#i seem to see things slightly differently than like. every other person on earth

[buildarocketboys]

:// feeling down and bad about myself for no reason, send nice messages if u want?

[hyunsvngs]

𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞-𝐚-𝐡𝐨𝐞! - spiderman!han jisung x fem!reader

wc: 11.1k

cw: han jisung is spiderman, a brief attack of an alien in school, both characters are 18+ (legal) but are intended to be in high school, friends to lovers, jisung calling mc baby at any given moment

synopsis: you’re obsessed with spiderman, but after a certain event takes place, you become convinced your best friend and spiderman are the same person.

a/n: after a long wait… HEHE smut warnings under the cut and as usual 18+ MDNI!!!!!!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: brief mention of masturbation (both), oral (fem!rec), slightly switchy both parties, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, loss of virginity (both), cumswapping, relatively tame given that its me

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re intrigued.

Interested seemed like too little of a word to use for how you feel whenever you see the latest news report. In a world full of superhuman serums and bulletproof skin, he is still intriguing. Maths homework could be ignored, as far as you’re concerned - and that’s bold for you, because you love maths. You wonder if he likes maths, too.

Every night at 6pm sharp, you settle in front of the television and wait for the news. Spiderman, the hero in question, is always up to something. He loves shooting his webs across the tallest skyscrapers in the city, dangling from them precariously without a care before he lets out a loud, earth-shattering giggle and beats the newest bad-guy that your world has attracted. You always wince at the reports, wondering just how he healed from the injuries he must sustain. It had to be down to the spider venom, you supposed.

“He’s dangerous,” Your dad huffs. He’s lounging on his normal armchair, peeling leather be damned, munching on a bag of crisps. You grimace at his crisp covered digits motioning towards the television. You love your dad, really, and your mum - you just always differed in opinions when it came to Spiderman. He was so fucking cool, and you seriously feel like a child saying that all of the time, despite your best friend Jisung telling you that we all have our interests. “I mean, he’s putting normal civilians in danger. Friendly neighbourhood Spiderman my ass.”

“Honey,” Your mother admonishes, digging through her own bag of crisps. You briefly consider why you haven’t been offered one. They look tasty, when your father isn’t rubbing luminous orange dust onto his previously crisp white shirt. “You know she doesn’t like it when you say bad things about him. He- what was the word again, baby?”

“He intrigues me,” You mumble, pretending to erase equations from your homework. Your cheeks blaze crimson when your mother hums in agreement, nodding triumphantly to your father. You wish you could be as sassy as her sometimes. You’re more timid, hiding behind oversized hoodies and Jisung. He is a lot more confident than you, more loud and exuberant - you suppose that’s why he had adopted you as his all those years ago.

Your mother had been best friends with Jisung’s aunt, Sohee. She’s just like Jisung, zipping around the place at an insane pace to offer you snacks and drinks at every second. When you and Jisung had first met in preschool, you’d been drawing patterns in the mud with your grubby little fingers, hiding from the bullies. He’d criticised your drawing. He helped you fix it, though, chubby cheeks puffing out with a grin when it was good enough for his taste. Looking back now, that behaviour was so Jisung, but your mother had been delighted to find out that you’d already met her best friend’s son.

It had been easy becoming friends with him after that. Every day, he’d drag you by your wrist and take you to the yard, insisting on doing your co-operative drawings together. The teachers had a fit everyday on the state of you two by the end of your break, but your mothers had loved it, taking a million and one pictures a second. He stuck up for you both to the teachers, and then he stuck up for you to the bullies and it was like you’d known each other since birth. Inseparable at the hip, you’d been glued together throughout preschool, primary school and now high school - it doesn’t look like you’re getting rid of him anytime soon, either. You’d applied for the same colleges.

You don’t particularly want to be rid of him anyway. He’s alright, really, and you had a bit of a girly, high school crush on him. You would rather jump off of a building like Spiderman sans the webs if anyone found out.

Another thing Jisung is good for is listening to your rants. He waits for your call every night after the news had been on, and you clamber on your bed obediently after the report finishes to press on his contact.

“Jisung!” You squeal. There’s a lot of feedback on his end, and you hear a low ‘shit, fuck, oops, oh God’, until there’s a loud thud and he giggles, chiming through your tinny phone speakers. “... Ji? Are you okay?”

“Yep, sorry, baby,” He sounds out of breath, but you smile when he speaks anyway. Whenever he calls you baby, his designated nickname for you, it makes your heart flutter and you have to grimace to ignore it. His face pops into the little square designated to him, his cheeks blushing pink and round eyes wide. His hair is slightly damp, from what you’re not sure - but he looks cute. “I just got home. I was- I was running some errands for my aunt.”

“God, she’s got you running like crazy lately,” You mumble, still jotting down numbers on your homework. It’s taken you hours, but you always get distracted on nights like this. “Did you see it?”

Jisung hums, and then you hear him groan. He’s stretching, slightly toned honey-skinned arms appearing above his head in the plain oversized t-shirt he’s wearing. You try not to stare. “Did I see what?”

“The- the news, Sungie,” You feel shy mentioning it so outright. It is a weird interest, a weird thing to be obsessed with - Jisung often reassures you that it really isn’t, and his anime obsession was a lot worse. It was. You sigh, clearing your throat. “Spiderman. He was- he was super cool tonight.”

“Ooh, was he?” Jisung teases, chuckling when you groan in protest. “I’m only playing with you, baby. I saw it. He was super cool, wasn’t he?”

“Ha-ha, super cool, ‘cause he’s a superhero. You’re funny.”

“That’s why you keep me around,” Jisung chirps. “Hey, have you done the maths homework? I haven’t had time, because of the errands, y’know.”

“Hmm, yeah, I’m almost finished,” You aren’t. You’re far from it, really, but he doesn’t have to know that. “I can let you copy it tomorrow morning, before class.”

“No, that’s alright, baby. We can just cross-check our answers tomorrow,” His voice sounds tired, but you don’t comment. It’s better not to question Jisung when he’s like this.

His aunt has him doing a lot these days. You haven’t wanted to ask about it because you know it must be tough for her to look after Jisung since his parents passed, especially when Jisung is always going at full speed and is probably seconds away from giving his aunt a heart attack. He was always clumsy as a child, too, snapping his glasses in half and having a few broken bones to tell long stories about. He always means well, but sometimes you wish that he had something else to get his energy out of his system rather than stressing his aunt out.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Jisung, surely you know who Spiderman is, like, underneath the mask,” Seungmin quips through a mouthful of dry, government regulated school food. “You spent all that time with Bang Chan in the internship.”

Seungmin is a lanky boy that just came along one day and decided to be yours and Jisung’s friend. With him, he brought a younger, smiley guy named Jeongin, and Jeongin brought Felix. Felix is just Felix - nothing else can describe him. Before long, you’d found yourself in a de facto group of misfits that you weren’t even sure you could call friends. Apart from Jisung, of course.

Jisung simply raises an eyebrow in response to Seungmin. “I mean, sure. I met Mr Bang a few times, but I never met Spiderman. Not out of his suit, anyway.”

You gasp. Jeongin startles from the nap he was taking on the cafeteria table, raising his head to look at you angrily. Felix pushes his head back down from the hood on his jumper and Jeongin immediately falls back to sleep. “You met him in his suit?”

“Well, yeah,” Jisung shrugs. When he turns to look at you, your mouth is agape, feeling slightly betrayed. Jisung shoves another spoonful of cheese - was it really cheese? - pasta into his mouth, and then he’s sighing. “It’s not a big deal, baby. If I really met him, the real him, you’d be the first to know. I promise.”

“You still got that fat crush on Spiderman?” Felix chirps. You meet his amused gaze with your own steely glare, pouting over your packed lunch.

“It’s not a crush-”

“It’s an interest,” Jisung clarifies for you, and you smile. He’s always jumping to your defence like that. You bite into an apple, savouring the crisp, fruity taste on your tongue, and then the bell rings. Sighing, you watch as the boys around you get up - including Jeongin, fox like eyes bleary from sleep - and swing their bags on their shoulders.

“I’ll see you later,” You murmur to Jisung, who throws his arm around your waist in a quick hug. “Enjoy English.”

Right. You and Jisung didn’t have the same classes. He has English now, and you have chemistry, which is probably your least favourite of all classes. You just weren’t a fan of the whole blowing shit up scenario, unlike Jeongin was, and the boy trundles behind you towards your chemistry class.

The class is boring. The teacher drones on and on about some experiment you couldn’t care less about, and you pretend to care. You’re taking notes, sure, ever the diligent student - but you can’t get anything other than Spiderman out of your mind. Jisung met him, and didn’t tell you, and who even is this guy? You’d love to know. You’d love to just see him, even once, just to be able to tell the story.

A massive crash stops the teacher’s speech. He turns to the door, confused, and the students do the same. You do too, furrowed eyebrows staring at the door. Another crash causes people to begin to rise, and the teacher starts ushering everyone out of the class to the closest exit route. You’re frozen in confusion and fear, pencil halted in your fingers, even as another noise makes the teacher run out behind the class.

It’s quiet for a moment, and you’re still sitting in your seat, eyes wide and heart racing. Then, you spring up to follow the rest of your cohort, sneakers squeaking against the tiled floor as you run to the door. Swinging it open, you stick your head out the door and look around, trying to see if the coast is clear. With a planet full of interdimensional attacks, you can’t be sure, and looking left leads you to see a scaly, large animal type of thing. You squeak, startled, and immediately retreat into the class before it notices you. What the fuck do you do? What are you meant to do?

The whole room begins to shake, and you have a feeling the creature’s getting closer. Beakers are thrown to the floor from the vibration ringing throughout the room, glass shattering loudly, and you feel like you’re about to scream, or cry, or run, and you can’t run.

Doing the only thing you can think of, you cower to the floor, hiding underneath a table donned in smashed beakers. You’re curled up in a ball, watching students standing outside murmuring and discussing their own safety, and then the shaking stops.

The door swings open. Everything outside the classroom is too intimidating, items being thrown everywhere, and you can’t even bring your legs to move with how badly they’re shaking. Who’s just walked in? You pray for Jisung. You pray for someone who’s going to help you hide, someone who’s going to keep you safe, and then-

A masked face pops underneath the table. He’s lithe, slender, but the tight red and dark blue suit highlights the hint of abs and sculpted biceps on his body. Holy fucking shit. Your eyes widen. Spiderman is in your school.

“Are you okay?” His voice is deep, but it sounds almost like someone putting on a deeper voice to hide their identity. You nod hesitantly, and then he’s extending a gloved hand towards you, pulling you out from underneath the table. You’re unable to speak. Once you’re standing in front of him, you notice he’s around a head or so taller than you, but definitely not as tall as you thought he’d be. He sighs, chest heaving with panic. You suppose it must be pretty tough work fighting aliens from outer space. “I’ve webbed him up for now, but it won’t hold much longer. Go- please, go and run. Please, anywhere, just- go and hide, or run.”

“I-I-”

“Promise me, b- um, you. I can’t let you get hurt.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “I- Yes, I promise, I’m going to- I’ll go, thank you, thank you-”

“Wait, no!” He shouts, rubbing his temples - or at least, you’d imagine he was but he’s just rubbing the mask in frustration. You watch as he bounds over to the window, kicking it open, and the students outside turn to the classroom in awe. You’re rooted in place, as if vines are circling your ankles and securing you to the floor, mouth agape. You wait for him to give you further directions, and you gasp when he runs back over to you, picking you up and carrying you over to the window. You feel light as a feather, and all you can think is how he’s even carrying this amount of strength in that small body. “Too risky. Outside.”

“O-Outside?” You stammer, cheeks bright red, and he nods. He leans to place you out of the window, delicately placing you on your feet, and then he speeds off, shouting a quick “see you later!”.

You blink. You can hear the noises of walls breaking and windows shattering as Spiderman fights, and Felix runs up to you from the crowd outside and slings an arm over your shoulder. You’re still staring inside the classroom as if you can see through walls and watch the fight. What did see you later mean?

What’s the likelihood, honestly? You knew he was the friendly neighbourhood guy, and all that, but why not Bang Chan, in his sleek nanotech suit? This was a big fight. You find yourself getting worried, biting your nails in concern for the man you don’t even know. You have to remind yourself of that. He saved you because you’re any other citizen, not for any other specialty - you don’t know this guy.

“C’mon, over here,” Felix ushers you over, tone soft. When you’re with him, Seungmin and Jeongin, he sighs, rubbing your back. “Crazy, right? At least you can say you met Spiderman now.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Jisung is safe, thank god. You kind of feel guilty for not worrying about him at the moment, but he’d text you shortly after, saying he’d left just before it all kicked off because he felt a little under the weather. He wanted to make sure you were okay, though, so he texted you as soon as he could. You’d never admit the blush that rose to your cheeks when you read it.

It’s quiet in your room. Your parents had sprinted to you as soon as you’d come through the door, having seen the situation on the news, and you’d reassured them that Spiderman had saved you. It definitely changed your dad’s perspective of him, and now you lie on your bed feeling more than relieved.

Your fingers tap on your tummy in thought, though. He was making his voice deeper, that much you could tell, but why? How was he there so quickly? There’s no fucking way he was a student. Still, that body in the tight suit… you’d definitely been looking. You’re a woman, of course you were going to look. He had a figure enviable to every man. Broad shoulders, abs just slightly visible, strong legs that carried you over to the window…

In your dreamlike fantasy, you’re considering something you previously never would’ve thought of. What if Jisung was underneath that suit? Now, that would be perfect. Both of your crushes being one being, Jisung pulling that suit up his lithe thighs and letting it settle over his broad pecs.

Before you know it, your hand is dipping under the hem of your pyjama pants, unable to feel guilty for thinking about your best friend in this way. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time, with many of your nights spent whimpering into your pillow and coming apart on your own fingers wishing they were his. He had such nice hands… What if it was him who had grabbed you from underneath that table? Your hand trails down to find your folds, slick and ready for whatever you had in store, but you focus on your clit, swollen and aching between your bottom lips. Would he finger you in the gloves if you asked, let you ride his abs in the suit until completion? Would he kiss you upside down, hanging from the-

A tap on your window makes you jump. The room is dark, save for your bedside lamp, and you turn rapidly to see a faceless figure just about popping in from the corner. You yank your hand out of your bottoms, squeaking, and then you squint to try and see the figure closer.

Holy shit. Spiderman is at your bedroom window.

Your cotton tank top is revealing, so you turn immediately to reach for your dressing gown and tie it around your figure. You pad over to the window in your socks, still wide-eyed and completely baffled, and then you turn the handle to allow him access. What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” You blurt, toes curling against your floor. Spiderman swings inside instead of responding, walking around your room like he’s been there a million times before. “No, seriously, what the fuck?”

He turns to you, shrugging. “I said I’d see you later, didn’t I?”

You blanch. He did say that, yes, but that still doesn’t explain the million questions you have right now. “Well, yeah, but- how do you know where I live?”

“I- uh, found it in the school office,” He hops up onto your bed, sitting cross legged. His mask hides his face, but he hums in pleasure at the feeling of the bedsheets on him. “After the fight, I went in there. Glad you’re okay, by the way.”

He’s still making his voice deeper, and you blink, nodding in response. “I’m great. Can I- can I ask why you’re here?”

He shrugs again, fiddling with a loose thread on your duvet. “No reason. Got bored. I was swinging around and remembered I saw your address on the computer.”

“Right,” You shake your head, still baffled. Instead of questioning him further, you jump onto the bed in front of him and copy his position, cross legged. “Don’t you have, like, recovering to do? I heard you got beat pretty bad.”

“Nah, no way,” He scoffs, rolling his neck. You suppress a smile. Cocky. “Spider venom, y’know? It repairs everything super quick.”

You were right. You can’t suppress a smile at his response, clicking your fingers at his masked face. “I fucking knew it! I guessed it was the venom.”

He stops fiddling with the duvet, turning to you and tilting his head in question. “You’re smart, aren’t you? Hey, are you the one that’s friends with that kid?”

You narrow your eyes. Jisung’s a liar. If Spiderman knows who he is, that means they’ve met more than once, and Jisung lied. You reach for your phone, ready to bitch him out via text, but Spiderman knocks your phone out of your hand. You turn to him, confused.

“Talk to me,” He whines. “I told you I was bored!”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, damn. Yes, I’m friends with Jisung. Why?”

“No reason,” He wiggles forward on your bed, grabbing your hand. You’re confused, but then he launches you into an intense thumb war, one that you were never going to win. Everytime you go to move your thumb in response to his, he’s got you pinned, and before he speaks again you’re five rounds down. “He’s pretty cool, right?”

“Who?” You ask, still focusing on the thumb war.

“Jisung,” He clarifies, clearing his throat. Making his voice that deep must be taking its toll on his vocal chords. “He’s kinda cool. Super smart, I thought.”

“He definitely is,” You laugh when he pins your thumb down again, swatting at his wrist to get him off of you. “He’s smarter than me.”

“And, uh,” He clears his throat again, leaning back on your bed. Leaning back like that, you have a full view of his body in his suit, and you have to stare at the posters on your wall to avoid looking at him. He puts his hands behind his head, the full picture of relaxation, and you wished he’d stop throwing you this random curveball behaviour. “Is that all you think of him? Just smart?”

You blush, finally reverting your eyes to him. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean… Do you have a crush on him, or?”

“Who wants to know?” You bristle, playing with your hands in your lap. You look down at your chipped nail polish, awkwardly shifting on the bed in your pyjamas. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“No one knows who I am,” He responds easily. “I want to know. Tell me. Do you have a crush on him?”

“I’m not telling you that-”

“I’m bored!” He whines again, sitting up. You let him grab your hand again, pulling your pinky finger into a promise. You swear you see the mask smile. “Tell me!”

“Okay, damn,” You sigh, exasperated. Was he on molly or something? Are you dreaming? “I guess so. I guess I always have, yeah, I don’t know. I don’t think he’d ever like me like that.”

He coos at that, taking your hand in his. It’s strangely comforting. “Why not?”

“He’s- well, I don’t think I’m good enough for someone like him,” You admit, scratching the back of your neck. “It’s awkward. He’s my best friend. It would ruin things, and I guess I’ve never let myself think about it like that.”

“You should,” He hums. You blink, staring at him. What the hell is he on about? “I just mean you should. Maybe he likes you too, y’know? I like my best friend. I’d love to know if she likes me back.”

“You do?” You wiggle closer, eager to know more. “You like your best friend? What’s she like?”

“Well,” He strokes your hand again before pulling away, leaning his chin on his hand. “She’s super pretty. Smart, too. I’ve known her since like, forev- for a few years, I think, in total.”

“It’s kind of the same with me and Jisung,” You sigh again, pouting. “I’ve known him for my whole life, basically. I’m just scared it’ll ruin things, but I think about him a lot when I’m on my own.”

He snickers. “Really? Like when you’re doing what you were doing when I got here?”

You swat at his shoulder, blushing bright red. “Shut up, oh my god! I thought you- shut up. Just don’t.”

“Maybe he thinks about you then too, I don’t know,” He shrugs nonchalantly, and then he’s getting up and pacing around. You watch him fiddle with a few photo frames on your desk, humming at ones of you and Jisung when you were younger and even fiddling with a few of your academic medals and prizes. “I won’t tell him, by the way.”

“You see him often?” You ask, voice soft. “He said-”

“Nah, I’ve only seen him once or twice,” He stretches his arms above his head, still staring at your desk full of trinkets. “He doesn’t know who I am.”

“Can I know?”

He turns to you. “Know what?”

“I want to know who you are,” Your voice is confident, but you feel anything but, teeth chewing your bottom lip nervously. “You saved me, and now you’re in my bedroom. I feel that I deserve to know.”

He sighs loudly this time, walking towards the window. “When we get to know eachother better, maybe.”

“Wait, hang on,” You watch him sling a foot out of the window, exasperated. He can’t leave! “Where are you going? I thought you said you were bored-”

“Things to do, baby,” He replies quickly. You blink. That ‘baby’ sounds awfully familiar, and you stand up quickly to walk towards the window, but he’s already webbing away. “Bye!”

You stand there, shocked and confused. He’s swinging from building to building away from you, and you’re just standing there like an idiot. You were interrupted before you could even start touching yourself, forced into a thumb war and coerced into admitting your deepest, darkest secret, and then he just… leaves? Just like that?

Your life is proving to be a little more interesting than you thought, but your dreams were filled with familiar round cheeks beneath a red and blue mask.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Baby, is there a reason why your eyes are burning holes into the side of my head?”

You’re convinced your best friend is Spiderman. There, sitting beside you with his glasses sliding down his nose and comfortable in a grey hoodie and pink Hello Kitty pyjama bottoms on, it’s hard to believe. But you’re not stupid.

First of all, since he started that internship with Mr Bang, he’s been weird about letting you inside his room. This is the same person that you had many sleepovers with growing up, and as recently as a few months ago you’d been cuddling in bed together watching Howl’s Moving Castle. He has something to hide, but you’d been let down when you’d arrived at his house earlier and shouldered past him to find literally nothing of suspicion inside his room, other than an anime girl mouse pad with the boobs to rest your wrist on. You knew that existed though, ever since his birthday last year when Felix had gifted it to him, so what gives?

Secondly, Sohee is more stressed out than ever. You’d caught sight of her flitting around the kitchen when you arrived for your homework friend-date, scrubs on and ready to head to the hospital but still panicking about something. Jisung said multiple times that he’d been helping her out more and that’s why he’s been so busy lately. She shouldn’t still be panicking.

Thirdly, Spiderman wouldn’t make his voice deeper to you unless you knew him. He wouldn’t need to, or you wouldn’t recognise his voice - unless it’s a habit he’s picked up, perhaps. That doesn’t change that the way he called you baby last night sounded a little bit too familiar, too comfortable. It came out of his mouth like second nature.

Still, it makes no sense. Surely Jisung would have told you? You’re his best friend, he said so, so he’d tell you. Or would he? Maybe Felix knows. You’re also hoping deep down that it isn’t true, because if it is, you told your crush last night that you liked him.

You can’t even be mad at Jisung for it. He’s still staring at you, and you’re staring blankly back while shoving snacks into your mouth. There’s crumbs all over your homework.

“Jisung,” You begin, and he hums in response. “Would you tell me your deepest, most serious secret if I worked it out?”

He chokes on his energy drink, spluttering neon blue liquid all over his bed. You want to giggle, to make fun of him, but you’re sure you’ve gotten somewhere here. He wipes his mouth, clears his throat, and turns back to you. His hands are shaky where they clutch his textbook, and his eyes are almost blurry through the glasses. “I tell you everything anyway.”

“I don’t think you do,” You respond, quick as a beat. He blinks, lips parting. “Not by that reaction, Jisung. I think you’re hiding something from me.”

He scratches his nose with the end of his pen, looking down at the textbook again. You raise an eyebrow. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“Okay,” You hum. He sighs, scribbling something on the paper. It’s so quiet in the room that you can hear his pen scribbling, but you’re speaking again before you can even think. “Did I tell you Spiderman came to my room last night?”

He gulps audibly. “Nope.”

“Yeah, it was kinda weird,” You take a sip from your energy drink, still staring at him vacantly. Jisung’s eyes flit up to you, and then back down to the textbook. Oh, he knows. He knows that you know. He knows that you know that he knows. “He saved me in school, when that alien thing was there, and then he came to my room and asked me about you.”

“He, uh- really? Did he?”

“Mhm,” Your gaze is steely. “Jisung, I know you’re Spiderman.”

Jisung bursts out laughing. It would be believable, but you’ve known him since you were four years old and it’s a fake laugh. He’s cackling, loud as brass, and he lets out a little “ooh” afterwards as if he can’t believe you. “Baby, that’s the craziest theory you’ve ever come up with.”

“Is it?” You question, head tilting to the side. Then, in the smartest moment you’ve ever had, you pick up Jisung’s energy drink from the floor. He’s still looking at you, a fake smile on his lips, and you take a sip from it casually. Sharing drinks isn’t new for you. You glug back the artificial blue raspberry flavour, and then keeping eye contact with him, you let go.

Before the can is able to fall and spill the rest of its contents over your own textbook, and inevitably Jisung’s One Piece bed sheets, he reaches out and grabs it, hand wrapping around the can, quick as a flash. It all happens in about a second, and you gasp. Jisung gasps. His hand tightens around the can and it crinkles, an impossible show of strength, and then he’s blinking at you. You raise an eyebrow.

“I knew it.”

He puts the can safely on the bedside table, and then he’s slamming his textbook shut. You watch in confusion as he paces back and forth on his bedroom floor, running his hands through his hair over and over.

“Okay!” He points at you, victorious. “That was a reflex. I knew you were going to do that, I’m smart, duh! I knew you were going to drop the can to prove something, and-”

“Jisung,” You say, voice soft. He stops pacing, sock clad feet rooted on the carpet to stare at you. You’re going to get him. You’re going to get him good. “Do you not want me to know? Is that what this is?”

He immediately falls to the floor, head resting on your knee as he looks up at you. You can’t even feel sorry for him, because your plan is working perfectly. His eyes are round and vulnerable, and then he clenches them shut in distress. You think he’s probably a second away from crying. “Baby, it’s not that. I wanted to protect you. It would be dangerous if the bad guys knew who you were, knew that you knew, and I know I shouldn’t have come to your room, that was wrong of me, and-”

You giggle. Jisung furrows his eyebrows, eyes opening. “I knew I was right.” He gasps, pointing at you again.

“Judas! You’re a judas!” He’s shocked, leaning back on his haunches and staring at you. “I can’t- I can’t believe you, that was so-”

“Sneaky? Good? Smart?” You list, leaning back on his twin bed. He stands up, hands on his hips. You’re ready for him to bitch you out, but you don’t care - you knew that you had to know, had to have it confirmed. He taps his foot, and then you see a smile break out on his lips.

“Okay, yeah, that was pretty good,” He hums, returning to the bed. You let him shut your own textbook and sprawl across you, head in your lap. “I’m sorry, baby. I should’ve told you.”

You sigh, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. “That’s okay, Ji. It’s fine. I’m just a little embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? Why?” Jisung asks, his eyes fluttering shut from the feeling of your nails on his scalp. You want to scoff. Embarrassed for two major reasons - one, because you’ve been gushing about how cool Spiderman is for weeks, maybe even months, and two because you told Spiderman last night that you liked Jisung. Spiderman and Jisung are the same person. Sure, it makes things easier. You no longer have a crush on two people, only one, but it doesn’t change the fact that Jisung knows and is yet to say anything.

“I’ve been talking to you about Spiderman for weeks,” You blush, pushing his hair off of his forehead. He whines, thrashing his feet and shaking his head like a dog to hide his forehead again. He’s so dramatic. You like him so bad. “And- and you- it was you, then. You came to my room last night.”

“Yeah, that was risky,” He responds, exasperated. “I just had to, baby. I don’t know, you always seemed so interested in Spiderman and not me. I needed to know if you saw me like you saw him.”

You pause your movements on his head, blinking at the wall in front of you. When you turn back to him, he’s blushing, teeth gnawing his bottom lip. His eyes are conveniently staring at the window, away from you.

“Jisung,” You start, hesitant. “What do you mean?”

He sits up sharply. “Wanna go on the roof?”

“T-The roof? Jisung, how are we gonna- oh. Oh.”

Jisung jumps up from the bed, toeing his sliders onto his feet and pushing the window open. It gives you deja vu - that same figure was pushing the window open just like this to place you safely outside in school yesterday, and then he was coming through your window to see you late at night. It’s hard to believe that they’re the same person, the man you admired so much and your best friend who’s standing by the window expectantly waiting for you to join him.

You hesitantly stand up, brushing off imaginary crumbs from your joggers and looking at Jisung. He smiles, a soft, reassuring smile, and then he’s scooping you up from the floor and wrapping your legs around his waist. It’s slender, the plush flesh of your thighs almost obscuring it, and you squeak in surprise at being in the air.

“I- Jisung?!”

“You have to hold on tight,” He says. His face is inches away from yours, plush lips looking more than appealing and his glasses making him look so endearing. “I need my hands for this, so hold onto my shoulders.”

You nod, face blushing crimson at the realisation of just how close you are. Would he have you like this if he fucked you? Legs around his waist, hands on his shoulders, his face so close to yours as he pants and whines and moans-

You squeak again when he slides out of the window, and then you see him in action. His hands stick to the outside of the apartment building, feet kicking up against the concrete wall. Your heart is racing so badly it feels as though it could burst out of your chest, but you’re not sure if it’s because of the height or because you’re tightly pressed against Jisung.

When he swings you both over the side ledge on the roof, you notice the sun’s set already. Time always goes by quickly with Jisung, but the stars are already out, and the air is crisp and biting against your limbs despite the layers. Once he’s safely stood on the roof, he places his hands underneath your thighs and detaches you from his firm body, placing you on your feet.

You’re disorientated, shocked at the sheer height of the building and at the way Jisung seems to be swinging you around like it’s nothing, but he’s simply staring at you. A wide smile stretches from ear to ear, and he blinks when you don’t say anything. “It’s cool, right?”

“Y-Yeah, super cool,” You admit, chest heaving. “Really high up, but cool. Jisung, why are we on the roof?”

He’s wrangling you, hands on your arms and pushing you to the floor. It feels firm, but with what you now know about him, you know he’s holding back. He plops down next to you, eyes wide and expectant.

“I wanted to do it properly,” He begins. He pauses for a moment, licks his lips, pushes his glasses up his nose, and then he’s speaking again. “I like you, so that’s why I asked. Is it romantic up here? It feels romantic, but I’m not too sure-“

He stands up and begins pacing around the roof before you realise he’s even moved. You raise an eyebrow. “Jisung?”

“I wanted to do this right, y’know?” He pauses, hands on his hips. He looks comical, trying to assert dominance over you like that in those Hello Kitty pyjama trousers. “I- I wanted to swing by and like, grab you, or something? But then you worked it out, and now I’m just standing here with you on a roof…”

He continues mumbling like a mad scientist, eyes focused on a spot next to your head. You stand up, making your way towards him, and he still refuses to look at you. He likes you back. He likes you back, and he’s still your best friend - he’s still Jisung, but he’s also Spiderman, and you’re okay with that. You don’t have to like two people. You only like one, and it’s your goofy best friend.

“Is this even romantic? You know, we could just forget about it and-“

You press your lips to his. He doesn’t make any form of surprised noise, only cupping your cheeks with his hands and pulling you close to him. His glasses bump against your face, his lips pouty against yours and plush and maybe a bit too wet for a first kiss, but you’d always figured he’d take it too far. That’s what you like about him. Jisung never does anything by halves.

It’s brief, too brief for your liking, but then he’s pulling away with a satisfied grin on his face. You blink. Wait.

“Wait, your stupid- your stupid spidey things. Did you know I was going to kiss you?” You pout, and he giggles. “No, seriously! Could you like- I don’t know, feel it coming?”

“Not until you were like, a few inches from my face,” Jisung admits, and his teeth gleam in the brilliance of the evening. “I had a feeling you might.”

You sigh. “So why didn’t you stop talking?”

“Dunno,” He shrugs. “I couldn’t stop once I started.”

The statement is so true to Jisung, so in character for your best friend that you can do nothing but accept it.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It’s easy to fall into a different routine with Jisung.

He never asked you to be his girlfriend. You’re pretty sure you’re fine with that, though - things have had a natural manner of progressing, and now your best friend slash boyfriend slash superhero turns up at your window every night after he’s been on his neighbourhood patrol. Sometimes he’s a little bruised, and sometimes he’s just looking for consolation kisses.

It’s a normal night for you when it happens. Jisung’s halfway out of your bedroom window on his way to perform perfect justice, pulling his mask down over his annoyingly beautiful face. You’re standing a few feet away grinning like an idiot.

“I’ll see you later, my baby,” You can see his grin through the mask. The eyes on his mask form beautiful crescent moons with his happiness. He falters, legs swinging on your windowsill. “Wait. I am coming back here, yeah?”

“Of course,” You giggle. He sends you two fingers in a mock salute, and you watch him begin his journey up the wall to your roof. A beat passes and you’re still standing there, smiling, hands on your hips, and then the masked head of your best friend pops back down into your window, upside down, tilting to the side in confusion. You blink, confused. “What is it, Sungie?”

“Well, where’s my goodbye kiss? Damn,” He huffs, and you roll your eyes playfully. You make your way to the window, sock-clad feet padding on your carpet, and you pull his mask down to his eyes with two fingers. It miraculously stays on his head, and his lips form a teasing grin.

Despite him being upside down, you place a chaste kiss to his lips, and you watch in amusement as he swings away afterwards. You can still hear him giggling with glee from a few buildings away.

It’s a few hours later when he comes back. You’re flicking through a book for English, scrawling notes and highlighting words on sticky notes. It’s started to rain, and the city lights only look brighter in the dusk with the pattering of water on your window. You left it open, of course, for your superhero, but the cold air bites at your arms even through the fluffy blanket you’ve got wrapped around yourself.

Just as you’re beginning to contemplate closing it, a louder, more prominent tap hits the glass. When you turn to the window, Jisung is slouched against your windowsill, chest heaving beneath red lycra and forehead pressed against the glass. He’s got his mask between his teeth, and his hair is dishevelled, floppy brown locks obscuring his eyes. You can still catch sight of the bruising on his cheekbones and you gasp, rushing towards the window.

You drop your blanket in shock, but you swing the window open, pulling Jisung inside with one hand. He stumbles through, disoriented and confused, and you lead him to sit on the edge of your bed.

“Got hurt,” He explains, huffing out a breath. The mask drops from his teeth unceremoniously, with a wet plop to your carpeted floor, but you don’t care. You rush to sit next to him, fingers gripping his chin to pull him to face you. His eyes are round, sincere, and he gives you a soft smile. “It’ll heal before long, baby, don’t panic.”

“I am panicking,” You say, resolute, because you really are. Bruising is scattered across his cheekbones, fading into green on the plush of his cheeks and his lip looks like it had been burst, but is already healing. “Will it- will it take long? Do you need me to get the first aid kit, or-“

“Baby,” He shakes his head, grabbing your hands. You watch with parted lips as he leans forward, both of you cross legged on the end of your bed. It reminds you of when Spiderman first visited you, when you weren’t quite sure of his identity. Jisung presses his forehead against yours, and you let him look into your eyes. It’s like he’s demanding everything that’s ever gone through your head to be vocalised. You’d tell him if he asked. “I’m really okay. I’m a little shaken up, but I’m fine. Most of it is on my ribs from falling, to be honest.”

“Your ribs?!” You shriek. “Show me. Let me see, I need to help you-“

You’re already trying to wrangle Jisung out of his suit, and he giggles, clearly thinking this is all just some game. He holds his arms up pliantly, though, and you don’t have the thought processing ability within you to realise that Jisung’s suit is an all-in-one and you’re currently stripping him down to his boxers.

The suit is wet too when you drop it to the floor, and before long you’re blinking at your best friend in his plain black boxers and he’s grinning at you as if this is any other day. There’s no bruising on his ribs. You’re staring at his abs, regardless, so you’re not sure you would’ve even noticed.

“You look fine.”

“I told you it heals quickly, baby,” He grins. You blink when he wriggles on your bed, laying on his back and stretching his arms above his head again, this time to get comfortable. His legs stretch out too, and you avoid looking anywhere below his waist.

His body is a spectacle. You can’t stop looking. Broad shoulders taper off into an extremely defined chest and a tight, thin waist adorned with prominent abdominal muscles, before reaching a v-line that leads into his boxers. You’re wide eyed, wanting nothing more than to reach out and run your fingers down his honey toned skin.

“Why-“ You cough, clearing your throat. Jisung raises an eyebrow. He’s grinning from ear to ear, teeth gleaming. “Why did you let me strip you if you’re literally fine?”

The bruising on his cheek is already fading. He shrugs nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his chest. His biceps bulge with the movement and you think you might choke on your own spit. “You seemed pretty determined, so I just allowed it. You wanted to see me naked, I assumed, so-“

“Jisung!” You wail, slapping his shoulder. He groans in pain, catching your hand, and he grits his teeth with a hiss.

“My shoulder! Fuck, that hurt, ouch, baby! What was that for?!”

You gasp. He clutches his shoulder, letting out little pants of hurt sounding noises. You let your head fall to his chest, engulfing him with a hug. “Jisung, I’m so sorry-“

“Hehe,” He giggles. When you look at him, he’s sticking his tongue out, completely fine. You groan, annoyed you fell for it, and then he’s grabbing your forearms and pulling you upwards on top of him.

Your breasts press against his chest like this, due to your lack of bra in your sleep shirt, and his eyes widen when he feels it. Instead of letting you go, his hands move to your back, encompassing you in his strong hold.

You gasp, wiggling in his grip, and he licks his lips. His eyes go to your lips, and then back up to your eyes, as if he’s hesitant.

“I-“ He begins, faltering. “Are you my girlfriend?”

You scoff out a laugh. “I don’t know, am I?”

“I hope so,” Jisung admits, his facial expression vulnerable. His eyes dart to something behind you, as if he’s not sure, almost shy. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him shy. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask, but I want you to be, if you want to be.”

“I want to be,” You nod. He nods in response, and you watch his eyes flicker to your lips again. It’s silent for a moment, and then he leans in, pressing his lips against yours.

The kiss is more charged than usual. Before now, you’re used to chaste, fleeting kisses from your superhero, but now he lets his tongue tease against the seam of your lips. Your eyes flutter shut, and his eyelashes brush against your skin where he does the same. You let your lips part, and Jisung’s quick to grip your back harder, tongue darting inside your mouth with impatience.

You’ve made out with someone before. You’d never had sex with someone before, but you had made out with someone. It was only once at a party when you were a little bit younger but it had felt like a good idea at the time. You’re sure Jisung’s lost his virginity though, but when he whimpers against your lips and his hips squirm a little you’re not too sure.

You pull away from the kiss, lips a little wet, and Jisung’s mouth goes to your neck. You allow him to suck a mark into the expanse of skin just underneath your jaw, his fingers grabbing impatiently at your back. “Sungie, are you a virgin?”

Jisung pulls away, licking his lips. You feel something hard pressing against your thigh where you lay on top of him. You’re thanking every entity ever that your parents are out for a work dinner. “Yeah, I am. I would have told you if I wasn’t,” He confirms, a little breathless. His hips wiggle again. “Is that- is that okay, baby?”

“Yeah, of course,” You smile, comforting. You peck his lips again and he grins back at you. “I am too.”

“I know,” He responds, quick as a flash. You blush. That’s embarrassing. “No, I just mean- you also would’ve told me, y’know?”

“That’s true,” You shrug. You’re feeling a little overconfident, and you move in his hold, having felt it gone a little lax with your kissing. You let your thighs spread over his hips, his hard shaft pressing against your core through your pyjama bottoms and his boxers. You still feel it, though, and it makes your pussy gush a little. “Is- is this okay?”

He’s blushing. His lips part, and he nods, perhaps too eagerly because he clutches his neck afterwards like he’s got whiplash. “Baby, you’re- I have a pretty girl in my lap. This is so okay. Like, so okay, I might have a heart attack and die, probably.”

You shift, and he winces. “Sorry,” You say. It’s a fake apology. You want to swallow his cock down your throat until he cries, and you don’t even know how to. You’d try your best though. “If I lost my virginity, I’d want it to be with you.”

“Damn,” Jisung whistles, eyebrows raised. “Let me hit?”

You giggle, tilting your head to the side. “I’ll let you hit right now, Jisung.”

Jisung shoots upwards into a seated position. His eyes are wide. “Right now?”

“Right now,” You confirm. You go from straddling his lap to laying on your back on your bed in a flash, and Jisung looms over you, all tight, toned muscles and broad shoulders.

“I’ll make it so good, baby, I promise,” He says, and then he’s kissing you again. It’s even messier this time, lips pressing against yours over and over and his tongue adding a collection of spit to the mix. You let your thighs fall apart, his hips quick to fill the space and press his cock against you. His hands go to your waist as he kisses you, sucking and biting on your lips until you’re whining with it, but he doesn’t let up. He’s desperate, messy, and it’s only making your pussy drool even more.

The rain hits the window still, cooling off a little but still providing a calming effect to your room when combined with the orange-pink of your lamp. He inches his palms up your shirt, the softness of his hands surprising you, and then he’s pulling away from your mouth to yank the fabric over your head.

You’re left in just your pyjama bottoms, lips kiss bitten and nipples pebbled against the cool air of your bedroom. You never had shut your window, after all.

“Oh,” Jisung says, exasperated. You finally open your eyes to see him staring at your tits, and you think he might be drooling. “Oh, yeah, my baby. They are so fucking good.”

You almost laugh, but you’re cut off by your own strangled moan when his pouty lips engulf your right nipple. He sucks on it, hard, and when your back arches he lets it slip out of his mouth with a wet popping noise. It’s only a brief moment of reprieve before he’s letting his teeth skim along the bud, and you keen, fingers moving upwards from his shoulders to grip onto the pillow behind your head.

“Oh, that’s so- Sungie, baby, that feels good,” You whine, and he hums against your breast. When he moves to the other one, he tweaks your wet nipple between two fingers. It’s experimental, but the whole thing is, and you buck your hips up impatiently.

His hands move to your ass, scooping underneath you and making you grind slightly against him. The movement makes him moan, your nipple leaving his mouth. A string of drool attaches to his lips and his tongue lolls out lazily, and before you can process it, he’s grinding his cock into your clothed centre.

“Oh- oh, fuck,” He whines, eyes clenching shut. You whimper in response, arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Baby- baby, baby. Baby, I’ve thought about this so much, I- fuck, you’re gonna feel so good around my cock.”

His words are so crude that they make you keen, nodding enthusiastically. “I thought about it too. I- I touched myself thinking about it, Sungie, did you?”

He gasps sharply, and there’s a fumbling between your legs. He rocks backwards on his haunches, and you see him gripping his cock impatiently underneath his boxers, fingers wrapped tight around the base.

“I will literally cum if I imagine that,” He huffs, breathless. “But yes. I did, many times, and- and- baby, can I see your pussy?”

It’s so bold that you can’t say no. You never would have dreamed of saying no anyway, and you nod, wiggling your bottoms down your legs. You never wear a bra or panties underneath your pyjamas, and your pussy is revealed to him in all its drooly glory, folds sticking together with your arousal.

Jisung’s jaw goes slack. You watch him jerk his cock, eyes fixated on your wet hole, and you shift impatiently.

“I showed you mine, Sungie,” You huff. “Show me yours.”

He nods, eyes still glued to your pussy. Your clit is swollen with arousal, some wetness stuck onto it, and you reach down to trace your fingertips over it absentmindedly while he pushes his boxers down. His cock slaps up against the bottom of his tummy, cockhead leaking beneath his foreskin, precum slicking the smattering of hair at his base. His balls look heavy, shaft swollen and fat between lithe thighs, and you can’t help but go a little googly eyed at the thought of him stretching you out.

He grabs it, pumps his cock a few times while you rub your fingers over your clit. “Is- is it okay, baby?” He gasps, cock leaking steadily in his fist.

“You’re so sexy, Sungie, ‘s so big. I- oh,” You whine, spreading your arousal over your folds. You prop your feet up, letting your legs fall wide, and the movement must expose your soppy hole to Jisung because his eyes widen even further. “I want you inside of me so bad. I’ve wanted it for so long, I just- shit, Jisung, what are you-“

You’re cut off by him diving between your legs. His cock is forgotten, his hands looping around your ass again to spread you wide, and his tongue presses against your core. He moans at the taste, and you whimper out loud, head rolling against your pillow. It’s messy and you can tell he’s inexperienced, but when he sucks your clit between his lips you can’t find it in you to care.

“Oh, oh- baby, baby! You’re good at that, so good at that, baby,” You babble, trying your best not to grind up into his mouth. His mouth is just as wet as your pussy, his lips drooling all over you. You’re cut short when he flattens his tongue against your core, moaning out loud, and his hands move your ass just a bit. “I- you- Sungie-?”

“Grind on my face, baby, c’mon,” He murmurs, muffled by your folds, and you oblige. Your hand goes to his hair, yanking on the dark brown strands, and you hold him in place while you grind your pussy senseless on his tongue. Your boy is good with his mouth, you realise - he’s pliant, letting you make yourself cum on his tongue and lips, and after only a few grinds you’re sure you’re going to fall apart for him.

“Ah! Ah, oh, baby, your mouth is- Sungie, Sungie,” You whine, feet kicking on the bed. Your legs go flat, but as the pleasure builds up in your core, your thighs tighten around his ears. He likes this, moaning loud to the point the vibrations make you jolt. It’s all so wet, your pussy dripping with arousal and his saliva, dripping down to your asshole. It has you wondering if Jisung would eat your ass further down the line, and your eyes flicker to his - would he let you eat his? He probably would, with how submissive he’s being.

His hips buck downwards on the bed and he keens into your pussy, and you realise he’s humping your mattress. He’s so desperate for you that he just can’t help himself, and you moan, loud and unabashed. The sight has you hurtling towards your orgasm.

“I’m gonna fucking cum, baby,” You warn, and he finally lets up, pulling back to suck on your clit. His hand moves over to the top of your pussy, pulling your mound backwards, and the exposure of your clit directly to his lips is your downfall. You wail, bucking your hips into his mouth, and you can hear yourself talking and moaning but you’re not sure what you’re saying, only able to feel your hole gushing into Jisung’s mouth over and over.

Jisung licks over your clit a few times comfortingly, and then he’s on top of you again, face looming over yours. His right hand holds him up steadily and the other stays downwards, hooked on your thigh to keep you open.

“You taste delicious, baby,” He grins, mouth wet. When he presses his lips to yours he’s desperate, tongue darting into your mouth to let you taste your own cum. You let your hands fall to his chest, fingernails digging into the muscles. The filthiness of it all has you wriggling around impatiently again, and Jisung’s cockhead slips against your clit, making you whine into his mouth. He pulls away, gasping for air with the sensation, and you kiss the beauty spot on his cheek for good measure. “Baby. M-my baby, shit, can- can I fuck you now? Have you got a condom, I- shit, I need to fuck you?”

He’s breathless, giggling at his own desperation, and you nod eagerly. You’re on the pill, and realistically you’d want nothing more than him to creampie you, but you have a shred of logic still left in your brain. “No condom. I- I don’t have any, can you pull out? I know it’s not-“

“Don’t care,” He huffs, legs moving to prop himself up more securely. His knees dig into your bed, and he pulls your thigh further apart, letting his eyes fall down to your pussy. His face is more than pornographic when he sees the visual of his cockhead sliding through your folds, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted. He lets his eyes flutter shut, a small profanity leaving his mouth. “You’re sure I can fuck you raw? I- please, p-please, baby. I need to be inside.”

“Jisung,” You whine. He lets his tip bump against your clit again, and you grow too desperate, reaching down yourself to grab his cock. The feeling makes him whimper, his fingers ripping into the pillow beside your head with his superhuman strength, but you’re too out of it to care. You position his cock by your hole, soppy and wet with your own cum, and he can’t hold himself back - he pushes in, all of it at once, a long, anguished noise leaving his mouth. “Oh. Oh- Oh, Jisung, that’s-“

“Is it okay? Are you okay?” Jisung asks, breathless. “Does it hurt? I- baby, baby-“

He’s still completely stationary, but he can’t stop talking, chest heaving and flushed pink. You shake your head. It doesn’t hurt. You’re wet enough that he glided in so easy, stretching your pussy in the most pleasurable, delicious way. You didn’t think it would ever feel this good, but you’re sure it’s because it’s Jisung.

“God, is it- does it feel good?” He questions you, and you nod eagerly, hands moving to rest on his biceps. He repositions you both so that your legs are wrapped around his waist, his arms holding himself up over you, and the movement has him sliding deeper, making you whimper. “Can I-“

“Fucking hell, Jisung, can you just move?” You huff, annoyed, and he giggles. He shakes his head fondly, and then he’s thrusting into you, slow but steady.

“Oh, that’s good,” He slurs, eyes rolling back into his head. “That pussy’s good. Jesus, you’re- you’re tight on my cock, baby, like a fuckin’ vice.”

“Your cock is so good,” You whine, trying to fuck yourself back on him. Your pussy is so wet that every thrust makes an audible noise, ringing throughout your room. If anyone walked past now they’d hear the debauchery, and you’re not sure you’d even care. “Fuck, Jisung- Jisung, you’re big. Please, please, more, I need more!”

“Okay, okay,” He moans, and then his hips speed up. His balls slap against your asshole with every thrust, his cock pistoning into you at a pace that has you wailing. The headboard slams against the wall. “Oh, fuckin’- baby, this puusssy.”

“It feels so good. Your cock is stretching me out so good, baby-“

“Fuck, wait,” He whines, pulling out sharply. When you look down between his legs his cock is painfully hard, and his pubic hair is drenched with you. The sight makes you even more eager to get him back inside of you, but Jisung grabs the base of his cock tightly, his chest heaving. “I- I’ll cum if you talk like that. Fuck, this is so embarrassing!”

“I want you to cum,” You insist, leaning up on your elbows. Your pussy is still leaking steadily onto your bedsheets, and you make grabby hands at your boy to try and get him back inside of you. “You made me cum so good in your mouth, Sungie, c’mon. Make yourself cum with my pussy.”

“Oh my God,” He moans, eyes half lidded, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re dirty. My fucking dream, holy shit.”

He leans over you once more, pushing his cock inside of you. It slides back in easily with another wet noise, and you moan, smiling with delight. “Mm, fuck this pussy, baby, c’mon.”

“I- fuck, okay,” He keens, nodding. His teeth bite into his lower lip almost painfully, and you kiss his neck while he starts to fuck into you again. With a quick reposition you let your thighs fall apart and further back, and his cock starts to hit your g-spot incessantly. He pulls away from you, head lolling into your neck. His breaths fan over your skin, hot and heavy. “You’re so wet, why are you- how are you so wet, baby? This pussy, fucking- I’m gonna cum. I’m so close, I’m so close, please-“

The shred of logic has left your brain. His cock feels so good, thick and pressing inside of you. You have to let him do it. “Baby. Baby, do y’wanna- I’m on the pill, baby,” You say, breathless. His pace stops, hips halting, and he makes a confused noise. “Cum inside. Creampie this hole, Sungie, I know you want to.”

“Oh my fucking- baby? My baby, can I?” He wails, head pulling up to look at you. You catch sight of tears brewing in his eyes, glassy and unshed. “Baby, please, I’m gonna cum, please, where-? Baby?”

“Inside of me, Sungie,” You wrap your legs around him, pulling him inside of you, deep. You know he could get out of it if he wanted to, but he doesn’t, hips starting to pick up inside of you again. It’s fast, desperate and he keens, nodding. “You gonna fill me up, yeah?”

“Yeah. Y-yeah, yes, oh- I’m gonna fill you up,” Jisung’s words are slurred, quiet, and you let him fuck into you over and over. With a sharp noise, his hips slow once more, and you feel a rush of additional wetness inside of you. It’s warm, and you run your fingers through his hair while he fucks his cum inside of you. “Fuck. Baby, you’re so good to me, so good. Lettin’ me breed your cunt, and- and- oh. I’m still-“

He’s still cumming. It floods out of his cock and into your pussy steadily, and you giggle, feeling sated. Your delighted state of mind only lasts a second, because he pulls out sharply and wiggles down on the bed, attaching his mouth to your cunt. He’s eating his own cum out of you.

“Oh! Oh, Jisung, you’re- you’re dirty, Sungie, ah-“ You whine, fingers moving to his hair again. He licks you over and over until you’re wailing with it, your own tears brimming in your eyes from the overstimulation. Your hole feels stretched, a feeling you’re sure you could get used to, and you shake through a second orgasm.

Jisung’s quick to lean over you again, and then his thumb moves to your chin. He opens your mouth firmly, spitting your combined release into your mouth, and you moan, letting him press his tongue between your lips afterwards.

It’s messy and you let him kiss you for a bit, slow, languid, passionate kisses that have your core almost throbbing for more, if you weren’t so satisfied. Jisung’s soft cock presses against your tummy, wet with your combined arousal, and then he flops down next to you with a huff.

“God, I could go again,” He admits, hand running through his sweat mussed hair. When you turn to him, he’s grinning from ear to ear, and you giggle. He looks at you with a satisfied expression. “You’re the best. That was literally like, the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life. Even more than when I win some fight against an alien, or something.”

“Alien?” You ask, and then you remember. “Oh, yeah. Kinda forgot about that.”

“You forgot about me saving your life?!” He shrieks, thrashing around on the bed in a tantrum. “Seriously, if I wasn’t in love with you I would- ah. Oh.”

You blanch, blinking at him. It’s easy to ignore that you’re both naked when he’s just dropped a bombshell on you like that, and you let out a giggle. “That was sweet. I’m in love with you too, for the record.”

You’re attacked in a flurry of kisses, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re sure Han Jisung intrigues you just as much as his superhero alterego does, so it’s easy to accept.

[missscarletrosesett]

Summary: Reader having a near-death experience after an argument with their lover

Warnings: arguments, yelling, near-death experience

Note: This took longer than I expected, I'm sorry for the long wait. I do hope you like it.

Tanjiro

You and Tanjiro got into a heated argument over each other’s safety while out on missions.

He being to reckless and getting himself injured in almost - no every mission. Causing you to be worried sick about him.

And you being the thoughtful lover you are and nursing him back to health and protecting him sometimes, taking the injury he was meant to receive.

Since he is very kind and patient with people these fights would be very rare.

Scenario Below

You were at the Butterfly Estate tending to Tanjiro’s wound for who know how many times this month, but you were getting sick of it.

While yes, you were a Demon Slayer, you often helped out a the Butterfly Estate.

Tanjiro was sitting on the edge of the bed in the infirmary room, watching you tie up his wound and you accentdentily tied the bandage around his wound too tight resulting in Tanjiro letting out a small his of pain.

“Sorry.” You apologized.

You continued to dress his wound efficiently and thoroughly. When you were done you got up to leave, but was stopped by a hand grabbing yours.

You looked back and saw Tanjiro grip your hand in his slightly tighter but not in any way it could hurt you, a most in a sad, in a need of comfort way.

“Are you angry, or upset?” He asked you. “The scent you’re giving off, it’s different.”

You being the kind-hearted person you are put your usual smile on your face. “Nothing to worry about, Love, everything’s fine.”

You went to remove your hand from his but it didn't budge, in fact, Tanjiro’s grip got tighter unknowingly to him, causing you to wince in pain. “Tanjiro, you’re hurting me.”

“Why are you lying?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

Your breath hitched at his words as your eyes grew wide. “The scent you’re giving off is far from your usual.”

You finally got free of his grasp and held your hand close to your chest. “Fine. If you really want to know then here’s the truth. I hate it. I absolutely hate it when you return with more injuries than the week before. No human could handle that! Especially, I.” You let your frustration out.

Something seemed to snap inside Tanjjro at that very moment as his eyes grew wide with surprise. “Y/N, I...” He started. “At least I don't jump in front of people without knowing the risks!”

Your eyes widened in shock, hearing his sudden change in tone. This was not Tanjiro. Never in a million years would you think to see him angry.

“That’s a bold-faced lie m, and you know it!” You shot back.

“Let’s say that’s true. I’m only doing that because I don't want to any more people whom I cherish!” He yelled back.

“Me too!” your voice slightly broke. “You don't know how much it worries me every time I see a new injury. It sickens me.”

“Maybe I should just go.” You said as tears started welling up in your eyes.

“Y/N, wait!” He called out to you, but it was too late you had already left.

It had been weeks since you last talked to Tanjiro, and all of your friends were worried, but that was the last thing on your mind at the moment as you were battling a Demon.

The Demon in question could control the earth minerals, so it was quite troubling.

“You’re fast, but not fast enough!” The Demon said as their voice was bouncing all over the place. You couldn't tell where their voice was coming from so you couldn't tell where they would attack next.

The next thing you knew, you saw the Demon coming at you. You were caught off guard, so you didn't have time to react.

Now you were on the ground in a pool of your own blood seeping out of you. The damn Demon manipulated the ground underneath you, preventing you to move your feet when they attacked.

What was it called when you're in this state? Your life flashes before your eyes? Yeah, that was it.

Oh, how you wish you didn't have that fight with Tanjiro, just the look on his face in the state you're in is all you imagined.

“Tanjiro... I'm sorry.” You said with your final breath before slipping into the realm of the unconscious.

You slowly opened your eyes only to be met with the blinding rays of the sun and the ceiling.

You slowly sat up with your aching body, covered in bandagescand looked around and notice you were at the Butterfly Estate.

You heard soft snores coming from the side of the bed. You looked down and saw Tanjiro resting his head on his arms on the edge of your bed.

You gave a small smile to the sleeping boy beside you and placed a gentle hand on his head.

The gentle eyes you loved so much soon fluttered open to be met by your own.

Tanjiro’s eyes went wide and shot up from his previous position and just stared at you as if he was seeing a ghost.

“Y/N...” Tanjiro breathed out.

You gave him a small gentle smile and took his hand in yours and gave it a light squeeze. “Hello.”

“Y/N!” He bursted into tears and hugged you. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please don't scare me like that again!”

You returned his hug and nuzzled yourself in his neck as he soaked your shoulder. You were happy to be in the arms of who you love again, a feeling of safety.

Zenitsu

This poor boy will already be in tears the moment you two start arguing.

It would probably be nothing but a silly argument between you two, so there was no real yelling, but it was sure as hell tiring.

Scenario Below

“Zenitsu, please.” You begged the crying boy who was currently in the Butterfly Estate AGAIN.

“But Y/N, it's disgusting!” Zenitsu Cried, clinging to you for dear life with snot running out his nose.

Currently, you were trying to persuade the yellow lightning boy to take his medicine, but he wasn't cooperating.

The Butterfly Girls tried everything to try to get him to take his medicine but to no avail, so hence why you're now here.

You let out a deep sigh of annoyance, you were on the verge of being done with him. “Zenitsu, please...” You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“No, you can't make me!” Zenitsu was now full-on screaming.

That's it. That was the last straw for you. “Zenitsu, if you don't take your medicine right now, I'm leaving!” You yelled at him.

“No!” He refused again.

You pried Zenitsu off you and made your way to leave and slammed the door behind you.

“Waah! Y/N, come back!” Zenitsu cried out, falling out of bed.

Out of all the Demons, why did you have to get this one? It was annoying as hell, it was starting to get on your nerves.

It was dashing around in the shadows, taunting you in the process.

Its dashing style reminded you of a certain yellow-haori boy.

Now you were regretting leaving him without saying anything, even if it was just a petty fight.

“I have you now, you filthy Demon Slayer!” You heard the Demon's Voice from behind you.

The Demon’s claws stabbed into your back, causing you to wince in pain, but before you fully succumbed to your injuries, old and new, you swiftly decapitated the Demon.

You slowly opened your eyes and winced in pain as a surge of pain welcomed you throughout your back.

“Y/N?”

You heard your name being called.

You turned your head a little to see Zenitsu in the bed beside you.

“Zenitsu?” You said his name, your voice hoarse.

“Y/N!” He lepted out of his bed in onto your own, clinging to you, crying. “Thank goodness you're okay! Tanjiro and Inosuke found you injured after your crow sent out for help. I thought the worse when I heard!” He wailed. “I promise to take my medicine!”

You somehow managed to sit up and smiled down at Zenitsu.

Now the two of you were stuck in recovery together and you couldn't ask for more.

Oh, how you adored this boy.

Part 2 Part 3

[photo1030]

Leather and Lace - Chapter 17:  Feelings Revealed

PART 3 - THE GRAND GESTURE

Summary: Arthur leaves camp in search of something to repair your relationship. But meanwhile, you are getting closer to leaving altogether.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter 

*I’ve seen this image in a few different places, but not sure who owns it. I downloaded it from wallpaperflare.com. If anyone knows who specifically owns it, let me know so I can give photo credit.

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*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people. 

Arthur fidgets slightly in the worn saddle as Buck’s hooves clop in the mud below. The sloppy, wet sound creates a white-noise in the back of Arthur’s mind as he nears the town of Rosewood. He can see the edge of the town with its filthy white-washed buildings quickly approaching on the horizon line. The sun’s rays cause the image of the structures in the distance to waver and blur in the heat waves, causing the town to look even more depressing than it is. He’s never been to Rosewood and all he knows of it is what he’s heard from you. And based on that, Arthur already hates it. An irritable sigh involuntarily escapes his ribcage. He has half a mind to burn it all to the ground out of spite, just for you.

He spurs his horse on as he swallows the hateful bile in his throat and heads into the town. It is a makeshift traveling town for the railroad; a greasy little industrial thing. It’s dirty and smells of iron, oil and other disagreeable things. There seems to be nothing happy or pleasant about this place as he watches the people shuffling about. The people seem to move both with purpose and without motivation at the same time, like shadows that are tethered to a person and pulled against their will. Upon quick examination, it seems to be made up of a lot of cheap labor, probable criminals, and those who just simply want to disappear.

Arthur has a hard time picturing you here in a town like this. You must have been like a flower trying to grow out of the dry and barren earth, desperate for sunlight and refreshing rains to grow and flourish. It’s no wonder you fit in so well with his gang now. It makes Arthur angry to know you had to work in these conditions. His hands clench in and out of fists as his mind goes back to when he found you. The bastards that chased and beat you were from this damn town. They killed your father and were in the middle of assaulting you when Arthur put a bullet into each and every one of them.

His lips curl in disgust at the memory of it. His mind’s eye sees you curled up on the ground, face beaten and terrified, yet still trying to defend yourself like a wounded animal. The thought of it makes his stomach turn now just as much as it did then. It seems like a lifetime ago now. So much has changed since that day, and he hopes for the better for your sake. He’s still not 100% sure what he’s looking for here, but he hopes to find it quickly and get the hell out of here.

Now that he’s here, Arthur figures the best place to start is the hospital where you worked. Since that’s where you and your father spent the majority of your time while here, there’s a good chance he’ll find someone there who knows you. But first, he looks around, surveying the area from where he sits high on his massive horse to get an idea of what’s going on here. He always needs to know his “mark” and his “exit”. It's instinct to know your surroundings.

“This ain’t no damn job, you idiot.” He shakes his head at himself and his ever-paranoid ways. “Although, I suppose it kinda is,” he murmurs, looking about.

Arthur takes a calming breath as he thinks over his plan again. He’s hoping that he can find someone still here that knows you or your father and can offer something to bring home to you. Any token, any object, anything at all that may be a tie to your past or family. He’s broken your heart already, so maybe this would be the thing to mend it, as the memory of your father is your most treasured possession. Arthur is filled with both excitement and trepidation, causing his heart to sputter a bit in a reaction to both. If this works, you and Arthur will be on good terms again, maybe even more. He can’t screw this up.

With determination on his side, Arthur begins to walk Buck down the dirt street that runs the middle of the town. He tries his best to ignore the suspicious stares he’s getting from the townspeople. Like a reflex, his fingers reach up to pull his worn leather gambler's hat down over his tired eyes. His hand drops to his muscular thigh, inches from the revolver on his hip. Just in case.

Getting impatient from wandering aimlessly through the town, Arthur pulls Buck to a stop in front of a woman who is sweeping the front porch of, what appears to be, a feed store. Her hair is pulled back away from the harsh features of her face into a tight bun that makes her appear to be older than she really is. This is in no way helped by the unflattering gray frock that she wears. He nods in her direction, leaning over slightly in his saddle. “Excuse me-”

“Employment office is down the street, third building on the right.” The woman barks the statement at him, only giving him the slightest of glances before returning to her sweeping, her arms moving aggressively to remove the stubborn dirt on the worn floorboards.

“Uh, no. I’m looking for the hospital here.” Arthur’s eyebrow furrow, his frowning lips pressed together slightly at the rebuke.

“End of the corridor, turn left.” The woman’s response is just as quick and dismissive as the first.

“Thank you,” Arthur grumbles with an eyeroll and is quick to nudge Buck on further with no desire to overstay his welcome. But, now that he has a direction to follow, his spirits begin to pick up a bit.

As Arthur gets to the end of the mud-caked street, a largish building comes into view. It’s haphazard at best. It’s more of a barn than anything. It was probably a quick assembly job to get the building erected with the town growing so fast and the traveling citizens constantly pouring in and out. It’s bare wood, no paint anywhere. The windows sorely need to be cleaned, in fact one is broken out and boarded-over.

But, amid all of this depressing atmosphere, Arthur notices a small barrel by the main door. Turned over, it has been made into a planter with some deep violet wildflowers growing in it along with some bright green ivy-like vines cascading down the side. The vibrant pop of color catches his eye in this otherwise dreary place. Arthur smiles a bit at the sight of it, wondering if it was you who put it there. Seems like something you’d do.

After tying Buck to the hitching post out front, Arthur walks through the doors of the hospital. It is one large open room lined with beds, many already filled with patients; a sort of “post-op”, general-care common area. There is a large desk that is cluttered with papers in the immediate corner to his left, flanked by bookshelves, and towards the far back wall, he can see a hallway that probably leads to more private rooms for seeing patients. The room is fairly well lit with sunlight, considering the grime that coats the windows. The air smells of a nauseating mixture of bitter iodine and sweet chloroform, as well as soap and chlorine solutions. Arthur has to resist the need to cover his nose with his hand.  

His eyes scan the room and among the patients, Arthur sees a young woman about the same age as you, maybe younger, flitting about. With multiple things in hand, she tends to every person she passes. A nurse of some sorts, she works diligently as she hands a pillow to an older man in one bed, and checks foreheads and fixes blankets as she passes multiple others. She even pulls a small toy out of her apron pocket and gives it to a poor child who is laid up with a broken arm.

She multi-tasks around the occupants with purpose and determination; a seasoned veteran at this hard job. The woman reminds Arthur of a young Susan Grimshaw in that way. She has dark auburn hair, with long curls that are semi-contained with a ribbon behind her neck and vivid jade eyes that dart around, taking in every detail of her patients around her. The young nurse moves about the hospital ward as if she owns it. Intrigued, Arthur feels someone as important-looking as this must know something of you.

“Excuse me!” Arthur’s voice carries across the humming noise of chatter of the room full of patients as he lifts his hand in a slight wave to try to get her attention.

The nurse gives Arthur a quick glance, annoyed at being interrupted. “If you’re not bleeding, wait over there.” She gives a dismissive wave where chairs line the far wall behind him. “If you are bleeding, tell me how bad and then I’ll tell you where to go. Although it can’t be that bad if you’re upright.”

Arthur shuffles his feet slightly. “No, I ain’t hurt or nuthin’-”

“Then what do you want? I’m kinda busy here.” She motions to the beds surrounding her as she makes her way over to him, blowing a strand of hair out of her eye before her hands land impatiently on her round hips.

Seeing the nurse standing still for more than a minute, an older woman in one of the beds off to the side calls over with a faint and brittle voice. “Miss Darcy? Can I get a drink of water, please?”

The nurse turns at the brief distraction and gives the poor woman a kind and sympathetic smile. “Yes, Florence, of course. Just a minute, hon.” She then turns back to Arthur, flipping back to that same air of impatience again. “See? Things to do and people to take care of, probably more in need than you. Now out with it.” She waves her hand to encourage him to speak quickly.

Even though she is quick, Arthur can tell that this woman means no real harm or insult, but rather takes her job very seriously and doesn’t put up with any bullshit - something he can relate to.

“Did you know Dr. (Y/L/N)? Maybe his daughter (Y/N)?” Arthur asks carefully.

Arthur notices how Darcy instantly stiffens to his question, eyes going hard and giving him a distrustful side-eye glance as she sizes him up. “Who wants to know?” She bites back suddenly, almost protectively. “Who the hell are you and what do you want with them?”

“I’m…uh…a friend of (Y/N)’s,” he stammers, taking off his hat, running his fingers through his disheveled hair before fiddling with the brim and replacing it upon his head..

“Yeah, I bet,” Darcy says, scanning him up and down cautiously. “(Y/N)’s not here, don’t know where she is so you best move on.” She turns to walk away, quick to go back about her business.

“No, no, I’m not here for her,” Arthur adds quickly, reaching his gloved fingers to her arm before he loses her to the crowd of sick and infirmed. “I mean, I am here for her, but not to see her.” He’s flustered, panicking that he may lose his one opportunity to make this work. “What I mean is, I already know where (Y/N) is and-”

Darcy stops dead in her tracks, spinning back on him. “What the hell are you babbling on about?” she interrupts, holding her hand up to cut him off. Her expression quickly changes from one of annoyance to concern. “What do you mean you know where (Y/N) is? Where is she?!”

Arthur hesitates at Darcy’s intense scrutiny, not sure how to answer that. His face goes hard as stone, not sure how much he should tell this woman.

Darcy takes a few steps towards Arthur, her jaw clenching slightly and her cheeks flush a deeper shade of red with her impatience. “Look, mister,” her voice is serious and threatening. “She's my friend. Her father was killed by a bunch of assholes and then those same assholes were found dead. I need to know if she’s OK.”

“She’s fine. She’s with friends,” Arthur replies evasively.

“Friends, huh?” Darcy looks him up and down with a skeptic eye again. He’s been riding for two days and sleeping in the woods. He must look like quite the sight. It's no wonder Darcy doesn’t trust him.

“Yeah, friends.” Arthur regains some of his composure, remembering his purpose and locking eyes with the woman. God, she really must be a friend of yours, as she’s just as fiery and obstinate as you.

Darcy crosses her arms over her chest in defiance. “How do I know you even know her? You could be making this whole thing up.” She waves her hand at him.  “If (Y/N) is alive and well, how do you know her, then?”

Arthur gives a long-winded sigh bordering on a groan, thinking for a moment.

"She's got a way about her, can't quite describe it,” he begins, his eyebrows crease as he tries to find the words to explain himself. “It's like…she's a mix of both hard and soft; both hellfire and holy water at the same time. Eyes are beautiful, like you can see right into her soul, ya know? And she's got a mouth on her that won't quit, too," he chuckles softly with a shake of his head. “She don’t care who thinks what. And yet, she's still real gentle-like and caring.”

He pauses as he reflects deeper on you, his gaze relaxing and focusing on nothing as he retreats further into his own reverie.

“(Y/N) takes good care of our people, the whole lot of us. She keeps us patched up and looked after. Oh, and she's got the voice of an angel, too,” he adds, pointing his finger at Darcy as he just remembered yet another thing he loves about you. “She’s always singing and humming some tune or another.” Arthur continues to gush on and on like a love-sick teenager as this is really the first time he’s allowed himself to talk fondly about you out loud to anyone.

“We got a kid with us, a young boy. (Y/N) likes to play with him like she’s a little kid herself, don’t care how foolish she looks..." Arthur's voice trails off as images of you continue to jump and scatter about in his mind, flashing so fast that it’s hard for him to focus on one thing at a time.

He misses you so damn much right now. Not just physically being apart from you, but it’s the emotional distance between the two of you lately that’s taking its toll. He hates being at odds with you. This fight, this tension between you, is just too much. And he didn't realize just how bad until now. Arthur has come to rely on you for his very sanity, to help him start to make sense of the tumultuous world around him. Just walking beside you makes him a better man.

Arthur can’t wait to finish this quest of his, as he wants nothing more than to rush back home to talk to you immediately. It's odd how you can meet someone today that makes you forget all about yesterday and also have hope for tomorrow. It’s been a long time since he’s experienced that. His hand slowly comes up to rub along the back of his neck as he gets lost in his own head.

Eventually, he remembers where he is and refocuses, looking over at Darcy. Darcy watches Arthur as he goes on and on, reassessing the gruff-looking man standing in front of her, trying to figure out if she should trust him or not.

"Yeah, that sounds like her alright," she finally concedes as she softens and lets her guard down just a bit.

A blush dusts slightly across Arthur’s cheeks, as he clears his throat, and quickly changes the subject. "Look, you gonna help me or not?" he huffs out.

"Depends.” Darcy crosses her arms.  “What are you doing here?"

"I don’t really know," Arthur admits looking about, like he'll find the answer sitting in one of these beds. “I was hoping to find something of (Y/N)’s or even her father's, maybe? Something I could bring back for her." His voice drops to a soft yet hopeful sound, one that Darcy reluctantly finds endearing.

“Bring back to her where, exactly?” Darcy asks, raising an eyebrow at him. “What happened after she left here?”

“That’s another story for another day, I’m afraid,” Arthur sighs rather sheepishly, hoping to God she doesn’t get frustrated and just walk away from him altogether.

Darcy thinks for a moment. "Yeah, I think I have just the thing for you. I have to finish what I’m doing here, though. Meet me at the square in about an hour.”

Arthur can’t believe his luck!

“Alright, then.” He gives her a quick nod of thanks, a huge grin sparkling upon his face, before turning to head back out the door to leave her to her work.

Arthur walks out the hospital doors, and takes a moment as he stands next to his horse, looking about the town. An hour? What the hell is he going to do in this shithole for an hour? An hour seems like an eternity right now. A slow exhale pushes out of his nose as his lips draw inward impatiently. He tries not to be too disappointed, though, as he is one step closer to his goal.

Arthur decides to clean himself up a bit and grabs a bite to eat to kill time, trying not to think about the delay. And eventually, he makes his way to the main square to wait for your friend. Looking about, he figures she’s smart, meeting a stranger in a public place like this. Honestly, he’s surprised that she’s even agreed to help him. But truth be told, Darcy is more interested in helping you than Arthur. He just happens to be in the middle.

Eventually Arthur scans the crowds and sees Darcy walking down the street with something tucked under her arm.

“Still here, eh Mister?” She calls to him as she approaches, giving him a wry smile. Arthur only spreads his arms out wide in an exaggerated gesture.

“I never did catch your name, by the way,” Darcy mentions casually. “Suppose you could at least tell me that much?”

“Arthur”, he replies simply with a raised eyebrow.

“Arthur,” she parrots back with a grin and a nod of acceptance. “Well, nice to meet you, Arthur.”

After a brief moment, Darcy proceeds to pull the item from under her arm to hold it in front of her. It is a wooden box, sanded and varnished, and about the size of a shoe box. She looks down at it, placing one of her hands upon the top, one last hesitation as to whether she should trust this large, intimidating man whom she doesn’t know.  

“Here,” says Darcy with another grin as she hands the box over to Arthur. “I think this is what you are looking for.”

Arthur carefully accepts the item from her dry and cracked hands that are weathered from her work. He gingerly holds it, tilting it slightly as he looks it over. There are initials carved into the top, which appear to be your father’s. Arthur looks back to Darcy with a quizzical look.

“If you know (Y/N), and you’re here of all places, then I’m assuming you know what happened here in Rosewood.” Darcy gazes at the box as memories flood back to her. “I knew Dr. (Y/L/N). He was a good man.” She nods with conviction towards the box.

“When all that shit went down, it was chaos around here. The town’s people ransacked their little house, tore through the hospital here…” she shakes her head in disgust at the memory of it.

“Anyway,” she sighs, “I ran to his office and grabbed this from his desk. Kept it safe just in case they ever came back.” Darcy lifts her chin, gesturing towards the box. “Open it.”

Arthur lifts the lid with care and a small huff of a laugh pushes out of his nose, stunned at the contents. He finds several items carefully nestled inside the keepsake box, including a small silver locket on a thin elegant chain, your father's pocket watch, a family photograph, and your father's personal medical journal.

Arthur carefully picks up the locket charm, tiny in his massive fingers, and pops it open. Apparently this had belonged to your mother as an image of her and your father are secreted within.

Arthur replaces the locket in the box and takes the photo out next, gently holding it in his hand as if he is holding the very souls of the people in the image. He recognizes Dr. (Y/L/N) of course, as he helped you bury him after you fled Rosewood. But seeing him alive and young in the photograph makes Arthur wish he had known him.

Your mother is beautiful. Soft curls and large beautiful eyes that sparkle and draw you in, even through a photograph. There’s a delicateness to her that reminds him so much of you today. He doesn't know how, but Arthur can tell that you take after her. A warm feeling spreads across his cheeks, as if he is being introduced to the parents of the girl he's courting.

And of course, there is you in the photograph, very young, about 7 or 8 years old. You look like a sprite or fairy. Bright eyes, mischievous smile, and small for your age.

This is exactly what Arthur had hoped to find. And he is elated that this plan of his is going so well.

“Thank you, Miss Darcy, thank you kindly,” Arthur’s voice pregnant with overwhelming gratitude, as the crow’s feet around his eyes crinkle with his growing smile. “(Y/N) will be right pleased to see these.”

Darcy looks at him with a knowing smirk on her face. "You’re sweet on her, aren’t you?” Arthur’s eyes shoot up from the box to meet her suspecting gaze. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Arthur opens his mouth to speak but Darcy holds her hand up to shush him. “Of course you are," she declares before he can even deny it. "(Y/N) has that effect on people." She folds her arms over her chest in approval.

Arthur says nothing, only draws his lips inward and nods, as if being caught red-handed.

“Well, I hope she’s OK. And, I hope she’s happy, wherever she is. Lord knows this place wasn’t going to do it.” She waves her hand at the town around them. “I hope that you can make her happy, Arthur,” Darcy emphasizes.

“I will do my damnedest. I promise you that.” Arthur gives her an adamant nod.

“You better. Or I will hunt you down,” Darcy teases as she gives his shoulder a playful punch. “Tell (Y/N) I miss her.”

“I will.”

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

“(Y/N), I need to speak with you for a moment.”

You lift your head to see Hosea striding towards you with purpose in his step to where you are working in your med-tent.  You give him a small, tired smile as he approaches, brushing a stray lock of hair out of your face. “I have the medical supplies almost completely restocked-”

“Yeah, fine, fine, but I don’t want to talk about that,” he waves at you impatiently as he finally comes to a stop, his hands leaning onto the workbench. “I want to talk to you about Arthur.”

The mention of his name makes you freeze. Your jaw clenches to the point that your teeth ache. Your fingers drop the bundle of dried herbs that you are cutting and they slowly curl into the palm of your hand, causing your nails to cut into the skin there.

“No.”

Your firm response causes Hosea to halt dead in his tracks, not expecting you to flat-out refuse his request. His silver eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Excuse me? No?”

Your eyes suddenly turn dark as the corners of your mouth drop into a hard frown. You pull a long, deep inhale through your nose in an effort to remain calm. 

“I don’t want to talk about Arthur, Hosea. Not with the girls, not with Charles, and not with you.”

“Good,” he retorts sharply. “Then I’ll do the talkin’ and you just be quiet and listen.” Hosea’s voice carries that stern fatherly tone that instantly puts you back into your place. Like a child, you pout slightly as you turn your face away to avoid his disapproving gaze.

“Look, I know he’s as hard as a rock and stubborn as a mule, but Arthur cares for you, (Y/N).”

“You think I don’t know that?” you snap, your face turning again to meet Hosea’s.

“Then why in the hell you givin’ him such a hard time?” he shoots back.

Your palm slams onto your table as your patience breaks. “Because he can’t have it both ways, Hosea! I am not a some-time lover. Arthur can’t act like I’m his ‘special sweetheart’ and then go on to ignore me for days on end. He can’t repeatedly act like there’s hope for us to be together and then keep telling me it's never going to happen.”

Your eyes burn intensely, causing Hosea to back-peddle to a gentler countenance now, realizing that he’s just sparked a volatile powder-keg.

“You just need to be patient and give him a chance, (Y/N),” Hosea implores you, holding up his hands in surrender as if trying to calm a spooked horse.

Your chest tightens as if a vice grip is strangling it and you can feel the anger radiating off of your ruby-flushed cheeks. “I’ve given him many, many chances, Hosea, and he’s done nothing. Besides, don’t you think you should’ve had this conversation with someone else awhile ago?”

“Now look, girl, you know what we do here and why this isn’t easy for him,” Hosea points his finger accusingly at you in warning. “How can you be so harsh?”

“Harsh?!” The word huffs out of your mouth as if you’ve just eaten a bitter piece of fruit. The mere suggestion of such a thing is so ludicrous to you. “Ha!” Your eyes roll so hard to the sky, it’s amazing that they don’t fly right out of your head.

You give Hosea a sarcastic smirk. “You know, I’ve been with you all for awhile now, Hosea, and I’ve done my part around here as best I could. So I’m a little offended that you think so little of me. I know what you all are and I know what you all do. But I also know who you are.”

You stand taller now and pull your shoulders back, lifting your chin a bit in defiance, as your arms fold defensively over your chest in agitation.

“Are you and Dutch some evil masterminds or just two men trying to live wild and free in the world? Hmm?” Your eyes flash in challenge at him and Hosea tries to get a word in, but you just ramble right over him and he quickly hushes in submission.

“Is John some feral man, or some sad soul trying to overcome the hand he’s been dealt in his life? And Arthur…” You choke for a brief moment as his name crosses your trembling lips, your eyes wide and flashing. “He’s not the monster everyone makes him to be.”

You shake your head, taking a deep breath to draw the cooler air into your lungs to try to recollect yourself. You pause in your rant and Hosea mercifully does not say a word, waiting for you to finish.

“But it doesn't matter now.”

Hosea shakes his head incredulously. “Do you know where Arthur is right now, (Y/N)? Do you have any idea what he’s doing for y-?”

“I don’t care, Hosea!” you snap sharply again, holding your hand up to keep him from saying another word, as you are dangerously close to the edge of your sanity. “I don’t care where he is, or what he’s doing. Because I’m done with it! You hear me?” Your eyes sting, but at this point you have cried yourself out and have no more tears left to shed over this. “I’m done, Hosea. So just stop. Please.” Your voice becomes dejected and hopeless as your shoulders droop in defeat with that last syllable.

“Now if you excuse me, I have work to do.” Your hand involuntarily comes to cover your mouth as you push past him.

“(Y/N), C’mon now…” Hosea calls after you, disappointment clearly written all over his features.

As you hurry off, Hosea rolls his eyes to the pristine-white clouds floating innocently in the sky above and shakes his head, planting his old, weathered hands on his hips before lowering his gaze back to watch you walk over to Ms. Grimshaw. “Whatever the hell you’re doin’, my boy, your ass had better hurry up.”

You hate being cross with Hosea. You’d rather cut out your own tongue than to speak harshly to him like that. But you just can’t take this anymore. It’s hard enough trying to navigate around Arthur, but now you have to deal with everyone else as well. You had hoped that the old man would be your buffer to this fiasco. But of course, he’s going to take Arthur’s side. And by rights, he should, you suppose. He’s Arthur’s “father”, not yours.

With your face flush and hands flexing at your sides, you stalk over to Ms. Grimshaw, desperately seeking yet another distraction. That is one habit that you have definitely picked up from Arthur while you’ve been here:  when frustrated, you relentlessly throw yourself into work.

The matriarch is standing outside of her tent, looking over a recent newspaper in her hands when you call out to her.

“Ms. Grimshaw, do you have anything that you need me to do around here?”

The woman looks up at the sound of her name being called and gives you a scowl of impatience. “Oh, for the love of…Come here, girl. Sit down,” she orders, pointing at the chair outside of her tent.

Surprised by her annoyance, you meekly sit as you’re told to do, looking at her expectantly.

“Now, I appreciate your help as much as anyone,” Ms. Grimshaw says, trying her best to remain calm, briefly bringing her fingers to clasp the bridge of her nose in frustration. “But you’ve been in my face and up my ass for weeks now. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.”

“What do you mean?” Scoffing, you blink back at her.

“Don’t play innocent with me, Miss (Y/L/N).” With a reproachable glare, she pokes herself in the chest with her thumb. “I invented that game.”

After a moment, Ms. Grimshaw finally caves and gives you a resigned sigh. “Women get a raw deal in this day and age. I get it. You’re supposed to sit pretty and smile, and yet spread your legs and still be an angel.”

Her bluntness makes you blush a bit and avert your gaze. You’ve never had such a personal conversation with the woman.

She pauses before she continues, trying to be more tactful as she stands towering over you. “I know what you went through in Rosewood, what they did to you.”

The mention of your assault makes your cheeks burn red and you avert your gaze down again.

“Well, I suppose I had to toughen up pretty quick after that,” you respond matter-of-factly, not wanting to talk about that subject. Yet your voice carries just a hint of a quiver that is not lost on the woman. “A camp of wanted outlaws is no place for wallowing in self pity.”

“Yes, well, strong women like us don’t do well as the victim, can’t afford that luxury,” she agrees. “We stand up straight and deal with this world, and all its shit, don’t we?”

Her statement takes you aback a bit. ‘Like us?’ Is she actually looking at you as her equal? You had always thought this woman didn’t like you. At best, you always figured she simply tolerated your existence.

“Now, you listen to me.” Grimshaw pulls another chair up to sit directly in front of you, lowering her voice as she continues. “Don’t hang all of your hopes and dreams on a man, my dear. Look at Abigail. Hangin’ on any scrap of attention that John is willing to give her. And she’ll be hard pressed to find a husband elsewhere at this point when she’s already saddled with a child. Not that Jack is bad, mind you. (Grimshaw is quick to stress that point.) That boy is the best thing to come out of that relationship, if you ask me.”

Ms. Grimshaw leans back in her chair and folds her arms over her chest, taking a deep breath before she continues her motherly lecture. “Arthur is a good man and all, and we’d all be lost without him, for sure. But he’s still a man. And a dense one at that when it comes to women.”

Your face twists in painful recognition as you look down at your hands sitting limply in your lap. You wish it were different between you and Arthur, but that’s what is so hard about this whole thing. Neither of you can deny the connection that is so rare to find in another soul, yet still knowing you won’t ever be together. You can’t force that spark with someone where it doesn't exist, just like you can’t deny it when it does.

You love Arthur to the depth of which you’ve never known possible, even though you probably shouldn’t, and for reasons that you can’t quite explain. You understand that Arthur thinks that he doesn’t deserve your affection, either. But that isn’t going to stop it from overtaking your heart, now is it? You can’t change how you feel just like you can’t stop the rain from pouring down, or the sun from shining afterwards.

Ms. Grimshaw takes a moment to look you over, watching as your eyes dart around in spastic thought. She notes how your chest rises and falls raggedly as you quietly try to keep yourself from crying all over again. God, you are so exhausted from crying. And you are at the point now of being sick and tired of being ‘sick and tired’ of everything. Her heart goes out to you as she knows what you’re going through. Because she’s been there herself.

“You know,” Ms. Grimshaw says softly, hesitating slightly before continuing. “I used to have a thing with Dutch.”

Your red-rimmed eyes shoot back up to Ms Grimshaw’s face and widen a bit at her revelation.  “Really? I didn’t know that.”

“MmmHmm. Cast me aside for the young and pretty, he did.” She turns a glance towards Dutch’s tent where he sits reading, a cigar sitting confidently between his teeth, while Molly perches upon their cot, fixing her hair in the mirror.

Turning her attention back to you, Ms. Grimshaw quickly refocuses on the purpose of her lecture. “If you want to stay here with us, (Y/N), no one will be happier than me to have you.” This admission rather stuns you as her voice takes on a softer, more nurturing sound. “But don’t you let this gang take you down.” She points her finger sternly at you. “You do what’s right by you. ‘Cause you’re the only one who has to live with your decisions.”

Ms. Grimshaw holds your gaze a moment to make sure you understand what she’s telling you. When you finally give her an appreciative smile and a nod, she places her hand overtop of yours, patting it in reassurance.

From somewhere over in the distance of the camp, there is a ruckus and you both look over at the interruption to see Rev. Swanson drunk and stumbling over people before falling down altogether. Ms. Grimshaw huffs sharply in annoyance, hands on her knees, as she pushes herself up from her chair. “I swear, it’s always something around here.”

And just like that, the camp mother is off to settle yet another issue in her camp. You watch her as she marches over to the man, shooing away the others who have gathered around. She gives Rev. Swanson a few words before bending down to heave him up by the arm. For whatever reason, the woman has a soft spot for the disgraced man of the cloth. And now, apparently, for you as well.

A slight breeze picks up and the cooling air settles your nerves a bit as it dances across your cheeks, lifting the fine wisps of hair along your face. You sit in contemplation, thinking about what Ms. Grimshaw has said to you. She has a point. She may come across as a hardened shrew, but she definitely knows what she’s talking about, as she speaks from personal experience. You’ve been debating about leaving the Van Der Linde gang for awhile, and now, maybe you have the voice of reason to actually do it. Absentmindedly chewing on the back of your thumbnail while in thought, you try to figure out what your next move is going to be.

It's taken you awhile to come to terms with what happened in Rosewood. You had hoped to draw strength from your new family and finally find a place of belonging. You haven't even thought of a future with a man since what happened, finding the closest thing in Arthur’s simple and unassuming company.

Losing your father in such a cruel and abrupt way was devastating. But with the parental guidance of Hosea, and unknowingly of Ms. Grimshaw, you have begun to make your peace with it, despite the frequent melancholy that only comes with the death of family.

But you can’t handle this drama anymore. You had told Karen awhile ago that you couldn’t bear it if Arthur ever hated you. And seeing as every interaction between the two of you seems to be getting more toxic with each encounter, that seems to be the very path your relationship is heading. You really don’t think that you could ever be happy here if you didn’t have Arthur. The thought of it is a boulder dropping in your stomach.

Maybe you’ll go back to Silverton. The doctor there had offered you a job several months ago, and a place to stay at the boarding house, too. But how will you even get there? It’s not safe for a woman to travel on her own in these parts.

The time has come for you to decide:  Should you stay with the Van Der Linde gang? Or should you go?

Wrestling with which path you need to take, your thoughts are interrupted when you see Mr. Pearson prepping one of the wagons. His chubby face huffs and turns red as he mills about pulling straps and checking over the wagon.

You nibble your bottom lip as you watch him, anxiously wringing your hands together. “Mr. Pearson? Are you heading into town?” you suddenly blurt out with seemingly no self control.

He looks over his shoulder to give you a quick glance. “That’s right, Miss (Y/L/N).”

You swallow hard before you speak again. “Need some company?”

And before you realize what you are doing, you offer to go along. Your intent is to see who in town may be heading back south towards Silverton and maybe catch a ride. That doctor there seemed quite persistent in getting you to work with him. Maybe the job offer is still good. If not, at least you’ll be out of the Van Der Linde camp and can start to put this whole mess behind you once and for all.

—--------------------------------

It is late afternoon at this point and the copper sky has just begun to unfurl its bewitching colors for all to see. Arthur heads down the back-country path that will bring him back to camp. The familiar white wildflowers still bloom and line the path, offering him a welcoming sight as he gets closer to home. His hand rests protectively on the saddlebag to his left side where your father’s wooden box sits carefully tucked away.

As he gets closer to home, Arthur begins to rethink his plan a bit. Is it too selfish to expect you to just fall into his open arms because he gave you a few remembrances? He isn’t turning his back on his decision, nor the idea that he wants you. But he feels that maybe it isn’t fair to just expect it of you. That may be a little too presumptuous.

Out of respect for you, he resigns himself to hope for the best and prepare for the worst. But at the very least, Arthur wants to just stop fighting and to simply be able to speak civilly with you once more.

When Arthur arrives back at camp, he doesn’t see you anywhere, even though Blue is tethered at the hitching posts. He slips your horse some peppermints upon arrival, which he contently munches. 

“Where’s our girl, mister? Hmm?” he wonders out loud to Blue, reaching up to give the horse a good scratch behind his ears while he surveys the open area.

Arthur eagerly scans the camp and immediately seeks out Hosea to find out where you are. He’s already waited several days to get this task done and he’s eager to finish it.

“She went to town with Pearson,” Hosea informs him. “Shouldn’t be too much longer, I reckon.”

Arthur purses his lips and nods, thinking to himself as his gaze, of course, goes to the path heading into the camp, half expecting to find you there.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Hosea asks, eyebrows peaked with interest as he raises his cigarette to his mouth, eyes squinting in anticipation.

A grin slowly crawls across Arthur’s face. His eyes twinkle a bit in mischief when he turns back to Hosea. “Oh yeah. I found it.”

Hosea lets out a quick chuckle as he pats Arthur on the shoulder. “Good. I knew you would.”

Hosea decides not to say anything to Arthur about the conversation he had with you earlier today, fearing that your outburst may deter Arthur from going ahead with his intentions. It’s taken so long and so much to push Arthur to get to this point. Hosea doesn’t want his son to get discouraged now, not when he’s so close to a chance at being happy.

Since you are not here, Arthur decides to leave the box in your tent for you. He’s afraid that if he approaches you directly with it, you’ll end up in an argument before he can even give you the damn thing. He desperately needs for this to go well. He walks over and stands outside of your tent, hesitating before he goes in. But with a nod of reassurance to himself, he enters your personal space.

Arthur looks about for a moment, taking in the surroundings. Everywhere he looks in the modest space, there’s evidence of you. The faint scent of the lavender oil you use in your hair permeates the area. Arthur’s eyes roll back into his head as he deeply inhales the intoxicating flowery aroma. 

Along the side, your cot is neatly made up with a knit afghan laid across it. The spread is a beautiful green color, but the pattern and knot work are not quite so perfect. The knots are clumpy and lopsided and unevenly distributed. He chuckles as he remembers when you made it, trying your hand at the domestic task. ‘It’s not perfect, but at least I’ll be warmer at night,’ you said when you proudly showed him the efforts of your work.

There are a few books stacked on an overturned crate-turned-end table by your pillow, a few of which have multiple bookmarks and pieces of paper haphazardly sticking out, indicating that you are in the middle of reading multiple at a time. The small table in the corner has a bowl with women’s baubles such as combs and other simple jewelry, every one of which Arthur has seen on your person, the smallest details of your style committed to his memory.

And pinned to the wooden pole in the center of the tent is the flower crown that Jack had made for you, now delicately dried and preserved. Hanging in the center of the brittle greenery, Arthur notices a small piece of paper. He takes a few steps over to take a closer look at it and realizes it's the sketch he did for you. 

It’s a simple drawing of flowers in a meadow, with the sun shining down. He had drawn it while out on one of his jobs and gave it to you. ‘So you'll always have somethin’ pretty to look at, even when things are shit ‘round here’, he had told you. Arthur can’t believe you’ve kept it all this time. The idea that something so trivial and insignificant that he had done was so special to you makes his heart swell to the point of bursting. He lifts his hand, his dust-coated fingers affectionately catching the edge of the paper. He then looks down to the box in his hands.

“God, I hope this works,” he whispers. He steps over to your cot, bending down to gently set the box upon your blanket. He slowly stands and stares at it, taking a last moment to contemplate his decision. “Alright, then.” 

And with his habitual saying being muttered into the comfortable silence in finality, Arthur takes his leave of your tent and heads over to his own.

Meanwhile, you have headed over to the small town of Middleton with Mr. Pearson. The cook had needed to head in to the post office to mail a letter, and to see if he had received any in return. You casually excuse yourself from his company as the wagon rolls to a stop, explaining that you need a few things in the local general store. Pearson pays you no mind, but what you really need is to see if the local shopkeep knows of anyone traveling towards Silverton. Since this place of business has the most traffic of varied clientele, you figure if anyone knows the dealings of the town, this is where you’ll find out.

As fortune would have it, after chatting with the store owner, you find out that the local lumberyard is making a delivery to Howardsville in the next few days. It’s about 4 miles east of Silverton. You could walk that if you need to. (At this point, you’re not sure if you’ll be taking Blue with you. The horse was a gift to you from Arthur, so technically he does belong to you. But a horse is a highly-valued possession. It would be rather presumptuous to think that you could just take him with you if you left the gang. And the thought of leaving the beautiful animal behind, your beloved Blue, is yet another twist to the phantom knife in your heart. But you have to prepare yourself for any scenario.)

You quickly make your way over to the lumber office after that, and proceed to convince the owner to let you catch a ride with the next delivery heading out. You have a little money saved up and offer to pay your way, which is the only reason the man is allowing it. He is leaving at sunrise in two day’s time. You’ll have to be there at the office door by then, money in-hand, or he is leaving without you.

And so, you put things into place to make your exit from the Van Der Linde gang.

When you arrive back at the camp, Arthur is sitting by the fire and doesn’t say anything, but carefully watches you out of the corner of his eye as you help Mr. Pearson put away the wagon and secure the horse. Arthur notices that you are mindful to keep your head down and eyes averted from everyone. There is a touch of anxiousness to you that catches his attention, but he figures it's just the tension that has been growing around you for weeks now.

He takes a deep breath and pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it, striking the match on the bottom of his boot, and keeping the brim of his hat discreetly pulled down over his face.

Here it is, this is it. Arthur is not sure how you are going to react to his “grand gesture” as Mary-Beth called it, but he's hoping that this will at least open the door and allow him to speak to you again.

When you’re done securing the wagon, you head straight to your tent, avoiding everyone just as you have been doing of late. You draw back the corners of the canvas and push through the opening, quickly pulling it shut behind you. You still can’t believe that you’re leaving. And you really don’t want to risk talking to anyone about it right now, either, until you can fully wrap your head around the concept. God willing, you just need to avoid Arthur until then, for fear of losing your nerve and any strength you have left to go through with your plan.

You tiredly pull the strap of your small tan satchel off of your shoulder and set it on your little table. A long, exhausted sigh rattles your bones and your eyelids feel like stones as you run your hands over your hair before they link behind your neck, cradling the tense muscles there.

“Well, I guess this is it,” you mutter to yourself.  You’ve made your decision and set things into motion. You turn about and survey your belongings, noting that you’ll have to discreetly start to pack to avoid causing a scene. Fortunately, you don’t have much to begin with.

You don’t notice it at first. But then, you catch it out of the corner of your eye. Something sitting on your cot. You do a double-take as you instantly recognize the wooden box. Suddenly, it’s like seeing a ghost and having the wind knocked out of you. Your eyes go wide before arching in confusion. You gingerly walk towards your cot and slowly lower yourself to sit, eyes glued to the item as if afraid to touch it, lest it not be real at all. Eventually, your trembling hands reach out and set the box on your lap, hesitating before you open it. Your fingers hover over the woodgrain, gently tracing along the smooth surface. Slowly lifting the lid, you let out a small gasp, your hand springing up to cover your mouth, as tears begin to gather in the corners of your (y/e/c) eyes.

Fingers that continue to slightly shake trace over the contents inside the box, items that you remember with such fondness. It’s as if a hundred butterflies are swarming inside you right now, their gossamer wings fluttering against your sides to escape. 

The pads of your fingertips slowly rub over the polished surface of the pocket watch before you collect it into your fingertips. The silver is cool and comforting to the touch. A vision of your father’s hands with his long, slender fingers holding it instantly pops into your mind, as he used to absentmindedly fidget with it whenever his hands sat idle.

Setting the watch back down, you then move to pick up your mother’s locket and affectionately rub the silver charm between your thumb and fingers. The etching has worn over the years, as she never took the piece off, but the tiny emerald chip that is inset on the front still gleams like a new spring leaf.

But it’s the photo of your parents that puts you over the edge. You smile to yourself as you stifle a slight sob as you look upon the faces of your family, faces that you never thought you’d look upon again. Your heart is overwhelmed with both sadness and joy at the same time.

You simply sit and stare at the print in your hands, soaking in their images as if searing it into your brain once more. You pour over every detail of your parents’ faces, gazing at their features, silently saying hello to long-lost loved ones. You close your eyes as you gently cradle the image to your chest over your heart as a single tear breaks free from your lashes and gently rolls down your freckled cheek.

Suddenly, your eyes fly open as you realize that you have no idea how the box got here. Well, you have a suspicion. Damn him! This is the very shit that drives you insane. What in the hell are you supposed to make of this, now?

Sniffling back your emotions, you quickly put the contents back into the box, carefully setting it back down onto your pillow. With a fire in your stomach, you rush out of the tent and briskly walk to the center of camp where everyone is sitting.

“Where did that box in my tent come from?” Your eyes dart around the circle of gang members, waiting for someone to confess. Your slight frame just vibrates with energy right now, wound up like a hornet.

“What are you talking about, (Y/N)?” asks Abigail, looking up at you from her seat at the fire.

“The wooden box in my tent,” you clarify, tossing a finger back behind you towards your personal area. “Who brought it here?” Your eyes flash like fire as you scan the small crowd gathered around, demanding an answer. “Who?”

“I did,” admits Arthur quietly from where he’s sitting on one of the crates. He finishes his cigarette, tossing the butt to the ground as he stands. “I know you’ve been unhappy, missing your family and all. So I thought I’d see if I could find something of theirs for you.”

You stand silently, your eyes locked onto Arthur, not really sure what to say. What in the actual hell is happening right now?! Damn him. Yet another example of mixed signals and confusing cues. Your head spins and feels like it will explode from trying to figure this out, taking your heart along with it.

“That’s where you’ve been all this time?” asks Mary-Beth, looking at Arthur. “You rode all the way back to Rosewood?”

Arthur nods in confirmation, but when he takes note of your hard and intense gaze on him, he’s not sure what to make of it. Uncomfortable under your stare, he tilts his head down with the brim of his hat covering his face and eyes again.

“I can’t believe you did that,” says Abigail, shocked.

You have been quietly watching Arthur during this exchange, but he won’t look at you now. He can’t get a read on your reaction. You almost seem…angry? But truth be told, you kind of are. You have already made up your mind to go. It was an agonizing decision to make, but you have finally made it and already started the difficult mental process to sever your ties here. You have already put your plans in motion to leave the gang. And now this.

And then suddenly, your whole body relaxes in defeat. Your face twists into something almost akin to exhausted disappointment as you simply give in under a wave of emotion. Like you had said to Hosea earlier, you are done with the fighting.

A measured sigh escapes your lips. You slowly, but deliberately, begin to walk over towards Arthur. You don’t break stride, but silently walk right up to him. He looks up at you, flinching slightly as you get closer, as if he expects you to slap him. (You've been so angry at him lately, it wouldn’t surprise him if you did.)

Without hesitation, you firmly cup Arthur’s face with both of your hands, squeezing just a bit so that he can’t run away from you. And you pull him down to you and kiss him deeply in front of everyone in the camp.

You kiss him without warning or permission, and without premeditation, simply because you can’t fathom doing anything else at this very moment.

Time stops the moment your lips touch his. Everything goes silent and dark like the vast universe filled with its blanket of stars. The only thing that registers to you is the feeling of Arthur in your hands.

In the background, there are hoots and hollers, clapping and cheering. John leans into Uncle exclaiming “Told you!” and elbows the older man in the ribs, who reluctantly hands John $5 out of his pocket.

After several moments of your heated lips pressed against his, you release Arthur’s cheeks and tightly wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders, pulling him to you in a strong embrace, unwilling to let go of him just yet.

Arthur’s hands land softly at your waist as he hides his face into your neck. A tidal wave of relief washes over him, crashing down all in one fell swoop. You are not mad at him anymore. You are not leaving. And he has you in his arms where you belong. Finally.

Arthur slowly pulls back from you, searching for any misgivings. But to his relief, he is only met with the sunshine of your face. There are a million things that he wants to tell you, as the words he hasn’t said all this time are the very ones you need to hear. But it’s not the type of thing he wants an audience for, as he’s suddenly very aware of where the two of you are right now.

His hand lifts from your hip to wrap around your bicep, his thumb drawing over the muscle as he leans in closer to you. His gaze briefly sweeps over the small group of onlookers before coming back to you and whispers “Wanna get out of here and go someplace more private to talk?” His gravelly voice is soft and quiet for only you to hear as the lines around his eyes wrinkle delightfully with a smile.

“More than anything.” Your large doe-eyes shine up at him along with a smile that beams back brightly. Arthur grins, his hand now moving to caress your cheek, reassuring both you and himself that this is really happening.

“C’mon,” he encourages you with a slight head tilt. And with his hand at the small of your back, he gently nudges you away from everyone else.

You both abruptly turn away from the group of gawking eyes and giggling whispers to head towards the horses, walking shoulder to shoulder. You catch each other’s gaze shyly, a few giggles of your own erupting from your lips. When your hands casually brush against each other’s, you reach over and take Arthur’s large hand into yours, wrapping your delicate fingers around his. Arthur looks down at the sight of your hands entwined. He lifts your hands up to his lips and places an ever-so soft kiss along the backs of your fingers, making you catch your breath for just a moment over such a simple, yet affectionate gesture.

Buck is already saddled, and Arthur is too impatient to wait to saddle Blue, so he carefully lifts you up onto the back of his horse before he swings himself up as well. And the two of you head out of camp together.

As Buck quickly sets himself into a brisk canter, you wrap your arms around Arthur’s waist, pressing your torso against the warmth of his back. The bulk of him is just so comforting to you. Sure, you’ve ridden together like this before, but now there is a profound difference in the way your arms settle around him. Your face sets upon his back between his shoulder blades as you close your eyes and smile blissfully. Arthur hums contently in response, laying his own strong hand along yours as they link across his ribs in front of him.

Arthur decides to take you to your favorite hunting spot that the two of you like to use. It is nestled deep in a thicket of dense forest, about twenty minutes outside the camp, and there’s an old trapper-style, lean-to shelter there.

It’s quiet out as the sun starts to set, and the only sounds in the woods are the chattering of the squirrels and squawking of the birds as you reach your destination. Arthur pulls Buck to a halt at the edge of the trees, his watchful eyes quickly scanning the camp to make sure it’s safe before letting you down. He’s waited this long for this moment, he just wants everything to be perfect.

“Stay here a minute while I take a quick look around. Let’s make sure no one else is holed up here,” he says over his shoulder. Arthur dismounts, pulling his revolver from his holster as he walks about the small make-shift camp. You happily watch him move about, your cheeks dusting with color at how protective he is of you. Your bottom lip folds up between your teeth in quiet excitement, hardly able to contain yourself in anticipation of finally being alone together with all that previous nonsense now removed.

After he walks the perimeter and deems it safe for you, he waves you over. You flick your heels to nudge Buck forward a few paces until you are now in the middle of the camp. Arthur walks over, reaching his hands up to you to help you down from the back of the horse. His hands tenderly find your hips and your own hands find his broad shoulders as he lowers you down. Your eyes never leave his face, causing him to blush under your longing gaze.

He gives you an awkward grin and a brief chuckle as he walks Buck over to the side of the small clearing, tying him to a tree for the time being. You stand perfectly still in anticipation, watching his every move, until he walks back to you, rubbing his hands together nervously.

“So…” Arthur stands in front of you, taking off his hat and playing with the brim nervously, not really sure what to say or do now.

“So...” you grin at him with a little shrug. “Here we are. Finally.” You step closer to him, smiling coyly.

You stand there, staring into each other's eyes, knowing that this is the turning point. Whatever happens after this moment, move forward or walk away, it changes the relationship forever. There is no going back to what you were before. That’s not even an option anymore. One way or another, it's going to change for the two of you.

Arthur replaces his hat back upon his head, freeing his fingers which fidget nervously as they find their way to your hips again and slowly pull you in closer to him. Your palms come to rest softly on his chest as you look up adoringly into his crystal-blue eyes.

”Kiss me, Arthur.” Your angelic voice is a yearning whisper that dances in his ears, making his heart skip a beat.

He cups your face with his right hand, drawing his thumb along your check bone. The skin there is oh so smooth, like porcelain. His other hand wraps around your bicep as your own hands still sit upon his chest, resting right over his heart. Your fingers play gracefully with the fabric of his worn shirt, causing goosebumps to ripple across his skin underneath. He slowly dips his head down, his lips hovering close to yours before he presses them together.

The kiss is soft at first. And his lips are just as you imagined. Although slightly chapped, the skin is soft as flower petals, the muscles strong underneath, as his mouth encompasses your own.

The kiss isn't too long, just enough to indicate the romantic intent behind it. He pulls back from you and notices that your eyes are still shut, savoring the moment. Your lids are slow to flutter open and peer up into his vivid eyes, which are staring expectantly back at you and waiting for some sign of doubt or regret. But to his relief, he finds none.

When Arthur sees your smile rise up like a sunrise over the horizon, shining its light and warmth upon everything in its path, he rapidly pulls you in for another kiss. He’s desperate not to hurt or offend you, but when your mouth opens slightly, working over his own, and your tongue pushes across in search of his, sweeping across his plump bottom lip, he reciprocates, suddenly hungry and needy. His hand moves from your cheek to cradle the back of your head while his other arm snakes around your waist to pull you tighter against him.

He should feel ashamed at how he holds your hips to his own, but Arthur is feeling selfish right now, giving in to his own desires for once. Your own hands fist around the soft cotton of his shirt, greedily pulling him down to you. You push your hips into his, desperate to be as close to the man as you can get. The symphony of heaving breaths and the wet sound of lips rolling over each other fills the air. A soft whimper, a barely audible moan, delightfully escapes your chest like a bird freed from its cage.

Your heart leaps at how there is such a fine line created between love and madness with just a simple thing as a kiss. You are a bit of a hungry, hot mess inside, aching impatiently for him, waiting for his hands and lips to begin to roam your skin and curves. But yet, you also adore how focused those same hands and needing lips slowly knead and nip at your tender, soft flesh right now.

Arthur’s fingers clench slightly with restraint at the nape of your neck. When you both reluctantly pull away from each other to fill your lungs with air again, he leans his forehead to yours, eyes closed to regain composure. He exhales slowly, shuddering just slightly with measured breaths.

“I want you.” His voice, low and hungry, yet definitive, cuts through the warm air between you. He needs you to hear it, but more importantly, he needs you to know it.

A soft laugh of relief huffs quietly out of your nose at the statement. You smile slightly, so happy to finally hear him say the words out loud after all of this time.  

“I want you too, Arthur,” you breathlessly whisper. You lift your face away from his to look into his alluring eyes again. “So very much.”

He searches your features, digging deep, for any last minute hesitation. When he sees none, Arthur kisses you yet again, this time passionate, but not as desperate. His large hands find their way to your back as he pulls you into him even tighter than before, wrapping you up against him. You can feel his hand splay-out under your shoulders, while the other trails down towards the small of your back.

The feeling of his wide and strong body against yours makes your knees weak, and heat begins to build in your abdomen. Your arms rush to extend past his barrel-chest and over his shoulders to fold around his neck, matching the force Arthur is using to keep you close. Your arm curls up to cradle his head, fingers entwining in his hair, which feels like heaven to him. While your other arm moves to firmly wrap around his shoulders, your lips never part. Arthur notices how your knee bends slightly to scissor between his thighs.

The two of you stay like this for several heated moments, finally taking the time to feel one another, to experience what you have both been sorely longing for all this time.

The connection is massive and electric; it’s almost oppressive, making it hard for you to breathe. This feels different than it did previously. Before, it was a sweet longing, yet held back by the tethers of impropriety and notions of “never-to-be”. But now those ropes of restraint have been cast off, tossed to the wayside, allowing free-reign for you both to push the limits and boundaries. A herd of wild horses couldn’t pull the two of you apart right now. Arthur would sooner lose his hand than release his grasp of you. And you would rather be blinded than gaze at anything other than his handsome face at this moment.

When he pulls away again, you chase his lips with a pout, clearly not wanting the intimacy between you to stop. Arthur smiles down at you, gently moving a piece of your hair out of your eye with his fingertip.

“I’ll get a fire going. Why don’t you get the bedroll from my saddle and get comfortable, hmm?”

*I’ve seen this image posted in multiple places on Pintrest. I tried to track down the owner, but can’t locate him. If anyone knows @bushcraft_jack, let me know!

A/N: Sorry if this one does not have the spark that the previous 2 did. But, I think you all know what’s coming next. Stay tuned for Part 4.

[insertyourselfhere]

Pink (Anomaly Part 6)

Pairing: Gwen Stacy (Ghost Spider) x Reader

A/N: FINAL INSTALLMENT! I promise lots of fluff for you guys who have been reading along. Also I named this one different for reasons you will see down below.

Description: It’s over, the fight with Miguel, Spot, Miles was safe and everything was back to normal minus the idea of canon events. The Spider-Society was more reformed and acted like one mind instead of listening to that AI Miguel had created. You were currently sitting on the roof in your own dimension, watch firmly placed around your wrist, the fight was over and things were finally starting to slow down.

Characters: Pretty much all of it is Gwen & Y/N with like a tiny mention of Your aunt and Hobie

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A breeze went pass your face, the smell of the New York city filled your senses. It wasn’t great but it was home. Your mask lay next to you, no one in their right mind would be looking up here so this was the one time you felt like you could be yourself. You tucked your left leg under your chin and your right leg dangled over the edge, you had your phone with you going back through the memories since you were introduced to Gwen and thrown into a multi-dimensional fight that seemed to rip apart the fabric of time and space. Meeting earth 42 Miles was a bit of a shock, especially how he was such a polar opposite to 1610 Miles. But still the pictures you took of you and your Spidey crew, seeing Mayday running around with her knitted mask on was such a joy too, and you can see why Peter kept asking all the angsty people to hold his baby she was just too adorable.

“What are you up too?” A sweet voice came filling your ears, you smiled and looked behind to see the one person who kept flooding your mind.

“Just can’t get over how crazy the last few months have been, I remember before I met you I was the one and only Spider here, now I know at least maybe 20 others and that’s because I cant seem to meet the other Peter’s, there’s too many! Why are their names all Peter Parker” She giggled and shrugged her shoulders sitting down next to you. Her gaze firmly fixed on the horizon in front of you, the sun slowly going down and the air feeling a bit crisper as the air got darker. You heard Gwen shiver next to you and you had a small smirk placed on your lips.

“I’d offer you a jumper but someone’s taken them all and left them at Hobie’s” You said gently nudging her with your shoulder, she pushed you back laughing. You couldn’t help it though. You took off the Jumper you were wearing currently and handed it over to Gwen who looked at you thankful.

“I need that back, I’m not going to lie I’m running low and its started to get a bit too cold to be a Spider” She giggled again but kept her eyes focused forward.

“Can I tell you something? That I feel very bad about but also might need a bit of comfort on” You nodded your head also facing forward watching the last bit of sun die down and the New York lights all start turning on.

“You know already about my past with you from my dimension, I miss them incredibly and I will never forget them, both Y/N and Peter were my absolute best friends. However whenever I look at you, I don’t see that person anymore. I only see you. I only see the amazing Y/N Spider I’ve gotten to know over the last few months, and it’s crazy to say but I don’t associate you 2 anymore” You didn’t look towards Gwen, just kept your eyes trained forward.

“I feel different things with you than I did with them. It was hard to realise just that because every time I looked at you I saw them and that doesn’t happen anymore” She let out a sigh she seemed to be holding onto and tucked both her legs up hiding her face.

“What I’m trying to say is that you make me feel different and I don’t know what that means or how to deal with it. I guess I just have a lot of emotions and I can’t really deal with them” You chuckled slightly and then it turned on to a full belly laugh. You felt awful for laughing at Gwen but it was too hard not too.

“Gwen, our whole job is having a lot of emotions and not being able to deal with them. You literally just described every Spider-Man/Woman/Pig/Trex ever. We are filled with emotional baggage that we can’t deal with and honestly even our Spider Therapist is fed up with all of us at this point.”

“Look its complicated, like I told you before I thought I was the only Spider out there and to find out theres a MULTIVERSE of them literally has blown my mind. But you know what who cares” Gwen was a bit offended that you laughed at her especially during her heartfelt speech but as you slowly explained the reasoning for it she couldn’t help but find the irony in the entire situation and started to laugh along with you.

“Yeah you’re right who cares, we’ve found our family, found other people who know what its like for us to go through this. All I know is that I appreciate you as a person, as a friend and maybe something more” She sent you a sly smile slowly reaching for you hand and grabbing onto it.

You kept your head forward but acknowledged the gesture by squeezing her hand and smiling. On the outside you were calm, cool and collected but on the inside you were about to pop open with butterflies flying out of your stomach, mouth, all your holes. When you got a chance you looked at Gwen out of your peripheral’s and could almost see her dimension colours blending in with yours. You heart almost burst open at the beautiful colour scheme that was behind her, it was filled with bright colours again but there was a very pre-dominant pink displaying behind her. You looked at her face and could see that same pink dusting her cheeks in the slightest.

You grabbed her hand and pulled her into your side, she just melted into it with a content sigh leaving her lips, she didn’t know how long she had been holding onto that for but it just felt right.

Soon the sun left and all that was in front of you was the beautiful city scape filled with street and car lights. You heard some steady breathing coming from your side where Gwen lay and looked over to see she had fallen asleep, your heart jumped at how beautiful she looked and you brushed away one of her locks. Her body was ice cold to touch so you got up gently and carried Gwen in your arms. Trying not to disturb her you leaped between buildings only a couple blocks from your apartment.

As soon as you arrived you opened up your lounge room window only to see your Aunt and Hobie of all people sitting there enjoying what was on TV. You walked in quietly but you shot Hobie in the back of his head who held up his hands and moved back on to his dimension leaving your Aunt in the lounge room looking at you and a very tired Gwen snuggled into your arms. She raised her eyebrow but had a smile on her face. She got up and went to leave the apartment as she had dinner plans to get too anyway but she gestured to you a small wave.

You moved into your bedroom and put Gwen in your bed who immediately snuggled into the bed sheets. You laughed, took off your suit and headed towards the lounge room where you got comfortable on the couch. The clock read 6.30pm which was unusually early for you but just like Gwen you barely had time to rest, slowly you felt your eyelids drop and fell into a deep sleep.

Shortly after you fell into a deep slumber you heard some movement around the apartment. You woke up fully ready to fight the intruder only to see it was Gwen groggily walking through your apartment, you couldn’t get over how it adorable it was to see her walking out with your oversized jumped on rubbing her eyes, she spotted you on the couch and walked towards you.

“Come on Spider” She said grabbing your hand and dragging you into your room. She pushed you onto the bed and before you could utter even a single word she slid in next to you, her face snuggled up on your chest, her breathing evened out almost immediately and she fell straight back to sleep. You on the other hand were having the biggest heart attack, your heart was literally beating out of your chest, you checked at least 7 times if your heart was bothering Gwen in anyway cause she was laying on top of it but she was too sound asleep to even care. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, you didn’t know where to put your hand, what to do with your body so you lay as stiff as a board afraid to move.

“Relax Spider, we’re just cuddling theres nothing wrong with that” She said, you could hear the smirk she had on her lips and you knew at this point she was tormenting you. So you decided enough was enough, her words were enough to relax you into the embrace. Before she could fall asleep though you rolled over and were laying with your chest pushed against hers.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were doing this on purpose” You teased looking at the blonde hair girl. She didn’t say anything she barely opened her eyes to look at you, taking into account how close you were it was your turn to smirk.

You wrapped your arm around her waist and pulled her so she was flushed against your chest, not a single inch of space was available, even in bed you towered over her a little and by this point she had opened her eyes, the widest you had ever seen them. You leaned down getting closer to her lips only to miss them by mere millimetres and proceeded to fake snore directly in her ear. She let out the loudest giggle and pushed you off her with her face beet red. You took some satisfaction in that interaction and went back to laying on your back and pulling her in to your side again.

“Get some sleep my tired Gwen” you kissed her forehead and proceeded to close your eyes. Before you drifted off all you can hear was he heart beating out of her chest.

Morning had come around and Gwen was still tucked into your side, the sun was poking through and you looked at the time, it was 10am and you were shocked at the amount of sleep you had gotten. While you were checking out the time the girl next to you beginning to stir, you stayed where you were waiting to see if she would wake up and she did, her eyes open and even though she only had short hair it was EVERYWHERE she had a bad case of bed hair and you laughed at her.

“What? Y/N what are you laughing about?” She said checking her face, once she got to her hair she quickly stood up and sprint into the bathroom.

“Good Morning Gwen!” You heard your aunt say laughing. You walked out of your room and she gave you the biggest look, she slowly started sipping her coffee and couldn’t help the cheeky smiled that graced your lips.

“So are you 2…” She trailed off but you knew exactly what she was going to ask. “No A/N we’re just friends” She moved out of the kitchen towards the dining table you sported and placed her cup down, she grabbed her phone and began scrolling.

“Yes I too just sleep with my friends” She smiled again and your face grew flush again, you went to argue back but Gwen came bursting out of the bathroom, your Jumper still placed firmly on her body.

“Good Morning A/N” She made her way into the kitchen she had been in multiple times, poor herself a tea and sat down next to your Aunt. You just stood in the corner watching the scene unfold in front of you with a tiny smile on your lips.

“Soooo what do you 2 have planned today?” Your aunt asked, you finally sat down your face still slightly read from your Aunts comment before. Gwen looked at you and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Maybe go for a walk or something” Your Aunt picked up her drink again trying to hide a devious smile she had. “Maybe go for a walk or something hey?” She repeated to Gwen looking at you, you honestly couldn’t take what your Aunt was saying so you told Gwen you were leaving asap. She chucked on a change of clothes she had bought, still with your jumper and you left the apartment while glaring back at your Aunt.

As you were both walking down the footpath the tension was incredible, neither of you could think straight and kept bumping into bystanders. As you were walking someone was a little too close to you and bumped you towards Gwen, your fingers grazed but it was enough to start up those damn butterflies again.

You both pulled away quietly apologising to the other for the awkward interaction, as you walked through the crowd you felt a bit hungry seeing as you skipped out on breakfast you grabbed Gwen’s attention.

“Let’s go out for breakfast!” You said with the biggest grin on your face, she nodded and you dragged her towards your favorite Café. You were seated rather quickly and ordered your food sitting outside once again feeling that cool breeze New York had to offer.

Gwen was lost staring out at the people who were walking pass, you looked at her again seeing those same colours you saw last night on the rooftop, you reached your arm across the table and grabbed her hand. She snapped out of her thoughts and looked at you across the table, you tried to act all nonchalant about the interaction like you guys had done this 100x and it wasn’t new to either of you. But she smiled and squeezed your hand. You looked back at her and could see those colours had now amplified, that pink hue coming through that was also present on her cheeks.

Soon though your bubble burst and your food had come out, so both of you tucked into your food not realising how long it had also been since you had a decent meal. Once you finished off you both thanked the restaurant and headed further down the footpath.

As soon as you started walking though you felt a familiar hand intertwine theirs with yours. You smiled once facing forward trying not to drag attention to what she had done but you appreciated it all the same. You both came up to central park now and took a lovely stroll through there, you came across an Ice Cream stand and bought both you and Gwen some Ice cream, you headed down to the lake and sat near the edge on the grass, both of you quietly eating your ice cream not wanting to disturb the peace.

Once you were both done Gwen huddled over back into your side and you laid down on your back, her head pressed into your chest as she absentmindedly drew circles around your arm giving you small little goosebumps.

“Y/N”

“Gwen”

You both stopped and laughed she sat up so she was still leaning on your chest but looking directly into your eyes. You took that as your queue to keep going.

“Much like you, I don’t know what this is or what we’re doing, but I can only tell you that I have literally enjoyed every single second of it. I want more but I know we need to be very slow for both of us.” Gwen kept looking at you intently, you saw her cheeks heat up a little but she nodded to encourage you to keep talking.

“I think at this point we just keep going, keep enjoying ourselves and not get sucked into the whole awkwardness of it all, hell I have hung out with you so many times’ we’ve stayed over stayed In the same room, we’ve hugged, we’ve touched all of it but everything just feels so different like…”

“Like it means more than it used to” she finished staring once again into your eyes, you nodded and sat up slightly so you could look at her too.

“We’re not very good with our emotions, we tend to hide away, keep them to ourselves or not speak about them because we’re afraid with getting hurt but I can’t do that with you anymore” Gwen held her breath waiting for you to continue.

“I guess what I am trying to say….it’s probably easier to show you if anything” You said, you sat up more but grab Gwen by the waist once again pulling her towards you, she was flush against your body, he hand on your chest and you leant down. Your whole body was screaming at you from the top of its lungs to hurry up and make the final move so you did. You pulled her face closer to yours and your lips touched. Everything in the world felt like it fit perfectly, Your lips were on hers enjoying the soft warmth, while she was still shocked and slightly stiff you felt her relax. Once she did she deepened the kiss and threw her arms around your neck to keep you there afraid you’ll disappear. You had to break the kiss unfortunately gasping for air, your foreheads touching, before anything else could be said Gwen had captured your lips once again, this one more desperate as she crawled further into your body, sitting herself in your lap. Her legs on either side of your body as she threw herself at you desperate for something more. This time she broke the kiss desperate for air.

This kept happening for the next 30 minutes or so, you would kiss, it would become incredibly heated and then you would break the kiss. Both of you afraid of stopping and wanting more from each other, both of you doing nothing but talking with your tongues and showing the other person just how much you cared for them.

After awhile they noticed a few eyes were on them and forgot they were in public. Gwen with her face 50 shades of red slid of your lap and hid her face, your lips bruised from the amount of kissing you both did rolled over to her and tackled her into a hug. She shrieked from being crushed by you but managed to push you off, she got up ready to run away and you got up ready to chase after her.

For the first time in a long time she smiled, no hidden fear, no sadness she looked like she had nothing to lose now and she was the absolute happiest she could ever be. You could see her world again, blending through, there was only one colour now and it was a bright beautiful pink. You knew it was for you and you couldn’t help but smile at the fact that this was your doing and that you could change someone’s entire perception with just yourself.

Gwen managed to get away from you but only briefly as you caught up to her, she laughed as you picked her up and circled her around your body coming to a halt, you pulled her back down to your lips pushing them against hers never getting sick and tired of that feeling.

“Y/N I….”

“I know Gwen you don’t have to tell me I can see it”

And you could, that beautiful pink you would never get sick of seeing would forever be implanted in your brain as one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen.

[thelordofgifs]

Obscure Tolkien Blorbo: The Final!

Nerdanel vs One (1) Rivendell elf who sings tra-la-la-lally

Nerdanel:

Nerdanel, called The Wise, was the wife of Fëanor, and known as a great sculptor. She refused to follow her family to Middle-earth in the revolt of the Noldor.

Best known as the woman who looked at the hot mess that is Fëanor, went “is anyone going to marry that?” and did not wait for an answer, Nerdanel is also so much more than just the beloved wife of Fëanor. Most notably, she is a sculptor (apparently a male-dominated field in Noldorin society) - her statues are so life-like that the friends of the depicted would go up and talk to them! She is also wise enough to land the epithet Istarnië, which means Wise One, and she is the only person Fëanor ever listened to, which borders miracle territory. Although when she married the pretty young crown prince of the Noldor, people said she was not good-looking enough for him, Fëanor begged to differ, as they had seven kids together, which is the largest amount of kids any Elven couple ever had. There must have been a lot of passion there (or maybe they just really wanted a daughter?). Although Nerdanel always seemed to have wise counsel for her husband, apparently she did not put up with his, as she was close friends with Indis, his stepmother he did not like. Unfortunately, their marital bliss did not last; when Fëanor pulled a sword on his half-brother Fingolfin (Indis's son) and was exiled, she did not come with him and instead stayed with Indis. This is often seen as her inventing divorce, although a more boring reading could simply suggest she disagreed and did not fancy accompanying him (LaCE does say Elven couples could keep separate households for extended periods of time). She also did not think about coming to Beleriand with him after he swore his terrible oath, although she did beg for him to leave her at least one of her kinslaying spawn sweet adorable baby boys (preferably the one she very ominously tried her hardest to name The Fated as a baby). I suppose the resulting, kind of permanent, separation, could definitely count as divorce.

she is a sculptor and an artisan so skilled that Feanor’s love for her competed with his own love of craft and creation. She raised seven sons and pleaded for their fates with Feanor because of how much she loved them and even though she loved him too, she stuck to her own beliefs and refused to leave Valinor….she’s so girlboss and she said you can go be a tragic archetype but our children don’t deserve that and also I will stay right here. We love a woman who refuses to give up her joys and her home even for a man she loves and ESPECIALLY since it was Feanor….the strength of her will is insane. I love her.

One (1) Rivendell elf who sings tra-la-la-lally:

One of the Elves of Rivendell who sing tra-la-la-lally in The Hobbit.

This one specific elf sings tra la la lally with the rest but he is slightly off key and the other elves bully him for it

they’re SILLY!!! We need NEED more silly elves!! Like who are these weirdos just hanging out in the trees of Rivendell? Did they know the dwarves were coming and gather their friends to specifically climb those trees to sing nonsense at them? Do they just normally sit there and sing about every little thing they see? Is this a traditional Rivendell thing or are those elves just really strange? I’m obsessed with them they’re everything to me. Elves are oft portrayed as being Too Serious in this fandom and silly elves need rights too! Silly elf rights!!!!

Final masterpost

[luvxoxo]

✿ doubts

husband!Oikawa x reader

warnings: none

“ if there’s one thing i’m sure of, i am sure that you have always belonged with me ”

- akif kichloo

at certain points in life, we come across people who stop by to drastically change our lives in a way, that will never be the same again. and sometimes? those people walk in to stay permanently.

oikawa tooru. a man widely known around the world. he has the looks, the skills, not to mention the capability to achieve things that hasn’t been done by others.

looking back at yourself, never in your wildest dreams would you have thought , that you’d end up with him. it’s always the unexpected people that turn out to be the best in your life, and maybe that’s why we should cherish those who end up staying instead of constantly finding ways to push them aside, simply because we think we’re not worthy of having them.

lately, a question has been plaguing your mind and no matter how much you put yourself into work, or try to drown it out, it doesn’t work. casting it aside only makes you focus on it more whether it’s directly or indirectly.

“why did you marry me?” without realizing, the question slipped out from your mouth. typically, you’re not an insecure person. you have your days where you think you’re the hottest bitch alive, but there are days where you feel extremely self conscious of yourself and your actions. safe to say, it’s one of those days. except this particular doubt wasnt going away.

oikawa stopped mixing sugar into his usual coffee and set aside his spoon. turning around with the mug in his hand, he looks into your eyes, almost as if he’s wondering why on earth you’d ask him such a question on a lovely sunday morning.

you take the time to engrave the scene in front of you. oikawa was shirtless. only wearing low waisted grey sweatpants, where his v line was slightly noticeable. his beautiful body was on display just for you. like a mannequin dressed in pretty clothing for people to stare at. only difference is, he was for your eyes only. and not not for the world. you start feeling lucky to have witnessed such a delightful sight.

“why did i marry you, you ask?” oikawa questions again, making sure he heard you right.

nodding your head slowly, you allow yourself to focus on the mug he was holding in his hands. trying to distract yourself from how nervous you were feeling, when in reality, you had nothing to be nervous of.

oikawa brings the mug to his lips, sipping as he sighs internally.

“well. let’s see then” he puts his mug down on the marble countertop and walks out to the balcony where the white curtains could be seen swaying from side to side due to the morning breeze.

you curiously follow him, wondering why he had to change spots to answer your question. oikawa stands outside and rests his hands on the railings, palms facing down, lightly gripping it. he looks out to the distance and takes in the view of the city. it was quiet. peaceful. traffic hadn’t started yet. people were in the comfort of their homes, sleeping. you gaze around , taking in the sky and how the sun seemed to shine brighter than ever.

finally, after what felt like forever, oikawa turns out to look at you. feeling shy, you gaze down at the ground, taking in how empty the streets looked in the early hours of morning.

“i married you because you made me feel comfortable in my own skin”

looking up as fast as you could, you notice oikawa shyly gazing at his hands that haven’t grown rough throughout the years, though he’s played volleyball and still does. of course according to him, he applies strawberry scented hand cream every hour of the day

inhaling a deep breath oikawa collects his thoughts and starts speaking again. this time, with confidence.

“i married you because talking to you makes me smile. it makes my chest bloom with this.. this happiness that i’ve never gotten in my entire life” he smiles to himself, not realizing that he was doing that. he was reminiscing the memories that he created with you in the past

“i married you because the thought of you being in someone else’s arms physically killed me inside” his face hardens momentarily at the mere thought of it, before deciding to resume answering your question.

“i married you because my body literally aches at the thought of never seeing you again. i married you because i like the way you dance to music when you think no one is around” oikawa let’s out a snicker as you repeatedly smack his arm.

oikawa wraps his sturdy arm around your waist, slowly pulling you into his chest. you rest your palms on his chest, feeling satisfaction in the way his heart beats at a regular pace.

“to tell you the truth. i don’t have much to offer. but i’d give you everything i’ve got. i’d give you late night drives, food at 3 am, someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold, all of it”

he finishes with a sweet, warm kiss on your forehead, somehow hoping you’d feel his unconditional love for you that only seems to increase every single day.

you gaze up at him and smile, feeling overwhelmed by the amount of love you were receiving. oikawa grasps your left hand, using his thumb to gently swipe across your wedding ring. he brings your hand upwards towards his face, pecking your skin. that small act seemed to have spread goosebumps across your entire body.

“ if there’s one thing i’m sure of, i am sure that you have always belonged with me ”

reblogs are appreciated!

©️ all right reserved. please do not plagiarize my work.

[uselesssomebody]

𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕒𝕞𝕟 𝕤𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕖 - joel miller x reader

complete masterlist | joel miller masterlist

words || 𝟟.𝟝𝕜

summary || in which the reader's smile is a sight in the q.z.

a/n || i love him, your honor ➵ i'm watching the mandalorian so expect some fics on that soon! ➵ set before the show, so possibly canon divergent? no real main characters except the millers are a part of this ➵ i'm 90% sure i didn't accidentally spoil the show or game in this, except that ! news flash ! joel has a brother ig? ➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || fluff/angst ➵ show-typical violence and graphic descriptions of blood and wounds

she hurt again. she always does, be it the dull ache of her shoulders, the burn of her calves or biceps, or her stomach - excruciatingly, about one week out of the month. this time, it was a headache, the damn thing feeling as though her head would split open if she didn’t do anything about it in the next few moments.

luckily, some superior being out there heard her silenced, wailing pleas, as she lifted her eyes to a figure approaching her. his hand was outstretched, and she was so glad to see her relief in his hands that she clutched it desperately, pulling it out of his grip.

“hello to you too.” he mumbled, a large smile quirked on his chapped lips. well, as large of one as you can have in this godforsaken q.z., anyways. he watched as she swallowed the painkiller immediately, not even bothering to grab the small bottle of water in her bag. had any other person taken the pills he’d so delicately procured without promise of goods on their own side, he’d probably have shot them.

but he knew her. and he knew she wouldn’t.

he leaned slightly against the crumbling brick wall shielding this particular back alley, taking note of the way her previously tensed features softened, until the furrow of her brow and clench of her jaw was replaced with a smile instead.

this one, though, was actually large - for even pre-pandemic standards. she was like that a lot - smiling, happy, excited. positive. it was a hard thing to come by nowadays.

“thanks, tommy.” she sighed, reaching into her bag quickly to return the favor. the box that came out was a bit greasy and moist, and the smell of good food hit tommy miller’s nose almost intrusively, not used to the smell after the past week of food that could be bought with ration cards. the q.z. may have provided sustenance, but flavor seemed the be considered just as bad as the fucking zombies in here.

in similar fashion, he takes it out of her hand, finding different, small seasoning and sauce packets, as well as a plastic wrapped container of chicken. he shut the box quickly, as if worried the meat would come alive and fly away, and she smiled at the hastiness of the action. her painkillers had been quickly packed away into her inner jacket pocket, and she’s quick to survey the surrounding.

“so, i’ll see you week after?” she nodded, as tommy began leaving.

“next sunday, noon!” he saluted at her, and she rolled his eyes.

joel had forgotten about the idea of good food until about two months ago - when his brother had returned with an odd smelling container. he wondered what on earth he’d been up to, not even letting tommy explain before he started unpacking it. the meat inside looked a little foreign, the grilled crust on it something he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“tommy, what the-”

“it’s good, ain’t it?” he had an excitable pep in his step, and joel raised an eyebrow.

“how’d - how’d ya even get this?”

“one of the smugglers - she brings in food from her trips.”

“where does she get it from?” tommy looked at him as though he was crazy.

“why the hell would she tell me, joel? what’s it matter, anyway, we got great food now!” joel - the older brother than he is - felt perturbed by tommy’s careless attitude, but shrugged it off.

“what’d you pay for it then? how many ration cards?” tommy waved him off.

“a bag of pills - painkillers. said she’d give me a box every two weeks for a bag of them.” joel shook his head, still apprehensive.

“painkillers are hard to come by, tommy, is it really worth it?” tommy didn’t respond.

it was, in fact, absolutely worth it. the brothers practically licked their plates clean that night, the taste of the still juicy chicken invading their senses after the past 7 months of mostly sloppy, shitty soups and broths.

she became a staple of their rounds, with tommy always making time to get painkillers for her, and to meet her. both brothers knew it was stupid to ‘pretend to enjoy the finer things in life’, as joel so cynically put it, but that didn’t stop their appreciation for the food.

as for her, those few months had been the first time she’d had steady supply to something to ease her pain.

truly, she didn’t know how she’d carried on so far in this pandemic, considering she used to be a school teacher before all of this. the most she’d had to deal with back then was maybe a rowdy kid or two - or worse, a rowdy parent. not zombies - or infected, whatever. not terrorists, vigilantes, raiders, the fucking feds. she was even more shocked that she’d adopted a lifestyle of smuggling, as opposed to being another menial laborer. hell, she’d been anti-gun before all of this, and now she’d go through fifteen magazines a week - on good weeks.

luckily, she was a good shot, or she supposed she’d be spending a lot less on painkillers, and a lot more on bullets. she attributed it all to the first person to pay attention to her in the q.z.

she was a bit older, the woman - maybe mid 40s at the time - but she was incredibly fit, lithe and agile. they were put on odd jobs by FEDRA all the time, and it took about four jobs before she - beth - realized they were always paired together. she’ll always remember the first thing she told her:

“you’d think they’d get a better bunch than us to do this shit.” she had gestured to the group, full of mostly the malnourished, young, and old. there were considerable overlaps in those groups, if you can imagine.

sure, that first sentence wasn’t indicative of what would have become a budding friendship, but beth was quick to take her under her wing. then, when the older woman made the switch to smuggling goods, she figured that her young friend would do good in joining her.

“i don’t know, beth, what if the feds find out?” her arms were crossed over her chest as she paced up and down beth’s tiny apartment.

“you’ve got me! c’mon, when have things ever gone wrong with me.” she could name a few, but she pursed her lips to stop herself.

“what would we even get?” beth’s eyes lit up at her slow succumbing.

“that’s just it! i have an old, old friend who’s got a farm maybe 20 miles from here. he’s got these big fences to keep out the infected, but he grows fresh fruit and - meat! can you believe it! he’s got cows and chickens, and-” she stopped herself from delving too far into her master plan, “if we smuggle in food, we can get extra ration cards, extra supplies, and maybe even trade for other things!”

the idea excited her, and she couldn’t hide it, with beth immediately picking up on the released tension in her step, and in the way her arms crossed.

“but how would i survive out there? i can’t even shoot a gun.” beth’s smile widened.

“that’s the best part, hun. i’ll teach you.”

and teach her, she did. by the time they started making the serious, 20 km hike to beth’s friend’s farm, she was more than comfortable with a firearm, using it to save their lives on more than one occasion.

the trips had become muscle memory to her. they’d travel to the farm, trade ammo for food, and then come back, and trade the food for ration cards, for cigarettes for beth, and for the occasional bottle of whiskey.

it had become such muscle memory, that they both made the journey themselves occasionally. she’d been particularly busy one week trying to wrap up a larger deal with a group of fireflies - or at least, what they used to be - for decent first aid supplies. beth had urged her to carry on, and reassured her than she’d be back within 2 days with more food.

she waited two days. then she waited two more. then she got worried.

it was risky, she knew, but she had to figure what had happened.

she’d taken the same route they always took, except something had changed. one of the buildings in which they constantly stashed goods - usually empty - was now littered with metal cartridges, blood splattered across the grimy walls. her eyes widened, confused at the scene, and so fixated in figuring it out that she nearly tripped over something.

not something, someone.

she lets out a soft gasp at the corpse, the hole in his head indicative of his fate. she looked at the bag next to him, a quick confirming her fear - raiders. she rushed into the building, seeing their hiding places all ransacked - the slot in the bookshelf, the one under the table, the one behind a painting. her eyes saw a trail of blood, and, following it, she saw beth’s glassy eyes looking back at her.

a sob broke from her before she could realize - as, though she’d hoped for anything, anything else, she knew what the fate of her good friend had been. beth’s abdomen had been scarred, her jacket flipped out as though someone had scoured her pockets. the blood on her shirt had become flaky and a deep brown, having oxidized in the past few days.

she fell beside her, wanting to grab her hands, but recoiling at the stiffness of them, at how cold they were. her hot tears felt like a sharp contrast, and it only repeated the same juxtaposition in her mind: she was alive, and beth was dead.

she’d made the trip herself that day.

and every day after that.

she didn’t speak to anyone for a few weeks. her deals occurred over the span of a minute, maximum, and she didn’t greet the teenagers that lived across from her anymore, or the elderly man who would give her her ration cards for the days work. she went back a few days later to revisit her.

she had flowers - as many wildflowers as she could find on the way, and she placed them beside her as she shut her eyes, wincing again at the cold of her skin. it had begun to smell horrible in there, with the place becoming infested with scavengers.

she knew how much beth loved nature - hell, it was half of the reason she wanted to do these runs - so she - with all the strength she could muster, brought her about a hundred meters out, under the largest tree in the vicinity. she was sure it was a fruit tree of some kind - apples, or pears, she couldn’t tell. she laid her down lightly, pushing the flowers into her form delicately. she rubbed her own nose, willing the restarting tears to simmer, before backing away, sitting in the soft grass and just thinking.

beth was a loving person. somehow, through every way this pandemic hardened her, she still loved. she’d point out pretty, fragrant flowers on their hikes, she’d dream up elaborate meals and outfits, she’d always walk with a small pep in her step. sure, she was ornery when she needed to be, but she didn’t see too much of that. she saw the way beth would laugh, would smile, and would sing. she was terrible at it, but it never stopped her.

above all, beth loved her laugh. she loved the way her face lit up at a dumb joke, or outlandish comment. at the snarky comments beth would make to her friend, or the satirical ones about FEDRA and other smugglers.

she supposed that that day had been some form of closure for her. and she thought she’d do the little she could in beth’s memor: smile.

she was hard to miss in the q.z. it didn’t help that she was always waving at tommy, a quick greeting of hello - though, one not exactly common anymore. no, the problem was that damn smile. a smile never hurt anyone, except, of course, resident cynic joel miller. it always made him feel off, somehow, unable to feel comfortable with the notion of this bright thing in this desolated town of despair.

worse, though, was that he knew it wasn’t fake. he wondered how in hell she could be enjoying seemingly everything. he always let tommy handle that trade, though he did appreciate the goods. a packet of painkillers had initially seemed a steep price for chicken, but he was quick to realize which one they came by more often.

tommy would always chastise him for his sour face. his brother was always the more carefree one, more relaxed. the perks of a younger sibling, joel was sure, but he never mentioned it much. tommy’d always smile back at her; in fact, since her, he seemed to be smiling a lot more.

it made joel roll his eyes, the both of them acting like everything was fucking peachy.

that week, tommy’d been pulled away for a deal gone awry - some guy had sold their supply before being able to pay them back for it. he had some vendetta against joel, so the only way they could salvage the situation was through his more socially able brother. he was clear when he’d left:

“noon, joel. back alley two blocks from the soup kitchen, alright?” joel had nodded, only slightly, as he enjoyed a late lie-in - for the first time in about three weeks.

though he wasn’t particularly keen, he got up at about 11:45, rinsing his face to wipe the remnants of sleep from his eyes, before leaving the place. it was only a few blocks away, so he walked casually, taking a moment to peer into the soup kitchen to see if they were serving anything a step above edible. ah, who am i kidding? he thought, reminding himself of the lovely chicken he was about to pick up.

what joel wasn’t aware of was how precarious this area was, as a FEDRA thug would be stationed to glance over the back alleys about every 15 minutes to see if there was anyone trying to steal food from the soup kitchen. thus, there was only about a 5 minute gap where there were no guards. she knew it, and she knew that tommy knew it, so she wondered where he was, knowing if he delayed too much longer their window would be lost.

she tapped her foot impatiently on the floor, rolling her shoulders to just lightly relieve their pain. when she finally hear footsteps approaching, she breathed out a sigh, reaching quickly for her bag to shorten the time of the exchange.

“jesus, tom, what’re you doing? you know we can’t-” she was fumbling with the zipper of her bag, only realizing that it was in fact, not tommy when she looked up. her eyes widened for a moment, before she seemed to recognize him, her stance dropping a little from their tensed state, “j-joel? right?” he nods, silently, arms crossed, “do you have them?” he shrugged.

“let’s see what you have, first.” she paused for a moment, before realizing that he simply didn’t trust her.

“are you serious, man? look, we don’t have time for this-” she’s cut off by the crisp sound of boots on the floor, making her realize that their time had run out, “oh - shit-” she starts fumbling to close her bag and sling it back over her shoulder, and joel seems just a bit confused. that only increases when she grabs his hands, placing them on her hips, and pulling them further against the wall.

“what the hell-” she looks up at him with such earnest that he shuts up.

“i’m sorry, just trust me.” she whispers it on his cheek, their faces only a few centimeters from each other. he sharply nods, just as she realizes that the soldier was turning the corner. she stood just a bit taller, craning her neck so that her face was parallel to his, and wrapping her arms over his shoulders.

he was pulled into her lips, the momentum causing him to dig his fingers just a bit deeper into her hips, and his mouth moving a little viciously against her own. he hadn’t done this in a long time. he was sure his actions were a little shaky, and he reminded himself of the fact that she was only doing this to make sure that the guard wouldn’t find out about worse, more nefarious dealings.

but, god, she tasted nice. he wasn’t sure where exactly she would find fresh mint to chew on, but he figured it must be from the same place she got her chicken.

his beard felt just a bit prickly against her chin, and his lips were a bit chapped, but the way he was grasping onto her hips right now made her forget all of it. she knew the act he was putting up was pretty masterful, but that didn’t stop it from feeling good. the warmth of his body had even managed to make forget about the various pains in her joints.

“hey! what the fuck is going on here?” the sharp shout of the guard made them break away, but just slightly, and she feigned an expression of scandalized shock at seemingly being caught in such a heated moment. joel ‘recovered’ faster than she did, separating from her and clearing his throat.

“nothing! nothing, man.” he held his palm up in surrender, and the guard glanced over the both of them with keen, suspicious eyes. though, upon seeing the way the back of her hair was messed up from being placed by the wall, the way his clothes had bunched up near his shoulders, and her around her hips, and that both of them seemed a bit flustered and out of breath, he stepped back, gesturing them to come out.

“do not do it again. you’re not allowed in this area, yeah?” she timidly nodded, and joel mumbled a gruff thanks, the both of them reintegrating into the busier street. she keeps her eyes fixed to her feet, hands stuffed in her pockets.

“guess i’ll just got to yours - give it to you there.” she suggested, not knowing how else she’d be able to make the exchange.

“huh? yeah, yeah - okay.” joel was still just slightly shaken up by the encounter - both at how easy it was to convince the guard of his supposed intention of simply wanting to feel the warm touch of another - and how much of it was just an act. when he glanced at her glassy eyes, his gaze ghosted over her pigmented lips, having become brighter in their color due to the intensity of their actions.

he’s happy that his apartment’s so close, as he worries what would happen if he continued to ponder on it. the door’s lock is rusted to high heaven, but he fishes out his key, unlocking the door and swinging it open. he gestured for her to go in from of him, before closing the door again.

her eyes flit over the apartment: the shoddy couch and bookshelf just adjacent of the twin bed, and the rickety dinner table closer to her. it looked a lot like hers, really, save for the large radio placed between the couch and bed, making it seem as though as it was particularly important. hey, painkillers were her way of coping with their situation; maybe music is theirs?

joel patted the front of his pocket, before reaching two fingers into it, plucking out the painkillers, and placing them on the table in front of the both of them. she looks between the bag and him once, before smiling softly, realizing that his trust for her had obviously grown since just 10 minutes ago in the alley. she reaches into her own, pulling out the familiar box and placing it in front of her, before replacing the spot in her bag that had previously held it with the bag of painkillers.

as she’d placed it down in front of her, she’d let out a short exhale, the ghost of a laugh.

“considering that exchange, you should really enjoy this chicken, miller.” a smile had continued to dance on her lips, until she’d looked up to see his rigid face: pointed stare piercing into hers, his stance as reclusive as possible, his hands crossed tightly over his chest. her face also sobered a little, averting her gaze in the slightest confusion.

“you smile a lot.” he almost mumbles it, but the accusatory undertone in the pointed statement, makes her double-take, looking up at him with furrowed brows. her mouth hangs open as she formulates a response - unsure of what really to say to that.

“i’m sorry, solemn joel miller, for smiling?” she attempts a joke, but it’s directed at him, confused at the man’s distaste for such as simple thing. he shakes his head lightly, looking away and deciding to take the box off the table to have something to do with his hands.

“that’s not what i meant.”

“no, please! tell me what you did mean.” she knew it was also stupid to get defensive so quickly, but so much of that part of her was influenced by beth, that she couldn’t help but feel a small attack on her friend’s character as well.

“just - look around us, alright? their ain’t exactly a great world out there that you’re smiling for, and the little miss sunshine thing you do - it’s boring-”

“little miss sunshine?” she had completely stilled in her place, astonished by the fucking gall, “just cause everyone doesn’t want to hate every single part of their life, you fucking cynic.” she angled her body away from him, her rage evident in every movement. she wanted to rip into him - truly - but knowing it’d do nothing more than hurt her voice, she decided against it, snatching the painkillers off of the desk, and walking back out of the door, closing - or, really slamming - it behind her.

tommy had laid into joel after another two weeks, when, after his recent meeting with her, she had made it evident that she would not be dealing through joel again.

“what the hell d’ya say to her, man? have you seen her, joel? she never gets mad at anyone and you managed to piss her off in, what, 15 minutes?” joel took the berating with a seemingly bored expression, but he’d also wondered if his crass attitude had gone too far when he last spoke to her.

it was just that damn smile.

he didn’t even know why it effected him so much, but he couldn’t help it - every time he saw that damn smile, he couldn’t think about anything else but it.

it was a distraction - and that’s why it annoyed him, he was sure. but, a part of him seemed almost scared at the effect she had on him, but that part was not something he’d be addressing anytime soon.

besides, he hadn’t really had to see it much after that, as she’d gone out of her way to not only avoid him, but to make her expression neutral should his paths crossed. and, well, though he felt like a bit of a dick, he though that would have been the end of it.

until he realized that he missed it.

they didn’t speak for the next few months. they hadn’t spoken before, either, but maybe it felt a little weirder considering they’d practically felt each up against a wall previously. though, she didn’t let the strange hiccup deter her from her work - or her smile, continuing to do so in every opportunity that she could.

her and tommy still spoke, and him - being obviously the more emotionally intelligent brother - didn’t even really bring up joel all that much in their conversation. she’d always felt a wave of memory hit her whenever she waited in that alleyway, but she never had time to dwell on it as, contrary to his brother, tommy was always on time.

she had finally returned to that state of comfort that she had felt when beth was still alive, in no part helped by her recent friendships with a neighbor or two. there was an older man in the building across from her, who was very sweet - finding a small joy by gardening, of all things. he had just the smallest pot with a sunflower growing in it, but he had cherished it like it was his baby. she had thought that it was beautiful, and though she felt that the weather always seemed a little cloudy and grey, she found a new appreciation for the sunlight that was there when she’d see the sunflower greedily soaking it up, standing proud, through the crack in her neighbor’s door.

life had been so incredibly decent, that she had forgotten it was simply a calm before a storm, just as her friendship with beth had been.

it had started in the middle of the night. one of the many smugglers in the q.z. had been infected on a run - not wanting to give himself up to his companions, and sneaking back in under the shadow of night.

that group was the first to go, and by the next day, she was woken up to the sound of blaring FEDRA alarms, jolting up so hard that she hit her shin. she paused for just the slightest of moments, trying to comprehend what was being said.

“-infected in the quarantine zone-” was all she had to hear to leap to her feet, grabbing the bag that always sat by the edge of her bed, and immediately grabbing anything and everything that she could. when she finally through her door open, she realized that she was late to the party, as all of those in her building had already deserted it.

she could barely step out of the building when she heard the heavy gunfire. considering the resources FEDRA had put into this q.z. they evidently refused to go out without a fight, and as she looked at the other side of the street, she could see a small group of them, evident by their pale faces and slightly jagged movements, mouth’s curled to create those inhumane growls. she stumbles just slightly, ducking behind her building in order to escape their view. she knew of an exit that wasn’t going to be FEDRA monitored on the other side of the q.z., but she knew that journey was dangerous at best right now.

she moved slowly, relying on small spaces between buildings and back alleys in order to move. she could hear screams - human and infected - and incessant gunfire, making her ears ring.

she was so close to getting out of here, only having to cross the large expanse between FEDRA and the infected. it was risky - and that was putting lightly, but there wasn’t really another way out of here.

she slung her bag as comfortably as she could, seeing a small blockade in the middle that she could duck under before booking it the rest of the way.

so, she ran.

and she made it to the blockade, uninjured. the bullets had whizzed around her, and she wondered if she’d make it another time. she caught her breath, and turned her head to gauge the rest of the distance.

when she did, though, she saw her neighbor - her eyes widening - as she realized that he was attempting something similar to her. time practically slowed down as she heard the exact bullet that would hit him, making him crumple to his knees.

her inhibitions practically disappear, as she forgets everything, running forward without care in order to see if she could help him. the bullet had hit his chest, and his breathing labored as she pulled him up just lightly, mumbling anything and everything she could to console him through his pain.

she couldn’t do this again - she couldn’t see someone else she cared about dead. this time, at least, she had the opportunity to help, so she would regardless of the negative consequences for herself.

then again, that is what many who don’t realize the consequences would say.

they was so close to being out of their range, but one of the stray bullet pierced her thigh as she attempted to help him his up. her knees buckle, the searing pain hitting her after a moment of just nothing, and she feels her grip on him dissolve, the both of them falling.

she keeled over him, taking off her sweater and wrapping it around her thigh, before turning to him, having to crawl slightly forward with her limp leg in order to properly look at him.

she could see it - she could see him dying, his labored breathing nothing more than a prolonging of the inevitable. nonetheless, she scrunched up the fabric in that area, desperately attempting to stop the bleeding, but it was too little, too late. he suddenly grabbed her wrist, something she felt before she saw, as the tears welling in her eyes were detrimental to her vision.

“my - my flower, did you see it?” she nods, she nods so hard that she feels her head’ll fall off.

“’f course, of course - it was so pretty - the best thing in the building.” she was rambling, hoping to remind of something happier than his current predicament. but she didn’t need to. the recognition for his hard work had been more than enough, and she felt his sighs become longer and deeper, before his stopped moving altogether.

she brought her hands to her face, desperately trying to control her tears, but they just wouldn’t stop. futilely, she crawled up against one of the buildings, knowing that she��d suffer the same fate, as when she attempted to place even the slightest pressure on her thigh, she had to muffle her screams of pain in her hand.

when she hears her name being called, she’s sure she’s misheard it, keeping her head down, and continuing to wipe her eyes.

but, she hears it more clearly, and she knows it wasn’t her imagination anymore, so she looks up, and sees joel looking down at her with the most severe look of concern he’d ever exhibited in front of her.

“jesus - what-” as he approaches her, he sees the makeshift bandage on her thigh, and the glossy tears on her face, “you got-” he can’t finish the sentence, and she nods almost a little pathetically. he gives her a quick once over, before grabbing her bag and slinging it over his larger shoulders, making it seem very small. her mouth falls open, believing he’d taken it in order to scavenge supplies off a dying body. her breathing falters at the inhumanity of the actions, before she feels his arms encapsulate her frame: one behind her back and one under her knees, “you can’t walk, can you?” the shock renders her speechless, so she opts to nod instead, and he tightens his grip on her slightly.

it’s an odd sensation, being lifted off of the ground, especially since she’d never felt it before. her thigh strained slightly against gravity, making her exhale deeply, a hiccup remaining as a remnant of her sobs, but she knew this pain was still far more bearable than her attempting to walk.

“put your arms-” she realizes that he’s still talking to her, using the minimal movement his head was now capable of to help her put her arms around his neck, taking some weight off of his forearms. she obliges, tentatively wrapping her arms over, before turning her head slightly forward and seeing the body of her dead neighbor just a few meters away.

she chokes for a moment, a mix of a gasp and a cry escaping her - and it flusters joel, making to him turn his head slightly as well, upon recognizing what she was looking at, he sighed. the heartbroken expression on her face made even him upset, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to soothe her.

“just - damn - just keep your eyes on me, okay? you don’t have to see all that.” she looks up at him, shocked by the sweetness of the comment, before nodding slightly, breathing quickly to calm her tears. he begins moving, and she sticks to his word, alternating between looking up at him, and resting her head by instead looking at the flannel he had on. when she would look at his face, she could see the tinge of worry breaking through his stoic exterior, as he attempted to keep moving despite his somewhat debilitating cargo - her. she’d wince when he’d turn too sharply, or jolt to a stop, and though she attempted to keep her winces and whimpers to a minimum, his brows would furrow each time in worry, and he would glance down at her to make sure the pain wasn’t too bad.

he’d begin shouting tommy’s name at some point, and though it took only another 5 minutes for him to rejoin his brother, it had felt like an agonizing eternity to joel. tommy stood shocked at the scene: he cared for her, but he didn’t know joel did. at least, not enough to carry her across the q.z., by any means.

“what the hell? is she-”

“shot, her thigh. we gotta get out of here - is the tunnel open?” tommy, still a bit shocked, nods, mouth hanging open, as he opened the door of the building they were standing in front of. there three of them - two, she supposed, with her in tow - made their way up to the third floor, and tommy practically kicked open one of the apartment doors. it wasn’t difficult - its previous owner had obviously left in a hurry as well. he bolts to the other side of the room, as she takes one arm off joel’s shoulder to slam the door shut behind him. a great creaking came from in front of her, and she craned her neck to see tommy moving several loose floorboards, and opening up a heavy metal hatch with a distinct, grinding pop under them. he holds it open as joel and her near it, and, when their standing in front of it, she realizes the tunnel is about 2 meters deep - maybe a little less - with a short ladder allowing easy movement.

joel worries it’s far too large a fall for her. he sets her back to her feet as gently as possible, and she immediately places as little weight on one of her legs as possible.

“here, hold her.” he takes her my her arm, resting most of her body weight on him, and helps her over to tommy, who keeps her steady with one hand as he holds the hatch open with the other. joel’s quick to scale down the ladder, before he turns his head up to look at the both of them, “you’re gonna have to jump.” her eyes widened at the idea, not believing that she’d get off the ground, much less survive the jump.

“i-what?” joel holds his hands out, and when her eyes flick up to tommy, he nods solemnly - as it was their only option.

“i’ve got ya.” she breathes deeply, squaring her shoulders, before lowering as softly as she can to her feet. as she dangles her thigh over the edge, it squeezes it, and she lets out a sharp cry that make’s both brothers wince. she uses her hands to lever her body forward, before she closes her eyes, her breath stilling.

then, she jumps, and the moment of free-fall consumes her, her body feeling as though she’s floating. and, as quickly as it occurs, it stops, when she feels joel’s arms wrap around her lower back, effectively breaking her fall before she hit the hard dirt. she uses her hands to stabilize herself when he sets her down, clutching far too tightly onto his shirt, feeling as though she was still falling. he reciprocates, sensing her obvious worry, and pulls her close to his torso, letting her ease her breathing. in a few more moments, tommy’s managed to cover up the majority of the entrance and come down. he takes her bag off joel’s shoulders.

“want me to help her?” he offers, not exactly sure how long his brother had been carrying her, but knowing that a break may have been appreciated either way.

“i’ve got her.” it’s a sharp response, and it makes tommy furrow his eyebrows, confused by the tone. he doesn’t dwell on it, though, as joel’s picked her up again, and she’s buried her face into the crook between her and his chest.

it was a long trip through the long tunnel, but, when tommy finally opened the latch on the other side, she greedily looked up at the sun for the first time that cloudy morning, so enthusiastic that when she next blinked, she could see sun spots.

it’s just a short walk from there to one of the many houses that smugglers camped in overnight on longer trips. it was a bit dingy - but at least decently clean. the last time joel had been here, smashed glass from beer bottles had littered the floor, as did some rotting food.

there was only a couch and a bed, and joel sets her down on the couch as tommy checks their inventory.

they’re ridiculously low on supplies: enough food for only one meal, and neither enough weapons, ammo or supplies in the case of an unexpected visitor.

“shit - i’ll go over to c.v.s., see if they have anything.” there was a rundown c.v.s. just a short walk from this house that had been practically stripped by the time tommy and joel had first come by it. they’d, therefore, found it to be a perfect place to stash some supplies, as many would refuse to look too far upon seeing the initial emptiness, assuming that it had been picked clean. joel doesn’t even acknowledge the sentence until he hears the door click shut.

he’s looking down at her haggard form, and, seeing that her sweater had practically soaked through in blood, he reaches for their first aid.

at least the blood was a bit old, the pressure on the wound stopping the majority of the bleeding. joel grabs the crude tweezers, stretching them so that they could comfortably pluck out the bullet lodged in her flesh. she can see the dead expression on her face, showing her obvious disassociation from her painful sensation. a pillow still remained on the couch - shockingly - so he handed it to her, instructing her to bite down on it to forget some of the pain.

she looks at him with renewed worry, unsure of how decent an anesthetic biting would be. he places his palm lightly on the knee of her injured leg, hoping to keep it in place, as he removes the sweater. the wound made her gasp, the flesh having been mangled lightly due to the rough conditions. he lifted her chin up, urging her to instead look at the ceiling. her eyes flutter, and she can feel tears glass over her eyes when she feels the metal of the tweezers ever so lightly graze her skin.

“i’m - i’ve gotta take it out, okay?” she doesn’t nod, but she doesn’t protest either, so he takes it she understands, and he lightly pulls at the skin to make the wound larger, in order to more quickly pluck out the bullet. she whimpers around the pillow, biting hard already, and he lowers the tweezers.

she can feel them inside her skin, and she uses her hands to squeeze the pillow as well, her screams becoming more distinct, loud.

“you’re good, you’re good, you’re doing good-” joel doesn’t even know how to console someone, but he tries his level best, praising her endlessly as he swiftly, but meticulously pulls out the bullet. the blood restarts, practically spurting out of her leg, and she can feel the liquid over her skin, weaving around her hair follicles as she desperately attempted to keep her leg still. he places a cloth over it, before replacing it with gauze immediately, allowing the material to soak up the blood. the pain still consumed her, but it turned from sharp to more dull. she drops the pillow, along with her hands. they were both panting, but their breathing slowed, as they realized that the stress was less in that moment. he keeps a firm hand on her thigh, and she lets her head drop against the couch.

in another few minutes, he reminds her that he still needs to stitch her up. it hurt like a bitch too, but nothing trumped the feeling of the bullet leaving her body. he made swift work of the procedure, and she wondered how many times he’d had to do it.

when he’d finished, he lowered his arms, breathing a deep, relieved, and contemplative sigh as he sat back a little, taking weight off of his own legs. though her leg was stitched up, she was fully against the idea of getting up, so she relegated herself to getting comfortable on the couch. joel also got up after another few moments, placing the first aid back in her bag, before taking a look around the house - seeing if any previous visitors had forgotten any supplies.

they had, as an unopened ziplock of crackers sat in one of the kitchen cabinets. it hadn’t been here last month when they’d previously stopped by, and the opened the container, inspecting it carefully to see if it was alright to eat. he took a small bite and, determining that it was alright, he walked back over to the couch.

she had lightly adjusted to the side as he had neared, so he relaxed into the cushion next to her, trying not to invade her space. he handed her a cracker, which she graciously accepted. she hadn’t realized how hungry she was, not having eaten since the previous night.

“it’ll make you feel better,” he’d mumbled, as he handed it to her, and she breathed a quiet thank you in response. they sit in a silence only broken by the crunching of the crackers, and she finds herself ever so subtly glancing at the man next to her.

he looked tired, which was understandable, and his hard expression remained on his face. the severity of it reminded her of their only prolonged conversation - which was truly more of an argument.

“why - why did you help me?” it’d been a question plaguing her since he had so delicately patched her up - a far cry from the man who had condemned her for as little as smiling.

his brow furrows at the question, as he’d not been accepting it.

“what? you were bleeding out on the street - i couldn’t just leave you.” she let the explanation mull in her head, before shaking it.

“no - so many people were like that, but you only helped me. why?” he turned his body just slightly to face her, a bewildered expression on his face.

“did you not want me to?” she immediately protests.

“no! i mean - i’m grateful. honestly, i’d have been dead hours ago had it not been for you. it’s just-” suddenly, his stare felt too intense, and she averted her eyes, “you always gave off the impression that you didn’t like me.” she shrugs, hoping it’s a sufficient explanation. it seems to be, as he goes silent. then, he breathes deeply.

“i do - i do. tommy likes you, so i’ll like you.” it’s a diplomatic answer, and she realizes it, but she decides to nod instead of probing further.

“alright, well - thank you.” she goes to smile, but stops herself, “i’m allowed to smile, yeah?” she means it as a half-joke, but he finds a lot of amusement in it, looking at her quizzically, before laughing at the comment. she’d never even seen him crack a smile, much less a laugh.

it was a nice change of pace.

“please do. you haven’t done it since morning - i was starting to get concerned.” though her previous smile may have been one of politeness, this one comes from the sarcastic nature of the comment.

the quirk of her lips gave him some peace, his mind having been racing with worry over her for the past few hours. maybe it was distracting, but he supposed everyone needs a little bit of that.

and if it comes in the form of a pretty smile - even better.

[asimplearchivist]

𝑪𝑯. 𝑰𝑽 — 𝑭𝑼𝑳𝑳 𝑶𝑭 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬.

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈𝐕 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary 🕷️ ⤏ spider-woman of earth 928c has a painfully short adjustment period to her new predicament. she isn’t the only one. pairing 🕷️ miguel o’hara/spider!reader word count 🕷️ 4.0k a/n 🕷️ [gif credit] ⤏ this chapter was originally planned to be entirely passive, just to catch up on reader’s feelings through the last couple of chapters. however, jess (or should I say miguel) had other plans. they took it from me and I had to run with it. next chapter we’ll see a little more progress in reader and miguel’s dynamic, hopefully. 🕷️ MASTERPOST 🕷️ 🕷️ PREVIOUS CHAPTER ⤎ 🕷️ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER 🕷️

The infamous, so-called Spider-Society wasn’t nearly as…prestigious as you’d initially anticipated, after all the buildup that the alternate Miguel had laid down convincing you to join. Meeting so many other Spider-People was certainly as elating as it was stressful (honestly, you never thought that you would see as many of the same person at one time, multiverse theory be damned, much less the stark differences between the lot of them—it was a good thing that you weren’t allergic to rocks, because there sure was a lot of Peter). The majority of them seemed to come and go as they pleased, only turning up to HQ to report in occasionally or to share information about any new anomalies that may have cropped up in their dimension.

Oh, yeah, and the whole anomaly thing…combined with the canon events theory…there was a reason you’d focused on robotics and nanotech rather than physics during university. Being told that because of your involvement in the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse (and Christ, Miguel needed to get a new name for that, it was just too damn big of a mouthful) you were basically guaranteed to undergo negative experiences that would drive most people into depression or madness didn’t…sit well. Although it was a slight comfort to know that virtually every other Spider-Person had gone through something similar to you in regards to grief, it still didn’t sit quite right with you—but perhaps that was the hero complex in you speaking. If I had just tried harder, been faster, put my life further out on the line…

Nevertheless, it did help you to relax slightly. Peter B. was infectious with his easy affection and lighthearted demeanor, cracking jokes and knowing just what to say to help you circumnavigate your awkward interactions with the others. His wife was about five months along, expecting their first child—a little girl they’d already decided to name Mayday after his deceased aunt. He introduced you to Jessica Drew, who herself was due to have a baby in seven months—she was cool and calm but had a lot of heart and humor, and you appreciated her honestly as much as her sincerity.

Some of the others were…quite a handful. You weren’t quite sure what to think of Hobie Brown, besides the fact that he was hilarious. You had the distinct impression that he was always watching you, though, dark eyes as scrutinous as your trigonometry teacher back in high school. You didn’t really want to think that he was waiting for you to mess up or something, but…he always seemed to know something more than you at all times and it made you just a tad uncomfortable. The quiet, observant sort like him often were the greatest troublemakers—his standing track record in his universe, which he claimed with no small amount of pride, notwithstanding. You liked him, you really did—he’d been nothing but kind to you during your brief introduction—but you couldn’t help but feel like he had something up his sleeve.

The rest were just as, if not more, colorful characters. The mind-boggling quantity of alternate Spider-People overwhelmed you after Peter B.’s tour, so after he herded you back to the cafeteria and helped you to unload your cart, he showed you the basics on opening the portals.

“Try not to use them in crowded areas—you don’t want a bunch of junk getting in the way. Or, you know, splicing into your body like a redshirt being beamed up. Type in the universe number here, enter the coordinates—looks like Miguel already saved your previous location as the default, so you can teleport directly from there to HQ whenever you need to—then tap this, and…voila! There’s a communications tab here, so you can contact LYLA or call any one of us if you ever need backup, or to report an anomaly.”

You nodded along, squinting in hopes that you could commit the motions to memory rather than have to ask multiple times how the damn thing worked—you were a roboticist, yes, and you could probably whip up a circuit out of cardboard, gum, and a lemon—but even this level of technology was beyond your paygrade. Miguel’s work was truly phenomenal, you had to give him that. (And…well. You didn’t want to wind up like a redshirt, either.)

You imparted him with another half-dozen cupcakes to take home to the missus as thanks for taking his time with you, dragged your cart through the portal back into the kitchen of your bakery, and as the maelstrom of mindfuck physics disintegrated into thin air within the blink of an eye as though it had never been there to start with…you sank against the countertop and buried your face in your hands.

This Miguel was different from your late husband, in countless ways that you’d been doing your best not to take notice of too closely. (Would it be considered rude to compare them? They were inherently the same person, just…under different circumstances.) But, at the same time, they behaved so similarly: that same low, even, soft-spoken cadence; those half-lidded eyes feigning disinterest but to hide the exact opposite after years of having any enthusiasm beat out of him as a child; the tension he always carried in his shoulders to hold them back, his chin angled up, his hands always ready at his sides, always ready to move at a moment’s notice (and those shoulders…you hadn’t been joking, asking Peter B. about the man’s dieting habits—he easily dwarfed your husband twice over, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was intentional or whether it was due to whatever sort of spider abilities he’d inherited).

Even still, that was only the start of the differences. This Miguel was snippier, shorter-tempered, and mumbled as though he had a mouthful of something packed under his bottom lip all the time. He had a clipped walk like a panther, a long, stalking stride that made far too little noise for a man of his bulk. He kept his hair slicked back rather than allowing his curls freedom. His mildly unsettling carmine eyes were tired, and you were half-convinced that if he were to sit too long he’d likely pass out based on the way he hyper-focused on everything around him as though to compensate. His exhaustion was obvious, but maybe that only had to do with your familiarity of the canvas rather than the difference in hues and brushstrokes.

They said your name the same way, however. You weren’t sure how to feel about that.

By the time you pulled yourself together (because you had wept enough the night before and didn’t want a repeat incident—you’d probably tripled your water bill hunkering down in the shower to muffle your misery and you were not going to cry again, thank you very much) and made it back upstairs, the night had set in and plunged your apartment in total darkness. It was a bit odd, as in Earth 928B it had been about noon when you left, but you supposed that temporal unalignment was the least of your concerns.

Your cat, a silver tabby your husband had named Alba upon finding her abandoned as a kitten in the park, greeted you at the door letting you know exactly how late you were for serving her evening meal. You long-sufferingly doled out the kibble in the kitchen and watched her inhale it in less than a minute before coiling around your legs in a figure-eight once and retreating to her bed set in the windowsill overlooking the street below.

You shook your head with a sigh, trudging around to feed your other pet Horchata before retreating into your bedroom, stripping off your clothes as you went. You tossed them all into the overflowing hamper, stored the compact belt containing the technology housing your suit in your nightstand drawer, and slipped into the bathroom to wash away the flour and confectioner’s sugar. You carefully removed the not-watch (as Peter B. had been so kind to inform you that Miguel hated them to refer to it as a watch) and set it on the counter alongside the ring you wore on a delicate chain around your neck.

You wondered what this new Miguel saw in you, to want you on his top-secret strike team so badly. You weren’t exactly perky yourself. You’d laid out all your flaws for him, and yet he hadn’t even flinched. He’d only seemed agitated at your immediate refusal, if nothing else.

The next day passed in relative normalcy—you woke early to start work on your stock, had coffee with your aunt (who spent more time daydreaming about her doctor than actually sharing the report of her yearly physical, although everything seemed normal, fortunately), and opened up shop all before the sun rose. You dealt with all the catering and pickup orders as they came in and kept tabs on everything baking in the back while Maya dealt with the storefront. You dipped out at noon to get lunch for the both of you, listened to the police reports on the way, and breathed a sigh of relief that Nueva York managed to retain its peace for another day.

The afternoon crept by far more slowly, and by the time closing rolled around you got to share the news with your business partner.

“I’ve made a deal with a company to sell out our stock at the end of every day,” you told her while you swept and she dusted the countertops. It was ten ‘til but it helped to clean up before since she always went straight home once the sign was turned off. “It’s, uh…an all-day type-thing, and they needed extra stock in their cafeteria. I think it’ll help with keeping up.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Maya exclaimed, smiling broadly with glittering eyes. “I always did hate seeing it go to waste since the donation centers never took all of it. Do you need any help packing it all up?”

“No, I’ve got it. It’ll only take a few minutes, and I can be the only one to deliver it. Kind of a hush-hush type thing.”

She quirked a brow, glancing over your shoulder as the bell over the door jangled. “So long as it’s not for the mafia.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not working for the mafia. I’m not pretty enough to work for the mafia.”

“You don’t have to be pretty to work for the mafia.”

You turned to find Jess standing there with a lazy smile, dressed in sleek civvies. You swallowed. “Hey. I thought I was dropping all this off?”

“I’m in a bit of a time crunch,” she said with a smile, but you didn’t miss the subtle urgency in her eyes. “I’ll help you pack it up and get it there.” She nodded to your aunt. “How’re you doing today?”

“I’m just fine,” Maya beamed, coming around the counter. “Thank you for your business. What’s your name?”

“Jessica Drew,” the other Spider-Woman introduced smoothly, extending a hand. Maya shook it. “Your niece told me good things about you.”

“Oh, as she should!” Maya laughed, eyes twinkling. “I’ve been taking care of her since she was knee-high to a grasshopper!”

“And I think it’s about time for you to head home to take your meds,” you interjected, face warming as you set the broom to the side and moved towards the back to get her things for her. “Want me to call you an Uber?”

Maya scoffed quietly, casting Jess a look that screamed, ‘can you believe the nerve?’ “I’ll walk. I didn’t get all my steps in this morning.”

“Be careful, then.” You dipped into the kitchen, grabbed her purse, and reemerged to find them chatting about children—your aunt had a sixth-sense when it came to babies, and evidently she’d picked up on Jess’ glow. “I’ll see you tomorrow for supper.”

“Don’t forget to bring the pickled beets,” she reminded you, slipping into her jacket despite the sun still shining bright upon the pavement outside.

“Believe me, I won’t. They’ll never get eaten if I don’t deliver them.”

“They’re good for you.”

“I’m sure they are. But my tongue says otherwise.”

You waved her out, locked the door behind her, and flicked off the neon sign. You turned back to Jess, brow furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

“Under normal circumstances, we’d introduce you to anomaly-catching a little more gradually,” she responded, face schooling into business-mode, “but Peter B.’s out and Miguel thought he could handle it on his own. Again. I need backup.”

You nodded, already moving to shed your apron and the unnecessary outer layers that would interfere with the UMF. You slipped back into the kitchen to toss them into the hamper and, this time, she followed. “Do I need to be concerned about his evident tendency to jump in head-first without looking?”

“He’s been like this for as long as I’ve known him.” Jess began to type into her (not) watch. “He’s one of the most headstrong people I’ve ever met.”

“You’ll meet few others that are more stubborn,” you muttered without really thinking. You tried to hide your wince by tapping your belt to activate your suit. “Where to?”

The portal blossomed open, and Jess gestured towards it. “After you.”

You swallowed, eyed it for just a moment, then moved through the vortex.

It spat you out on top of a brick office building in a version of New York only slightly less futuristic than your own. The sheer noise of screaming in the streets below, both from humans and vehicle brakes alike, precluded the rumble of an explosion that rocked the infrastructure beneath your feet. You whipped around to the cloud of smoke that arched up into the dusky sky, the lenses in your mask automatically adjusting to locate the heat signatures of two individuals caught in a grapple amongst the flames.

“I’ve got a visual,” you told Jess as she emerged next to you. “Over there.”

“Let’s go. Looks like it’s already gotten out of control.”

The pair of you leapt off the rooftop, swinging out into open air. You watched a rapidly moving shape bulleted from the plume off to the left, and you could hear maniacal laughter even with the wind battering your ears.

“Oh, great,” you muttered, “we love the crazy-ass grenade enthusiast.” You jerked your head towards the crumbling building—the other heat signature had yet to move. “Go check on Miguel, I’ll track our escapee.”

Jess looked like she wanted to argue, but she only released a sigh. When it came to split-second decisions like this, there was never enough time to deliberate. “Be careful. Don’t get in over your head.”

“You got it.” You diverted to swing wide around a warehouse, setting a waypoint on the villain-of-the-week rocketing through the buildings. He was a fast bastard, but fortunately he had yet to start dropping bombs on the bewildered population below—that’s when things with the Goblins always got tricky.

Soon enough, you managed to pick up speed to catch up, and with a well-timed turn and tight swing you lunged for the glorified hoverboard. You connected, latched on to the edge, and the added weight caused the entire platform to dip and sway dangerously.

“Another little spider!” crooned the Goblin, banking sharply to the right in an attempt to knock you off with a light pole. The reverberating collision with your hip hurt like a bitch. “How lucky am I to have as many new friends with which to play?”

“Save it, Osborn!” you growled, using the momentum of his next whirl to get a knee up over the edge. You grabbed his ankle and dislodged his foot from the hook, cooling a loop of webbing around it and securing it out of place to hinder his balance. “If you’ll just make this easier on every one of us, that would be appreci—”

You should have expected him to slam his heel into your elbow, but in hindsight you’d thought him not nimble enough to outspeed you.

“But that would take all the fun out of the game,” he crowed, stooping down and planting a fist into your temple. Your vision swam and your grip loosened. “And teaming up two against one is hardly fair to start with!”

You gritted your teeth and grabbed the nape of his neck, wrenching him down towards you and flipping the board in the process. You managed to yank his other foot out of the stirrup and then the both of you were freefalling. You snatched the board with a web before he could reach it, slinging it at the nearest building and embedding it into the side. 

Unfortunately, he decided to latch onto you, instead. With the talons built into his gloves, no less. Sharp pain pricked your thigh and side, respectively, and when you landed on a terrace all the wind was knocked from your lungs. The Goblin dug in deep, hefting you up and over his shoulder to throw you bodily over into the street below.

The next impact was softer than you expected. You blinked the tears from your eyes only to find that Miguel was the reason for it, the lenses of his mask narrowed dangerously at you.

“You shouldn’t have gone after him alone,” he growled, reaching out with his free hand to pierce the mortar with his claws and suspend you against the wall. You struggled to catch your breath, especially with his tight, unyielding grip around your waist. “That was stupid. This one could easily do a lot of damage, and—”

The squawk of the Goblin over your heads caused both of your gazes to snap upwards, watching through the bars as Jess kicked him down. Within seconds she had him webbed in place, face pressed against the iron, glaring down at you. His wrists were bound together over his head, and you caught the subtle movement of his fingertips against the device coiled around his wrist. The grind of stone, the hum of fission, and the flash of light all activated your senses.

“Mig—!” you started, head whipping to the other side. You grappled at his rigid form to wedge yourself into his side, blocking him from the glider that launched itself at him at full speed. You absorbed the blow, but the force of it knocked both of you from the wall and tumbled down to the street. Your vision blacked out briefly when you landed roughly on your side.

“Por los clavos de Cristo!” Miguel snarled, breathing harshly even as he scrambled up from the concrete. “Idiota!*”

“Imagine cussing someone out for keeping your ribs from getting caved in,” you wheezed, hearing the glider sputter. You twisted to squint up at Jess decommissioning the damned thing. “De nada, cabrón.**”

Miguel’s silhouette shaded your eyes as he kneeled next to you, lenses narrowed to slits, but the quiver in his hands as he reached out to you caught you by surprise. He carefully prodded your bruised side, retracting his touch instantly when you hissed.

“I’m fine,” you said, slowly sitting up with a low groan. “Just a scratch.”

“Hey!” Jess called, hauling the goblin over her shoulder. “Do you have the field?”

He didn’t move an itch, save to hover his hands over you as you clambered back to your feet. There was scarcely half a foot of space between you, his hunkered, hulking form blocking your view of much else beyond the glowing nanites highlighting his contours.

“Miguel!” Jess tried again, jumping nimbly down near you. “You all right?”

That finally seemed to break him out of whatever trance he’d been caught in, and you watched the tension return in full force to his body as he straightened to his full height once more. “Here.” He snatched the device from his hip and tossed it on the ground. She unceremoniously dumped the Goblin into the field, then moved over to pick up the glider. He didn’t look away from you, finally croaking, “That was reckless.”

“You don’t seem to have the Spidey-Sense,” you pointed out wryly, rubbing your ribs gingerly. “And it could’ve been worse.”

He brandished a pointed finger in your face, the hook of his claw gleaming with the UMF stretched over its surface. “Don’t,” he growled, “do it again. I mean it.”

You quirked a brow at him, despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to see it. You folded your arms over your chest so he’d get the message. “Don’t jump in by yourself again,” you returned evenly. “You’re not invincible either, Miguel.”

And he did look worse for wear. Now that your vision had cleared, you could see that he was favoring his left leg, the UMF along his shoulders was glittering as the nanobots attempted to stitch themselves back together, and the lens over his right eye was cracked.

“This isn’t about me,” he started curtly.

“It is, because you came here without backup.” You smacked his hand away and returned his previous gesture, fingertip centimeters away from his nose under the mask. “Don’t tell me you’re stupid enough to think that you could handle all this by yourself.”

His extended silence, grating and aggravated, was answer enough.

You rubbed your forehead and let out a heavy sigh. “Let’s just…finish this up, shall we? You need to get checked out.”

He tilted his head, and you had the distinct impression that he was scowling at you. “Since when did you become team leader?”

“Since when did you become so damned irresponsible?” you shot back.

Jess’ face slackened into shock, her eyes cutting away as she pursed her lips. She looked on the verge between laughter and wanting to leave immediately. “Opening a portal back to base,” she offered mildly, turning her back on the both of you for some illusion of privacy.

“Look,” you hissed, gesturing towards Jess and the Goblin, who was chuckling quietly to himself despite being caught in a rather humiliating predicament of being tied ass-over-head. “I understand that you’re the head honcho and that you seem to have your bluff in on everybody else in the Society. Most of them are terrified of you, from what I gathered yesterday. And I don’t know to what extent that you’re familiar with me, like you said, but I know you, too, Miguel. I know that you’d sooner eat drywall than admit you’re wrong, and that your head is harder than vibranium. I know that you always take on too damn much on your shoulders because you feel like no one else could or should have to handle it. But I swear to God, I am not going to let you run yourself into the ground. You’re just like…” You stopped abruptly, swallowed, then dropped your head to shake it in frustration. “...look. The whole reason you have these dozens of Spider-People recruited in the first place is to help you manage all this, not to pick you back up when you inevitably fall apart trying to carry it all by yourself. You’re not fucking Atlas. And if you’re going to be like this all the time, I’m not going to have any part of it. Comprendes?***”

He glowered at you for a long moment before his low, gritted tone reached you. “Comprendo.****”

“Great.” You thumped him in the sternum for good measure. “Now I’m sure there’s a long, drawn-out, laborious process of paperwork following this, so the sooner I can get it done and deliver the heaping pile of croissants I had leftover today, the better.”

You turned as the portal blossomed open once more, waving Jess off and slinging the Goblin over your shoulder, and marched right on through back to HQ, feeling Miguel’s eyes burning into your back the entire way.

[shadowbrightshine]

My gift to you @marvelmaniac715

Here's a little thing I made for that idea I was sharing with you. This is completely out of order from where I would want to start the story, but it's a thing I made as a little proof of concept. Unfortunately it's pretty rough, but I'm writing from a perspective of a self hating girl, and then a teen out of his depth. Once I write it proper, it'll feel more natural. For now, here is Cherry Lolly, or Janet from the Starry eyed children Revival, and Tim Hudson, the first prophet after the Lord's reformation you wrote. Say hi to the Homeless man! whoopies I wrote 2.5k words! enjoy everyoneeee. Fair warning, Janet's views on herself is not how I see things. Also Janet thinks in a more stilted way, so her narration is, like that. Reblogs appreciated!

Janet watched from the bush as Tim passed by with William. He’d changed since the accident that took away the use of his left leg. He was more confident and talked to everyone now. Janet watched him, him and the brightly colored friends he’d made. She didn’t mean to be creepy, but if anyone saw her they would run away. She knew that, she knew how hideous she was, with her top teeth covered in skin, a surgical adjustment and filter flap in her neck that made her look like a robot, not even a lower jaw to pretend to look like a normal girl. Her parents tried to tell her she was still pretty. The screams of those kids still haunted her and proved them wrong every single day she walked the earth. That’s why she had to hide in bushes and trees to watch the normal people go about their days. 

Tim had changed physically too. His fingers were longer, and his right leg was longer, she’d noticed his left leg drag less and less as the months went on, just slightly. She knew why, it had to do with William. She’d watched him and his brothers for a little while now. They weren’t normal, they could transform into new bodies. She would give her dominant arm up for a power like that. No one else remembered, but Tim used to have brown eyes. Whoever changed everyone’s minds must have forgotten her. No one remembers Janet. Tim used to have brownish eyes. Now one eye was a dull blue, and the other was still hazel now, it had a thick ring of green around it, and green near the pupil. No one else remembered, except for her. No one likes Janet but her parents, and they never tried to have another child, they learned their lesson. 

Janet felt gross. She was so gross watching others like this. But she couldn’t talk to them without revealing this awful deformity. She had to use her talk pad if she used the phone. Tim was special. Something was different about him now. She’d seen him give a present to the homeless man on Christmas Eve. She’d seen many things. She knew about Max Jagerman, the ghost of Hatchetfield who murdered her favorite girl. Ruth was the only other person she worked up the courage to interact with, and that was only a week before her death. Ruth didn’t care that she was disgusting, she’d called Janet pretty, she’d held hands with her, she even gave her these cherry hair clips she would never stop wearing. 

The brothers showed up on the night Max disappeared forever, and Janet could feel the shift in the air as time went on. The town was different now. They had something to do with it, and they could do things no one else could. Them and the sister, the girl who walked with Hannah. She’d tried to talk to Hannah, but her cowardice kept her back. Janet shivered, it was cold out and she didn’t have proper protection today. Wendy radiated warmth and a special magic, she could feel it. Janet crept back towards her home, the woods feeling more real to her than the town did. 

She carefully avoided crossing into the camp territory. She’d also watched girl Jeri and boy Jerry before. She was scared of the counselors. The adults didn’t seem to notice how strange they were, but she knew. She knew they were bad news, and she knew about little Jerry. He was nice to her, and she brought him muffins sometimes. Her family lived far away from the rest of the town. She knew why, it was because her parents were ashamed of her. That’s why they never went into town, or took her out to shop, or lived in town. They would lie and tell her it’s because this house was part of the family line. They told her lots of families lived in the woods. That part wasn’t a lie, she’d seen the other kids playing in the woods, but they couldn’t meet her. 

Janet was a monster, and she knew it. The only person other than her parents who was nice to her was a fellow monster. Normal people didn’t need to use a feeding line in her arm to stay alive. Normal people had tongues and chins and could talk. Normal people didn’t spend their days watching from the shadows. Normal people had friends. No one remembered the day she was born in the hospital and the nurses screamed in fear anymore. She knew she was a monster. But like a monster she couldn’t resist the draw of humanity. She wanted to be seen and loved. She spent hours writing in her notebooks, entire scripts, books, and stories. She’d explored every part of the forest. 

Tim was nice to the homeless man. No one was nice to him, everyone hated him and thought he was weird and gross. Janet had watched him stumble around and talk to himself all the time. She thought about trying to be his friend, but he’d probably assume she was a hallucination and ignore her. Better not to risk it. Tim though, Tim got him a gift, and he talked to him, and cared about him. Maybe…maybe he wouldn’t mock her. Maybe he would be nice to an animal like her. A monster like Janet. She had to try. 

Christmas Eve:

“Spare change for the homeless?” The man asked, it was one of the few things he could say easily. Tim shook his head and took a seat next to him. The homeless man scrambled to make room for him, staring at him with more  confused than usual eyes. Wiggly stood a few feet away, holding Tim’s crutches for him. The snow was thin here under the awning of the shoe store. Tim shivered, but his snow pants kept him dry. It was harder to get around in these, but they were warmer. 

Tim looked at the man’s shaking hands in the cold. “Do you have a name?” He asked, taking some gloves out of his pocket and handing them to the man. “Everyone walks past you and ignores you. I’ve seen you around since I was a baby.” The man used to speak more clearly, if just as strangely. Tim remembered when he would have conversations with random objects. Now his voice was really shaky and he couldn’t seem to form full sentences anymore.

The man struggled to get the gloves onto his hands, fingers numbed by cold and by some kind of disability that made all his movements strange or jerky. Maybe it was making his voice worse. Was it a degenerative condition? “A…A name…” He looked up at the sky, it was already getting dark, and the last bits of sunlight reflected off the clouds. “My na-naame, I had…” He shut his eyes. “I had a name…” He suddenly clutched his head and groaned. “I ca-can’t thinnnk about the pa’ anymore. Time hurts, it hurts!” 

Tim grabbed his arm in alarm. “Forget it, it’s ok! If you don’t have a name, maybe we can think of one!” 

The man uncurled and looked at the hand on his coated arm. No one had done that in years. “...A new one?” He rocked back and forth for a minute, eyes searching around for something. 

The teenager nodded, this wasn’t how he’d planned for this to go, but the homeless man needed help, and he wanted to help out if he could. “Yeah! Um…Uh…” He looked around and saw the holiday menu on the Beanie’s sign. “What about Noelle? Or maybe Noah if that’s too feminine?” The man scrunched up his face in concentration. 

“Noelle.” The man repeated the name a few times, each time less slurred than the last. “...I hav’a name now.” Noelle smiled, turning to Tim. “Thanks! That’s good stuff isn’t- yeah, pretty…good.” Tim watched how badly he was shivering. The cold was making things even worse. The cold makes your head foggy, or that’s what it does to Tim. A car went by, a green one. “Tim, thanks.” 

“How do you know my name?” 

“Whose…name?” Noelle looked around for another person, but they were the only ones on this street right now. He shivered and pulled his coat tighter over his body, and Tim noticed the buttons were all snapped or missing. Or the hole was torn and too big to keep the button in place. Noelle couldn’t close his coat anymore. 

Tim shook his head. “Never mind. Well, Noelle, I wanted to give you something. You’re broken, right? Your brain is broken, and you can’t do stuff normally anymore right? That’s why you do all those weird things all the time, and follow Peter around.” 

Noelle nodded. “Petey…” Tears formed in his eyes, which confused Tim, but he pushed forwards. He hadn’t planned this out very well, but something inside him told him to come to Noelle and help him. 

“Well, I’m broken too.” Tim gestured to his leg, which was currently sitting in an awkwardly painful position which Tim couldn’t feel. “My body got messed up, and I think my heart is broken, or…something inside me got broken when I was younger. See, broken people have to help each other.” Tim felt weird, this wasn’t how he usually talked, but he wasn’t sure if Noelle would understand him otherwise. Tim didn’t know how to explain these things. “I want to help you. If we don’t help each other, who will? Becky serves at the soup kitchen, but you always get there after it closes so she can’t give you anything.” He pulled out a gift wrapped box and offered it to Noelle. “So, maybe this will help.” 

Noelle happily took the box and looked at Tim. “New box!” 

“No, it’s in the box, it’s- it’s in the box Noelle.” Had Noelle ever been given a Christmas present before? Tim felt tears freeze on his cheeks. He should’ve done this years ago. Tim helped him unwrap the gift, revealing a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles watch. “My uncle Wilbur always tells me that it’s important to keep the time, so maybe if you have a watch too you can get to the kitchen before it closes.” Tim felt self conscious. “Sorry, I thought it would be better to use a cheaper watch so I can replace it for you if it gets broken, and if I got an expensive one it might get stolen from you. Is this ok?” 

Noelle stared at the ticking clock, fascinated by it. “Tick…Tock…” He nodded distractedly and slipped the watch onto his wrist. “What time?” Noelle had a weird cast to his eyes as he looked at the watch-face. 

Tim waved for Noelle to look at him. “It’s from 4pm to 6pm, so from here-” He made the clock time with his arms. “To there. As long as you come during that time, we can help you.” Tim looked at Wiggly, and then back to the man. “If you need more help, I want you to do this special knock, and then I’ll know it’s you. Blinky says you won’t hurt me, and even if you tried, Wiggly wouldn’t let you. So knock on my window and I’ll wake up to help you.” Tim knocked on the wall in a simple but strange way. “Ok, you do it.” 

Noelle tried, messing it up a few times before he got it down. “...That?” 

“Yeah, just knock like that on my window. In the box is a map to my house, and where my window is. I wanna help you, but don’t come unless you really need me, ok?” Tim waved Wiggly over and dug his water bottle out of his bag. “And…You can have this too, so you can get water from the fountains and take it with you.” 

Noelle held the water bottle and box in his arms, crying as his face made a strange smile. “Tha’s really nice. Thank you!” His eyes cleared for a moment, as if he was actually seeing Tim. His voice changed, and it sounded really familiar. “Tim…You’re the Hudson kid, you used to go to Beanie’s all the time, and you had a donut every time we ran into each other. I was trying to ask out- out- I…” The cloudiness came back to him and the strange smile returned along with his normal voice. “...Thanks…” 

Tim swallowed and wiped his eyes, a little disturbed by the exchange. It was much weirder for him to have clarity and then go back to his usual than to just be strange. “Um…right. Well, well, merry Christmas Noelle. I hope you can get soup now. Goodbye.” 

“See’a kid! Merry merry merry- that. Merry!” He called as Wiggly gave him his crutches back and they headed home. Well, not home, but to Lex’s place for a Christmas party, with his Dad’s permission, of course.  

Wiggly glanced back at the man. “Do you know who he is?” Tim noticed the testing tone he had.

“No one knows who he is, or where he came from. I feel bad for him… Do you know him, Wiggly?” 

His friend paused and shook his head. “No, Tim, I do not.” Tim looked at him, something felt off about his answer, but Wiggly didn’t usually hide things if it wasn’t for a good reason. “You did a very good thing friendy wend.” 

Tim smiled and accepted his friend’s silent offer to carry him back, the crutches held by semi transparent tentacles that sort of waved around them. “I feel much better, knowing he has some gloves now. Thanks for buying those.” 

“Mhm, now it’s time to open those presents you made us. I’ve very excited Timmly wim.” Tim snickered at the name and relaxed his neck, looking up at the sky. It was dark enough that no one would’ve been able to see Wiggly’s magic extra limbs anyways. 

“You’re going to love them. All of you. I spent a long time making these.” It was Tim’s idea to give the brothers and sister their presents on Christmas Eve so they could spend the day with their respective favorite people. Tinky had invited himself to Peter’s house for the day. 

Wiggly met his eyes and gave him a smile. “I have a few gifts for you as well, and I think you’ll like them.” Wiggly’s smile stretched to a grin. “You may need some more wrapping paper.” 

Tim grinned back. “You’re the best, you know that right?” 

“Of course I do. I’m the king of Hatchetfield.” He gestured to the crown with a tentacle, which was hidden and poking from under his winter cap. The hat didn’t do much since it wouldn’t fit over his head properly, but Tim thought it was funny and didn’t point out how useless the hat actually was. 

“Yep! Kings and Queens and all the inbetweens! Let’s go party!!” Tim cheered. The two continued to talk as they made their way to Lex’s house.

[necle]

Kujo really seems to really take the “star” metaphor to a pretty… extreme extent.

Yes, a “star” is more commonly used term to describe a celebrity or an idol, and we do see other characters used it more colloquially (e.g. Iori’s infamous “superstar” line to Riku).

But almost every time Kujo uses it, he uses it in a very grandiose way.

Even since he was introduced, the way he describes a “star” feels analogous to its astronomical counterpart stars. Which, while a little strange, is not particularly out of place. For most of these instances, I kind of just brushed them off since on its own it felt coincidental or just an ambiguous word choice.

However, how he often incorporates other celestial objects and weather phenomenon as part of his analogy is what makes this interesting.

“Going beyond the rainbow” is one reoccurring saying that comes from him. Tsumugi, and now more recently Gaku, have also quoted a similar line, though hearing it from Kujo feels a slight jab towards IDOLiSH7, even if unintentional. In this analogy, he describes how his star “rises” above a rainbow, above the earth into space. This feels like he views his stars, particularly Zero, as someone who was “above” what’s earthly; someone who does not exist in the same attainable realm as other people or beings.

This would explain the following lines:

Not only the sun, moon, and stars, are all objects that live for an incredibly long time (billions of years, pretty much “eternal” as far as a human lifetime is concerned), they are all objects that are born of and exist only in outer space. But an aurora is something that is expelled by the sun (solar wind) and enters the earth’s atmosphere. Given what an idol is suppose to represent (the dream, the ideal, what is “above” a normal human, etc), Kujo probably finds Zero’s desire to chase auroras disappointing. At least a rainbow is something that is from earth, and stays in its place on earth. But an aurora leaves its high and grandstanding place from the sun, and brings itself down and onto the "lowly earth".

Some other misc and stuff I haven’t figured out yet (feel free to stop reading because this mostly rambling and speculation):

Iori here is describing the effects Riku (currently?) has on his fans. And while he does not go as nearly as detailed as Kujo does, he does describe Riku to be a black hole.

Coincidentally, as you may probably already know, a black hole is one of the final ending stages of a star, for stars that are beyond a certain size and solar size.

(fun fact: this star will also continue to grow incredibly large, called a red supergiant. ISo Iori, you might want to leave off making Riku a superstar for a bit)

Kujo however, had used a different analogy to describe how IDOLiSH7 (and possibly Riku) may reach their end:

(Yes, I know a “shooting star”/meteor is not the same thing as a star though but if we are talking about analogies, it may not matter to Kujo)

(With the last two images, I am interpreting that it can alternatively be read as a “rain of stars” or a meteor shower. Please correct me though if it can only be specifically read as only water/snow/ice rain.)

Granted, Iori is describing present day Riku and not an almost dying one, and Kujo’s lines may be completely unrelated or just a separate analogy altogether. But I wonder if this may be alluding to a slightly different in fate Kujo thinks IDOLiSH7 Riku would have compared to Zero? Personally, I do think Zero does feel like a “black hole” (at least with Kujo). But I don’t know if I feel Riku to be the same yet, other than beyond what Iori mentioned with his fans. It could be that both Iori and Kujo could be right, and that they think Riku still “bursts” in a way, like a supernova. And the debris from that burst might be what Kujo is describing to be “drowns the earth” in a rainfall.

[msfbgraves]

I kinda can’t help but feel that Terry comes off as insatiable in his lust for Daniel in Mobverse lol. The years together don’t tame his constant desire. Sure, Daniel really enjoys sexytimes, but Terry is feral. It’s actually pretty surprising that they don’t have 15+ kids haha. I suppose Daniel had to put his foot down…Is this a Terry thing, or an Alpha thing? Do you feel that Alphas are more “insatiable” if they’re mated to an omega, vs. being mated to a beta? And since we’re on the topic—does Daniel ever initiate sex, or is it always Terry who makes that first move? Are Alphas more likely than omegas to “take charge” when they want to get laid?

A lot of omegaverse bedroom talk under the cut:

The way I see the omegaverse trope is:

Alphas are like hypermasculine macho and omegas are hyper feminine and caring by nature and the fun starts when you mix other genders with that. And then write in a few exceptions to those rules to confuse everyone... but yes, generally, as with Alphas and omegas this really is natural behaviour and not beaten into everyone in the "thou shalt conform to thy binary gender"- wars we call western culture. Alphas do take charge more and omegas are not very direct about it when they want sex, they seduce and hint and flirt more and that is how they're built.

Do Alphas want more sex when they're married to omegas.... no! It's just that they have the sex drive of young, very fit men in our society and generally they think about it a lot. The difference between Alphas and very masculine betas is that Alphas are naturally better able to have heat sex, which are marathon like sex sessions in almost every fic I've read, and they have different organs. And they like a certain sex act that betas can't accommodate but since a knot seemingly only ever forms during heats, they should be able to have other kinds of sex and have a lot of fun as well; after all, our men can't "knot" and that doesn't seem to deter many. So Alphas can have a lot of fun with betas as well, they simply are raised to think that they're missing something when they can't get an omega, same way our world is told that they're missing something when they can't have sex with the most beautiful people on the planet, or if one of the partners is very uncomfortable with a certain sex act. I don't think that's necessarily true, and I don't think omegas are to be pitied if their partner is beta. Alphas, betas and omegas can have sex with each other and the fact that a very Alpha/omega culture developed has little to do with what actually feels good in bed, and much more with humans being weird about anything that is scarce. Omegas are scarce in my world so Alphas and even betas think they "must" be better. They're just wired differently, and that fits some Alphas but not others. And some omegas want partners that aren't constantly so extra about everything.

And what if Terry is insatiable? Have you seen both of these characters? I don't care what universe you put them in, they fuck. They do. That's the vibe. Put them together and they fuck a lot and what of it? They're married. They're mated. It feels good. Daniel does make the first move at times, after giving birth or indeed when Terry seems to need some loving. Or when Daniel wants a distraction, or wants to try something new. Only he doesn't often have to do that because Terry... come on now, in canon he's almost 70 years old and everyone on Reddit still assumed that he must have fathered the entire cast of Cobra Kai. This character fucks. And I don't care what the church says! In fact, I think the church in omegaverse may be slightly less strongly against it, because I headcanon that omegaverse must have narrowly escaped complete extinction for Alphas and omegas to even evolve. That terror is in the fear response/lizard brain of every living person on this earth. Naturally, they're far less strongly opposed to sex than we are. It makes sense that our world is more cautious about sex across the board. It can kill you, either by disease or through pregnancy. Not that it definitely will but pregnant is a very vulnerable state to be in for us, plus, ya know, stds? But in my omegaverse, not having children is far more dangerous than being pregnant, at least where omegas are concerned. Betas are discouraged from having too many children but everyone is very strongly encouraged to raise children even if they didn't bear them. There is absolutely nothing wrong with loving sex and wanting 15+ kids, were it not that even omegas might have difficulty raising that many.

So, um, I think that this is a world in which Terry Silver would do what he does anyway ^^ and feel far, far, less conflicted about it (if he feels conflicted at all even in our world, which I am not sure of!).

[lucaonthropy]

Okay so I just browse through dozens of Backyardigans songs and got punched in the face with how good this show is???

Like the characters' dynamics??? Every duos and trios and quartet are a fucking delight. You can put them with anyone within the group and they will fit?? But even then the show really emphasized how they are different people even though they click with each other; Pablo the slightly oblivious nice guy with a streak of anxiety from time to time, Tyrone the also slightly oblivious nice guy with a streak of anxiety but with a bit more social skill thn Pablo, Austin who is both the helper and an enabler at the same time who is also very very smart, Uniqua who has the leader vibe and-- she's just very cool as a character? She played as a princess once and a knight the next, if that's not your standard of cool then you probably haven't watched this, and last but definitely not least Tasha who is sassy but very sweet and daring too? They're all perfect and their personalities are surprisingly really complex??? Like, they seem humane.

Oh! And I want to add that because all of them get to play the antagonist in different episodes, we can see how different yet the same they can be on the other side of justice. And that's??? Really awesome??? To see that everyone can be good or bad and still be the same person, just different situations?

Also the fact that every episode is literally just them running around in a new make-believe world, having fun and being wild with their imagination with it ... God, I think I love writing stories so much now because of them.

Moreover, the episodic plots man, holy shit they're all so good?

- A fairy tale type story where the knights and other characters try to save the dragon instead of saving someone from it.

- A story about two people losing their head over a runaway train that contains the Tsar.

- An Olympic type story that teaches the audience to be helpful to others and even when your skills are below others, you can still do things and having fun doing them.

- A story about journeying the world to have the perfect tea with your friends ... and making unexpected friends along the way.

And lots and lots more! Every concept is a fucking delight and it always takes unexpected turns that make the story even more fun. And the fact that some episodes are based on famous movies or franchise like Night at the Museum and Journey to the Center of the Earth? That's super cool!

Don't even get me started on the songs. Sure, I don't like all of them but holy shit even the ones that I personally don't like I can admit they're bangers. Some of my favourites are Marching to the Top, Don't Flip Out, I Must be Ready, Go Go Go, and I Gotta Feel. There are more than those ofc.

What is the point of this rambling? Idk man I just want to blabber about them. I love this show so much. I cried hearing I Gotta Feel and cried even more after seeing their dance. God. This show is the best.

[padfootastic]

Really curious about the whole stance on Hogwarts students committing crimes is, because there are several instances of near murder that’s just handwaved aside (Harry almost killed Draco and Draco nearly killed several people and also let Death Eaters into the castle and was supposed to kill Dumbledore in HBP), Hagrid was assumed to be the one to kill Myrtle but only got expelled, so one has to wonder, at what point legal proceedings would begin against a student, because murder is not that point. Also iirc, Draco tried to use the cruciatus on Harry right before Harry uses sectumsempra, but this is never mentioned again (I could be misremembering though), so attempted use of an Unforgivable is also not the point where the student gets arrested.

this is something i’ve talked about with other people and like, i know everyone’s really horrified that hogwarts has such a lackadaisical approach to its students safety but i have a slightly different view on it, i think?

i mean, there’s these comics/sketches etc about aliens coming to earth and being baffled by some of the shit we do, right? or time travellers coming back and being horrified at how barbaric we seem w some of our practices. i feel like it’s similar to that. magic is so, so commonplace that its accepted and understood there’ll be mishaps, similar to how u can have accidents with knives in the kitchen or a roller coaster can fall apart. like, if a 11yo has the ability to murder another person with something as simple as a wingardium leviosa, then it’s basically a survival mechanism to stop getting worried every time a magical mishap happens.

of course, that’s not to say it’s cool of the hogwarts admin to constantly keep letting people get away w so much shit (draco instantly comes to mind) bc there’s like. a line between acceptance and straight up negligence ykno? after all, they are responsible for instilling discipline and the gravity of the power they have in their hands. and i’m sure a lot of the decisions made by dumbles, snape and mcg led to groups of young adults thinking they’re above consequences.

but yeah, generally i’d argue that they have a much higher threshold for unacceptable risks/harm/danger than we do purely because of the difference between disposable power. in a way, it’s like when we see large powerful animals fighting in the wild. they can take care of themselves but we’re a bit horrified ykno?

also yeah, my not-asked-for musings on ethics aside, draco did try to crucio harry but i think it was swept aside because that was the year when dumbles was trying to redeem him and would’ve overlooked anything he did just bc he had a plan in mind already. they were also probably trying to keep things hush hush for a number of reasons.

[pulsetower]

ATttMaN Devlog 3/11/2023

A saloon where the party can rest after a long journey.

Hello Everybody, despite my lack of updates, I’ve been hard at work on A Trip to the Mall at Night. I’ll be honest, I went into this thinking I’d be able to get all this done really fast, like in the span of a year, I released ATttSaN like a week after I started work on it, though that game was very different. Game Dev is tough, but I truly believe that when this game is finished it will all have been worth it. I’d like to give an estimated release date, but I can’t do that quite yet, although, hopefully before the end of 2024. 

The entrance to the Museum, what lies beyond the threshold?

As of today I have finished mapping and story sequencing the third floor of the mall. I know it seems a bit strange that I’ve spent so much time on the third floor, but that’s because this Museum is about as big and dense as the first two floors combined. The Museum is guarded by a mysterious curator who, unlike the other guardians does not wish to fight you,as for the past year he’s been trapped in his office by his own security system. He’ll let you through as long as you can flip the 4 override switches to his security system, each one being somewhere inside of one of the 4 sectors of the Museum. Each sector can be tackled in any order you wish, which means each person will have a slightly different experience with this museum. 

Guy is the last to enter this magical painting of a bridge.

The most straightforward section would probably be the Art Gallery. This sector contains several magic paintings by an unknown artist. Guy and friends will have to blue skidoo into these paintings to navigate through this gallery and track down the override switch.

Inside is a massive highway, where the Five Eyed Fella has set up shop.

While the Art Sector is straightforward the space sector is the exact opposite.

The entryway to a space odyssey.

The space sector takes the party on an odyssey through “realistic” models each planet (except earth, because you’re already on earth). Strangely the terrain of the planets seems to be based on ancient mage legend rather than science for some reason.

What is this building doing on Uranus?

The famous Jupiter docks don’t offer much shelter from the rain.

Out of the sectors in the mall I must admit my favorite to work on was definitely the aquarium sector, (although I enjoyed all of them quite a bit.) 

The central well of the underwater village Little Depita.

The standard crab blacksmith of every underwater village.

The aquarium is an underwater village built by many sea creatures who have ended up in the mall under their own circumstances. Over time they’ve developed their own form of government and economy. It’s a peaceful village, but it just so happens that when the party arrives an awful crime has occurred and an innocent man will be sentenced to death if he’s found guilty. This sector is a break from the typical gameplay, instead switching to an adventure game style, but I don’t want to give too much away. 

The geology sector has its own balcony.

Last, but definitely not least is the Geology sector of the Museum. A massive journey where you’ll see all kinds of things, like rocks, stones, boulders, and even pieces of earth. 

An elevator with a rather dated interior.

Along with the 3rd floor I’ve also made general improvements to the game at large. Graphically you probably noticed that the character sprites have slightly more detail, Guy and Alma have smiles, Clerk has dark circles under his eyes, and Witch has a lazy eye. Also the lighting of the game has been improved, certain areas may be tweaked slightly, but the script I’m using adds a lot more atmosphere to the game overall. There’s also the addition of footstep sounds in every area of the game. Different floors have slightly different sound effects when walked on which is something I really like in games, so I had to add it. There’s also the addition of an elevator which is unlocked in the third floor. It’s a sort of fast travel mechanic, which will come in handy for backtracking and/or sidequests.

Conclusion:

As I said before I’ve been doing a lot of work and I don’t think the game will be out any time soon that being said, it will come out, unless I die in a sudden awful accident, but even then I’ll have my co-developer finish it for me. Even though it seems like I’m the only one really excited for this I want to see it through because making this shit is really fun. I love my little characters in their wacky world and I want to share them with everyone. (Honestly I’m worried about finding something else to fill my life with when I’m done.)

The story that I have written is nearly finalized, and there are many twists and turns that I doubt many people will see coming, and that’s where I get into the bad news. I don’t think I will do any devlogs from this point until I’m in phase 2 of development, where I add sidequests (of which there will be many) and focus more on battle scenarios. Because after this point we get into some major story spoilers that I really do not want to ruin before the game is even out. The next floor will be the shortest, but most story dense segment and after that is the final area of the game which typing that out is getting me really excited actually. 

Until then you’ll probably only hear from me through random bullshit I post here when I think about it, so for now.

Goodnight,

-Worm

[tuiyla]

I know you must be fed up with these type of questions but this really confuses me.Why did Finn get away with everything but not Rachel? They was both creators favs right? Yet Rachel always got called out and humiliated ( despite getting her way) yet finn didn’t do you think it was because he was a guy? We all know the writers was sexist

Bold of you to assume I'll ever get tired of calling out the writers' sexism and particularly their treatment of golden boy Finn 😌

Here's the thing: the fans so often treat Finn and Rachel as if the narrative had them on the same level. It didn't. Rachel was the main character if we had to say and the original three pillars of Glee were Will, Finn and Rachel but there's markedly a difference between how Finchel's characters were treated. The fans see Rachel get all the solos and overall, despite some bumps in the road, get everything she ever wanted, and think that equals Finn's infuriating never called out, never dealing with consequences treatment. I personally think they're very different in this way.

Was Rachel also treated in a special way, sure. But Finn is on this pedestal both in and out of universe, the popular kid who graces these losers with his light. I’m only slightly exaggerating in that. And yet Rachel, the main representative of our underdogs, is the one the show thinks needs humbling. I mean, she kinda does, but Finn is never treated like the other popular kids are. They’re all ~problematic~, bullies and shallow and etc. And make no mistake, Quinn does not get the Finn treatment and nor does Santana or Puck or really anyone else. Puck being the key ch here as another guy, who is treated overall better by the narrative imo but Finn’s pedestal seems like a special one here.

What I’m getting at is that, imo, it was only a sexism thing as much as it was a character type thing. Were they genderswapped and the main leads were a loser guy and a popular girl, idk how different it would have been. And that’s not me dismissing the very real fact that Finn got away with murder because he was a guy as that aspect of his character is part of why he was the golden boy to begin with. Again, look at how the Cheerios were constantly villainized for similar things. But maybe sexism doesn’t explain all of it? And tbh I feel like comparing Rachel to Finn doesn’t really tell us just how much he was favoure dby the writers. Because Rachel was as well but in more obvious and, dare I say, understandable aspects. She gets the most songs because Lea Michele gets the most songs. But Rachel also had so many more learning moments. And lest we forget, the show explicitly states many times that Finn is an oh so much better person than she is. All that despite the receipts of Finn’s actions.

Wow, this is getting away from me. So I’ll just add this: on a character and in-universe level, it strikes me how differently they reacted to accountability. And look, do I have a Rachel bias here? Of course, I love her and famously dislike Finn more every day. But when Rachel messes up the narrative treats it as such and she's told she sucks. She acknowledges her flaws, apologizes most of the time and shows such humanity. Rachel is very flawed and her flaws are such that she often treats others less than ideally, but she has these come back to earth moments. And Finn never really has that accountability, to the detriment of his character.

So, TL;DR: is it because he was a guy? Not just that. There’s a mountain of difference between Rachel’s and the other girls’ treatment, too. But his status as the popular guy, the “nice” guy does play a role. At the end of the day it’s just that the writers envisioned Rachel as a flawed character who needed humbling and Finn as someone who just needed a space to show how great he was, imo. In that sense, Rachel wasn’t as much of a favourite but it worked out better for her anyway.