for a pretty tiara against her passions. "I could bring my horse and my friends here and still get a tiara." She decides after a moment, working out the logistics in her mind in a typical, simplistic fastion of a pre-teen.

“That still isn’t quite how it works, Chelle.” You can feel Javi and Julius and everyone else in the room watching this exchange, but the only thing it does is to show how fundamentally ignored your situation was while growing up. Michelle has known for her entire life that one day you would leave the US and marry a prince. But still no one thought to explain it thoroughly. All she’s ever known is that one day everything of yours would be hers — so it makes perfect sense that she assumes that will include your title and new life.

“I hate this!” She literally stomps her foot and crosses her arms. “I want to be a princess!”

“I think that’s enough photographs for now.” Julius murmurs to the press, not wanting notebooks or recorders to come out.

Your father, sensing that this would be a bad look for the American family of the future queen, leans over and whispers in Michelle's ear for a moment. As if by magic, her face clears and she uncrosses her arms.

“Her Royal Highness and her father will be available for more photographs in the library in ten minutes.” Ushering the press from the room, Julius gives you a barely perceptible nod.

"Surely something can be done." Your stepmother offers Javi a politician's smile, just as concerned with optics as her husband, but her own daughter. "There must be some formal title for members of the family."

“That isn’t how it works.” With the press cleared from the room, you watch Julius shut the door behind himself before turning back to your stepmother and half-sister with as much patience as you can muster. “Dad’s title is Senator. Yours is Señora. Michelle is Señorita Michelle. That’s as formal as it gets unless you plan on becoming Balaerican citizens and earning a noble title through good work for the people of this country.” The fact that they barged in and started demanding special treatment like ugly Americans isn’t even what surprises you. What surprises you is that now they’re encouraging Michelle to do it, too.

"I think we are a little bit more than normal family." She tells you, keeping her polite smile as she cuts her eyes to her husband.

"Dear, I don't think that it is what we should be discussing right now." Your father decides that tact would be the better part of valor right now. "She is not married yet, she can only suggest change at this point. Wait until she is the queen. It will be far more useful then."

“Excuse me?” When the only people in the room besides your family are Javi and two footmen, you are much less self-conscious about raising your voice to your father than you might have been otherwise. The idea that you will be useful to them in any way is atrocious and you stand from the sofa immediately. “Please tell me that I misheard you just now.”

Your father frowns at you, surprised that you have any complaint about what he said. "What do you mean?" He demands. "What was there to mishear?"

“I am hoping that I didn’t just hear you say that you intend to abuse my position as queen for personal gain.” You aren’t stupid. There’s no way you think that this arrangement — your betrothal — wasn’t agreed to for the prestige. You aren’t blind enough to think your father hasn’t been drafting press releases and planning to work his way into something diplomatic by riding your coattails. But you honestly hadn’t gone so far as to think that they would expect you to perform political favors. So maybe you’re a little stupid after all. Or at least overly idealistic.

"Has my time in Washington taught you nothing?" He asks, shaking his head in disappointment. "It's about connections and I happen to have a connection to the throne." He scoffs. "I would be a fool to not expect to be able to speak to the movers and shakers here."

“Speak? Sure.” You can feel your eyes roll back so far in your head that they threaten to go a full three hundred and sixty degrees. “But you don’t get to waltz in and give orders to Javi’s staff and presume on noble titles just because we’re related. That isn’t how this works.”

While he senses that you are not going to be open to dialogue right now, your father decides that it is best to pull back on the conversation. "Of course not." He shakes his head. "It was tactless and presumptuous of them." He motions towards your stepmother and half-sister. "Excitement."

“Does that apology go for you, too?” Considering he was the one who started snapping at Julius like a misbehaving dog, your exasperation is very real at this point.

He tilts his head in contemplation as he wonders why you are pushing back against him. He opens his mouth to ask that question but instead offers a 'sincere' smile. "Of course it does, pumpkin." He offers. "I apologize. Thoughtless because of the jetlag."

That smile is practiced. It is perfectly executed and usually reserved for people he considers — privately — deeply beneath him. The fact that he’s using it on you is unsettling to say the least. “We have pictures to take in the library.” Is what you say instead, before turning to Javi and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I know you have a meeting, mi amor. I promise we will all behave ourselves until dinner.”

Javier can see the worry and upset in your eyes and he wishes to pull you away to talk to you. Right now is not the time and he makes a note to tell Julius to have Sebastian to check on you and let him know how you really are. "Of course, mi amor."

“I will see you for dinner.” A quick squeeze of his hand and you are turning back to your family with a serious expression fixed back on your face. “Sebby, I think our stepmother and sister would like to see the palace grounds before dinner, don’t you?”

"Would you like to see the royal stables?" He asks Michelle, knowing that will peak her interests. "I'm sure that we could arrange some riding while you are here."

When your bonafide horse girl little sister shrieks with joy at that suggestion, you know that at least things will be okay on that front. Your brother leads them away to change into riding gear and head down to the stables, and you nod to your father. “The library is this way.”

"It seems that our decision was good for you." He offers as he extends his arm for you to take. "The King seems to be very warm to your presence and you to him."

There is a moment of reluctance, of hesitation before you take your father’s arm, but eventually you decide to have less fuss and accept the gesture to walk along the hall. “It turns out that Javi and I have a lot in common.” Not because of the endless poking and prodding to make sure you watched the movies and read the books that the prince liked. Not because of that. But because of who you are fundamentally as people.

"Then we have done well." He hums, extremely pleased. A happy king is an accommodating one and he can see this as being very lucrative to his career. Perhaps he will become an Ambassador here. It would be fortuitous and sometimes ambassadors have more discretion to make policies than senators at times.

That isn’t necessarily how you would put it, since one of the things you have in common with Javi is demanding fathers who didn’t really take the time to get to know you. So for now you just hum and politely nod to the few people who stop to pay their respects to you in the hallway as you walk. “It could just as easily have gone badly,” you remind him quietly.

"Except that it hasn't." He doesn't like that you are focusing on the what could have beens instead of the what ares. You have a tendency to do that. He does like the measure of respect that you are being shown, and in turn, he is being shown.

“Through no measure of coercion, or play acting, or ulterior motives.” Up ahead, the door to the library is already open and the press are waiting inside. “I love him. It’s as simple as that.”

He's not quite sure how you have come to love a man you have only met a few days before but he pats your hand and gives you a beaming smile that is sure to be captured by the press. "I am glad. It's all I want for you."

It isn’t. You both know it isn’t. But it’s a lie that you are comfortable living with for the time being. Instead of instigating a conversation about anything of the sort, you hold your head high and glide into the library to the best of your ability.

If there is anything paternal about the man who has created you, it’s this moment that it shines. His smile turns almost genuine as he courts the press and makes a show of settling you into the chair Julius has set up for you. Photographs will be taken of you sitting in a lush rose-colored upholstered chair with deep wood tones to offset the damask fabric. Still in your tiara and crowning dress, you sit in front of your standing father with your ankles neatly together and his hand elegantly – so he says – held to his midsection. Perfectly posed, it's obvious that you have both taken countless photographs before. The difference is that this is the first time that your father has ever been the one in the secondary role.

Once the countless photos are taken, the Senator expects a few candid shots from the press and helps you up with the same manners as when you entered the room. Enjoying the way the staff and the journalists bow or curtsey, pretending it’s for him.

“I have a few things to do before dinner.” As soon as you’re out of the room and Julius has reappeared beside you, you carefully extract your hand from your father’s arm and smooth out your dress. “If you’d like to go down to the stables I’m sure Julius can arrange for a car,” you offer. It’s not even that you have things to do — it’s that you need some time to breathe.

“Of course.” He knows when he’s being dismissed and while he doesn’t like it, there’s not a whole lot he can do about it. “Looking forward to a family dinner together.” He promises.

"We'll meet you in the drawing room before dinner for an aperitif," you tell him, trying to sound nonchalant about a thing that you are actually not looking forward to at all. Standing around having a drink with your family sounds agonizing. "Seb knows the way. He'll go down with you."

"Well then...." It's quite a change of pace to be the one dismissed, to be left for others to have more important issues to attend to. Slightly disconcerting for him but your father nods and moves towards the doorway. "Perhaps a footman can show me to the stables?"

“I’m sure Rafael would be able to show you the way.” The nearest footman is one who has been assigned to see to your needs specifically so you don’t feel odd about asking him out of all of the other staff present. Still getting the bearing of things around the palace, you’re at least able to learn your own staff quickly.

“Of course.” Your father doesn’t even think to bow to you, just nods his head and turns to walk towards the footmen as they stand near the door.

The careful, pointed way that Julius clears his throat in your father's direction is about as polite and subtle as he can manage, but the palace staff all know what it means. No one moves, although they should step aside to open the door for your father right away. They would have – if only he had shown you the proper respect. And if only Julius hadn't quietly pointed it out.

Your father stops, realizing what is required of him and turns back around. “It’s hard to remember that my daughter, my little girl, requires a bow.” He jokes, even as he bristles at the faux pas. He offers a stiff, formal bow before he straightens back upright.

"I'll see you at dinner." It shouldn't be as satisfying as it is that he has to be formal with you, but after an entire lifetime of being bossed around it does make your shoulders feel a little more square and your chin tilt a little higher.

"This way, Senator." Rafael opens the door and waves your father through right away.

As soon as your father exits the library, your ladies in waiting file in, ready to accompany you.

“I’d like to change,” you murmur to Maisie and Gabriela as soon as they’re at your side, wanting to be anywhere but under the public eye at the moment. Things with your father feel weird – shaky in a way – and you don’t like that one bit.

“Of course.” Gabriela nods and immediately takes your arm. “Are you excited by having your family here? They all looked so proud during the coronation.”

“My family is complicated, as I’m sure you can understand.” The offer of her arm is a comfort, though, and you take it readily. “I’m glad their visit will only be a few days. It makes it easier to make sure they enjoy it.” And easier to make sure nothing goes wrong…

"Of course." She understands, more than anyone else, what it means to keep the peace. Even if it means sacrificing your own comfort for some time. In her case, it's all the time. Especially in the past year.

“Did you two enjoy the reception?” There was barely time to say hello to them afterward, with the number of acquaintances there were for you to make in your first hours as Crowned Princess, but you had seen them laughing and eating with friends in the garden.

"I—" Gabriela bites her lip. "It was very nice to socialize." She admits. "Thank you for selecting me again to be one of your ladies." Often Lucas would dominate the conversations or steer her away from most people. It was a nice change to be the more important of the two.

“I’m grateful you agreed.” You tell her honestly, before looking over at Maisie. “Both of you.”

"What else do we have to do?" Maisie teases as she leads the pair of you towards the door, nodding as the footman rushes to open it.

“There’s plenty to do these days.” With wedding and the joint coronation — when Javi is formally crowned king and you become queen — is the sole focus of your work these days.

"Only as your ladies-in-waiting." She chirps as the three of you march down the hall towards your suite.

“There should be something in the planning soon for each of you to enjoy.” As much as you know that they are here to help you, you also don’t want them to dread the time you spend together. There should be things to look forward to that aren’t about you at all.

Gabriela hums and leans in. "It will be very busy right up until your tour of the kingdom." She reminds you quietly. "You just need to decide who you would like to have accompany you on the tour, since it is technically your honeymoon." The jealousy that she had been expecting wasn't there, just worry about being left behind.

“Should that not be up to the two of you?” Honestly you’re not sure at all what the protocol is, so you’re really asking.

"As queen, it is your decision who accompanies you on the tour." Maisie reminds you, her eyes on Gabriela. Wondering if the Countess is trying to get out of going or throwing her hat in the ring.

“I have a feeling I’m going to miss the days when I could get out of making decisions,” you murmur good naturedly as the three of you turn into your suite. Privacy is such a luxury today that you sigh. “I would be delighted to have either of you come,” you tell both ladies. “But if one of you would rather not, for any reason, I fully respect that.”

There's a pause before Gabriela speaks again. "I–I understand that my presence might make your trip.....uncomfortable." She admits. It would be awkward to have the woman that Javi once wished to marry on the honeymoon with the new wife. "Perhaps it should be Maisie."

“If it would make you uncomfortable, that is one thing.” Alone with them, you turn and take both of Gabriela’s hands. “As far as I’m concerned, you are a very kind friend who is about to be family. If I had thought this would be uncomfortable for you or Javi, I would never have asked you to be my lady in waiting in the first place.”

It's almost embarrassing how she tears up. Biting her lip and trying to keep her chin from trembling. You have been so kind to her, despite you having every reason to despise her. Closing her eyes, she nods. "I–I would like to go. As your lady."

“Is that alright with you, Maisie?” You have a feeling that she might feel about it like you do — that getting Gabriela away from regular life for a little bit will be a good thing. That giving her something new in life, and showing her actual appreciation? It’s more than just a little necessary.

“I think that it will be perfect.” Maisie agrees quickly. “Gabriela is a much better historian than I.”

"But I want you both to come to Monaco." There will be no ifs, ands, or buts about it. These are the two closest friends you have in the world besides your brother, and Seb will be there right alongside the three of you. "Before the wedding."

"Of course." Maisie agrees, shooting a grin at you before she starts to walk towards your closet. "We wouldn't miss it. What outfit would you like to wear?" She asks as she disappears into the closet.

“It’s a formal dinner, but something…less fussy would be good.” All you can think is that it’s going to be the thing that Javi takes off of you tonight, and you follow Maisie in with a slightly lopsided smile.

"Something.....playful." Maisie decides, looking back at you. "After the extremely formal events, I find it quite refreshing to wear something fun. Perhaps one of your own outfits you brought?"

“There is a burgundy dress in here somewhere…” You start looking around, trying to figure out where some of your American dresses were hung. “High collar, sleeveless, and ankle length. But it flows beautifully.” And the neckline is also tied up with a string at the base of your throat, something you feel positively tingly thinking about Javi untying.

"Burgundy is a strong color to wear." She muses, moving over to the section of the closet where your clothes have been neatly arranged as Gabriela comes in to sit down on the small settee. "So have you and Javi....you know, yet?" Maisie asks, her head stuck in the closet, pushing clothes out of the way.

“Maisie!” If she had asked the question five seconds ago instead of right when Gabriela walked up beside you, you would be far less embarrassed. Now you feel like your face is on fire. “No! N-no—I mean—his father just died!”

"You should." The former love interest of the now king smiles. Sitting down beside you and patting your hand. "Javier is physical, he needs touch." She bites her lip, knowing that it was very improper of her to talk about those things, but there is an openness between you. "He is honestly the best lover I've ever had. I know he will please you."

“It’s not—I mean—we’ve slept together,” you clarify, feeling awkward yourself after promising up and down that having Gabriela here isn’t awkward at all. You just don’t want to hurt her with how fucking deeply in love with Javi you’ve fallen so fast. “But actually sleeping.”

"That sounds romantic." It's bittersweet, a pang that she doesn't have that with Javi, would never have it again, but it was a star crossed love. It could never be real. "I hope that it has brought you closer together."

“It has.” It was unexpected, the way things have progressed, but not in any way unwelcome. In fact, you welcome tonight with open arms.

She smiles, truly happy that her former love has found happiness. it was all she had ever wished for him, even if she has not found it herself. "Then you should not waste a moment, an opportunity to make sure that he knows how you feel."

“We…” Looking between both women, you can feel the heat rise in your cheeks. “We…talked about…tonight…”

"Ohhhhh." Maisie's smirk grows wide and even Gabriela grins. "Now we need to talk lingerie." She decides and the other woman pulls you to your feet to drag you over towards the built- in drawers.

“I—I don’t own any lingerie,” you protest immediately, though they seem to be sure of where to take you. “Just regular things…not showy things.”

Gabriela bites her lip, aware that it would be too improper to offer you some of her own. Especially considering the circumstances. "I have some." Maisie offers with a grin. "And we will have the modesite come to measure you for some custom pieces."

“Is that…a normal thing to do?” Partially you mean to ask if it would be normal for a clothier to make lingerie specifically for a princess, but you’re also asking about relationships in general. You may have had boyfriends before — and done plenty of messing around with them — but the reality of still technically being a virgin is beginning to weigh on you as you think about tonight. The last thing you want to do is disappoint Javi.

If the question catches either woman off guard, they don’t show it. “Sometimes. It’s something fun and sexy. Especially under formal dresses.” Maisie answers with a grin.

“I take it it’s something your husband enjoys?” Since Maisie has only ever spoken well of her husband, you’re willing to bet those small, sexy surprises are a positive thing for them. A happy thing.

“A present he gets to unwrap.” She assures you with a naughty smirk. “I wear something sexy when I want attention, or to surprise him. Or just to feel pretty.”

"I've never..." Wrapping your arms around your waist, you debate telling them. Your whole truth is such an odd one and you don't know at all how they would react to it, so you swallow the thought for now and try again. "I've never been with someone long enough...to, you know...surprise them like that."

“Oh.” Maisie glances over at Gabriela and nods. “Nothing to worry about.” She promises you. “But it means virginal might drive Javi insane.”

"Is it..." They apparently knew exactly what you meant, and you feel yourself getting a little more self-conscious in the moment. "Something that...he likes? I guess I was always under the impression that men...preferred experience? Not that I'm inexperienced of course, it's just...it's that specific..." Nerves make you ramble, but you catch yourself and swallow a groan before dropping your face into your hands. "May I be honest with both of you? Or would you prefer I keep this to myself?"

“Please, share anything you wish.” Gabriela reaches out for your hand to pull it away from your face. “We are here for you and I wish to repay your kindness, your friendship, any way I can.

"The thing is..." With a sigh, you sit back on the pouf set in amongst the shelves and racks in your closet and look up at the two women who have agreed to help you through this transition. To be your friends. Arranged friends just like your arranged marriage. "I've known that I was going to marry Javi since I was young. Practically my entire life. Our mothers...it was all arranged by our parents, and I wasn't really allowed to have serious boyfriends growing up because I knew I was going to marry this faraway prince. So it's not that I'm completely inexperienced, but...this?" You curl your arms around yourself and shrug helplessly. "I have very literally been waiting for him my whole life. And it's just starting to hit me that the waiting is completely over."

“Oh, Daisy,” Gabriela softens even more and reaches for your other hand while Maisie holds the other. “I know you have to be excited, nervous. If Javier knows, he will be very considerate, even more than he always is.” She smiles. “I cannot think of a more perfect man to experience intimacy with for the first time.”

“He knows.” You nod once, squeezing Gabriela’s hand. “But he…he didn’t know about me until just before I arrived. I need you to know that, Gabriela. My parents prepared me for this for my entire life, but Javi had no idea that everything had already been arranged.” It makes it rather sweet, how quickly you have fallen for each other, but it’s important that Gabriela know that Javi had never lied to her. That he hadn’t kept this large secret while he was with her.

“I had been told.” Gabriela reveals quietly. “By King Miguel when he told me that he was rejecting Javier’s request to propose to me.” She squeezes your hand back. “The king ordered me to not tell his son. That it would be told to him at the proper time, but he wanted me to know that he was not denying him because he thought I would not be a good Princess, a good wife, for Javier. He and his wife had just decided on someone else long ago.”

“Please know that I truly do love him.” It is desperately important to you in this moment that you are honest with her, hoping to be able to put some of this awkward worry between you to rest. To be able to move forward as true friends. “I never expected it to happen so quickly, but it has been undeniable.”

“That is all I would hope for.” The former flame of the king assures you quickly. “You do not wish to be in a loveless marriage.”

Unfortunately, the implication is all too clear, and you pull yourself off the pouf to envelope her in a tight hug. “You are a kind soul, Gabriela,” you murmur after a moment. “And I hope you know I am grateful for your friendship.”

"As I am for yours." You have no clue how grateful she is. How indebted she is to you for the kindness and sensitivity you have shown, when she could not have expected it with anyone else. Especially since you seem to not care for her husband. Something else the two of you share.

“And yours, dear Maisie.” She cannot be left out of this for a single moment, especially as she has been your true and constant ally since almost the moment you met.

"We will all be one big, happy sisterhood." Maisie insists. "Now. Do you want to come to my room or should I run to go get those things for you to see and try on?"

“Do you have anything that would match the dress?” Gabriela prompts, finding herself on slightly surer footing now. With you, at least, she feels a bit freer.

"I have some black things that would go nicely, but there is...." She snaps her fingers. "I have a pale pink set that would go beautifully under the maroon dress. It's innocent and sexy all at the same time." She smirks. "Even better? I've never worn it for my husband."

“And you wouldn’t mind?” Sharing lingerie is very much a new experience for you, and you chew your lip with nerves. “I’ll replace it for you, I promise.”

"No, I insist, it's a gift." She winks at you playfully. "My contribution to the happiness of the monarchy." She holds up a finger. "Give me two minutes and I'll be right back with them."

“I’m nervous,” you admit with a sigh as Maisie goes bounding from the room. You only thing you can think to do is focus on dressing and you turn to the wall of shoes in your closet.

"Did–" Gabriela pauses delicately. "Is there anything I can share with you?" She asks softly. "Or questions to be answered?" While she's sure you know the mechanics of sex, it would be hard to be an adult in this age and not, maybe there are some questions that having a woman who is experienced would be able to be answered for you. She can't imagine you are terribly close with your stepmother.

“I’m inclined to ask if there is anything Javi particularly dislikes, but that might be too invasive of a question.” You bury your face in your hands again and sigh. “Please don’t feel the need to answer that. I’m just thinking out loud.”

“I know this is awkward.” Gabriela laughs quietly, embarrassed herself but she’s not going to let it stop her from making sure that you know what you need to. “Javi is a very giving lover, so he neglects things he wants.” She admits. “He loves being kissed and touched. Showing that you want him.”

“That…” A nervous giggle escapes you. “Will not be a problem. I can promise that entirely.”

She bites her lip and decides to be more bold. “There is something you can do, it’s – it is with your tongue.” She huffs, unable to come up with the words and takes your hand. “Let me show you.” She decides and pops your index finger in her mouth.

“Gabri—” Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you feel the swirl of her tongue, a wondrously uninhibited feeling for a person such as yourself who tries to maintain control of herself at all times. “I—” You stammer again, swallowing thickly. “I–I see why that would have been difficult for you to describe…”

"Yes it would have." Gabriela giggles in embarrassment as she pulls your finger out of her mouth and immediately produces a handkerchief to start cleaning your finger off.

“I will…bear that in mind.” It will surely give away that you have talked with Gabriela about him, but you aren’t so sure that that is a bad thing. After all, is she not the one who knows him best?

"You don't have to use it, I am sure that Javier wants you just as you are." She assures you. "Your closeness and your...." she searches for the word. "Groove together will come naturally."

“I don’t think anyone has ever implied I had a groove before.” You can’t help but giggle about it a little, feeling a little more relaxed for it. The wall of shoes in front of you is what should be holding your attention before you run out of time to appear out together, so you loop your arm through Gabriela’s and turn both of you toward the collection. “I’m very glad you’re here, Gabriela.”

"I am glad I am here too." She tells you, meaning every word of it. "What about the silver stilettos?" She asks, tilting her head as she looks at them. "Or, we can wait to see what color pink the lingerie is and see if we can match it. An homage to what is underneath the dress."

“For the first time it seems practical to have multiple pairs of pink shoes,” you joke, lending her a smile. “But if none of them match, the silver will be lovely.”

"I've got them!" Maisie crows as she sails back into the dressing room with a bag. "I thought this would be more discreet." She admits, holding it up for them to see.

“Yes. Much.” The bag is marked with the logo of a posh spa in the city that you had read about before. Anyone curious enough to look would assume that Maisie was bringing you lotion or some equally innocuous bath products.

"Strip down." She orders you with a grin. "We have to get you all sexed up tonight!"

“Absolutely the first time in my life anyone has said that to me.” With a burning face, you nab the bag from Maisie’s hand and duck behind the nearby dressing screen to change.

"Let me know if you need a hand!" She calls out, sitting down behind Gabriela. "How are you, honey?" She asks her quietly, knowing that she might have reservations about everything that she doesn't want to express to you.

“Okay.” She forces herself to smile, folding her hands in her lap as they sit together on the overly large pouf. “Better than you might think. It is…” She sighs softly. “It is a relief to know that he is loved.”

"You are a fantastic woman, Gabriela." She murmured softly, reaching out and covering her hands with her own. "A true lady."

“I hope so,” she whispers back, grateful for the quiet moment. There are so many things which have turned out so differently than she expected. If she has retained even an ounce of her own kindness, she will be relieved.

"I know so." Maisie, squeezes her hands again and then leans in. "If you ever need anything, I hope you know you can trust me." She offers. "I feel as if we will be wonderful friends going forward."

“Thank you,” Gabriel murmurs, breathing out a shaky breath as you step out from behind the dressing screen.

"Ohhhhhh." Maisie turns to you, immediately giggling. "You are going to knock the king on his ass tonight when he gets a load of this outfit on you. You look stunning."

“We seem to be the same size.” The pieces underneath your dress fit perfectly, which you admit is a bit surprising but right now you’re grateful for it. “Do you really—is it—do I look okay? Really?”

"What do you think?" Gabriela stands and guides you over to the mirror to let you look at yourself. "You look gorgeous. Sexy."

“I feel…outside myself,” you admit quietly. The dress is beautiful. It always has been. But knowing what is on underneath it makes you feel like you have the slyest secret of your life. “I just hope he likes it.”

"He will love it." That she can assure you. "Now, we can choose your shoes and change your makeup to something a little less sweet and more sexy."

The makeover is so quick that it feels like a movie montage, and in a mere half hour you’re restyled to be ready for dinner — and for Javi tonight.

******

Javi is nervous. He knows that you don’t have experience and he wants to make this good for you. “Julius, have a bottle of champagne and a platter of strawberries put in the princess’s room tonight after dinner please.”

“Of course, sir.” Julius doesn’t make a habit of asking questions, but it is a romantic gesture and the king seems nervous this evening as they wrap up his work before dinner time. “Is there anything else you will need tonight?”

“No.” He shakes his head firmly. “No one is to disturb the Princess and I once dinner is over unless war breaks out or the palace is on fire.” He declares. Everything else could wait for morning.

“Shall I post an extra guard?” Though he isn’t entirely sure what the king has planned, Julius can certainly ensure security if necessary.

“No, no extra guards.” The last thing he wants is for you to be embarrassed if someone hears something. “No guards by the doors. Have them at the end of the hall.”

“As your Majesty wishes.” He does find that to be a bit of a clue and smiles.

He knows the man isn’t stupid, he understands and Javi waves his hand. “Anything I’m missing?” He asks him seriously. “Candles? Flowers?”

“Do you know her favorite flower?” Julius asks, wondering if it is the sort of thing to have come up in conversation yet. If not, Flores will know. “That is always a nice touch.”

“Daisies.” He smiles softly. “She loves daisies.”

“I will have some arrangements sent to her suite while you are at dinner,” he promises. “Perhaps with roses for embellishment?”

“Perfect.” Javier smiles as he imagines your reaction. “And the candles. Just candlelight.”

“Yes. I will see to it now.” Julius slides from the room with a bow, off to collect the first footman he finds to begin preparations for the king’s evening. Paperwork can wait. The palace — even part of it — will have happiness again tonight.

Javier finishes up the last of the signatures needed and stands, sighing slightly. Hoping that your parents will behave better than they had before, hating that you had seemed so upset. He straightens his suit coat before he begins to walk towards the dining room.

______

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[astoldbyaja]

Primal Ch.1 ~AU Predator (Franchise)~

Teleya Garrett, a kind-hearted woman, creates a new life for herself in New York City. Between the next heat wave and a war between two vicious rival gangs, Teleya catches the attention of the dangerous Yautja enforcer, Scorpion. As their two worlds collide, danger follows as the FBI comes to hunt Scorpion, but nothing will stop him from being with the human he loves.

Warnings: smut, interspecies love, mentions of domestic violence

-----------------------------

I never forget to look up at the sky and just be thankful for surviving.

You never think you’d find yourself in such a terrifying situation until that first strike happens. It started with hitting the wall when he’s angry, then he degrades you to his friends and they laugh at your embarrassment.

Then it finally happens, fist to face contact and you’re seeing stars.

The next day he apologizes and promises not to do it again, but you don’t believe him. He thinks all is forgiven and puts on his nice mask. He still likes your hair straight and will pay seventy-five dollars to get it chemically straightened and styled so later he can praise its beauty as if you wanted your hair relaxed.

He likes you slim and in shape. You go to his gym, so he can watch you, and you work out. At least you can stay healthy and fit for when you have to escape. He thinks he’s your whole world. Your parents are dead and you’re an only child so you have no one to reach out to. All your friends have moved on forgetting about you. He knows your routine, and he knows where you work so he knows where you are. Always. He thinks you’re all his. But you swear to yourself to get out and so you plan. He doesn’t know you have money inherited from your parents’ life insurance policy, and it’s pretty big money stashed away in an account he knows nothing about. Thank God.

After that fist to face contact again you, have to go to the doctor to make sure you can still see out of your right eye. He’s waiting in the car because he thinks you won’t tell the nurses what happen and you don’t, but you ask them what’s a good medication for sleep that won’t kill a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound man but will definitely make him sleep hard. The nurses know they shouldn’t offer any information, but they don’t want to see you in a body bag, so they give you something from their personal stashes. Most nurses have all kinds of medication for all kinds of illnesses and symptoms.

“If he’s a drinker and you mix this with his alcohol he’ll be knocked out. Won’t hear a thing, won’t feel a thing.”

You know you could go to jail for this, but you’ve planned and so it’s now or nothing. You make him his favorite meal and he appreciates you even if he says it with a tone of skepticism.

You sit down and watch TV hoping he doesn’t taste the crushed-up pills in his drink. You pet the six-month-old black cat, he gives you as a random gift for not blinding you.

He’s horrible to her, so the cat is scared of him, but finds immense comfort in you. You name her Pandora. After thirty minutes, he’s out like a light. You call his name, you scream, you kick him and hit him in the face and he does not stir. You could slit his throat right here, but you don’t. You look at Pandora who just watches innocently from the chair meowing sweetly at you.

If you go to jail he would most likely kill her out of spite for losing control of you. You move fast and do what must be done. You hurry to the bedroom, pack your clothes, just what you need. Pack the cat up, her basic necessities and you leave with your car keys. It’s the only responsibility he will allow you to have. You leave your phone and any other devices he can possibly find you with and drive to the other side of town and stay at a hotel, sneaking the cat in. You’re scared because you’ve never been alone for this long.

The other time was when he allowed you to go your parent’s funeral by yourself as long as you were back the next day. You stare at yourself in the mirror and wonder what your next move is. You hate your hair and everything about it and so you take the kitchen scissors you brought from the house for protection and you just butcher your locks. You cut it all the way off until it’s a small uneven mess. But you laugh during it. You laugh hysterically and cry as well, because you’re free.

The woman next door hears you crying and comes to check on you. She’s someone’s grandmother with dark cocoa skin and white locs. She is beautiful and is a reminder that our black does not crack. She helps you fix your hair and she doesn’t even know your name, but she helps. You sit in silence on the floor between her legs while she snips and cuts to even out the mess you’ve made. You are two strangers who will never see each other again after tonight. In the silence of it all she speaks.

“I’m so very proud of you.” she responds and you nod in agreement finally breaking down again because someone sees you. She gives you money even though you deny the gesture, but she insists, so you take it. “Disappear girl. Go far away and make something of yourself…”

I was twenty- two then. Now it’s been five years, and to this day I still look up at the sky and wonder if he’s thinking of me. I wonder if he gets angry at the fact that I beat him. I survived him.

My name is Teleya Garrett. I work as a executive assistant for a district attorney’s office in New York. It was a big jump, but sometimes you have to jump big to get to freedom. I used some of the money I inherited to find a condo on the upper side of New York. I made sure to keep a budget and with the job I managed to snag, it kept me afloat. Whenever I got really bored, I would babysit for some families who desperately needed child care. Even if they couldn’t pay me much, I didn’t mind. I didn’t need the money, but I wanted to help those who just needed help, like those nurses did for me. I was a college educated woman who had a nice and trusting smile, some said.

Friday was always crazy in New York, and it meant busy streets, and so I would be a little late to the Thompsons house. But once I arrived, they were still grateful.

“Oh, Teleya thank you so much for coming on such short notice.” Kelly Thompson said. She was a single mother of three and worked late at one of the diners in town. Her husband, Mitch, left her when their third child was born. But her construction boyfriend Lou was nice, but he had to work all the time. I shook my head.

“It’s no trouble at all.” I replied setting my bag down. She smiled.

“There’s been so much going on lately with the upcoming heat wave and talk of a gang war happening, I’ve just been filled with so much anxiety. I fear for my girls.” she said truthfully as she tied her white apron to her yellow uniform. I’ve heard there has been tension rising in the slums of New York between some of the rivaling gangs.

“You’d think with this heat they’d be more focused on keeping themselves cool.” I replied, and she nodded dramatically.

“Thank you! Lord and if that’s not enough, the sewers below us are driving me crazy.” she said her eyes moving about as if looking for something. I tilted my head.

“The sewers?” I asked, and she nodded finally finding her hoop earrings and putting them in her ears.

“Yes, for the past two weeks, there’s been rumbling coming from down there. It’s quick, but I hear it. I ask Lou if they’re doing construction, but he says they aren’t. Who knows, hell the earth may be tired of New York and trying to fall out from under us. Purse…. purse, purse.” she said frantically and I just smiled at her.

“It’s on your shoulder.” I pointed, and she looked at her shoulder and groaned in relief.

“Thank you again for coming. I should be back in time to kiss them good night, but if I’m not…?” she trailed off with hopeful eyes, and I smiled.

“I’ll stay until Lou comes.” I replied, and she smiled and gave me a hug. She thanked me again and turned.

“Girls, behave for Teleya!” she called out down the hall as she moved to the door. “There’s money for pizza on the counter by the stove!” That’s usually how it goes. Junk food and movies to immobilize them. I moved down the hall and already saw them in front of the TV. Eliza, Camille, and Tory. Seven, eight, and nine.

“Hey girlies!” I said happily, and they turned to me and smiled with wide eyes.

“Teleya!” they called out and ran to me. I smiled and dropped to my knees and hugged them as they jumped on me. It was already past six and so I helped the girls with their homework, promising pizza and a movie of their choice if they finished it correctly. As they worked, I watched the news.

“The crime rate is sky rocketing after two of New York’s most dangerous gangs, the Hilltop Slashers, an African gang formed in 1982 and the Hu Mongols, a Mongolian gang formed in 1996, declared a gruesome turf war against each other. There have been multiple street fights and shootings of which police have been involved-”

“Teleya, can we watch Moana tonight!” I hear Eliza yell as she runs back into the living room with a DVD cover in her hands. I immediately switch the channel and look at her with a warm smile and nod. That’s their favorite movie.

“Sure. Are you finished with your homework?” I asked.

“Almost. I’ve been helping Camille and Tory too!” she said with pride, and I nodded showing pride myself.

“Good girl, always help your sisters.” I told her, and she nodded and ran back into the room she shared with them. I smiled and got up and moved into the kitchen pulling out my phone for a bit. It was already hot in the house so I opened the window. The air was hot and I hated it.

By nine, the girls were in their beds, with their stuffed animals under their arms. I moved to close the door.

“Teleya, will you sing to us while you’re out there?” Tory asked. I chuckled. I wasn’t the best singer, but it kept them quiet while I tidied up the place after they ran through it all day. I sat my phone down by their bed room door and proceeded to clean the room while Moana’s An Innocent Warrior instrumental played.

“Sure.” I replied leaving the door open. “

Ou mata e matagi. Ou loto mamaina toa. Manatu atu. Taku pelepele.”

Normal POV POV

The only noise Scorpion wanted to hear was the heavy water beneath the sewers as he sat against the sewer walls, the drain opening above him that hid him due to the moon being out. The three bad bloods he had successfully killed, were worthy opponents. He had gashes and cuts all over his body, scars he would soon wear with pride. While he waited for the medicine he applied to work, he sent out a transmission through his wrist gauntlet to the ancient who sent him, letting him know the traitors had been dealt with.

The three bad bloods broke the honor code and fled without facing the consequences. Cowards. They should have just killed themselves and saved the enforcer some time. But now it was over. He cackled lowly and kept his body still listening to the rats squeaking around him as they clawed and nipped at the sides of his armor. He wasn’t bothered by them enough to move any of them. The sewers were perfect for getting around without being seen. There were numerous under ground tunnels and passageways that he himself created long ago. Now that his assignment was complete he had a choice to hunt for himself here or take his ship and return to his yautja prime for a bit.

However, he heard something coming from deep inside the sewers which made his icy white eyes open. Only a rare few yautja had this eye color and it made him extremely popular amongst the females of his tribe, but it also made other clans ridicule him as well, but that was before he moved up the ranks and became an enforcer.

The noise he was hearing made it hard for him to rest. He tried his best to block it out. But it just kept on coming, echoing through the sewers. Scorpion shrilled heavily with annoyance, his mandibles clicking together in irritation. He couldn’t rest until he found out what that annoying sound was. So, he got onto his feet, the bleeding from his wounds had stopped and he hissed lowly before moving down the dark sewers. His bio mask allowed him to see different modes of vision, but for now he used the thermal setting.

As he walked he raised his gauntlet and used the sewer map he created to show him the nearest drain opening. It was in the streets between a neighborhood he had moved through. The noise grew a little louder as he was nearing the next drain opening.

Pa mai to mafanafanaga. Saolotoga tenei Manatunatu. Ki tamafine.

Scorpion had heard the noise before and he concluded it was singing. The voice patterns were high and light and dainty to him.

It was no male, he had heard both the sexes singing from being on this planet for many years. No this was a female. He cackled as he looked up at the sound tilting his head some. A female was singing, and it was distracting him from healing peacefully that much he knew. He growled some at this fact, but as he heard further harmonizing the music moved through his mask and sounded quite odd to him. Slowly he removed the air tubes from his mask and removed it from his face and once he did, he could hear the singing differently. There were no words now and whoever this female was, was just harmonizing now. Scorpion shrilled gently as he examined the entrance above that was not covered with a manhole cover. Light came in and poured down on his body alone beneath the open drain.

He suddenly felt a strange tingle over his body, and he hissed and raised his arm. The tiny muscles in his arms had contracted. This made the enforcer yautja hiss in confusion. The female’s voice was obviously doing something to his body and he didn’t know what and he didn’t like it.

So, he knew he’d have to go investigate further. He placed his mask back on, his body cloaking itself. With little effort he jumped up and gripped the open manhole with one arm before moving from it and was once again out in the city. With no obvious threats around he jumped on the nearest car causing its alarm to go off before attaching himself into the nearest building and moving up to the rooftops with intent to follow the harmonizing trail that would lead him to the female.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: April 26/24

Happy Friday everyone!!!! Hopefully we can start off the weekend right with these fantastic fics!! Hope y'all enjoy!!

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[anki-of-beleriand]

A Heart Made of Glass ch.9

Summary: Ten years ago you left Wanda and the Avengers to heal your broken heart. You never stopped being a hero, just as you never stopped being in love with her. But life had to go on.

Now, after all that time, she is back and with her is a young woman needing help and an enemy that may not be as afraid as Wanda to lay a claim on you.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Powered!F!Reader - Scarlet Witch x PoweredF!Reader - Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision - Powered!F!Reader x Carol Danvers

Warnings: Angst, drama, mentions of cheating, fluff, violence, smut, Switch!Reader, internalize homophobia, religious fanatisms, homopobia, hurt, comfort, Wanda being a complete mess, anger management issues, jealousy, Requited/Unrequited love, idiots in love, swearing, mentions of alcohol, violence, multiverse travelling. More tags as the story progess.

Author's Note: This story is a continuation of Dirty Little Secret I was really surprised at the response I got for the story, I did all the tags you guys ask for but if I forgot someone please do not hesitate to tell me. Thank you for the support.

I'm back!

And Carol Danvers is back as well. i'm sorry for the long delay, guys. But this chapter gave me some trouble before making some decisions as to where I wanted to take the story. I hope you like this new chapter, you will have action, flashbacks, and finally the worlds collide.

Remember that English is not my mother tongue so I apologise for the grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Epilogue

Chapter 9

The breaking of the storm

Three months ago – Stark Cabin - Fairburn, Georgia

It didn’t take her too long to locate the cabin.

She stood by the road for a very long time, debating with herself if it would be appropriated to approach the man living there. She was still wearing the clothes she wore to the funeral; the tears were still fresh on her face and the many memories in her mind were threatening to overwhelm her all over again.

The world had changed in the last five years she had been absent.

And yet, many things were still the same.

The service had been sweet, with a long sermon giving by an old priest that praised Steve for his courage and his life. Wanda had almost broken when the priest mentioned Bucky and how Steve’s love for him had made him stronger in the times of need. She listened as everything was revealed, as the lovers were uncovered in front of friends and family, and she realized right there and then everybody knew about it. And everybody accepted it, embraced it, and celebrated it.

“Sooner or later, Wanda, you will need to face the truth…than in all of this, it was you the only one that thought it inappropriate, that punished herself for something as pure as loving another human being.”

Steve’s words resounded inside her mind; Wanda had come to terms with what she couldn’t in her youth. Not only the mistakes of her past actions, but also to the thoughts she allowed herself to govern her decisions, in all reality, just as Steve had told her, her family would have never stopped loving her even if she chose another woman to be by her side. To be the love of her life, to marry and form a family with.

Times had certainly changed, and by the time Wanda had made a decision about her life and what she needed it to do, Thanos had come, and she had missed five years of her life. The sound of birds above her head broke her remembrance of another time; she shook her head and tried to step forward but was unable to do so.

Wanda Maximoff hesitated with her hands inside her pockets, the key to the old Avenger compound wrapped tightly around her hand. She chewed on her lower lip, turning around ready to leave until her eyes fell upon a young girl. She was no older than five years old, with auburn hair, and curious eyes she stood there glancing at Wanda while holding onto a metal glove that fit her small hand.

“Are you lost?” She asked, tilting her head, Morgan Stark took a step closer to the redhead while glancing left then right.

Wanda pressed her lips together shaking her head, “no, I’m not.”

Morgan furrowed her brows, her eyes narrowing slightly though her stance did not lose the easiness she carried with her. Wanda could see much of Stark in the young girl, there was intelligence behind her eyes and also a sense of confidence Wanda never possessed at her age.

“Then, what are you doing?” Morgan asked, this time around she pursed her lips pointing to the cabin. “Are you looking for daddy?”

Wanda sighed glancing down the road, her breath caught in her throat when her clear eyes fell upon the form of Tony Stark. The man was standing by the entrance of the cabin, his eyes completely focused on her and Morgan. With an uncomfortably shifted stance, Wanda glanced back to the girl that still had her eyes on her.

“Yes, I am.”

Morgan broke into an easy smile; she approached Wanda taking her hand in hers while dragging her all the way to the cabin.

“Silly, you can’t stay here. Daddy is having his afternoon tea.”

Tony Stark stood by the porch in his cabin, his heart had almost stopped the moment he realized Morgan had gone all the way to greet the strange newcomer only to realize this newcomer was no other than Wanda Maximoff. In his mind, five years had passed, but the old wounds as well as Wanda’s old transgressions were still fresh in Stark’s mind; he had not forgotten the moment she broke Y/N’s heart. Nor did he forget the fact Wanda sided with Steve when the world needed them the most; seeing her walking down the road with his daughter by her side only made him shiver in anticipation, his hand getting ready to access his armor if necessary.

“Wanda.” He couldn’t hide the coldness in his voice, the young woman winced trying to let go of Morgan’s hand but the young girl refused the gesture taking her past Tony.

“Come! Mommy brought some cupcakes and daddy has to eat his tea or he gets cranky.” Morgan turned to Tony, the innocence in her eyes didn’t allow her to notice the obvious tension between Wanda and Tony.

The man straightened up, his jaw clenching tightly while his eyes let Wanda know she was not welcomed. Wanda knew this, of course. She was risking a lot by reaching out to Tony, but in all honestly, he was her last option.

She didn’t have anyone else.

She was alone. Completely and utterly alone.

Tony dropped his shoulders placing a hand on Morgan’s head, before pointing with his head the house.

“Well, I guess we are stuck with one another for the time being.”

“You don’t have to…” Wanda started, but Tony shook his head.

“Morgan wants you here, come on.”

The house was like nothing Wanda remembered of Tony. There were many electronic devices and gadgets that Tony had adapted to his home, but otherwise this looked like a normal place. Nothing too fancy, and nothing too ostentatious. It was strange to set foot in a place that was not as extravagant as Tony had been once.

“I hope you two are…Wanda? What are you doing here?” Pepper stood by the hall with a tray filled with pastries and two white cups filled with tea.

Wanda offered a weak smile; her heart shrank at the incommodity this situation generated in her. She wished she had thought this through, but in reality, there was nothing she could do. She had been so lost at the funeral, she had been so devastated when she saw Y/N in the arms of another, when she realized after Steve’s death, she was alone.

“I’m sorry to come uninvited, Pepper.” She all but whispered. “I will be out of here in no time, I just…”

Pepper had been frowning at the young woman all this time, but something in her voice and her posture made Pepper softened slightly. She offered a motherly smile pointing to the love chair on the living room.

“Take a seat, Wanda, I will bring another cup of tea.”

Teatime went by uneventfully.

Morgan ended up filling up the silence with her stories, and the adults merely spoke whenever she spoke to them. Wanda couldn’t help the tension growing as the time passed, and the eyes of Tony kept on pinning her with anger and questions. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Pepper grabbed Morgan and left Tony and Wanda alone.

“You have some nerve coming in here, Wanda.” Tony finally commented leaning back on his chair. “I thought by now you would have left to get the normal life you have always wanted. Though, now that Vision is no longer alive, I guess you don’t have much from were to choose, am I right?”

Wanda winced at his honesty, she knew Tony and Natasha had been always advocates of Y/N and had always stood by her side after the incident. The young woman couldn’t help the tears pooling out her eyes, she swallowed down her sadness, trying to collect herself to start talking.

But she couldn’t.

“I…I…am sorry.” Wanda let down a whimper, her tears rolling down her eyes as the pain in her chest became unbearable. She stood on shaky legs, shaking her head while trying to make her way to the door. “I sh-shouldn’t…I will…I will leave…”

But as she said this, her heart crumbled and soon she was on the floor with Tony Stark wrapping his arms around her. Of all the people that she had gotten to know, Tony was the last one she ever thought would comfort her. They had such a troublesome past; she had hated him for so long only to develop respect and then a shaky form of friendship that had always been on the rocks for as long as they had fought on the side.

Now, Wanda couldn’t stop crying and Tony had acted out of instinct.

Wanda cried for herself, for the time she lost. For the things she had done, for Steve because he would no longer be there to comfort her and to be the family she had lost. For Y/N because she hated Wanda, and Wanda knew that regardless of her wrongdoings and her mistakes, she was still pretty much in love with her. Wanda cried because she let her old beliefs, and the words of sin and forbidden governed her decisions at some point.

Wanda cried because she was alone, and she had come to a world in which she was not welcome.

And then, when she thought nothing good could come of this meeting, she had the very same man she had always thought insufferable and narcissistic comforting her. Then a pair of small arms wrapped around her, and soon Wanda felt, for the very first time in a long time, the warmth of a family trying to pick up the pieces of her heart and lonely soul.

*****

Night had already fallen, and Morgan was already in bed by the time Wanda had stopped crying.

The warmth of the mug between her hands brough comfort to her cold chest, she glanced at the fire while trying to ease out her breathing and hearing Tony talk about what had happened after the Blip. She heard about his fight with Steve, how he had given his back to the Avengers to go and form a family with Pepper, how the world crumbled in the very first year before it started building itself.

Tony talked about Steve and Natasha, how they struggled to keep the team alive, to try and look for a solution while also helping the rest of the universe with the help of Rocket and Carol Danvers. He talked about Y/N, and Wanda couldn’t help the fluttering of her heart at the mention of Y/N and how she had been affected by the Blip, how she had met Carol and the bond had been formed.

“She missed you.” Pepper ignored the glare coming from Tony, her eyes were solely on Wanda who was looking back at her with a hopeful glint in her eyes. “Y/N was in a dark place after she saw you vanished into thin air.”

Wanda furrowed her brows at this, “she…she was there?”

Pepper and Tony nodded, and Wanda tried to remember that moment.

She knew you had arrived because your shadows had invaded the battlefield for a moment, but she never imagined you had gone and looked for her. Wanda never imagined Y/N had seen her disappear. Tony shifted on his chair pursing his lips while facing Wanda, his eyes demanding.

“She took it hard and was not the same for a while. Up until she and Carol started seeing one another.” Wanda winced at these words; she looked away trying to hide her pain, but Tony had already seen it. “What are you doing here, Wanda?”

Wanda glanced at the beverage in the mug, she thought about you for a long time. She thought about your voice and laughter, how happy you had seemed with the blond-haired woman back at the funeral. The young woman lifted her face, new tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I’m…I came here to ask for your permission.” She finally said, Tony blinked confusedly at her.

“Permission for what?”

“The…the Avengers compound.” Wanda mumbled. “I know it’s still active but empty and…I… I really don’t have a place to stay. I just…”

“You are alone.” Tony stated not without a tone of reproach in his tone. “This is your own doing, Wanda. I hope you know that.”

Wanda didn’t react at all, but her lips broke into a broken smile.

“I made so many mistakes, Tony.” Wanda all but whispered. “The only thing I did right was…was being with her.”

“And yet, you broke her heart in the worst possible way.” Tony replied, the old anger dripping from his words.

“I know.” Wanda placed a hand on her forehead, she had nothing to lose at the moment and her words came rushing in. Not to give an explanation, she didn’t think her actions have one, but she just needed to let everything out.

For the very first time, she would talk with all honestly to someone that wasn’t Steve.

“I was so afraid to give in, to allow myself to be seen with her.” Wanda hiccupped placing a hand on her mouth, tears rolling silently down her cheeks. “My mother…my father…They always talked to me about sin, I knew what I had always feel, what I am…was a sin. Papa found me once, and he…I never forgot his lesson. I knew I was wrong, and when I saw her and knew I couldn’t breathe without Y/n I just…I was failing papa and mama…you know?”

Wanda shook her head, a gasp leaving her lips while her hand closed tightly around her chest.

“I had failed them, they had died, and I had failed them…time and time again, I failed and then…” Wanda shrugged. “I fell in love with her and I just…I let my family die, I couldn’t…I couldn’t be happy, I shouldn’t…I should do what they wanted of me I just…”

Pepper softened her features, watching the confusion, the conflict running wildly through those green eyes. But Tony remained impassive, hearing everything without giving anything away.

“I just…I couldn’t let them down, them and Pietro and…god, Y/N was just…I was feeling so much…I realized I wanted to have her children, that I wanted…I wanted to leave my powers and…” Wanda suddenly looked desperate, lost, and hopeless. “I know I mess up, Tony, I’m not asking for your forgiveness...I just…I just need a home.”

Wanda broke at the very end; Tony lowered his gaze before settling his eyes on Pepper. For the very first time, Tony wondered what would have happened if Pepper had given up on him. How many times had she discovered him with another woman, how many times she had seen him flirt his way through the parties before he realized that Pepper was all he needed. Y/N had been hurt deeply by Wanda, it was quite evident Wanda didn’t know the extent of Y/N’s feelings for her or what she was ready to do for Wanda.

And yet, Wanda was ready to do the same, but her mind was being tormented by old believes, and the fear of failing her family. The fear of falling into sin, of being less than what was expected of her.

“I know I’m going to pay my whole life for my mistakes, Tony. I know she…” Wanda wrapped her hands tightly around the mug, lowering her gaze she continued with a shaky voice. “I have broken everything that was good for me, and I deserve to be alone. I just…I’m tired.”

Tony stood up making his way to where Wanda was sitting, he knelt down placing a single hand on hers. His face was solemn, and for the very first time he allowed himself to see Wanda the way she was. A young woman lost, not knowing what to do or what road to follow, someone who wanted to be loved, but that didn’t want to fail those she loved anymore.

Ten years were a long time for him to keep a grudge, and for Wanda to still being put down and being ripped from what she really wanted.

“You can stay here tonight, Wanda.” Tony squeezed her hand comfortingly. “You have a home here, and we can talk more tomorrow. The compound is yours if you want to, but for now let me take you to your room. You must be really tired.”

Wanda wrapped her arms around Tony, a small weight lifted from her heart, and a huge void in her soul filled by the affection she felt for the man hugging her tightly. After that day, Wanda would spend five more days in Tony’s home, and she would cry while trying to let out everything she had kept for herself.

The morning of the fifth day was sunny and filled with a warm breeze.

Morgan was checking out the car Tony had given Wanda, while Wanda was trying to reject the gift. Tony shook his head placing the keys in the young woman’s hand, his eyes gleaming warmly while he also extended a mobile.

“You will find my number in there. But…” Here Tony trailed off before speaking again. “You will find Y/N’s number and location.”

Wanda opened her eyes wide, her hand trembling at this revelation. Her lower lip quivered, and she was left speechless for a moment.

“I don’t think…”

“You told me you wanted to talk to her, to mend things, didn’t you?”

“Y-yes, I did but…”

“Or, were you pretending to be interested in patching things up with Y/N?”

“No, no Tony I do but…” Here Wanda trailed off glancing at the phone with trepidation. “She hates me. She…she really despises me.”

“She does.” Tony stated shrugging. “But you don’t.”

Wanda lowered her gaze, her cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“Now, I understand many things, Wanda, and it is time for Y/N to know them as well.”

Wanda shook her head, the fear of a confrontation with you was something that haunted her sleep. There was nothing else she wanted more than to go back to you, but she knew she was late. She was always too late.

Tony closed his hands around hers, the items firmly placed in her hand.

“Talk to her. Perhaps, it won’t be what you want, but being friends could be a start.” Tony then offered a smile, nodding to the car. “Go, get settle, and when you have decided, just call and the ticket to her home would be ready for you.”

Wanda threw herself at Tony, and this gesture caught the older man by surprised. But he returned the hug, and he realized that having a family, having Morgan had changed his vision of the world. And now, he didn’t want Wanda to go around suffering needlessly.

“Don’t wait to long, Little Witch.” He whispered choosing Y/N’s nickname for her. “Go and chase happiness, you will always have a home here.”

“Thank you, Tony.”

Wanda left the place with a lighter heart, and hope in her heart. She glanced at the phone on the passenger’s seat with titillation growing in her abdomen and spreading to her chest.

Perhaps…

Wanda swallowed down and dared not to hope. First things first, she would go to the compound and after that…after that you would look for Y/N. This time around, she was ready to do everything she could to redeem herself and have a chance with Y/N; Wanda drove down the road never noticing the eyes sneaking in the reflection or the purple mist engulfing her mind.

_____________________________________________________________

Present day – Former Avenger’s Tower - New York

The place had never been this packed ever since Loki came crashing down with the Chitauri on his attempt to conquer earth. Tony served some of the drinks, his eyes going over an over to the impatient form of one Carol Danvers, the woman hadn’t stopped looking at her watch and her mobile ever since they got in there with Monica Rambeau.

Natasha grabbed two glasses, winking at Tony who merely snorted while observing the interaction. Carol turned sharply to Natasha, her lips curling lightly into a smile while she received the glass of whiskey she was being offered.

“So, how did you find earth so far?” Natasha was not one to make small talk, and Tony had a feeling he knew why exactly the Black Widow was trying to stall the other woman’s stay in the tower.

You and Wanda were finally left alone to have the long-awaited conversation you deserved to have with one another. Tony then took the other glass walking towards Strange who had dropped on the nearest sofa, with a hand covering his face.

Carol took a sip from the beverage, glancing down to her mobile then back up to a smirking Natasha. The young woman hated the fact Natasha had the knowing glint in her eyes.

“So, are you in a rush?” Carol rolled her eyes at the questions, her lips breaking into an easy smile shaking her head.

“I am.” Carol sighed glancing at Natasha with expectation. “How is she?”

Natasha held Carol’s stare for a moment before shrugging, “she is fine, right now all of us are dealing with the current crisis trying to help America and find a solution.”

Carol clenched her hand around the glass, Natasha heard the cracking sound of the glass though Carol was trying to apply all her self-restrained as to not break the glass. By now, she already knew you were not alone, and that America had gone to you for help with no other than Wanda Maximoff. Carol would be lying if she didn’t admit a part of her was highly jealous of this meeting, she knew as well as everyone else that your love for the red-head witch was something still latent in your heart.

A wave of sudden sadness and uncertainty reached Carol, and the woman jerked away when another hand placed itself on her forearm. Natasha offered the comfort of a single smile, her eyes gleaming with sympathy and understanding.

“Don’t worry, this meeting won’t take long and you will have a chance to go right to her without waiting for me or the Quinjet.” There was a teasing tone in Natasha’s voice, Carol tried to relax but her mind was full of uncertainties, and her heart was aching to see you.

“I know…and I know this is important.” Here she made a face turning her attention to Monica then to Strange. “It seems Maximoff has created a huge trouble, and as always some of us are here cleaning up her mess, right?”

Natasha pursed her lips at this declaration, “It’s not her fault, not completely.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” This time around Strange was the one to talk, he straightened up his back, all eyes of the presents were on him.

The man was looking terrible, with bags under his eyes and the clothes completely messed, it seemed as if he hadn’t sleep for weeks. He probably hadn’t. Tony sat down nodding towards Stephen, glancing at the group before emptying the glass in a single gulp.

“Okay, then, start talking Strange, we’re delaying the space princess over there, and I don’t think she has more patience for this.”

Carol rolled her eyes looking away to try and hide her red cheeks, Natasha chuckled, squeezing her forearm tenderly before joining Tony and Monica. Carol glanced at her forearm before she too joined them with the same trepidation she had been feeling from the very beginning.

“As far as we could find with Wong, Wanda and this woman…Agatha were in possession of the Darkhold.” Strange spoke waving his hands, some of this they already knew but his explanation had to start there. “As I explained to you before, this book is highly dangerous, containing spells that could granted destructive powers to whomever gets a hold of it. One of such spells is called dream walking.”

Tony pursed his lips leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

“You told us this book was missing, alongside the woman Wanda was supposed to trap in the real Westview, right?”

“She didn’t do a very good job, did she?” This time around it was Carol the one to speak, the woman sat down pinning Strange with her eyes. “So, this dream walking ability, what does it do, exactly?”

Strange didn’t know how to explain the technique, he knew as soon as he started talking about it many of them would jump to the same conclusion he did. Though, his own theory still had many holes that he wasn’t sure how to fill in; he let out a heavy sigh hoping once Wong was back, he would have more answers.

“Basically, it is a technique that allows its user to use their counterpart across the multiverse. They can possess their other variants but…” Stephen scratched the back of his head, his eyes focused on every single one of the presents before they settled on Natasha. “The stronger the sorcerer or the witch, the stronger the spell, they can maintain it for a long time, and they are capable of creating the very same creatures that had been chasing America through the multiverse.”

“You are thinking about someone, aren’t you?” Carol crossed her arms shaking her head. “You think it’s Maximoff?”

Natasha shook her head, her hand waving away at this while she glared at the blond.

“Wait a second, Wanda made many mistakes in the past, but this is on a whole new level…”

“I agree with Romanoff.” Tony stated glaring at Carol. “Wanda may have made many mistakes, but this particular case we are talking about murdering to get to an innocent kid…”

“She created and slaved a whole town, I mean…” Carol said shrugging, she turned to Strange nodding. “Besides, I don’t see Strange fighting much my affirmation.”

Everyone turned to Stephen who was looking at some point on the floor, the man sighed lifting his face nodding.

“That’s my theory, actually.” Stephen lifted a hand to stop any arguments, he locked eyes with Tony trying to appear as the voice of reason. “However, I do agree with you. This Wanda, our Wanda has gone through so much…I don’t think it is her, perse.”

Monica furrowed her brows tilting her head, “what exactly do you mean with our Wanda? You mean…”

“I think it may be another version of her.” Stephen stated firmly.

Everyone jumped startled when a glass fell to the ground, Natasha opened her eyes wide turning to Stephen. She was paled, as if all of a sudden, she saw a ghost.

“Dream walking…is it possible…is it possible that they can show themselves in dreams to other people?” Natasha asked. “It is possible for them to…make physical damage through the dreams?”

Stephen opened his eyes at this, he stood up rather fast striding towards Natasha while placing his hands on the Widow’s shoulders.

“What exactly has happened, Romanoff?”

Natasha felt her world turned around, dizziness overcome her as she remember you telling her about your dreams. The hickey…the scratches… and right there and then, Natasha knew you were in trouble. Carol observed the scene and went from Natasha to Stephen and then back, she clenched her jaw understanding without any more words what was happening. She turned around and went right through the window without hearing the screams from Monica and Natasha for her to stop.

Carol would not wait. You were in danger, and she was not about to let anyone harm you. Much less Wanda Maximoff.

______________________________________________________________

The city of Ulsteinvik was filled with snow and wintery activities that include Winter festival in which the shipyard became the main attraction.

School was over for the day, and many had been invited over to the main festivities that would welcome the weekend. America was bouncing reluctantly around her classmates, her eyes drifting to where you were standing near the car with Vera and other teachers around. She put the jacket around herself, her eyes drifting around until they fell on Wanda; the young woman was strolling down the streets watching everything in awe while trying to locate America and Y/N.

“Hey, America, are you coming?” America turned around to see one of her classmates calling to her, she hesitated nodding pointing in the general direction.

“I will, give me five!”

Wanda smiled at the approaching figure of America; she observed as the teen waved her friends before making her way towards her. America was smiling, her face beaming with emotion at being part of something as mundane as a festival, but also knowing this was the chance she was looking for. The last two days, you and Wanda had been civil around one another, and little by little you had been lowering your defenses to try and get closer to Wanda.

Everything was going according to plan.

“Hey, Wands!” America wrapped her arms tightly around the redhead, Wanda offered a tiny smile fixing America’s hair while pointing to the group of teens waiting at the other end of the street.

“Aren’t you embarrassed to be showing such affection towards me?” The comment was meant to be a joke, Wand didn’t pretend to be nothing else but an acquaintance of America.

The young woman crunched up her nose shaking her head, “Never, Wands you are like…I…you are family.”

Both shifted awkwardly, the conversation dying for a moment until both of you heard your laughter. Vera was rubbing your arm, laughing at something someone else had said; America scowled at her closeness, and she could see that Wanda was not happy with it either. The young woman took that moment to call upon you, making sure everyone turned to see her and Wanda waiting.

“Y/N!! We’re here!” Wanda opened her eyes wide; she saw the glint of mischief in America’s eyes but before she could say something you had already gotten there, your lips breaking into an easy smile.

“Hey, kiddo, ready for the festival?” You passed your arm around her shoulders, America nodded grabbing Wanda’s hand and putting her closer to you.

For a brief moment, America could sense the tension around the three of you. Wanda was almost touching your arms, and you were close enough to see her clear, green eyes gleaming warmly at you. Something inside your heart shifted, and you knew glancing at those eyes was dangerous.

“I am, but I just…” America trailed off looking back at her friends. “I mean, Wanda came over and Kathe and the others are waiting…”

The breeze went pass you brushing your heated skin for a moment, you shot America a quick glance trying to gauge her real intensions but not seeing anything beyond her eagerness to be a part of the festival. Wanda was holding her breath; her whole body was hurting due to the tension she was putting on her posture.

“Go on, I take care of Wanda.” You finally replied, the words of Natasha running around your mind as you realized this could be a chance to have that conversation you have been avoiding the last couple of days.

“Good, you guys are awesome!” She hugged the both of you at the same time before walking back waving. “See you in few!”

A long uncomfortable silence filled the space left by America.

You stood there feeling a pair of eyes on the back of your neck, and you were pretty sure Wanda and Vera had their attention on you. The last couple of days had been strange, to say the least. Wanda, America, and you had been left alone with a great house and a feeling of familiarity you hadn’t felt in a long time. The last conversation you had with Natasha and Yelena had been dancing around your mind ever since they left, and the intensity of those conversations only increased whenever you were alone with Wanda.

And she had been in your mind at all times.

Even when you were dreaming.

The conversation you knew the both of you needed to have had been postponed mainly because you were a coward. And you didn’t want to fall all over again in the same pattern with Wanda, this time around you needed to let everything out and make sure Wanda understood how badly she had messed up.

“You don’t have to, you know?” Wanda broke the silence, her eyes downcast and her posture showing the defeat she had been feeling as of late. “I…I understand and you don’t…I know you don’t want to…”

Wanda shook her head, thinking herself and idiot for thinking perhaps you would want to talk to her, that perhaps this day was what they needed to start building a shaky friendship. But of course, your resentment was strong, and Wanda could not pretend to have the conversation she was dying to have with you to happen anytime soon.

The young witch was turning around ready to stroll around the city before going home when a warm hand wrapped around her wrist. She stopped death on her tracks, turning to face you and finding uncertainty in your eyes.

“Where are you going?” You furrowed your brows, uncertainty filling your mind. You were hoping to break the huge wall that was between you and Wanda, to try and lower your defense and start the process of forgiveness.

To finally hear the advice from Tony, Natasha and even Yelena.

“I…I just thought…” Wanda tried to speak but she had distracted herself with your hand holding her wrist, your eyes glancing at her intently. “I just thought I…walk around the city, you can…I know you must be busy.”

This kind of thing used to be easier.

You remembered all those times in which you would merely whisper a plan, and Wanda was dragging you around to comply with them. Now, everything was uncertain, and your mind kept on playing the treason but also the moments in which Wanda had been hurt, lost…miserable.  You took a deep breath, taking a step closer to her, you let go of her hand and made sure she was listening to you.

“I would like to talk to you, I think this is a long overdue conversation between you and me.” You mumbled shrugging. “But, I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to…”

“I do!” Wanda blushed at the abruptness of her answer, she almost fell on her face while trying to hold her emotions.

You couldn’t help but snicker, Wanda wincing before nodding briefly.

“Yes, I think…we…we need to talk.”

“Good then, now that we’re on the same page I know a place you may like, wanna come?” You offered a single smile, that Wanda returned tentatively.

You were very conscious of the growing tension between Wanda and yourself.

It was something you had been living with in the last couple of months since the witch returned to your life. It was almost impossible not to experience it after the myriad of emotions going through your system whenever you thought of Wanda Maximoff.

Now that the both of you were finally alone by circumstances, more so than by election, and the conversation you and her never have was something quite inevitable right now.  The streets of Ulsteinvik were filled with people all making their way to the harbor and the shipyard, the conversation in a mixture of Norwegian and English made a cacophony of sounds that surrounded Wanda distracted her from her current situation, her mind had been a pool of thoughts and emotions she had been too scare to face but now that she had the possibility, she wasn’t sure how to approach.

Her eyes fell upon your figure, the confidence with which you strolled down the streets made her falter. A tingle filled with anticipation started growing on her stomach, and it spread out to her chest and limbs; Wanda was trying to organize her thoughts, to think on what to say…she thought she was prepared for this confrontation but, as you guide her inside a café and requested for something warm while sitting in front of her she realized, she was not ready.

“You mingled with the people around here quite well.” Wanda commented lightly, lowering her gaze to the table while wiggling her hands. “You have been living here for a long time, right?”

You pursed your lips nodding curtly, if Wanda was nervous about this conversation, you were ready to explode from anxiety this brought to you. Right there was Wanda, as you had always imagined her. Her long hair falling in waves around her shoulders and back, her deep green eyes gleaming with uncertainty and shyness like that very first meeting in which you bowed to love her. How many years had passed since then? How many wounds? How many treasons?

The waitress offered a kind smile while placing the cups on the table.

The warmness of the liquid brushed your mouth, and helped you distract yourself from the inevitable. Wanda played with a napkin, her gestures revealing the same nervousness you had been hiding ever since she got to your place.

“I have been living here for seven years.” You finally revealed leaning back on the chair, your eyes wandering around refusing to look at the woman sitting in front of you. “This place was refreshing for me, a new beginning.”

Wanda chewed on her lower lip, her trembling hands grabbing the porcelain cup warming up her sweaty palms.

“Can I…” She hesitated lifting her face only to see your eyes on her, you nodded curtly raising a single eyebrow at her. Wanda shivered before asking her question. “Can I know what you did before coming here?”

Wanda had never heard of you after you left the Avengers’ compound, you had disappeared and no one, not even Natasha, was able to provide any news about your whereabouts. You tensed lightly remembering those dark times in your life, the traveling through the shadows and accepting random jobs to get some money and make yourself forget the pain of your broken heart.

You rested your hands on the table, knitting your brows together you pursed your lips thinking about an answer. Your whole body ignited when her hand placed itself on yours, and her eyes were showing regret and begging for you to forgive her.

“You don’t…you don’t have to tell me, I just…” Wanda sighed squeezing your hand tenderly. “I was just curious.”

“I was in a dark place, Wanda.” The sound of the customers filling out the café made this conversation a private one, Wanda went rigid at these words.

Your eyes fell on your hands still wrapped comfortingly under hers, your heart was beating fast and a part of you wished you weren’t in love with her anymore. That your heart had healed enough for the woman sitting in front of you to not affect you the way she was doing at the moment.

“I’m sorry.” Wanda whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks, her words carrying with them the weight of your history with her.

You shrugged bitterly, taking your hand away from her while drinking your coffee.

“It doesn’t matter, I was hurt and lost and I just need a way to vent over my frustrations and my pain.”

“Y/N…” Wanda started but now that you had spoken it was impossible for you to stop.

You clenched your eyes closed, before making sure Wanda was hearing everything you had to say. Everything you had always wanted to say to her.

“I was broken, Wanda, I…travel around trying to harm myself, to make my physical pain greater than my emotional one.” You let out a snort looking out of the window. “I didn’t make it, and I grew tired…that was when I let Natasha find me.”

Wanda heard as you told her everything you had done, and a part of her felt grateful for this. It was the very first time she had accessed you, in a way she had lost after that day. You told her about your misgivings, about your findings, how you came to Norway and ended up being a double agent for Tony and Steve. You told her about your falling out with Steve when the man tried to make you find reason and confront Wanda.

“Then, a few months ago I received some tapes…” You shrugged, tired and suddenly lighter, “Westview…my anger and resentment were back and now…I can’t keep living my life hating you, Wanda. I can’t live my life with resentments and without daring to look at you. Not anymore.”

Wanda wrapped her arms around herself, she didn’t know what to say or how to react to your story. The side of the story she had always been curious about, but no one was ready to reveal to her. She heard about your lovers, and her heart broke into a million pieces knowing you had found comfort in other’s arms. She knew she didn’t deserve your forgiveness, the knowledge of you forgetting about her little by little brought pain she had been experiencing all her life.

“It was never my intention to hurt you, Y/N.” She all but whispered, you snorted shrugging once more. Your lips broke into a bitter smile while your eyes shone with unshed tears.

“We can’t help who we fall in love with, right?” You replied in a broken tone, Wanda scrunched up her nose ready to be honest with you for the very first time in a long time.

“I wasn’t in love with Vision.” Wanda noticed the shredded napkin on her hands, her heart was beating painfully hard against her ribcage while she made herself look at you.

Your back and shoulders were hurting for all the tension you were putting in them, this revelation was something you were not expecting. Your eyes finally looked with those of Wanda, and for a brief moment you saw red swirling around her green irises. The dreams that had been plaguing your for a long time coming in several images, Wanda and Scarlet mixing up just as you heard her voice.

Mine. Only mine.

As much as I have always been yours, my love.

“You have a funny way to show you are not in love with him.” You broke the spell shaking your head, frowning while clenching your fists. “You slept with him, and then you spend your time travelling with him, that and let’s not forget Westview and the happy family you had there.”

Anger was far easier than any other emotion, you clenched your jaw watching as Wanda broke in front of you. So much different than Scarlet, and yet…

“I was never in love with him. I was just…a coward. I was afraid.” She mumbled, her head pulsating painfully. Sparks of red appearing on her fingertips, and the blackness she had come to associate with her blackouts flickering in and out of her fingers as she spoke.

“You’re telling me you…you cheated on me with someone you didn’t even love?” You clenched your jaw putting money out of your pocket and leaving it on the table.

Wanda watched as you stood up and left, she hesitated, the pain inside her head almost unbearable a tug on her abdomen making her stand up and follow you.

“I…yes! Yes! I…god, Y/N, I was afraid and I was confused and I just…” Wanda followed you speaking louder, she didn’t realize she was crying until the cold winter wind touch her face. “I didn’t know…It went against everything I had been taught and my parents…my brother…I thought…”

“I was in love with you, Wanda!” You turned around screaming at the top of your lungs. “ I had the ring, and the house…I even had the names of our children…”

“I know…I found them in the compound, I just…” And Wanda felt the pulsating pain in her head mixing up with her thoughts. Scarlet tried to push the other woman away, tried to tell you that the children were yours…that she had seen it all and that she had created the world for you and her, but at some point, her counterpart, this Wanda had messed up.

The people walking down the streets all turned to look at you and Wanda, the both of you were close enough to touch one another yet it was quite evident there was a distance neither one of you knew how to close.  Wanda winced hugging herself tightly, she opened her mouth and closed, the push inside her chest breaking her resolution and her eyes gleamed red for a brief moment until you finally saw it.

One red.

One green.

Her voice, their voices…sounding like one.

“I have lost everything, Y/N. I lost my parents, and I lost myself in hatred and revenge, I gave myself to be an experiment, and then I lost Pietro.” Wanda spoke with a broken voice, she shook her head trying to tell you how she felt. “I could never tell you…you were such…god, you were such a powerful force that made me feel I could do anything, I could be anyone…but then…they started talking about the reconstruction of Sokovia, and Tony brought my parents to be buried alongside Pietro.”

You were trembling in rage and helplessness, Wanda talking about her upbringing. She talked about her mother’s teachings, the church’s teachings and what was expected of her. Wanda spoke about the fears she was not brave enough to tell you for fear of your rejection. She spoke of her papa, and how he had taught her a lesson at some point when she showed her attraction for another woman. The confusion she felt when Vision approached her with a speech about logic, biology and philosophy, about the wrongness of what she was feeling, but also about the nature behind experimenting.

“I couldn’t I just…I didn’t…” Wanda almost felt on her knees, but you were faster than her. She rested against your body, crying with tension building around her body refusing to return your embrace. And in all of this you saw them, Wanda and Scarlet, and your fears and suspicions were clarified at that moment.

They were one and the same, yet two different entities.

“I’m sorry, I never…you…I don’t know why Westview…but they are yours…just yours…” Wanda was crying now trying to get away from you. “I just messed up…I…I’m so broken I just…”

Your heart broke at the sight.

It didn’t justify her, and in all honestly the conversation had not been clear enough. But a part of you, the one that had been running in fear for what you were and who you are, understood.

“I’m sorry.” Wanda repeated over and over, and you put her tighter against yourself.

“It’s…It’s okay.” You mumbled placing a comforting kiss on her head. “It’s okay, Wanda.”

“I can’t…I couldn’t…” Wanda cried softly, and Scarlet pushed through what Wanda had to say all along. “I love you…I…never…I never stop and you…”

Scarlet stirred inside Wanda; she was so close.

It was the right time to make her move. Scarlet was finally at her breaking point, your warmness and your words, the feeling of your skin and your kisses. It was time to get rid of Wanda and for her to come forth. America was around the city and Natasha and Yelena were no longer there.

This time around, the spell would be successful, and Billy and Tommy would be back. And no one would dare to intervene.

“N-No…N-no, please, not…not again…” Wanda screamed in pain, and just as Scarlet was ready to come forth, the humming sound of a flying object approaching broke into the sky.

You tensed.

That humming was familiar, and the hairs at the back of your neck stood up at the energy surrounding such an individual.

You were so distracted you never noticed when the green eyes were lost replaced by the crimson of Scarlet. When you lowered your gaze, the woman was smiling at you, this time around she was not afraid to wrap her arms around you.

“You are mine, detka. Finally.”

“Get your hands away from her, Maximoff!” The golden blast almost made you falter, but your shadows and Scarlet’s reflex were enough to prevent the blast for harming any of you.

Carol Danvers landed with a heavy step, the blasting of energy coming out to put Wanda away from you. The shadows engulfed you separating you from Wanda, while at the same time protecting the redhead form any harms.

“You!” Scarlet growled out, her hands wriggling around with a red mist, while her fingertips started taking in a black colouring. “I won’t let you take her away from me!”

Carol advanced ready to fight the other woman, you opened your eyes wide.

Scarlet wasn’t the only one there.

The red mixed up with purple, and the sky started igniting with runes you had never seen before. The world started trembling, and the smirk Scarlet was wearing told you she was the one working on her magic.

“Carol, wait!” You approached both women, Carol hesitated turning to you with a concern frown when she noticed the blood on your forehead.

“Y/N…” She whispered turning to you, “Strange told us he thinks it is her…”

“I know.” You replied running to the blond woman, Scarlet clenched her jaw refusing to see as Carol’s hand went to your forehead cleaning up the blood in there.

“You knew?” Carol scowled turning her golden eyes to Wanda.

“You won’t have her, Y/N is mine and no one will get in the way.”

At that moment several things happened.

Carol decided to attack Scarlet without hearing your screams of warning, your powers igniting to try and prevent an ever-bigger incident when Scarlet exploded in a bubbled of red mist while the sky above your heads went purple and the runes shone with energy.

Everything around you went black and then, all of a sudden you knew no more.

______________________________________________________________

You heard the beeping of the machines breaking into your unconscious state.

Your body shivered, and this only made you aware of the deep pain you were experimenting. You opened your mouth, for a minute it took all your energy to get out the simplest of moans charged with pure pain. You tried to remember what had happened, what you did and what exactly did Scarlet and Carol did to put you in such a state.

Your eyelids were heavy, but you tried to open your eyes to see exactly where you were at.

Another moan, this one firmer. Your eyes fluttered open, and you had to blink a couple of times due to the intensity of the light.

“MOMMA!”

“MOM!”

Whatever pain you were experimenting, whatever reluctance you had in regards to opening your eyes completely were soon forgotten when you heard those voices. Two boys voices.

You sat up sharply, this time around a scream of pain left your lips, but your eyes were seeing blurry trying to focus on the two figures standing by your bed. Their little hands grabbing yours, and as you blinked away you started focusing them.

“Momma, momma you’re alive!” One of them said hugging you tightly.

You blinked trying to get away, looking around desperately until you saw her.

Wanda Maximoff standing by the door, heavy bags under her puffy eyes. The tears still fresh and she came right at you closing the space in between you and her, her lips soft and tender against yours. For a brief moment you forgot about everything, your head tilting to deepen the kiss, to get reacquainted with Wanda’s taste. The softness of her lips, the warmness of her body…god you missed kissing her.

“God, detka I though…” She whispered smiling soppily when the twins made gagging sounds at the display of affection.

Wanda smiled at you leaning in to get another kiss, but you backed away almost falling from the bed finally registering what was happening. What you had done moments ago and what the woman in front of you was trying to do.

“What the fuck did you do, Scarlet?!! Where am I?! Where is Carol?”

Wanda stood right away, her hands spreading out protectively in front of the twins. She furrowed her brows tilting her head at you.

“Y/N?” She asked tentatively, you were about to speak but a wave of nausea came right at you.

“What’s…what’s going on?” You asked just before falling unconscious on the bed.

Wanda stood there for a moment, Billy pulling at her hand while glancing at your unconscious form.

“Mom, is momma okay?”

“Yes, dear, she is just…” Wanda trailed off turning to the boys. “Momma hurt herself really bad. Go find uncle Steve and Uncle Pietro.”

Tommy and Billy hesitated but then they nodded and left.

Wanda turned to you stepping closer, her hand placing itself on your forehead, while her eyes gleamed red. She hated to do this, it was an unspoken rule for her to never enter the heads of her friends and family. But your reaction, your questions…and what had happened with Strange’s death and the disappearance of America was enough for her to do this.

“I’m sorry my love, I promise you I won’t look beyond what I need to see.” She leaned in placing a kiss on your forehead, reading inside your mind until a whimper left her mouth. She opened her eyes big, stepping back just on time for Steve and Pietro to show at the door.

“Wanda?” Steve asked tentatively, Wanda turned to him nodding.

“I found America, and she…she is not my wife.” Wanda then wrapped her arms around her boys looking back at you then at Steve. “We are in serious trouble.”

______________________________________________________________

Tag List:

@username23345 - @wandanats-goodgirl - @catswag22 - @imadethisblogbecauseiamasimp - @marvelogic - @dumpaccdontmindme - @nikkinss - @reereeineedtopee - @kaisenblog - @your-internet-adviser - @dark-hunter16 - @wandabear - @justyourwritter69 - @wandasmarley - @imthenatynat - @bisexualnoodle - @trikruismybitch - @fxckmiupup- @justafoolinlove - @teenybean - @haunt626 - @itshouldvebeenme30 - @wandasmarley - @lonewalker17 - @alwaysgoodnight - @wandsmxmff - @iliketozoneout - @kacka84 - @get-the-fuck-outta-here - @charl-lally - @sadiesgf69 - @fanboy7794 - @yenmaximoff - @yenmaximoff - @the-mute1 - @the-mute1 - @when-wolves-howl - @mroyalll -@justhereformemes12345-blog - @justhereformemes12345-blog -@paaandiculations - @anaaam - @bibliophilicbi - @princess-kennys-rats - @danicarpediem - @iliketozoneout - @oh-thats-cute - @screechcat - @sheriffhaughtearp - @romanoffomixam - ohboiiitsbritneeeeey - @marveloussimp - @g-athenaathens - @mousecakez - cowboyboots236 - weird-shit-i-see-and-enjoy - esposadejoyhuerta - marvelogic

Please, tell me if I forgot anyone.

[half-life-collide]

[myfavouritefoodismilkbread]

Underworld Ties

Amidst the shadows of Seoul's underworld, Lee Know of Stray Kids Mafia finds himself entangled in a dangerous game of alliances and rivalries. When he crosses paths with a formidable adversary from the Kangs, tensions ignite, revealing a past fraught with unresolved tensions and undeniable attraction. As their worlds collide in a tumultuous dance of power and passion, they must navigate a treacherous path of loyalty, love, and betrayal.

Chapters:

Ch. 1: Blood Feud Ch. 2: Shadows of the Past Ch. 3: The Contract Ch. 4: Hostile Negotiations Ch. 5: Fractured Alliances Ch. 6: Veiled Threats Ch. 7: Dangerous Liaisons Ch. 8: Unlikely Allies Ch. 9: Undercover Ch. 10: Cloack and Dagger Ch. 11: Loyalty Tested Ch. 12: Betrayal Ch. 13: Heart of Darkness Ch. 14: Point of No Return Ch. 15: Revelations Ch. 16: Crossfire Ch. 17: Redemption Ch. 18: Breaking Point Ch. 19: Surrender Ch. 20: Epilogue - Beyond the Shadows

Warnings: enemies to lovers, Lee Know centric, smut at some point, angst, slow burn, violence, guns, (mafia world related stuff). I am not good at warnings sorry.

I'll update every Thursday. <3

[xlovely-daydreamsx]

IFHY CH. 1 (Miguel O’Hara x Reader)

God, he can’t stop himself now. Not with how you peer up at him through long lashes, eyes glazed over with lust. Not with how your tongue darts out to lick your lips and he thinks about capturing them in his own, biting at them until they’re red and swollen and that adorable pout is forever plastered on your face.

He watches your fingers glide under the waistband of his suit, manicured nails scraping lightly against the skin there and he almost moans. 

How long had it been since he let another person touch him like this, or rather, at all?

Warnings: nsfw (18+), possesiveness, rough, mild blood, dirty talk, mentions of character death, you and miguel are both sad and bad at coping

Word Count: 4085

Note: This might be an ongoing series because I have So Many Thoughts. Feel free to send me asks about anything confusing, and let me know if I should continue to post this here or not... IFHY is a Tyler the Creator song, which y’all should listen to - it’s my Miguel’s anthem basically lmfao. ANYWAYS pls enjoy i appreciate u all!

When the spiders begin to infect your world, you know the only person who can keep things under control is you. At least, you’re the only one anyone would hold accountable if they decided to do something… unsavory, and if the large black hole in the middle of New York City was indicative of anything, it was that the spiders were nothing but trouble.

Peter called you first, because he always did. 

“Uhm, boss lady, there’s some other Spider-Men here, and they want me to join some secret society? I think I’m being recruited into the Illuminati…” he trails off, obviously whispering into the phone. Since your father had passed, Peter had sort of… leaned on you, in a sense. You hadn’t any recollection of meeting the boy despite his Avenger status, but he looked at you with so much melancholy in his gaze that you knew he must see something of Tony in you, and you’d allow it simply to make yourself feel better. Nobody thinks you’re anything like your dad, but on days like these, you can only wish you were.

“I’ll be right there, Pete.” You mumble back, setting his location into KAREN and heading out, thick black wings spreading behind you, launching you into the night.

The explosion comes moments after.

You see it in the sky - a clash of black and white that seems unworldly, knocking the wind from beneath your wings and sending you flying back, tumbling towards one of the hundreds of towering buildings in New York.

Crack. You hear it as you collide, feeling the dig of concrete and glass into your back - a feeling you’re all too familiar with, and yet it seems like so long ago that you had felt it last. It’s almost… exhilarating. 

You steady yourself with a foot against the building, launching yourself off of it and back towards the wreckage of whatever unfortunate event was unfolding in your city.

You watch beeps, signaling your close proximity to Peter and you begin your descent to him.

It was horrible, really, how excited you were at the idea of a fight. The last time you had been involved in something like this was with him by your side… maybe if everything went awry, you could join him soon enough.

There’s a huge fucking hole in your city, you realize as you approach.

“KAREN,” you speak into your wrist as you glide by, “send the bots out to scan and contain the area.” She replies with a conformation, but you’re too transfixed on the pit beneath you. It’s horribly, endlessly back, and you feel yourself being tugged towards it ever-so-slightly as you fly. 

You need to find Peter, and fast.

You see the other spiders before you see yours. There’s three of them, all with striking blue and red suits, drawing your eye in curiosity. They all looked so… different. You expected some evil version of Peter, red eyes and big fangs and very obviously variants of your Spider-Man, but the crowd that greets you is nothing of the sort.

You plummet down to the surface, positioning yourself in front of your spider. His suit glimmers with gold and metals- a suit your dad supposedly had made for him.

Looking at it makes you a little queasy, and you fight the urge to stare at your palms, covered in the same glittering metals.

“(Y/N)!” Peter sounds so relieved. He’s always happy to have that weight off his shoulders, free of carrying the burden all on his own. You wonder how long he’d been doing so before you recruited him into the New Avengers.

You wonder how anyone could give up control like he can.

“I guess you guys haven’t gotten the memo,” you gesture at the trio of spiders in front of you. A biker chick, a ballerina, and the biggest fucking beefcake you’ve ever seen in your life; it’s somehow not the weirdest group of friends you’ve seen in your days in the city, “but Earth-616 is closed for tourism and immigration. I don’t care what planet, galaxy, dimension y’all are from, but you need to leave.”

“Sorry, pendeja, we’re not here for you. This is obviously Spider-Man business, no?” The beefcake speaks, strolling towards you leisurely. His arms are crossed, horribly large things that strain under the fabric of his suit. You smile warmly at him, cocking your head.

“Mmh, no.” The smile drops, “I am Earth-616’s representative, not Spider-Man.”

“I work for her!” Peter points at you, nodding to the other Spider-People. You try not to cringe.

“That’s your problem, not mine. My problem,” he points behind you at the gaping hole in the city, “is that.” He’s closer to you now, absolutely looming over you, and it’s then that you realize how truly large he is. You’d always been on the smaller side of the scale, but his stature was all encompassing, his shadow engulfing you with no effort at all. 

You watch as his eyes drift down to you, then back over your head at the pit, and with a little jingle on your watch, you’re prompted to bring your eyes to it, too. Your drones had arrived, and were making quick work of scanning the hole and surrounding areas.

“Don’t worry, little buddy,” you reach up and pat his arm - oh my God, he’s rock fucking solid, “I’m already taking care of it.”

He practically growls at you, “You don’t have the technology to take care of it; we barely do, and this is our specialty.” 

“Was that supposed to sound impressive?” He grimaces, “It’s okay to admit that someone’s better than you.”

The scowl he gives you sends a shiver down your spine.

“Look, I don’t have time to argue with some… little girl, okay? That hole could destroy your universe, do you understand? Now, step back and let us do our work.” You simply watch him as he steps past you to the ledge of the building, rocketing himself off of it. He flies for a minute, rather impressively, you might add, but it isn’t long before he approaches the hole and slams into something transparent, a ripple of blue emanating from where he collided with your drones’ protective barrier.

You turn to the other spider-people, who you can tell are trying to hold back laughter.

“Now, are we open to collaboration?”

Your house is so empty. Apartment, penthouse, whatever you want to call it, it was always the same when you got back. No laughter, no steps echoing through the hall, no glasses clinking in the kitchen. It’s just you and the ghosts of the life you’ll never get back.

So, when you enter the penthouse with a visitor in tow, the sound of his footsteps following close behind you - something other than the sound of your keys jingling and your ragged breathing - it almost feels alien to the space around you. This home wasn’t meant for people anymore; this was your silent prison.

But it’s comforting in a way. It feels familiar… melancholic. 

“You’ve got this whole place to yourself?” He lets his eyes wander over the space as you lead him down the hall, past the kitchen and towards the stairs.

“Yup,” you say with a pop of the P, sounding characteristically unenthusiastic about it. What you wouldn’t give to have that be untrue.

“It’s not as fun as you’d think it would be,” you lead him down the stairs, down, down, down towards the lab. Your father’s lab, which you haven’t bothered to enter in so many months. You had let Sam and Rhodey take whatever they wanted, but you hadn’t bothered to look. There was nothing worth seeing down here, anyways.

“I know it’s not,” he replies like it’s the most casual thing in the world, like everyone knows what it’s like to be totally, truly alone like you, “the silence is… too much.”

You don’t know how to respond, so you simply type in your code, allowing the glass door to slide open for him. The room is big, much bigger than you remember but somehow suffocating all the same.

You realize after a moment that there isn’t a single suit left in the lab, and you wonder if they really needed them, or if it was some kind of kindness for you.

You elect to stop looking.

“Make yourself at home, big guy.” You say, making quick work of cleaning your desk by simply wiping it all onto the floor with a clang. You don’t know what it was going to be, nor do you care to - he wasn’t there to help you finish it, and you had more work to do than ever. “KAREN, pull up our data on the big hole, please.”

‘Our earlier scans indicate that the hole is actually a large concentration of Anti-Matter,’ her robotic voice thrums through the room, holograms of information popping up all around you, ‘our drones have managed to contain it for the time being, but it seems to be trying to expand within the barrier’s perimeters.’

“I have one of those, too,” Miguel says behind you, too close for comfort. His presence is all-encompassing, casting you in a shadow, 

“A big hole?” You cock your head, and he only shakes his head disapprovingly.

“LYLA, pull up our data to compare.”

Another voice chimes as a little woman appears in front of you, a pout on her face.

“What, I don’t get a please? KAREN got one,” her eyes drift to you, “can I work for you instead?” Miguel just sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Now, please, LYLA.” She smiles, and your blue holograms are soon accompanied by orange, merging together in a technicolor lightshow in front of you both. 

“A lot of this data actually overlaps,” LYLA says, flickering in and out of view all over the room, inspecting everything you have to offer, “but your drones missed a few key components.” She expands a few pieces, covering you in the orange light of her holos. 

It’s times like these that you wish you really were Tony Stark’s daughter- then you might have a tiny bit of his intelligence to understand what was in front of you.

You’d figure it out eventually, though - you always do.

You can’t help but notice how much he looks at you. Your work had been rather silent so far, only small comments made when absolutely necessary on his part, but his eyes say more to you than anything else. Deep, dark circles that match your own, watching every move you make. Every bend, stretch, turn - his eyes are on you, tracing your delicate form.

You were well aware of the effect you have on men. Since you were young, much too young, you had known - you were the cover of Playboy at 16, Vogue and Cosmo in the following years, now too many to count. Teenage heartthrob (Y/N) Stark, just as wild and untamed as her father had been. At least, that’s always what they had said. You never tried to seduce anyone, but who wouldn’t want to be on their knees for a Stark?

Miguel, apparently, because every time you would catch his gaze he would avert it, avoiding your attention like the plague. He’s like a wild animal, cornered, threatened, by you. By your mere presence.

To be completely honest, it bothered you. Everyone wanted you, would try to take a bite whenever opportunity arose, so what was so special about him? Why wouldn’t he try? 

If you know anything, it’s that men love the chase.

And yet he won’t chase you at all.

It’s… irritating, you decide, but a good challenge nonetheless.

“You know,” you say, breaking the silence. You find yourself approaching his workspace, feet moving without any real thought behind it.

“You look lonely,” your hand trails against the desk and he watches as it glides across the sleek metal, his shoulders tense but unmoving, “We could keep each other company.”

You’re in front of him now, his knees slightly spread as he sits, and you knock them with your own to make room for yourself, sinking in between the space he makes for you.

“(Y/N),” he practically growls, and you know he wants it just as much as you do. You know he doesn’t think he deserves it. You know it’s an act of self punishment, so you ignore it. 

Your hand glides across the fabric of the suit straining against his thick, muscled thighs. You trail higher, higher up to the V of his hips and he releases a shuddering breath. Fingers searching until they find the button they’re looking for, allowing the lower half of his suit to release.

“Do you want me to?”

“Do you want me, too?” She asks him, her touch featherlight on his skin. She sets him ablaze, sending shivers wracking his body and a growing heat in his groin that he hasn’t felt in so long, save for lonely nights in his quarters, fisting himself shamefully in the shower and washing the evidence of his crimes down the drain. He needs it more than he’s willing to admit, and the way your voice echoes in his ears, soft and sweet and innocent. He can’t bring himself to tell you no, even though he knows you’d never ask him such a thing if you really knew him. But you want him, and it’s been so long since someone has wanted him, so he simply threads his fingers through your hair. 

God, he can’t stop himself now. Not with how you peer up at him through long lashes, eyes glazed over with lust. Not with how your tongue darts out to lick your lips and he thinks about capturing them in his own, biting at them until they’re red and swollen and that adorable pout is forever plastered on your face.

He watches your fingers glide under the waistband of his suit, manicured nails scraping lightly against the skin there and he almost moans. 

How long had it been since he let another person touch him like this, or rather, at all?

You pull the waistband down, down until his cock springs out of its place under the fabric, the head already pink and dripping.

Jesus, he looks so large compared to you. Your hands barely fit around it, the length of it seemingly almost as big as your head. You were so small, though - everything about you was small, and yet you acted so much larger than life that he had forgotten how fragile you appeared to be. He can’t forget it now, though - not with the comparison right in front of him; not with the way you were on your knees for him.

You place small kisses against his length, moving ever higher and leaving a trail of spit behind that left him aching. You sent him a coy smile before you licked against his tip, precum smearing on your lips like gloss. You take the head in easily, tongue swirling across the slit in a way that makes his hips buck up, but you keep your composure, a small hand against his pelvis to push him back down.

He reaches for it, taking your wrist in his hand, which completely engulfs you.

“Muñeca,” he lets out a shaky sigh, “I know you can take it.” No more words are needed - he knows you understand with the way you gaze up at him, your jaw going slack and your tongue laying flat underneath his cock. He tightens the hand in your hair and pushes you down, thrusting deep into your throat. He keeps pushing, fucking into you like a fleshlight, feeling the warm wetness of it with every motion. He wanted to mould you to the shape of his cock, have you still feel the ghost of him every time you swallow, missing the feeling of choking on him.

You gag around him but stay lax, pliant - obedient. Those eyes, God, glossy and tearful, but wanting. You want this, him, you want him, you want him-

He pushes your head down to his pubes, holding you there as your throat constricts around him and he cums deep, an iron grip keeping you in place as he empties into you.

With a rough shove, you’re off his cock and you stumble backwards off your knees, catching yourself on your hand as you cough. He barely gives you a second before an impossibly large hand grabs your face, fingers pushing roughly into your jaw.

“Show me,” he commands, and you oblige without complaint, mouth open and tongue out with an aah.

“Mi niña buena, no? So hungry for my cum.” He says, and you have the audacity to smile, nodding with your eyes shut lazily, nuzzling slightly into his grip.

He can’t control himself a second longer.

He grabs you harshly by the arm, pulling you upwards into his lap and straight into a kiss. He can’t help but growl into it, too much teeth on his end but he needs to feel in control, like he can capture you with every swipe of his tongue into your mouth and every nip against your bottom lip.

He thinks he tastes blood.

His hands find your thighs and he lifts you up, claws digging into your soft, supple skin as he drops you on the desk, pushing you with a harsh hand against your chest. Your back hits the table, cold metal against the part of your skin unveiled by your shirt riding up high on your back.

Miguel doesn’t have time to undress you, no time for tenderness or patience. Instead, he rips at your shorts, his animalistic claws tearing through the fabric of both them and your undergarments, leaving you bare below the waist and he takes it all in eagerly, eyes scanning every part of your body. He pushes your shirt upward, exposing your breasts kept carefully under a plain, black bra. One swipe of a claw and that falls away, too, leaving you completely exposed.

You don’t even look embarrassed.

Miguel is the one falling to his knees now, coming face to face with your bare pussy like a man praying at the altar, and it’s with closed eyes and shaking palms that he buries himself into it, tongue lapping incessantly at your folds.

He eats like a starving man, tongue flicking against your clit over and over until your back is arching inches above table, white knuckling the edges of it as abuses your sensitive cunt. 

The lust coursing through him threatens to tear him apart, so he braces himself with hands on your thighs, claws digging into the skin and leaving you with a hot pain to accompany the unending pleasure he’s giving you.

He sucks against your clit and your hand instinctively reaches for him, threading into his black locks and rutting against his tongue as you cum hard, harder than you ever have by yourself, alone in that room with your multitude of toys. Despite the many men you had been with, nothing could have prepared you for the beast that sits between your legs, eyes dark with a hunger that threatens to swallow you whole.

“Miguel, please,” You don’t even know what you’re begging for - more, mercy, you aren’t sure, but his figure is looming over you in seconds, his cock already hard once again as he rubs the tip against your sopping wet entrance, slick sounds echoing in the room along with your pants.

“Gonna fill you up with my cock, chiquita. Fill you up and stretch you out. Fuck,” he bares his fangs and you moan, “you want it, baby? Tell me you want it.” He grabs you by the jaw again, fingers gliding across your blood stained lips. “Ask your papi real sweet like.”

You can tell he wants it just as much as you do, feeling the heat from his cock against you, his precum adding to the slick of your cunt, but you want to beg him, want to obey, so you oblige.

“Please, please, fuck, I want you inside me. Break me, Miguel, please.”

Break you - fuck, he could do that. Every part of his body threatened to; his sharp claws against your soft skin, strong grip and large hands on your delicate wrists, his towering frame over your own, much smaller one. He was Godzilla and you were fucking Tokyo. 

His dick pushed into you entirely ungentle, his bestial tendencies apparent in everything he does. Your thighs are covered in scratches, some smeared with small lines of blood, and the constant mix of pain and pleasure makes your head spin.

He stretches you out thoroughly, his massive girth shoved into you inch by inch until he’s hilt-deep inside of you and you swear you can feel him in your womb.

He doesn’t waste any time, pumping in and out of you at a bruising pace, pulling you down to the hilt with every movement. You can barely think, head spinning, filled only with thoughts of the strong figure fucking into you like a dog in heat.

He’s so, so much bigger than anything else you’d ever had, and the way he stretches you open leaves your stomach in knots.

He’s in love with your pussy. The taste of you is like honey, your warmth engulfs his cock in a pleasure like no other- it’s like you were made for him.

He leans down and captures you into another kiss, broken up by your incessant moans with every thrust of him into your cervix. It’s all too much and not enough at the same time, and when he pulls out of the kiss and opts to leave trails of them along your neck, teeth nipping and gnashing at the skin they find there. Every part of this man threatens to consume you, and yet you give yourself up readily, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your nails into his back as you moan. 

He growls against your shoulder and you feel sharp teeth pierce into you, deep searing pain that rips a cry out of your mouth as your orgasm crashes over you. He fucks your through it, hard thrust after thrust until you feel him twitching inside you and he buries himself balls deep, cock pulsing as he fills you with cum.

Neither of you can bother to care about the implications.

He can’t help but stare down at you as you lay there, chest heaving and eyes half-lidded. You looked fucked, and it took everything in him to stop himself from fucking you again. Maybe he went too rough, he thinks as he stares at the bleeding bite on your shoulder and scratches littering your body, but when he pulls out and your pussy is gushing with your cum and his own, he can’t bring himself to regret it in the slightest.

“You took it so well, (Y/N).” The sound of your name on his tongue pulls you out of your stupor and you can only respond with a groan, your hand rubbing against your eyes.

You needed a shower and a nap.

You push yourself up onto your elbows and watch as he secures his suit back in place, the traces of your deeds only apparent on your soiled figure.

He presses a few buttons on his watch, and in a moment, a small, metal spider crawls out of it, making you furrow your brow as you watch him fiddle with it. Holding it by the leg, he holds it out to you, and you hold your palm up warily. It drops into your palm, skittering before settling itself in your grasp.

“All the data you need is compiled on that little guy. Try to take care of it, okay?” You nod, much too tired to speak.

Miguel’s eyes flit over you one last time, and the way his brow furrows leaves you wondering what exactly he’s thinking in that gorgeous head of his.

He takes one impossibly large step toward you, hand reaching for your face and it takes all your willpower not to flinch away from him. His grasp is gentle this time, thumb tracing against the soft curve of your jaw as he places a small, delicate kiss against your forehead.

“Take care, chiquita.” 

And with that, he takes his leave, the light of his portal dimming as he exits, leaving you alone.

[b1ackbunny]

DIRTY DANCER

CH. 0 | PROLOGUE

A Tatter smau-ish ff

pairing: tatter x fem!creator!oc (laura wen yu)

synopsis: just like the saying goes, first impressions go a long way. when laura wen yu and kim taeyoung meet in rather sour circumstances, they both develop firm beliefs that they will never truly get along. but over time, their two worlds keep colliding beyond their control and the underlying tensions begin to build. the two explore the line between love and hate, but on which side will they ultimately fall?

word count: n/a

warnings: au, no mentions of swf or smf (but mentions of the contestants), bad writing, friendly violence, a little inaccurate, suggestive language, toxic relationship tendencies, cheating, unedited

previous: laura’s rat colony

next: chapter 1

taglist (open!):

masterlist

a/n: hello party peopleee!!! welcome to the spin-off of love lies where it’s tatter x laura!!! I really hope y’all enjoy this + this doesn’t count as officially starting it so shhh updates will be on the slower side compared to love lies🧎🏽‍♀️also synopsis might be changed but keeps the same general idea bc I’m trash at writing those so don’t mind it 🙏🏽 comment if y’all wanna be added to the taglist 🫶🏽 (too lazy to change somi’s text to yeji so just vibe)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[ndbookstudy]

ashtavakra gita, ch. 2.

read ch. 1

Chapter 2: It works! Upon hearing Ashtavakra’s words Janaka realizes his True Nature. Enraptured, he describes the joy and wonder of his new state.

Janaka said: I am now spotless and at peace- Awareness beyond Consciousness. All this time I have been duped by illusion. By this light alone the body and the universe appear. I am Everything or Nothing. Seeing there is no universe or body, by grace the Self is revealed. As waves, foam and bubbles are not different from water, so the universe emanating from Self is not different from Self. Look closely at cloth, you see only threads. Look closely at creation, you see only Self. As sweetness pervades sugarcane juice, I am the essence of creation.

Not seeing Self, the world is materialized. Seeing Self, the world is vanished. A rope is not a snake, but can appear to be. I am not other than Light. The universe manifests at my glance. The mirage of universe appears in me as silver appears in mother-of-pearl, as a snake appears in a rope, as water appears on a desert horizon. As a pot returns to clay, a wave to water, a bracelet to gold, so will the universe return to Me. I am wonderful indeed- beyond adoration. I cannot decay nor ever die, though God and all the universe should perish to the last blade of grass. Even with a body I am One. I neither come nor go. I am everywhere at once. I am astounded at my powers. The universe appears within me but I do not touch it. I am everything thought or spoken, and have nothing. In Reality, knowledge, the knower, and the knowable do not exist. I am the transparent Self in which through ignorance they appear. Looking at One and seeing many is the cause of all misery. The only cure is to realize what is seen is not there. I am One—aware, blissful, immaculate. I am unbounded Awareness. Only in imagination do I have limits. Reflecting on this, I abide in the Absolute.

I am neither free nor bound. The illusion of such things has fallen into disbelief. Though I contain creation, it has no substance. Having seen for certain that this universe and body is without form or substance, I am revealed as Awareness alone. Imagination has no place here. The body exists only in imagination, as do heaven and hell, bondage, freedom, fear. Are these my concern? I, who am pure Awareness?

I see no differences or separation. Even the multitudes appear as a single formless desert. To what should I cling? I am not the body. I do not have a body. I am Awareness, not a person. My thirst for life bound me to a seeming of life. In the limitless ocean of Myself, the winds of the mind roil the myriad waves of the world. But when the wind subsides in the limitless ocean the ark of personhood is swallowed up, along with the universe it carries. And how wonderful it is! In the limitless ocean of Myself, waves of beings arise, collide, play for a time, then disappear--as is their nature.

[thiccpettybitch]

Sweet Sorrow - Ch. 1 Miguel O’hara x F!Reader

Phew, alright, I have to admit, this chapter was a bit of a struggle to write. My self-doubt and anxieties are having a go at me, and I can't help but feel like I rushed it a little. But you know what? I'd rather get it out there than keep overthinking it until I can quote it word for word.

I know it might be a bit confusing or jumbled right now, but I promise it'll get easier to understand as the story unfolds. There are so many good moments planned that I can't wait to share with you 😭

Today's been a self-doubt day for me, but hey, it happens. Now, let's talk about Sweet Sorrow, the spin-off of my baby Bitter Sweet. I'd really appreciate it if you could let me know what you think about it. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask.

Also, I want to take a moment to say thank you so much for all the support. We've reached over 1000 likes and over 100 reblogs, and I'm incredibly grateful for every single one. Your likes, questions, comments, and asks truly make my day brighter. I can't say it enough – thank you all from the bottom of my heart!💖

(I’ve also gotten all your asks so don’t worry! Once the next chapter of Bitter Sweet is out, i will begin slowly releasing them as well! ty again, ilu all!)

Now, I'm going to take a deep breath and keep pushing forward with the story. With your support, I know I can make it even better, and I'm excited to see where this journey takes us.

Part 2

As you find yourself hurtling towards an inevitable end, you gaze upward, and there is Miguel, falling with you. His hand reaches out with desperate hope, as if trying to bridge the impossible distance between you. Despite his bloodied and battered state, he grits his teeth, calling out for you with a heart-wrenching cry. You don’t have the strength to call out for him, tears well up in your eyes, suspended in the air like tiny, glistening droplets, as you continue to fall.

You know he won't be able to catch you; the fall is too fast, the distance too great. However perhaps selfishly so, you still use the last of your strength to call out for him, begging him to save you.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the Green Goblin appears, swooping in on his glider. He crashes into Miguel's side, sending him careening into another building. You close your eyes letting out another sob as you watch The Green Goblin looks down at you, his face twisted with malevolence. He gives you a small, taunting wave, relishing, before setting his sights on Spiderman, on Miguel.

Will it hurt?

As you plummet, the inevitable ground approaches, and you can't help but think that this is it. In a final desperate act, you call out Miguel's name, as if it's your way of making a lasting impact on the world. The prospect of death might be beyond your control, but no one can take away the memories of his name, his face, his smile, his touch, and his love. They will be the last thoughts in your mind before you touch the ground. Before you die.

With a loud gasp, the back of your jacket unexpectedly snags on a flag post, suspending you high above the ground. As you look down, the world spins around you, making your head swirl with dizziness. Panic takes hold, and you cry out in a desperate attempt to free yourself. The flagpole protests with creaks, and you find yourself trapped, unable to move without facing a deadly plunge. It's as if fate is playing one last cruel joke on you, leaving you helplessly suspended, caught between life and death.

---

Miguel's expression contorted with pain as the glider collided with him, forcing the air from his lungs in a pained grunt. Amidst the chaos, Osborn's sinister laughter echoed in his ears, fueling his determination. He mustered every ounce of strength, pushing himself up, his talons digging into the glider's metal.

‘’Miguel--!!’’

Rage and panic surged through him, driving Miguel to lash out. With a fierce punch, he thrust his hand through the metal, causing cables and sparks to fly, but he paid no mind to the chaos around him. Osborn cursed and fought back, trying to halt his advance. Fingers closed around Miguel's mask, but he didn't care anymore, not even as the mask was yanked off, and their eyes met. A roar escaped his lips as he smacked Osborn in the face, the broken glider sending the villain flying into a nearby building.

Despite his aching body, Miguel webbed onto two buildings simultaneously, propelling himself forward through the air. He ignored the pain, focused only on reaching his destination. Landing on the roof of the building where you had fallen, he scrambled up on all fours, rushing to the edge. Before he could react, a blinding light burst through the air, and he collided with a solid mass, sending him falling backward.

Looking up, Miguel froze in astonishment. Before him stood a large, futuristic-looking Spiderman, his face concealed behind a mask, yet the intensity of his gaze felt palpable. It was as if he was scrutinizing Miguel's very soul. But the urgency in your cry brought him back to the present. Determined to reach you, he rose to his feet, ready to dash over, only to be halted by the other Spiderman's outstretched hand, signaling him to stop.

"Don't kid," the man's voice resonated with a deep yet strangely familiar tone.

"What- ¡Bastardo! ¡Fuera de mi camino!" Miguel practically spat, his frustration boiling over as he tried to move past the other Spiderman. But his defiance was met with an iron grip on his suit, forcing him back to the ground with a powerful slam. Despite his own strength, Miguel found himself overpowered as the other Spiderman held him down effortlessly with just one arm.

Rage surged through him as he yelled in frustration, attempting to push the man off, but to no avail. The other Spiderman responded by slamming him back down, now using both arms to maintain control. Their faces were inches apart, and the intensity of the moment was almost suffocating.

"Listen to me!" the other Spiderman growled; his voice urgent. "I can save her! But you have to listen to me; I don't have much time!"

Miguel's eyes locked onto the stranger's face, wide with unfiltered rage. Their attention was momentarily drawn to the ledge by the sound of a creaking pole and your desperate cries.

"Hijo de puta! Get off me, I’ll rip your head off!" Miguel yelled in frustration, but his defiance only resulted in another punishing slam into the roof, leaving him gasping for breath.

As if by some futuristic mechanism, the man's mask suddenly dissolved before Miguel's eyes, leaving his face fully exposed in an instant. He froze, staring up in pure shock.

"Yeah well, good luck with that, kid," Miguel looked up at the older version of himself, utterly speechless and shocked.

"¡Escúchame!" The older man's voice echoed with intensity, his crimson eyes locking fiercely with Miguel's brown ones.

"Even if you save her now, she'll be in danger again, maybe later today, maybe tomorrow, maybe next shocking week. It doesn't matter! She'll keep facing death over and over!" Miguel shook his head, about to protest, but he was forcefully pushed back against the roof, the pain shooting through him.

"SHUT UP!" the older version of himself shouted, cutting off any further objections.

"She is destined to die! Because of you! Because of who you are, because of who WE are! But I can save her… I can save her life, you understand?’’ Miguel gazed up at the man, still in shock and pain, his eyes glazing over as he looked toward the ledge of the building.

"I can save her. But she can never see you again. She will be safe with me; she can have a life with me, but only if I take her with me. You have to let her go." The older version of himself pressed him down before rising and leaning over Miguel, hovering just above him, his finger pointing directly at his face.

"You go over there now, you save her?" He pointed towards the edge. "She dies. And there is NOTHING I can do about it. You have to make a choice, right now." Miguel swallowed hard, his eyes glossing over as he looked at the ledge and then back at the older version of himself.

"I…" Miguel hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest.

"CHOOSE, NOW!" The older Miguel barked, his teeth showing in a fierce display of impatience.

"I… Save her! I love-" Miguel's voice trembled as he looked up at the older version of himself. To his surprise, the man's expression softened slightly. In that fleeting moment, they shared a connection. Miguel blinked, and just like that, the mask formed back over the older man's face, concealing his emotions once more. He stood tall, turning away from Miguel, leaving him sitting there.

"I'll keep her safe. Tienes mi palabra," the man said, glancing briefly over his shoulder before leaping off the side of the building.

Miguel remained sitting there, a mixture of relief and sorrow flooding through him. He watched as bright lights illuminated the scene, listening to your desperate calls for him. His entire body went rigid. He dashed up, rushing to the side, only to catch a fleeting glimpse of the portal closing, taking you away with it. You were gone, leaving him standing there alone, his fists trembling at his sides. The distant sounds of the city were drowned out by the deafening sound of his heart hammering in his ears.

---

The flagpole keeps creaking, and panic engulfs you as you frantically search for anything to hold onto, causing you to swing back and forth in desperation. With every creak, the pole bends a little more, making your heart race even faster. You stretch upward, trying to grasp onto it as it starts bending downwards.

Your hands wrap around the pole, but you feel yourself slipping, and in desperation, you cry out for Miguel, for anyone, to come and save you. The bolts that attach the flagpole to the wall begin to move as your weight puts strain on the weak fastenings, threatening to give way.

In a terrifying moment, the small flagpole is pulled out of the loosening bolts, and you scream as it drops, together with you.

Suddenly, a figure casts a shadow above you, and you look up just in time to witness another Spiderman's arrival. His talons dig into the wall as he slides down, causing it to crack apart. In a swift move, he snatches the collar of your shirt, catching you, and with incredible strength, he pulls you up and holds you with one arm. For a moment, you stare at each other, shocked and slightly bloodied you stare up at the eyes of his mask slowly narrowing, as if he waited for something to happen.

But before you can comprehend what's happening, the man throws you through a portal, and you scream out for Miguel, your voice echoing in desperation. He follows right behind you, and the world around you shifts drastically.

The surroundings are strange, uncanny, and constantly morphing into different shapes, colors, and constructs. It feels as if you're floating in space, yet there's a sense of movement, as if the world around you is shifting and transforming. Shapes, sounds, and colors blend together, creating an otherworldly experience. It's as if you've entered a realm where time, space, and reality intertwine, leaving you in a state of awe and bewilderment.

Suddenly, the man reappears, the other Spiderman, leaping towards you with a trademark Spiderman leap. Panic grips you as you scramble to escape. Whoever this guy was, whether he wore a Spiderman suit or not, he wasn’t Miguel.

You flail your arms and legs, akin to a dog attempting to swim for the first time. However, before you can fully comprehend what's happening, a hand snatches you up and propels you towards yet another bright light. Your body is flung through the portal, leaving you disoriented and landing on your front in a large and dimly lit room.

Slowly, you push yourself up on your arms, whispering a quiet, pained "ow..." The realization of the situation dawns on you, and your eyes shoot open. Flipping over onto your back, you begin to crawl backward, putting distance between yourself and the man who is stepping toward you.

Every muscle in your body tenses with fear and uncertainty. Your heart pounds loudly in your chest as you try to make sense of where you are and what's happening. The dim light in the room casts eerie shadows, adding to the surreal atmosphere. You don't know who this man is or what he wants, and your instincts urge you to keep your distance.

"Lyla!" His voice startled you, and as you turned around, a cheerful yellow hologram of a woman materialized on the man's shoulder.

[Oh, hey Boss~ How’d it go- Oh…]

Suddenly the hologram playfully teleported in front of you. Instinctively, you scooted back, keeping both of them at arm's length. The hologram, Lyla, flickered momentarily before returning to the man's shoulder.

"Check her vitals and bring up the statistics from her dimension," he says, drawing a circle with his hand to encompass all of you. As he walks past, you scramble away, realizing that he doesn't seem interested in you. Making his way over to some monitors, he starts typing something in.

[Got it]

The hologram nonchalantly shrugs her shoulders as a bright yellow light shines over you, seemingly scanning your body. You instinctively move away, flinching as the light flicks from one side of you to the other.

[Elevated heart rate; 123 bpm. The respiratory rate is increased, steady at 15. Without a thorough check-up, I can't provide precise statistics. However, based on a quick review, she shows possible signs of anxiousness and confusion, and she might be somewhat disoriented. Additionally, she could be showing signs of paleness, which might indicate a drop in her blood pressure, although that could also be due to a lack of sun exposure... sorry to call you out, y/n]

"Lyla..." The man's voice carried a cautious tone as he swiftly typed on a hologram keyboard, summoning screens before him.

[The canon is stable, no disruptions or anomalies detected.] The hologram swiftly flicked around and settled in front of you, making you flinch involuntarily.

[I'm so excited to have you here! I mean, hiiiii! My name is Lyla! I have so many questions for you~ By the way, is that your natural hair color? Because-] Lyla's bubbly introduction is interrupted as you ask, your hands trembling slightly.

"How do you know my name…?" you inquire, feeling a mix of curiosity and unease.

Lyla flicks, and in an instant, her back is turned towards you, now facing Miguel with her hands on her hips. Then she flicks again and reappears in front of him.

[You didn't tell her?] she asks Miguel, sounding somewhat surprised.

"Haven't really had the chance to yet," he snapped at her, clearly annoyed, as he finished whatever he was doing on the monitors. Finally, he turned around to face you.

The man walked over towards you, and fearfully, you scrambled backward. He stopped, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender, and let out a tired sigh. "I won't hurt you," he reassured you. Despite his words, you still flinched and moved back even more as he takes another step towards you.

"You have my word; you are safe here. I just need to give you this," he said, holding up what seemed like a futuristic watch.

As he moves forward and you flinch back once again, your back pressed against the wall, he lets out a frustrated sound. Suddenly, he leaps at you and snatches your wrist, causing you to cry out and instinctively smack your closed fist against his chest.

"Stop! Wait! Just—just hold still!" You try to pull away from him as he tris to calm you down, his grip tight as he tries to hold you in place.

"No, stop moving, I'm—stop," he says wearily, trying to get you to calm down.

"No! Let go of me! HELP ME, SOMEONE, PLEASE!" Panic surges through you, and your body is on high alert as you thrash around in his grip, your eyes darting around the room for someone, anyone.

He snatches both of your wrists, trying to hold you still, but your panic escalates into a full-blown panic attack. You pull, hit, and kick him, desperately trying to pry your hands away and get away from him.

"Just—STOP!" The man finally says, grabbing the bottom of your face and forcing you to look up at him. You resist at first, attempting to break free from his grip, until you finally open your eyes and freeze. As you watch, the Spider-Man mask covering his face dissolves away, revealing his face.

The man standing in front of you was a spitting image of Miguel, a bit older, with a few more wrinkles likely from frowning and stress rather than actual age, you would have guessed. He stared down at you, his eyebrows knitted together in a frown. Shocked and unable to move, you could only stand there, gazing up at him.

He took the opportunity to snap the bracelet onto your wrist. It wasn't tight, but it felt secure enough that it wouldn't easily come off. You didn't even notice, too absorbed in staring at his face.

Finally, Miguel, older Miguel, let go of you and straightened up, his gaze turned away with a noticeable frown on his face.

"Who..." you asked, your eyebrows tightly together as you took in his appearance.

"My name is Miguel O'Hara. I lead an elite strike force dedicated to the security of the multiverse-" he began explaining.

"What- no," you interrupted, taking a step back and shaking your head, a look of confusion and disapproval on your face, "I know Miguel, you—you're not my—"

"I am Miguel, but not your Miguel, I am from another dimension," he clarified, attempting to make sense of the situation.

[This dimension, to be more specific], Lyla chimed in, appearing hovering above his shoulder, seemingly nonchalant.

You shook your head slowly, your lip trembling as you glanced down at the floor, trying to process what you had just been told. You closed your eyes tightly, attempting to stop the swirling emotions from overwhelming you. It was as if by not agreeing and not wanting it to be true, you hoped somehow to fix the situation.

"I don't—I don't know you. I want to go back; I need to make sure Miguel—MY Miguel is okay!" You push past him and walk over to where the portal had been, running your hands over the surface of the wall, searching for some sort of button or switch.

"You can't go back," he says firmly.

"What?" you ask, turning around to face him. "What do you mean 'can't'? You brought me here, so you can take me back!" you protest.

"You," he sighed, glancing around the room, searching for the right words before finally closing his eyes in defeat. He looked at you with a serious expression, "You were supposed to die tonight, but I managed to find a way around it. However, for that to happen and for you to survive, you can't.... you can't go back. I'm sorry."

"You're lying... I survived! I've been in dangerous situations before! I—this was no different, I got saved—" you protested, your emotions running high.

"You got saved by ME; I interfered. Without it, you would have been killed," he explained, his hands now on his hips as he walked over to you slowly.

"In our worlds... as Miguel and y/n, we are the equivalent of a Spiderman," he pointed at his own chest and then gestured to yours, "and a Gwen Stacy."

You frowned, looking at his hand, and he let out a quiet sigh. "It's a messed up 'never meant to be' canon event that is unavoidable, trust me – I have tried. As soon as versions of us meet, it starts."

"What starts?" you asked, feeling confused.

"A canon event, something that can't be avoided without the risk of total and complete destruction of that dimension," he responded matter-of-factly.

You let out a bitter laugh. "You're kidding me, right? You want me to believe that an entire dimension, world, universe—whatever—would collapse just because versions of us start dating?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" he asked, taking a step towards you, his voice low and dangerous as he towered over you. "In every universe, versions of us date, and you, almost every version of you, die. That's your story."

Miguel leaned back, looking down at you with disdain. "Or, if you're lucky, I'm the one who dies. Either way, that's our story, our fate. If anything, or anyone, breaks that cycle, THAT then threatens that dimension's safety."

"Why?!" Your voice broke, and a mixture of anger and sadness welled up inside you, tears building up in your eyes.

He let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Because it's a canon event! And canon events cannot be broken without the risk of complete multidimensional collapse."

Everything he said sounded so foreign to you, yet strangely believable. The sincerity in his voice and the evidence you had witnessed so far led you to believe him. He didn't come across as a man who would lie. But believing his words didn't mean you had to accept them.

Your hands felt clammy, and a cold shiver ran down your spine. A headache began to pulse in your temples, and as you looked up, the room seemed to spin around you, leaving you feeling dizzy and disoriented. This couldn't be happening... this couldn't be real.

"I-I want to go back. Take me back..." you desperately say, your words a mix of a plea and demand.

"I can't do that," he responds, his hands on his hips.

"Let me go back!" you cry out, tears spilling down your cheeks.

"I can't do that," he responds again, avoiding your gaze, a heavy weight in his voice.

You feel yourself heat up, anger and panic mixing into a dangerous and unfamiliar mess inside you, threatening to erupt. Suddenly, a door next to you opens, revealing two people dressed in Spiderman suits—one wearing a blue vest, and the other clad in a fully black suit with white marks.

"Take her to my quarters, let her lay down and rest until I find a place for her to stay," Miguel mumbles, tiredly rubbing his eyes with one hand as he turns around to leave.

"Don't touch me... I’m not going anywhere!" you warn, your voice firm

Miguel stops and his head whips around as he looks down at you, his eyebrows raised. The unspoken question, dare, hung heavily in the air.

Is that so?

---

You thrashed around, your fists smacking into his bulky back as he had you slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Curses and threats spilled from you, but he remained nonchalant, walking ahead with a frown on his face. Your yelling caught the attention of people around you, and as you looked up, you realized that everyone was wearing different kinds of suits, all with some sort of Spider symbol or design.

After an awkwardly long elevator ride, during which you had tired yourself out with all your kicking and thrashing, you heard the ding as the elevator doors opened. Stepping outside, he carried you until he ended up in front of a pair of doors. He dropped you on your feet and you opened your mouth about to curse him out when he spun you around and pushed you inside.

"You—YOU! You can't just... I HAVE RIGHTS!" you shouted in frustration and anger.

"Oh? Great, oh wow" he responded sarcastically, barely letting you get your words out.

"AND YOU CAN'T JUST, JUST TAKE ME AND—" you continued to vent your anger.

"Uh huh, uh huh," he nodded, his hands on his hips, watching you storm over towards him with a mocking smile on his face.

The doors closed abruptly in your face, and you stopped, your eyes wide with pure shock. For a moment, you were left speechless, trying to process what had just happened, your eye twitching in annoyance.

And then? Then you began breaking stuff.

You were yelling a mixture of gibberish and curses, you had been smacking your hand against the metal sliding doors for what felt like hours, kicking at them, and demanding to be let out. When that didn’t work you began trashing the place, kicking chairs out of your way, smacking over books and bowls and- well… the place wasn’t really decorated much. Until finally you were left pacing back and forth, a pillow held tightly in your hands, it was the only thing around not yet on the floor.

You finally stopped, backing up to take in your surrounding and the state of the room, as your back hit the wall, you slowly came to a stop, dropping the pillow you had been holding. It wasn't much of a weapon, but in that moment, you didn't really care; your mind was not thinking straight.

Your eyes shifted around the room, taking in the destruction you had unintentionally caused. Finally, you slumped back, feeling your body slide down against the wall until you landed softly on the floor. You pulled your knees up against your chest and wrapped your arms around them hiding your face.

In your mind, this felt like a terrible nightmare you desperately wanted to wake up from. You yearned to open your eyes and find yourself back in the safety of your bedroom, with sunlight streaming through the blinds. The comforting routine of having breakfast with your aunt and uncle, followed by a trip to school to meet your friends and, of course, Miguel. It filled your heart with a sense of normalcy you sorely missed.

Your chest felt so tight for a moment that you thought you might be having a heart attack, but it was more likely a panic attack taking hold of you. The knot in your stomach tightened, and the silence around you only amplified your distress. It felt as if the world was closing in, leaving you struggling for breath and unable to think straight.

You desperately needed to wake up. This had to be nothing more than a terrible nightmare. Lifting your tear-stained face from your arms, you took in the surroundings of the room, hoping to find some semblance of familiarity. It was a small, cramped space with a kitchen area, a bedroom, a compact living area with a large desk, and finally, a door that you presumed led to the bathroom. At first glance, it didn't look like a jail cell, but then why did it feel as though invisible metal bars were closing in around you?

Your eyes shifted to your wrist, and you had to take a deep breath to steady yourself. The braided bracelet encircling it suddenly felt so heavy, like a weight pulling you down. Your chin trembled, and your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes. Finally, unable to hold back any longer, you began to weep, tears streaming down your cheeks as you rested your forehead against the bracelet.

After what felt like hours of crying, you noticed a bright yellow light shined down on you. Looking up, you watched as Lyla materialized in front of you, silently observing you.

[Miguel has instructed me to give you a quick tour of his quarters. Would you... like me to show you around?]

If you had to guess, you would probably say she's some kind of AI; thus, who knows if she could feel sympathy or even understand what you were going through. Running the back of your hands over your eyes, you wiped away some of the tears, but you were still unable to get your breathing under control.

[Is there anything I can help you with? I could pull up a few breathing exercises or calming videos of puppies if you would like?]

You eyed her for a moment, contemplating whether she was being genuine or making fun of you. Based on the tone of her voice and the hologram itself, Lyla seemed to be at least trying to comfort you.

[I have to admit... I'm not really good at this. It's not as if Miguel possesses a wide range of emotions.]

"What time is it?" You asked, choosing to ignore her attempt at small talk.

[It's approximately six PM.]

"Why is it so dark in here?"

[Miguel prefers it that way. In his work station and quarters, you'll find the lighting is usually kept dim.]

You glance around the room and realize that one of the reasons it feels like a glorified prison cell is the lack of a window.

"Does he hate windows too?" you ask bitterly.

[No. However, I was instructed not to open it due to...] She trails off, nervously flickering her gaze around the room.

"Due to what?" you press, narrowing your eyes as you slowly stand.

[There are napkins in the third drawer of his desk, please help yourself,] she said, smoothly changing the subject.

Silently, you walked over to the desk, your gaze fixated on the drawers. You made a mental note to check them all out later, when you weren't being watched. You pulled on the drawer, and there, on top of some files, you found the box of napkins. You consciously ignored the box of lotion that lay behind it.

"Terrific..." you muttered to yourself, feeling slightly frustrated.

"Why can't you open a window?" you demanded.

[I am fully capable of opening a window, it's—] Lyla began to explain.

"Why were you instructed not to, then?" you interrupted, your upper lip twitching in annoyance.

Lyla fell quiet, flickering around until she reappeared in front of you on the desk. You wiped your nose and some tears off your face, feeling a mix of emotions. Suddenly, a noise on the far wall caught your attention. You looked over and watched as some blinds, which had been impossible to spot in the dark, cracked open, allowing a stream of light to finally shine in.

[Ooh, WOW! Haha! Look at this place! You ripped it apart! That's so funny, Miguel is gonna lose his mind,] she exclaimed.

"Is he violent?" you ask, making your way towards the window.

[What? Of course not! Well, if you're wondering if you have anything to fear, then no,] she assures you.

"Oh good, I'm glad my kidnapper doesn't have violent tendencies," you retort. There was a time when you might have felt guilty about your attitude, but after everything that had happened, you couldn't care less.

[Would you like me to put on some music? I know what you like! I have a few playlists saved based on your—] she begins to suggest.

"How high up are we? Are you able to remove the blinds completely?" you inquire, glancing out the window as you test the strength of the metal blinds.

[y/n... Even if I opened those blinds, and even if you weren't several hundred feet above the ground (I do not have permission to disclose HQ information with you), and you could get out...] Lyla flicked to your side, her avatar looking at you with sympathetic eyes, or as close to it as she could manage.

[You're not in your own dimension. You're not even really in your own timeline; you're about an average human's lifetime ahead of your own timeline. Even if I let you out... you'd have nowhere to go], she gently explained, delivering the disheartening truth.

As the blinds peeled back loudly, the entire window was revealed, causing you to flinch instinctively. You turned your head quickly to see Miguel, the other Miguel, leaning against the doorframe with his hand sliding off a button.

Glancing outside, you watched the city before you, and the knot in your stomach grew. Everything looked futuristic, with cars soaring down below and buildings towering even taller than those back home.

Home...

The only thing that looked remotely similar to home were the large, over-the-top billboards littering the city. You were too high up to actually see the people walking down below, which did prove that Lyla hadn't been lying.

Lyla flicked over to Miguel, hovering above his shoulder, engaged in a quiet conversation with him. As you turned towards them, the growing tightness in your chest returned. Slowly, you walked away from the window, positioning yourself on the opposite side of him—more importantly, the opposite side of the door. Miguel casually observed you, and for the first time since you had seen his face, he wasn't frowning. You glanced at the open doorway behind him and then back at him, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible.

"Don't..." He casually warned, staring down at you.

Turning around, you began walking towards the kitchen, attempting to feign hunger by casually sliding your hand over your stomach. But as soon as you were near the door, your only plan was to get the hell out of there and away from him.

With a swift move, you tried to slip past him, but he reacted lightning-fast, grabbing your wrist and hoisting you up in the air. He forcefully pulled you backwards, leaving your toes barely touching the floor, before throwing you onto his couch.

"Enough already—" Miguel started to say, but he had to stop himself as you made another desperate attempt to dash past him. He pushed you down against the couch, one hand on your chest.

"Let me out of here! Send me home!" you hissed, trying to push him away, but his grip was firm.

"YOU ARE AN ANOMALY! If you go back there, your whole dimension will disappear, together with everything in it! Everyone you know, your friends, family, loved ones—everyone will die," Miguel explained, his hand keeping you in place as you stared up at him, breathing heavily, and eventually slumping back against the couch.

You didn't have the energy to question him further. You smacked his hand away from you, sitting up and leaning forward. Your arms rested on your knees, and you covered your face with your hands. The amount of information from unreliable sources was overwhelming, making your head spin and your stomach churn.

You fell backwards against the couch, silently staring out the window. For a brief, beautiful moment, your brain seemed to take pity on you and dissociated from reality, allowing you to watch the sun finally set and the darkness of the night slowly taking over. While Miguel occupied himself with some paperwork, speaking into his bracelet, and moving about his quarters, he eventually settled down across from you on the couch.

As you continued to gaze out the window, he watched you intently, about to say something when you interrupted him. "Is Miguel safe—my Miguel?"

He nodded silently, and you closed your eyes, letting out a breath. "I... I won't ever see him again, will I?" you asked, your eyes welling up with tears as you looked over at him.

"No," he answered quietly.

Closing your eyes, you felt tears streak down each cheek. "Why is this happening? Why—" you began, feeling overwhelmed with emotions.

Miguel sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a moment of silence, he looked up at the spot above your head before his gaze settled on you, making it appear as though he almost looked down at you as he spoke.

"Every Spider-person's life is connected, woven together in this... beautiful web of life and destiny. It's called the Arachno-Humanoid Poly-Multiverse," Miguel explained.

As you blinked in bewilderment, a look of pure confusion crossed your face. Miguel, looking annoyed, glanced away before sighing.

"Or... The Spiderverse, if that makes it easier," he muttered. "It's easier if we just—Ugh. Lyla, do the thing!"

[Huh? What thing?]

Miguel's stoic expression melted into one of confusion and borderline bewilderment. He shook his head, clearly perplexed, and turned to glance at Lyla, ‘’What- What do you mean ‘what thing?’ The information, explainy thing!’’

[Oh, okay!] Lyla responded.

As the blinds fall over the window again, you jump in your seat, and suddenly the room transforms from pitch black to a display of red laser-like shapes forming in front of you. The shapes resemble hundreds, if not thousands, of small webs, all interconnected. Each one takes the form of a small heptagon with tiny images inside, depicting various events. However, the images are too small to make out clearly, and Miguel mumbles something about it being easier to show in the "big room."

You lean forward, engrossed in his explanation. "These nodes," he points them out for you, "they're where the lines converge; they are the canon. Chapters that are a part of every Spider's story, every time." You watch as Miguel leans forward, his eyes shifting from one node to another as he speaks.

"Some good..." He looks over at another node. "Some bad..."

"Some very bad." He stops at the node in front of you, his gaze shifting up to meet yours.

"That's how the story's supposed to go. The canon events are the connections that bind our lives together," Miguel said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched you. "But those connections can be broken. That's why anomalies..." He looked away from you, his expression turning bitter, "are so dangerous."

"In universes where versions of us meet and become... close, our relationship becomes a canon event, an event that always has and always will end with one of us dying. You weren't supposed to survive in your universe," he explained solemnly.

"Do I always... die at the same time?" you ask, your voice tinged with sadness and confusion.

"No. Sometimes you... we—" Miguel hesitates, searching for the right words, "Versions of us begin lives together. Some get married, some have children, and some... some die before even making it as far as you did," he says, bitterness evident in his voice.

"And now, because that story has changed, you have become an anomaly. Which means that if you return, your dimension will begin unraveling. And there is no stopping that," Miguel explains, his tone somber and resigned.

"What..." you say, distraught.

"It's what happens when you break the canon,"

"Then why... why am I alive? Why did you save me?" you ask, eyebrows furrowed.

"Because I... I found a way—a way to save you," he responds, his expression serious, but a hint of melancholic determination gleaming in his eyes, as if just speaking those words aloud was an act of defiance against some unfathomable force.

"How many other versions of me have you saved?" you ask, his gaze remaining on you for a moment before faltering, and he looks away, seemingly feeling ashamed.

"None. You are... you are the only one I could save," he admits.

You silently watch him, trying to process the weight of what he had just revealed, whether intentional or not.

"That's why you can't go back. If you break enough canons, we could lose..." He gestures, and you watch as nodes begin to crumble, causing the entire web to slowly disintegrate. "Everything."

"We...?" you question, seeking clarification.

Miguel let out a tired sigh, scooting forward and reaching for your hand. You flinched at his touch, and he looked up at you, his frown slowly softening as you held out your arm. He lifted your sleeve and showed you a small red spot, the mosquito bite you had gotten a few days ago.

"For you to survive, you..." He trailed off, his thumb running over the spot slowly. "There can only be one Spider-person in every dimension. If, for whatever reason, another person becomes one, then they also become an anomaly. At that point, one of the spider-people either dies, or the dimension itself collapses. Sometimes, it's both."

Your eyes meet as he holds onto your arm. "For you to survive, you had to become... an anomaly. Instead of you dying, you became an anomaly and then got removed from that dimension. Things change without tipping the scale, without breaking the canon."

"An anomaly... You turned me into a Spider-person?" you gasp.

Miguel silently watches you. "Not exactly... I injected you with—"

"Wait! So, Miguel could die? I mean, if there can only be one Spider-person, what if the universe or dimension or canon, or whatever it is, doesn't realize I'm gone? It could still kill him?!" you interrupt, your concern and anxiety evident in your voice.

[I have run hundreds of statistics, and so far, none show any dimensional rupture or damage. The canon has technically not been broken, only altered. The end results are still the same—only one Spider-man, only one of the two of you in the dimension.]

‘’This was just some test to you? You’re risking Miguel's life, my entire dimension because of what some AI calculated?!’’ You stand up abruptly, staring down at Miguel.

[Hey!] Lyla objects, clearly offended.

‘’As long as you don’t go back and interact with that dimension, it should be safe,’’ Miguel leans forward, looking up at you with a hint of a smile on his face. ‘’You were— are, a scientific miracle. A breakthrough never thought to be possible. However, if something does disrupt your dimension, it’s our job to try to fix it. We’re not always lucky, but—‘’

You leap over the small coffee table between the two of you, aiming for the collar of his suit. Miguel swiftly captures your wrists in his hands, holding you firmly in place as you glare down at him, tears welling in your eyes.

‘’You sick-‘’ you hiss, baring your teeth at him, your nails digging into his hands.

‘’y/n, you were going to die. If not you, then your Miguel would have. You can hate me as much as you want. I didn’t make the rules, you think I’d want this…?’’ Miguel's voice wavers slightly, his eyes reflecting a mix of guilt and desperation.

In that moment, the anger inside you clashes with a sudden wave of overwhelming sadness and helplessness. You struggle against his grip, but Miguel's hold remains steady, as if he's trying to protect you from yourself.

‘’You should have just let me die,’’ you glare at him, and he looks at you, his eyes widening in surprise, ‘’At least then my dimension, my Miguel would have been safe.’’

‘’I... couldn’t...’’ Miguel mumbles, staring into your eyes, his own welling up with emotion.

‘’Why?!’’ you ask with tearful eyes, glaring down at him, your heart heavy with frustration and grief.

He watches you silently for a moment, his expression pained, before his eyebrows knit together, and he pushes you back against the couch, releasing your wrists as you fall back. ‘’No more questions for today. Lyla, get her something to eat. I have a headache.’’

You continued objecting, ignoring Lyla's attempts to distract you with food recommendations and takeout options. Your mind was consumed by the weight of the revelations, and the internal struggle left you feeling torn apart. Miguel eventually left, locking the door behind him, leaving you alone to process everything that had been revealed.

Unable to find solace in the chaos of your thoughts, you finally dropped down against the couch, pulling your knees up into a fetal position. The tears welled up again, and you cried yourself to sleep, exhaustion and emotional turmoil taking its toll on your body and mind.

---

In the following days or weeks – time seemed hazy in this new dimension – you settled into a monotonous routine. Conversations were rare, especially with Miguel. Sleeping on the couch, facing away from the room, you woke each morning to find a comforting blanket placed over you. Emotions churned as you grappled with the reality of being an anomaly here. Memories of home and loved ones tugged at your heart, while uncertainty and vulnerability clouded your mind

As days passed in the unfamiliar dimension, you grew closer to Lyla. Despite your attempts to ignore her, she proved to be persistent and engaging. She spent time with you, sharing stories and anecdotes, breaking through your emotional barriers.

During a conversation, you discovered that she had been "observing" you for quite a while. While it felt like stalking to you, she insisted it was part of her duties. After a two-hour debate, you agreed to disagree.

Lyla's presence became a source of solace in the disorienting dimension. She became a friend, easing the burden of being stranded far from home. In this vast multiverse, her companionship reminded you of the need for friendship, someone to confine in, someone to speak to.

She reminded you of Gwen…