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skyward-floored · 6 months

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Whumptober Day 17: Collar, Touch aversion

I’m not late, I merely ran out of time to upload this last night. I finished it yesterday it’s all good. We’re good. Perfectly fine. (<- girl who hasn’t even started on today’s yet)

Anyway I thought too hard about my theory of Dink getting empowered from Twilight’s injury and uhhhh. Yeah. Here’s this. It’s on the heavier side again.

Read on ao3

Warnings: captivity, implied torture, blood and injury, and discussion of death

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Eight heroes stood outside of a large, dark structure, surrounded by trees that blocked out the sunlight.

The limited light cast the area into what felt like perpetual twilight, grim and dark, and Time looked up at the ruins with a tight feeling in his gut.

“I’ll bet you anything our missing hero is in there,” Legend murmured, and Time nodded, trying not to fidget with discomfort.

Something cold and dark was in the very air around them, something that made Hyrule pale, and Sky hold a little more tightly to his sword. It was dark magic, Time knew, but that only helped solidify to him that something was very wrong here.

They’d landed in the unfamiliar Hyrule a few days ago, all surprised when nobody could identify it. It had been months since they’d last gained another hero, and Time had thought for sure that eight was as large as their group was going to get.

But as they’d traveled around and spoken to people, it became clear there was another hero they hadn’t yet seen.

One who’d apparently been missing for as long as they’d been traveling together.

They had begun to search for him, and followed a sparse trail of clues to a place off the map they’d been given, and as Tine looked up at the dark ruins, he felt a heavy sense of dread settle upon him.

Are you in there, Link?

“You really think he’s here?” Hyrule asked quietly, and Time nodded.

“I do. Making it this far was extremely difficult... I would be shocked if he weren’t.”

“But remember what Rusl said?” Wild spoke up quietly. “The Hero here has been missing for months. What are the odds that we’d find him in the space of barely a week? Just like that?”

“What are the odds that any of us would ever meet in the first place?” Four countered with, and before Warriors could say whatever it was he’d opened his mouth to voice, Four plowed on. “There must be a reason. Just like everything else.”

“And I can feel a pull,” Sky said in a quiet voice. “One I’ve only felt with all of you.”

“Enough chatter, let’s go already,” Wind said impatiently, and they went inside the falling-apart structure, steps echoing off dirty floors.

They paused at the first split path and argued for a moment about whether sticking together or splitting up was best, but before Warriors and Legend could start shouting and alert whatever was here to their presence, Time decided splitting in half was the best way to search quickly. There seemed to be two main sections of the ruins anyway, and the two reluctantly agreed.

“Stay on guard,” Warriors murmured before they split, and they all nodded. You don’t have to tell me twice.

Time ended up with Sky, Wild, and Four in his group, and they trooped quietly through the vine-filled hallways, and down stairwells full of cobwebs and dirt.

The feeling of unease grew more and more heavy the deeper they went, and Time caught Sky clenching at his sword more than once. It was oddly oppressive in here, despite the plants that crept through cracks, and spiders in the corners, like a shadow was cast all over the entire structure.

It just felt... wrong.

“Wait, shh,” Wild said suddenly as they entered a particularly long hallway.

Time stopped walking, and Wild crept forward, his ears pricked. He turned towards a small grate in the floor, and crouched beside it, his face creasing as he listened. Wild motioned them over after a moment, and they all kneeled beside the tiny grate, listening intently.

The faint sound of someone talking echoed up through the floor, and Time strained his ears, trying to make out the words. He couldn’t hear anything though, but with the way Wild’s face was paling, he was fairly certain he could.

“It’s the Shadow,” Wild said after a moment, voice grim as he pressed his ear to the grate. “Something about... power, I think? Power and... enemies. Wait—”

He went quiet again, and as the minutes dragged on, his eyes widened.

“Time... I think he’s talking to the hero.”

Wild suddenly jerked back from the grate, and they all heard the agonized scream that came from below, no less horrible because of how far away it was.

Sky paled, and Time scrambled to his feet, the others right beside him.

“Look for stairs,” Time said in a short voice, and they all ran down the hallway, searching for doors.

It took them a long time to find one that led downwards, and by the time they did, the screams had stopped, along with the talking. There was no sound at all, and Time hoped desperately they weren’t too late.

They cautiously stole down the flight of stairs, moving quickly, but wary of going too fast and alerting the enemy to their presence. They were a long, spiraling set, and some stairs had crumbled, leaving gaping holes they had to sidle around.

The time it took them to go down seemed much too long, and Time guessed they were deep underground now, having gone down several floors. It was almost completely silent, and the dread tightened in his chest.

Let us not be too late, please.

The stairs spat them into a pitch black hall, the sound of water dripping somewhere nearby. They listened for any movement, but none was heard, and Four cautiously pulled out a lantern.

An old dungeon met their eyes, light glinting off of metal bars, largely rusted and bent. Nobody spoke as they stepped quietly down the hallway, and the oppressive stench of dark magic was even heavier. Time spared a thought towards Hyrule as they walked, glad he had gone with the other group.

If I’m feeling this awful, I can only imagine how bad it would be for him.

They reached a partially collapsed wall then, making it difficult to squeeze by, but they all managed, though Time had to pop off a few pieces of armor. The cell at the end of the hallway was only a bit further along, but Time froze, holding a hand out to stop the others.

Eyes were glinting at them from behind the thick bars.

“Hello?” Sky asked in a cautious voice, and Time carefully approached the cell when they received no answer, squinting through the low light. He reached the bars and peered through, and felt equal relief and horror rise in his chest.

A thin man, boy really, barely into his twenties at Time’s guess, stared at them, his face pale with dark lines etched onto his forehead. It was difficult to tell with the limited light, but Time could make out chains around both his neck and wrists, and blood, both dried and not, all over him.

“...Link?” he breathed, but the boy only closed his eyes.

“Here,” Four said quietly, him and the others having come up to Time’s side. He knelt at the lock on the door, holding some small metal rods, and a few moments later, had the door swinging open.

Time quickly took a step inside, but the boy bared his teeth in a snarl as he moved, something fierce and desperate in his eyes.

Time quickly stilled.

“Link?” he asked again, and the boy merely turned away, as much as he could with the way he was chained up.

“...Tricks are getting old,” he rasped, the same twang they’d encountered in Ordon coming through. “Could at least try somethin’ new.”

Time glanced at the others, and Sky made a helpless gesture.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Link,” Time said carefully, and the chained hero coughed out a laugh.

“That’s what they said last time. Always fake,” he rasped, and glared at Time, half-dried blood shining in the lantern light. “Not tricking me again.”

“We’re not a trick, we’re real,” Wild said sharply, moving to stand next to Time.

“You’re gettin’ way less creative,” Link rasped, eyes staring them dully. “Points for new characters... but that’s it.”

“But we’re really real, we’re here to get you out!” Sky said in disbelief.

The new Link only closed his eyes again. “Sure.”

They all looked at each other again, Time feeling helpless. He didn’t want to approach Link before he knew they were truly here to help him, but he thought they were just a trick. How could they convinced the broken hero they weren’t here to hurt him?

How many times has he extended trust to someone, and had it all been fake to react like this?

“Link, we’re here to help you,” Time tried again, extending a hand towards him. Link only bared his teeth again, and Time could see the slightly longer canines this time.

“Get away Shade,” he snapped, and Time stopped as he let out a wracking cough. “I’m not falling for it. Not again.”

“Link, is there anything we can do to convince you we’re real?” Four spoke up, and the hero stared at him.

He didn’t say anything for a long time, and Time almost wondered if he was purposely ignoring them.

“Kill me.”

Four took a step back. “What?”

“Kill me,” Link repeated, a thread of desperation leaking in to his abused voice. “The Shadow won’t, if you do then... I’ll know you’re not him.”

“But then you’ll be dead!” Sky said in horror, and Link let out a croaking laugh, that finished with a sound like a sob.

“I’m already not living.”

Four didn’t say anything, and Link looked away, his eyes closed against the lantern light.

“Old man? What now?” Wild asked in an unusually subdued voice, and Time took a deep breath, trying to ignore the metallic smell of blood that permeated the cell.

What now indeed?

“We spoke with Rusl before coming here,” Time said quietly, and the boy’s ears twitched in his direction. “And Ilia, and the mayor, and a boy named Talo and all sorts of people. Your whole village misses you, Link, they’ve been looking nonstop. The Queen has sent out countless missions, and the Resistance is working tirelessly to figure out what happened to you.”

“How... do you know all that?” Link whispered.

“Because we’re real,” Wild said as he stepped forward. “We spoke to all those people, not more than a week ago.”

“We’re other heroes like you,” Four continued, and Sky took his glove off, showing Link the triangles marked into his hand. He stared in shock. “This isn’t even all of us. We’re fighting to stop the Shadow who imprisoned you, who’s been ripping holes through time and empowering the monsters. We’re on your side.”

“We’re here to get you out,” Time finished, voice firm.

Link looked around at them all, something almost like hope in his eyes, and he swallowed, looking directly at Time.

“Tell me what Talo said.”

His voice trembled when he spoke.

“He said that if we find you, we should tell you that he expects make up days for all the sword lessons he’s missed,” Time said, and Link breathed out, closing his eyes again.

“Yeah. That’s him,” he whispered.

A weak laugh came from his throat, and Time stepped forward again, Link not stopping him. His eyes stayed closed as Time kneeled next to him, but his ears twitched as he listened to his steps.

“We’re here to get you out,” Time said softly, and placed a hand on Link’s shoulder.

Link jerked at the touch, and Time immediately removed his hand, but then Link looked up at him with tears in his eyes.

“Sorry, s-sorry it’s... it’s been...” he choked out, and Time carefully put his hand back on his shoulder, Link stiffening at the touch, but not pulling away.

Time carefully rubbed it as the others drew near, and Link swallowed, trembling slightly as they crouched beside him.

“You’re really heroes?” he whispered, and Sky nodded, a grieved look on his face.

“Every one of us.”

Four leaned closer then and studied the collar around his neck with a frown, carefully lifting the chain and studying it.

“Where’s the lock on these?” he asked in confusion.

“It’s magic,” Link rasped, seeming twice as exhausted now that he’d been convinced of their intentions. “Won’t come off.”

Sky stepped forward, a firm look on his face as he kneeled beside Link with the Master Sword in his hands.

“May I?” he asked, and Link’s eyes widened at the sword. He hesitated, then gave him a weak nod, and Sky moved into position.

Sky held the sword close to Link’s neck, Four carefully holding the chain steady, and he pulled, the Master Sword glowing and making the blood Link was coated in appear blue.

The collar suddenly lit up with runes, glowing an ugly red, and Link cried out, jerking like he’d been shocked.

“Hold him!” Sky shouted, and Time and Wild moved to hold Link’s head still while the Master Sword slowly cut through the chains. Link jerked at their touch, and let out a raspy scream as Sky cut halfway, blue sparks flying into the air.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Wild repeated as he held Link’s head, almost like he was trying to reassure himself, and Link wailed, his voice giving out partway through from the strain.

Time held him still, ignoring the blood and dirt he was doubtlessly getting all over him, and ran a hand through his hair when he let out yet another cry.

Hold on Link, you’re almost out.

The Master Sword let out a brighter glow, and the chain fell with a clank, Link falling limp and trembling in Time’s lap. The runes faded, and Sky quickly moved to his wrists and cut through those as well, though the thinner chains didn’t take nearly as long to fall to the ground.

“It’s done,” Sky panted finally, and Link let out a whimper.

“We should tell the others,” Four said quietly. “And hopefully get out of here before the Shadow comes back.”

Wild nodded and pulled out his slate, and Time and Sky began easing Link up, his face drawn with pain. Time tried not to nudge any of the vast amount of injuries covering him, but it was nearly impossible with how many there were.

Not to mention the countless scars visible through the blood, and the dark marks marring his forehead...

Time breathed out, and then picked him up, his gauntlets giving him enough strength to easily lift Link. Though, he wasn’t entirely convinced he needed them, seeing how thin Link looked.

How long has he been here?

“Let’s get you home,” Sky said quietly, and they left the cell, Wild talking quietly to Wind on his slate.

“Thank you,” Link croaked, in a voice so faint Time barely heard it. Time guided his head to his shoulder in response, feeling a sharp pang as Link flinched, and he sped his steps.

We’re getting you out, Link.

You’re safe now.

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madwomansapologist · 5 months

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Autumn Thunderstorm | Chapter 7 - And then you know, you just know

Navigation | Series Masterlist | AO3

series synopsis: Thranduil thought the recent attack of spiders on a periphery village was the only thing deserving of his attencion. If he could've imagined what he would found there, who he would found there, the Elvenking would wait a millenia in front of that river so he could see her sooner. Or: how Gandalf managed to keep a secret for 14 months.

seventh chapter synopsis: Tomorrow came and became yesterday. In Woodland, you found more than just a roof over your head: you discovered a different way of living. And Thranduil also discovered something, a secret hidden by his own heart. [4K]

warnings: female!reader. lotr kinda of violence. pre-Smaug. padme you will never be forgotten! if you watched pushing daisies i have something to tell you: 😉. another thing and i promise it is the last: anyone interest on hearing the playlist i made for this series?

glossary: Maenwë: Clever girl┆Losto vae: Sleep well┆Melön: Friend┆Vendë: Maiden┆Lossëistar: Ice Mage┆Aithor: Warrior┆Alassëa rá: Good morning┆

“You are as intimidating as a butterfly, maenwë.”

A dry laugh escaped your throat as you rolled your eyes. Most people would not do that to a king, but that was a limit already crossed. And the alcohol did not helped. It was all Thranduil’s fault, and he would admit it too. Woodland’s wine is stronger than what you thought, and the sindars party for way longer than you are used to.

You held yourself against the door of your chambers, your fingertips brushing the wood carved elk. It was your best attempt of standing still while also being serious. “You are testing my pati…” a hiccup stopped you from finishing your sentence. It scared you, and it was clear on your face.

Thranduil laughed. He guffaw. After a moment of silence, so did you. Everything felt so bright and lighly. “Losto vae,” said Thranduil. It sounded so far away, even thought you knew he was right in front of you.

How long has it been since you both left the dining room and were there, standing in the corridor of your chambers, talking the night away? Thirty minutes, maybe an hour. You lost track of time. All you knew is that your feet hurt, and your eyes were heavy.

You started to open the door, finally doing what you meant to do since you got up from your seat beside the Elvenking. “You too, dear.” Entering your room, you feel sleep joining forces with the strong wine to get you down. “You too.”

The door had already been closed for a few moments before Thranduil could move. He just stared at it, unable to do anything else. Thranduil gave a step back, his gravity trembling even though he was far away from being as wasted as you, and walked towards his chambers trying not to look back.

For the last week you spend at the inn, you could not keep your eyes closed for the rage. Aerin ruined something she could never, ever give you back. During your small journey, boredom made you sleep for the most part of it. Sleeping have once again become an unachievable task.

Not out of rage, or disinterest, nor sickness. But because of something else. Something better. Little by little it overcome your body. Strange, but not unsettling. For a moment it felt just like happiness, then it was something else entirely. You never wanted so bad for tomorrow to start. For something else to happen.

Longing. The problem is that you knew exactly what you were longing for. You knew exactly what your mind could not stop itself from thinking about. Who haunts your sleep, accompanied by the full moon. And the more it haunts you, the more you understand what it truly is. Or what it is not.

Gandalf has a gentleness that hides in the brutality of his words and actions. He cares, deeply. Aerin was present, forever concerned about you. Respectful until she was not anymore. And Luthien helped you with your shoulder, letters and secrets. Gildor surprised you with his lightness. Even Lorie, whom you know for a few days, already means something for you.

Thranduil is a friend, one that so quickly found a way into your soul, but he is not just that. What you feel for them is something completely different. He is so much more than a friend. To call him a friend is to diminish what he really is. To diminish what you feel for him. Thranduil is…

… someone that always knows exactly what to say, how to break the ice, and that not even once did not heard what you had to say.

… a call to motion. He moved your life, your knowledge, your entire being.

… finite. Is so easy to remember that all your moments with him will meet an end. Every single one of them will end, because with Thranduil everything changes. He is a promise of another beginning.

… a constantly reminder of your dissolved letters. You will never be able to forget about them, but they all came from him. Fire cannot take Thranduil away from you.

… way more than you ever imagined someone could be. Thranduil is so much more than just enough.

… an invitation to wonder about tomorrow.

He is not a friend.

Thranduil is your favorite person in the whole world.

Those days you spend at his Halls, all those moments you shared with him, just made you more sure of that. At every meal, Thranduil saves a seat for you by his side. After every training session with Tuor, he has that concerned gaze that makes impossible for you to not share what happened. And Thranduil, a king, somehow has time to hear all your dirty jokes.

You slept with his name evading from between your teeths.

It felt like you had just closed your eyes when Lorie opened the curtains complaining about how cold it was there. You blamed the wine for not being able to get out of bed, and Lorie for not being kind enough to let you stay in there for a few more hours.

Sat on your bed, you agreed when Lorie showed you a dress. You did not even glanced at it. She spoke a few more things, not that you payed attention. You would have agreed with anything if it meant you could close your eyes and pretend you were sleeping. Your body felt just like static, and your brain was far away from functioning.

Lorie helped you change from your nightgown, mostly because your body would not stand for itself. The dress was so comfortable. So soft. The fine silk made you feel like you were wearing a cloud. It was of a blue that remind you of clear waterfalls, and the feeling on your body for sure feel liquid. Chains of pearls held it against you.

Glaring at yourself through the mirror, you were mesmerized. You never thought a dress could make you feel like the fairest girl alive, but there you are. You touched the fabric, and it seemed to glow with the contact. It was unlike anything you had ever seen.

Even here, in this different land with its own culture. Not even the dress you wore last night was like that one. Not the emerald fabric, the diamonds, the tail shining like hundreds of stars.

Yesterday you wore a beautiful dress. Today you wore the sea itself.

“The Elvenking will love this one,” murmured Lorie, running her fingers through your hair. She decorated it with flowers, leaving the length loose. “Maybe even more than you do.”

You let go of the dress, turning your head to face her. “You think so?”

Suddenly, shame hits you without mercy. Lorie should not have realized that Thranduil’s opinion matter so much. Nor should you hope of her being right. “He will not even notice.”

Lorie returned her attention to your hair, weaving the pearly flowers into your strands. Her fingers felt so great against your skin, so delicately tooking care of you. “I thought this was your goal,” she hummed. “To become more.”

You looked at her by the mirror. “To become what?”

“To become our queen.”

You coughed. Hysterically. “What? No, I… I never said that I was trying to do… this. That. Whatever you thought I was doing. I am here to learn.”

And all she did was to smirk. “Alright,” Lorie raised her arms, surrendering. “I judged you poorly. I apologize, melön.”

“It is fine,” you whispered, without looking at Lorie again. Your whole being was aching. Burning. Thranduil and you. That is… impossible. A king, a immortal graceful being, and you. He would laugh at the thought. Would he? “It is fine.”

"And still, I must admit that I am definitely right about the king,” Lorie touched your shoulders, squeezing them gently. “I never saw Thranduil look at anyone the way he looks at you. And I was born only a few years after him.”

Looking at her through the mirror, you thought about how old Lorie is. Old in a way impossible to understand or explain. And when you have the chance of hear a being that saw lands form, seas dry, stone fortresses rise and fall, you do it. You do it, despise fear or embarrassment. You just do it.

You held her hand, feeling Lorie’s warmth emanate to your skin. “What do you… mean by that?”

Lorie leaned down, her face fit against yours. She felt so warm. So caring. “One day, maybe sooner than i can predict, you will become more,” she whispered against your ear. “And when that happens, I will say ‘I told you so’.”

It felt like a promise. Maybe because it was.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

When Tuor threw you a sword, you credited luck for catching it before it sliced you in half. It certainly was not for a previous experience. Or any further warning.

“That is… new,” you hesitated. “Did you confuse me with someone else?”

There is something so young about Tuor. Perhaps because of his comforting smile, somehow always half present on his face, or for the way Tuor seems so in peace with his own silence. But looks can be deceiving. Tuor appears to be young, but he is eons older than you. Maybe his memory is just as flawed and untrustworthy as one of an elderly human.

Because there is no other sane, logic explanation for Tuor to throw you a fucking sword.

"I know exactly who you are, vendë," Tuor's sword was in its sheath, and you could see it was much larger than yours. You've gone through Gandalf's things a few times, and more than a few times he hit you in the head with his staff for using his sword as a toy. You recognize a two-handed sword when you see one. "Now we need to understand who you will become."

You looked around you, hoping someone would enter the hall and give you a reason to avoid whatever this conversation was supposed to be. Only then you questioned yourself about why you both were in a different room than the usual. No furnitures, tapestries, not even paintings or sculptures of any kind. It was just you, four wooden walls, and Tuor.

It was a perfect room for people to bleed in.

"You will not try to murder me, will you? I know our past lessons did not ended up as we wished, but is this really necessary?”

Tuor lead you throught ancient knowledge in an attempt of getting you in tune with your powers. He showed you Woodland, told stories about gifted people, gave lessons about self control. And not matter how much Tuor tried, nothing ever evolved.

Tuor seemed to lose the thread of his thoughts. "Why would you ever say that, vendë?"

"You hold a menacing sword."

"So do you."

"A useless one." With a sword in your hands, the only person in danger was you. “It would be very unfair if you try to murder me now."

"I will not murder you. I will train you," Tuor could not stop the smirk from growing on his face. "Just in a different way.”

"And how will it help me?" You were still unsure, but willing to hear more.

"I heard so much about you," Tuor walked slowly around you, resting his forearm on the scabbard of his sword. "About how you did not waste a second to act when it was needed. That requires a lot of courage. To face a river."

"Anyone would have done the same on my place. And if I did nothing I..."

"Would have felt bad," murmured Tuor. Was he quotating you? "It all lead me to a obvious conclusion: you work better under pressure."

You sighed. When Thranduil offered you to be trained, you thought he meant read ancient books and talk to people older than the sun itself. And for a time it was. But now you will be trained. Trained trained. Shit. What have you done with your life?

"You do not have control over your gift," Tuor glanced at you, and in his eyes you saw something beyond confidence. Something similar to competence. "So we should redirect it to something you do.”

The sword you held seemed heavier. “And what should I do with that?”

"Hit me."

You waited for Tuor to say something. Then you waited longer. And longer.

You tried to remember the way Gandalf wielded his sword. How he seemed to use it as an extension of his own body. You also thought about the gleam of Thranduil's longsword.

You looked at the one in your hands. It was so thin, the metal was forged into an almost cylindrical shape. The handle was not long, and it had the right thickness for you to be able to hold it firmly. Paying attention, you saw how beautiful it was.

Your first blow was quick, but Tuor only had to turn his face for you to miss it. He laughed, and so did you. Aftera long, deep breath you attacked again. This time Tuor took a step back, and you stumbled as if the world was pulling you down.

“Now that you are warmed up,” hissed Tuor. “You can go all out.”

You swallowed the excess saliva, trying to keep yourself from feeling irritated. You breathe in, then out, and thought about what you should do next. You aimed harder this time. The sword came down, and if you had hit Tuor he would been split in two. If you had.

At every attempt of yours, Tuor just backed away. Unaffected. It did not matter how hard you tried, if you did something different, how you held the sword. It just never hit him.

And of course it would not. Tuor is a general. Way more experienced than you. A warrior. Respected because of his abilities. And you know that. It is obvious for you. But how could you not get mad when he kept on smirking everytime you fail? Even his eyes mocked you.

With your wrists burning, you decided to stop for a second. Tuor noticed it, and made sure to not keep his mouth closed. “Are you even trying, melön?”

“Right now I do not feel like your friend,” you sighed.

Your response got him off guard, making Tuor chuckle. He quickly returned to his serious face, reminding himself about his goal. Tuor need to get a reaction out of you. To make you feel something deeply, something other than that warm tranquility that is somehow always present in you.

“So what should I call you? Vendë? Or maenwë?”

Tuor waited for you to say something, then it clicked. He just remembered a thing he heard. At the moment it did not meant anything, but now it could be useful. Thranduil was so upset about it — he mentioned it once and never again talked about it, which could only mean he thinks constantly about that. Tuor hopes it will get an reaction out of you too.

“I know exactly what to call you.” Tuor gave a step towards you, smirking like a poisonous snake. “From now on, I will only address you as Lossëistar.”

And he did get an reaction out of you. A dumb one. A stupid, idiotic one. You made a decision no one remotely intelligent would have done. You did not even actively thought about it, it was instinctive.

You slipped your foot on the ground and closed your hand over the base of the sword. For a second the thing on your hand turned into a spear. One that you threw right at Tuor.

It missed his cheek by an inch.

The sword chased into the ground and broke into a hundred little pieces. But what reached your feet was not forged metal or the base jewels. What broke, floating in that empty hall like a shallow fog, was ice.

Tuor kneeled down, took what once was a piece of your sword, and watched it melting on his palm.

“Melön. From now on, melön.” Tuor’s smiled was infectious. “And we need to get you a spear.”

Your own smiled hurted your cheeks.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It has been so long since Thranduil had seen his advisors so dedicated. In a matter of days since the translator gave them all documents found, every changes were planned. New lookout routes mapped, expenses for new guard posts stipulated, blacksmiths chosen to forge new weapons, evaluations scheduled for soldiers’ skill.

“Which generals will lead the evaluations?” Thranduil inquired, glaring at the dagger in his hands.

It was perhaps the ugliest he had ever seen in his long life. A blackneded dagger, with its tip bent, the edge lost and wrong angles. Even if Thranduil had not know the stench of blood, there would be no need to cling to that sense. The dried blood was begging to be seen, daring anyone to ignore it.

The bag that revealed the betrayal of free people had it hidden in one of its secret pockets. To imagine how many people died at the hands of that disgusting being, and to never be able to discover if any of them were from his realm.

It interested Thranduil almost as much as the loom shaped pendant with snow inside the crystal. Thranduil cannot help but feel offended by it, the same way he felt lured by the jewel.

So much had been done in Greenwood, and yet not enough. They can change everything, make only the best choices, and it will still not matter if they do not know who the spy is. There is no way of stopping the Enemy without that answer.

Thranduil knows that it is not a advisor responsibility to find a culprit. He do not blame any of them for not having a name for him to blame. Thranduil has his suspictions. A traveling wizard with long white beard and a pointy blue hat tops his list.

“I will begin with the evaluation of the king’s guard,” said Tuor. “The officers are-”

“There is already a training under your responsibility, aithor,” Thranduil stopped him. “With your focus divided between so many tasks, the chance of one of them being done mediocrely is higher.”

“I disagree, your grace. I am the leader of the king’s guard, I know their limits and abilities. Furthermore, it is not as if your guest’s training is not progressing.”

Thranduil quickly forgot about the dagger.

After a few seconds of silent planning, Thranduil nodded. “Then I shall trust your discernment,” Thranduil begun with the subject he was supposed to. After acting as a king, he said what he wanted to. “Her training is progressing.”

It makes no difference Tuor calling him your grace if when given the chance his devilishly smirk will appear for anyone to see. It felt like Tuor just laughed at the silent, hidden question. “If there is something I can guarantee, your grace, is that she knows how to use a sword,”rejoiced Tuor. “Or a spear, to be more specific.”

A brief moment of silence came, but it was louder than any scream.

“Out,” said the king.

Tuor was the only one that remained sit.

As the door was carefully closed, Thranduil stood up. Leaning on the table, he bent over look into Tuor’s eyes. “What have you done to her?”

“I trained her. And it worked. Better than I expected.”

“With a spear?” Thranduil growled.

“A sword,” corrected Tuor. He could feel Thranduil getting angrier, but he did not saw what Tuor did. The Elvenking can be mad now, but Tuor know that it worked. “Next time it will be with a spear.”

“I thought I ordered you to guide her with her gift,” hissed Thranduil. “Not to make her fight. Not to maim her.”

“I did not…”

“I have no interest in hearing your empty excuses,” Thranduil interrupted. “If she is hurt, if by Varda her shoulder suffered because of your stupid delusions, you will not evaluate the guards. You will be one of them.”

Thranduil stormed out of the room, and Tuor felt as if his breath had followed his king. He shook his head, the echo of the doors slamming against the wall still in his mind, and stood up. “So over the top,” he whispered.

The Elvenking marched towards your chambers. Thranduil knew it would inconvenient to enter a maiden’s room unannounced, but he could not just wait. To think he trusted Tuor. That he believed in his ability. And that is what he get in return.

Thranduil remained determined in his path, until he heard a distant laugh. An all too familiar laugh.

He followed the sound, and was startled to realize it was coming from one of the kitchens. A servant came out, bowed as she passed the king and forgot the door open behind her. Thranduil did not even noticed that. He just continued walking, this time without rush, until he was right in front of the open door.

“And just when I turned around, prepared to walk away and never look at his face again,” your voice lured him. He could not see you, surrounded by elves that were supposed to be working, but to hear you was enough. To know you were there, laughing while sharing a story he did not heard the beginning, was enough to make the Elvenking just stop in time. “The horse decided to run away from me.”

The laughter returned, but his heartbit remained the same. It was not yours, so it did not affect him.

One of the cooks saw him, and she bowed with an awkward, startled movement. This caught the attention of others around her. With a gesture from their king’s hand, they left the room pulling their distracted colleagues with them.

Noticing the sudden silence, you turned around. You already had a smile on your face, but it just got bigger when you saw Thranduil. “Alassëa rá!”

Thranduil steped closer to you, admiring the way you radiated calm. You were fine. Not hurt, and using the dress he personally commissioned Lorie to sew when he saw the sketches. You looked divine.

“What you do here, maenwë?” A small, almost imperceptible smile appeared on his face.

“I craved something sweet,” you gestured towards the half-made pie in front of you. You were stretching the dough to cover the filling when you got distracted by conversations.

His smile disappeared. “You should have warned me then. It is Lorie responsibility to guarantee you will not lack anything here,” Thranduil scolded. “As my guest, you will never have to work. I will find the best pie-maker and make him do everything you crave.”

“Sometimes it is just not that deep,” you answered. The basket of raspberries was turned over by flour-stained hands, and you turned to him with the prettiest one you could find. “Try it,” you offered him the fruit.

Thranduil stared at the fruit in your hands. “It is a offense that you think you need to deal with hardwork under my home, maenwë.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbed his hand and pulled the Elvenking closer. Chocked, Thranduil did not pull away when you opened his hand and placed the raspberry on his cold palm.

“Again: not that deep,” you smiled as you stared into his ocean blue eyes. “Sometimes I just want to create, to bake with my own hands, and share it with those I care about.”

Thranduil did carried you all the way since the meadow until Luthien’s cabin. He did helped you get up from the bed after your long unconscious time. His fingers brushed against yours when you gifted him a precious book.

And still, this was the first time you touched him. The first time you held him. And by doing that, Thranduil never before felt so complete.

Thranduil could not hear anymore. He could not breath anymore. He did not saw the flour stuck to the bench, or noticed the hea, nor smelled the scent of sweet raspberries. The world could have burned and he would not see the ashes.

His world was reduced to only you. Like a mantra is his head, your name echoed throught the halls and hidden passages of his mind. Time moved, but you remained still. His world was expanded to only you.

Spring flourished in your hair, summer sparkle on your body. Smelling like pomegranates and lilies, you enchanted the earth. Water surrendered too, with rivers running down your curves. And meanwhile the sun shone above, Thranduil finally saw you for what you are.

Like the moon, you empermeated into his darkest nights. And just like the moon, you shone on him.

The sun is warm, but the tight embrace of the darkest nights and its brighiest stars are unstoppable. The sun burns, but the moon heals. Nothing would ever compare to the sweet returning home, or a dream filled with hope, nor the yearn for a sleep that never come. The sun shine on some, but the moon watches them all.

“Will you eat with me?” You asked, fingers still holding his hand. You were looking at the pie, trying to calculate how long it would take, but Thranduil continued glaring at your eyes. Thranduil dived into them, and he would gadly drown. “Can you wait for an hour?”

As discreetly as the lady who arrived late for dinner revealed herself to be able to stop a river, Thranduil discovered that this ache on his heart was what people call love.

You are his moon. Thranduil’s moon and stars. His treasures and riches. His sweet, toothaching sweet, confident. How stupid was him to not see it before. How deaf, dumb and blind.

“A hour is a mere blink in the life of an elve,” Thranduil held your hand, making your gaze turn to him. Complete. He was utterly complete. “I am patient. I can wait.”

And so he did.

[Eigth Chapter]

AUTUMN THUNDERSTORM: @ferns-fics @notanalienindisguiseblink @rayrlupin @elvyshiarieko @graniairish @whore-of-many-hot-men @h0ly-fire

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

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odusseus-xvi · 7 months

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So, time to do a Baghera post or I'll go insane because yesterday's lore was INCREDIBLE and I canno't thank Baghera enough for the angst she brought, not that the other french are bad, but angst is not what I would use to describe what they got us (it was mostly anger).

I have to admit, the direction she took was NOT what I was excpecting. And yet it makes SO MUCH SENSE.

The first sequence where she comes back to her castle, it's so easy, it's so simple. It probably shouldn't be. Just a teleport pad. She is still shocked and we see it, she is walking around, "the others can't see me like this." She is broken, she goes back to check if her childhood room is still there, accesible, it is (still waiting for someone to stumble upon it and immediatly freak out at something new). She returns to her castle. She changes her cothes and she looks to the horizon. She escaped once. But she realises that doesn't prove that there is an escape... It proves the opposite. She wasn't brought here. She was brought BACK here. As much as you try to escape, if the Federation wants you here, they'll have you here. And with that also comes the realisation, she never had a life, she never had parents or a childhood, she was theirs, from the very beginning, they ALLOWED her to be outside, and when they wanted to remind her she was not her own, they simply took her back.

For a moment after she represses those feelings. She wants to think about something else, she doesn't want to talk about that. Let's get her daughter :D. You know the rest. (little comment when she was looking for Pomme I genuinely think she was about to cry irl. Like her eyes became red and her voice trembled, THAT FUCKING ACTING. She knew out of rp the eggs had been missing for a while but she played it perfectly) And when Tubbo explains all of that to her she realizes she has been missing for more than 10 days. 10. Tubbo is the only one connected. He doesn't react to the fact she's been missing. Did no one realise ? (Funny tidbit, out of character, she said to her chat later on "Holy that is a LOT OF informations... I knew about the eggs because twitter, all the rest though ? News to me that is a lot to process.")

And in what I would call a defense mechanism for her she starts forming a plan, she builds a secret investigation room, everyone knows her old one, she canno't reveal to the others what she is, and how she feels about it, she doesn't know how they would react. She starts building it, putting all the evidence and documents she gathered about herself and everything. "Now my priority is finding out what happened to the eggs, and to me."

And it's THEN when she is looking at all of those hints and proofs, that she breaks. Her look becomes empty, startled, scared, angry, everything. She is silent. She remembers how she was convinced Cellbit was a clone of the Federation, and how she couldn't trust him entirely. Now look at her. She was the Federation labrat all along. Without them she would be nothing. They are her family in a way. She burns any documents that links HER to the federation, no one can know. She gets out, looks at her castle. All this time, by building, by trying to escape, they were just making their own prison prettier.

"There's no escape"

Let's hope it becomes

"So that means we have to destroy the Federation entirely."

#qsmp #qsmp baghera jones #qsmp baghera

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jinwoosungs · 1 year

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{ 88 }

serenade + requited.

clive rosfield x fem.reader

warnings: unedited; soft depictions of physical intimacy - minors don't interact.

by choosing to interact with this 18+ content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings.

have you ever felt the pangs of an unrequited love before?

it was something that was soul-crushing; an emotion that filled your heart and soul with heartache as you watched the man you adored with your entire being fall in love with someone else.

despite how jill came to the grand duchy of rosaria to serve as a mere sister and confidant for the rosfield brothers, you couldn't help but feel otherwise. in fact, you yourself have remained by the rosfield brothers side as their friend-

but sadly, your fate was only that of a mere maid for them. you had been with the family since the young age of 8-

and you have loved clive rosfield your entire life.

you recall the day you first met clive as if it had just happened yesterday. it was your first time ever stepping foot in such a grand castle as you hid your face behind your mother's legs. despite your shyness, she continues to usher you into the rosfield firstborn's chambers. as your steps echo across the hallways, you listen to your mother list off the duties you must complete.

"you are to start your day by cleaning young master clive's room, is that understood?"

"yes mother." was all that you were allowed to reply with. at the young age of 5 was when she taught you the ways of serving the rosfield family as their maid. your younger years were filled with strict rules that you had to follow while serving the family, giving you little time to have any freedom to frolic around and play like all the other kids around your age.

"now, make yourself properly known to the firstborn son of the duke."

appearing in front of the wooden door that lead to his quarters, you felt your tiny hands wringing against the fabric of your dress as your mother knocked on the door.

"master clive, i am ushering in my daughter. she will be the one who will serve you from this point on."

as you stand waiting there with bated breath, you heard someone let out a yawn from within the room as a boyish voice calls out to you, "you may enter."

standing stiffly off to the side, your mother opens the door so you may enter and start your duties, leaving you alone in such a grand room filled with riches. never before had you stepped foot into a boy's room, and you were caught of guard by the sheer amount of swords and armor that seemed to shine brightly from beneath the sunlight's rays.

as you were left alone in the young man's chamber, you were suddenly aware of a lanky boy emerging from the silk sheets atop of the grand bed, with his dark hair a mess of tangles and deep blue eyes still cloudy with sleep.

the moment he sees you, you were afraid that he was going to be cruel like all the boys that teased you in the village, calling you names while making fun of your stature or hair.

yet he does none of those cruel actions you half expected him to. instead, he pulls back the silk sheets that cover his form and smiles at you, actually bowing down to you when he tells you, "my name is clive rosfield, firstborn of the duke of rosaria and sworn protector of its kingdom."

you recall trembling just the tiniest bit over the confidence he exuded whilst telling him your own name, feeling as though he were more like a prince than anything else. it was then that you quickly became enamored with his gentle smile, and you knew you that you would truly never be the same at that very moment-

for you have fallen in love with the one who would come to be known as the knight of rosaria.

everything about clive drew you into him. like a moth to a flame, you knew that the warmth clive sent to your heart with each lingering smile was something that adults spoke of in passing-

a passionate love, where you would do anything to make that person happy; to ensure that their smile was always protected; the type of love that was felt only once in a lifetime.

clive was always so sweet with you, allowing you to play with him and his tiny brother each time you were done with your duties for the day. the young boy always trusted you with his deepest secrets and fears, always remaining by your side. sometimes, clive would like to play pretend with you and act as your knight in shining armor whilst he called you his princess. you would run around the rosfield gardens with joshua and his puppy, torgal, in tow, chasing after you with a wide smile on their faces.

those memories end up being your most precious ones; with you falling even deeper in love for clive as his kindness simply served to capture your heart. clive had you truly wrapped around his fingers, with you ready to do just about anything to make him happy.

you recall a night where clive had asked you to help with bathing him. you were both around the age of ten, and he had gotten through some rough bouts of training with the other young knights in training. being in far too much pain to truly wash himself, he asks for your assistance.

and truly, who were you to refuse him, a young girl already irrevocably in love with him?

so despite the rush of blood that was felt warming your cheeks, you agree to help him bathe.

it was evident how much pain clive was in when you tried to help him out of the armor that covers the entirety of his form. once he was completely bare, you could feel your heart ache with the sheer amount of bruises that littered his pale skin. with a few pained groans, clive manages to place himself within the confines of the tub, splashing the lukewarm waters all across the cobblestone floors of the washroom.

knowing of the immense pain he was in, you took great measures in treating him gently during this wash. each time you placed the wet cloth against his cuts to clean away at the dried blood, he would nearly jump back with a choked whimper caught within the confines of his throat.

"are you alright, young master?"

he ends up groaning at the stiff title you gave him, "come on, i told you many times already, just simply call me clive."

you feel a blush begin to spread to your ears. "but i-i don't want to upset your father. such intimacy between master as their servant can't be permitted." you end up reciting the many rules your mother has taught you. despite your pain at the fact that you could never truly be with clive due to such scrutiny, you convinced yourself that you were happy enough so long as you could remain by his side.

he sighs once more, "don't worry about that old fashioned brute known as my father. if he has any problems with you, i know that i can protect you."

his promise makes you smile as you continue gently washing away at his form. "you are too kind to me, clive. and i don't know why."

it's then that he gives you another happy boyish laughter. "isn't it obvious why i'm so soft with you?"

you could only manage to shake your head in response to his question. with yet another sigh, clive turns so that he could face you, giving you a gentle smile before answering,

"it's because you are the most precious person in my life." he lets out a sigh of your name before turning back around in the tub to allow you to wash at his back, "i cannot imagine living a life without you in it."

despite you having such a low status, your days were filled with such happiness. within your young mind, you always thought that as long as you could remain by clive's side, then there would be no need to burden him with your feelings of love. you knew that nothing could come out of your pure feelings for him, hence why you tricked yourself into believing that you could survive simply by loving him from a distance.

yet little did you know that your days of happiness would be numbered.

it happens one late evening. you are now 13 years old and have been serving clive for five years. you are called by the duke, clive and joshua's father, himself, to the main throne room for a task that only you were allowed to carry out. the sky was alight with stars as the moon shone its radiant light within the castle. as you followed the archduke's orders, you were face to face with a young girl appearing just a few years younger than you and clive.

the duke of rosaria offers no explanation, simply telling you to give the young girl a bath in one of the castle's washroom before showing her to her room. never one to disobey, you simply give the duke a bow before gently ushering the girl away.

looking at her closely now, you realized what a soft beauty she was, with silvery hair and matching eyes that seemed to mimic the light of the moon itself. it was then that you first felt the first pangs of envy, knowing that you would never be as beautiful as the maiden that stood next to you, paling in comparison to her natural beauty alone.

while you walk with her, you couldn't help but continue to compare yourself to the lovely girl. she appeared as though she stepped out of a fairytale book, like a princess who was waiting for her prince to take her away as they rode off into the sunset, chasing after their happily ever after.

a soft voice was heard calling out your name, the sensation of him already being so close making you tremble in response. "what's going on? why did father-"

your heart begins its steady pounding against your chest at the mere sound of his voice, but the moment he saw the lovely girl settled by your side, you knew it was all over for you.

clive seemed caught off guard, mesmerized even as he drank in the sight of the mysterious girl. you watch as his mouth open and closes in a gape before a sheepish expression paints over his features. "w-who is this?"

"my name is jill, jill warrick." her prior discomfort seemed to melt away upon seeing clive, and you watch with envy as the young girl held her head up high, allowing the moonlight to bathe her in an ethereal glow. she met with clive's gaze in an unwavering manner, and you felt your heart break at the sight-

she was far too beautiful, so it was clear as to why clive seemed so awestruck at the sight of the girl.

and it was in that moment that you knew all was lost. clive's expression turns soft as he held out a hand for her to take, "you appear exhausted, come, i'll show you to the washroom." giving you a quick glance, he dismisses you, allowing you to return back to your own quarters as he leads her to the washroom. now, you were left alone with your own tumultuous thoughts, filled with nothing but heartache at the sight you had just witnessed.

not even realizing that you were still standing a couple of feet behind them, you watch as clive takes a hold of the girl's hand, feeling your heart become torn in two at the sight. your hands kept clutching at your dress, and you willed your tears to not fall.

there had to be a reason why jill warrick was brought to the rosfield family-

perhaps she was chosen to be clive's companion-

and perhaps his wife the moment they both became of age?

as such dark thoughts filled your mind, you couldn't stop your chest from clenching, filling you with an almost nauseated feeling as you fought to keep your food down.

but the heartbreak of such thoughts became too much for you to bare.

clive taking a hold of of jill's hand had to be some sort of premonition, a sign that you were never destined to be with him to begin with. despite all of your silly daydreams and wishes that once entertained the thought of him ever loving you, you could feel them immediately dash away the moment you witnessed clive and jill together.

time passes by slowly, and you are left to watch jill become even closer to clive with each passing second all while you were in your own little world filled with heartbreak.

clive grew to be more independent, seldom needing you for even the tiniest thing. now that he had jill, it seemed that you were destined to be forgotten in the background of his life. now that jill was around, you were able to witness notable changes in clive. for starters, he laughed more, true blue eyes turning soft while in the presence of the girl who embodied the moon itself. each time he was in close proximity to jill, he would appear so happy, so comfortable and joyous around her.

never before had such euphoric depictions of happiness ever been directed at you, and that fact stung you more than you'd like to admit.

and oh, did it hurt to see clive get so close to another woman, surely feeling the first pangs of love itself each time he remained by her side.

jill simply became lovelier as the years went by. she captivated the rosfield brothers, more so clive than with joshua. and that fact did nothing but put an extra sting to your heart.

despite his distance, you still loved clive.

even now, when the boy you had grown up with the sole purpose of taking care of grew up into a young man now 18 years old, your heart still beat and burned only for him. it was strange how the heart functions. you truly couldn't help who you fell in love with, and you wanted so desperately for clive to look your way once more.

your pained musings is what leads you into the comfort of the gardens behind rosfield castle. now, you only had memories of playing with clive in the very same gardens to comfort you. more often than not, when you would see clive and jill laughing together, or sharing intimate whispers together, you would take refuge within the sanctuary filled with such lovely flowers after your duties were completed.

with a sigh, you brush back your hair and lay back against your favorite tree. you allow the wind to blow and bring with it the sweet and heavenly scent of all the flowers surrounding you. your eyes were shut, allowing you to mindlessly hum a gentle tune as you lost yourself in a daydream.

but it was the sound of a branch breaking that interrupts your reverie, causing you to open your eyes in an instant.

"who goes there?!" you cry out, feeling your voice take on a shrill tone due to your panicked state. you swore, you heard heavy footsteps running away from a mere few feet from you. despite your fear, you still stood up to find the culprit who made such sounds-

but when you went to see who it was, you saw nothing and no one except for a rolled piece of parchment paper that held your name as it was tied and rolled up with a ribbon that shared the same hue as your favorite color.

seeing your name written on the parchment elicits another painful memory from you.

you had been serving clive for a few months when you witness him reading to joshua all the stories contained in the gorgeously crafted book of fairytales. he keeps the novel in his hand all while keeping warm at the fireplace. as you tidied up the library, you couldn't help but feel your eyes wander to each beautiful curve of the printed words seen within such a lovely tome.

clive, who still remained aware of your desires and looks of longing directed towards the novel, was the first to ask if you could read or write. you respond to his question with a shy shake of your head, feeling somewhat ashamed at your lack of education.

but clive held no judgment against you, beckoning you to drop your cleaning rag and to join him on the couch as he gathers some parchment, quills, and jars of dark ink. it was he who taught you the beauty of written words, with young joshua learning along with you. this was another reason why you loved clive with such passion, for it was he who gave you the gift of understanding the written words.

shaking off that memory, you sigh, feeling more than curious as to what this parchment was doing in the midst of your sanctuary. you wondered why it carded your name as you carefully pick it up and examine it, not seeing anything out of the ordinary about the simple cream colored parchment save for the ribbon.

unfurling the note, you cast the ribbon aside as you were met with a letter written in a hurried scrawl. you read the letter slowly in a whisper:

i have loved you since i was a young boy, when i first laid eyes on you and witnessed your smile for the first time.

you are all i ever think about, and i wish i were brave enough to tell you my feelings without hiding behind a shield.

your beauty captivates me, it always has. and you have simply served to grow more lovely as the years go on. i cannot bring myself to face you anymore.

forever yours.

by now, your mind was running, going through your memories as you tried to figure out if you ever caught another boy's eyes while serving the rosfield family.

in all actuality, you could only remember being teased and prodded by the other servants sons, with them constantly picking on you with every opportunity they could get had it not been for clive fighting them off back when you were younger.

but was it possible that their teasings were just a ruse? something they did to hide their true feelings for you?

and were you finally given the chance to move on and be happy with someone who truly wasn't clive, but loved you for solely who you were as a person?

the mere thought of it all sends a surge of hope to course through you, nearly making you forget all about the pain of witness jill and clive together.

with this new love, possibly with someone who shared your class and burdens, you needn't have to worry about any heartbreak-

and your heart could finally be healed from clive.

with your heart now racing with anticipation, you make a made dash back into the castle. you were desperate to know who this sudden admirer was and wanted a chance to write back to him. such words written with such honesty could not have been fabricated, and when the chance for you to find happiness finally arrived, you took it without a second thought.

just who are you? was the single thought that ran through your mind. you kept repeating the words seen in your letter over and over again, allowing each syllable to wrap around your heart as you could feel the pure hope coursing through your veins. in fact, you had become so distracted that you didn't realize you had ran into someone standing just a few feet away.

the feeling of something solid crashing into you takes your very breath away. some pain was felt coursing through your body at the sudden impact, and you could feel your apologies for the stranger you had run in to on the tip of your tongue-

only to be met with clive's startling blue eyes.

the same smile that stole your heart all those years ago paints his ruggedly handsome features, and you immediately became aware of how he held you so carefully in his arms, keeping you from falling back down against the cobblestone floors of the castle.

he had grown up wonderfully, with his once boyish features quickly morphing into that of a man. gone were his round and soft cheeks as they matured gracefully into hard and chiseled angles. a bit of stubble decorates his chin, and you had to keep yourself from falling to your knees at the mere sight of him.

"master c-clive, i'm so terribly sorry, i-"

the rest of your apology was cut short when he takes notice of the piece of parchment held gingerly in your hand. "what is that?"

"oh, nothing, it's nothing really!" you hide the love letter from clive's prying gaze, which only serves to make him frown as he says your name while reaching out to you, attempting to take a hold of your hand that held the letter so tightly.

but you simply rip your hand away from his grasp, preventing him from seeing the letter.

"please, this is none of your concern. why don't you go and be with jill, perhaps she will distract you from any silly concerns pertaining to me."

you refuse to acknowledge the hurt brimming within clive's sapphire gaze. knowing that you were being hurtful on purpose, you walk past him while clutching the letter to your chest, refusing to feel any amount of guilt.

how dare he try to weasel his way back into your life, after dedicating so much time to jill? you knew you could never compare to her and already accepted your fate as simply loving him from a mere distance. and now that you finally got a chance to obtain happiness, he had to come and interrupt your chances?

you simply weren't having it.

the only thing on your mind was writing another letter to your admirer, in hopes of getting to know him better as you finally obtained the happiness you craved for.

entering the quarters for all the servants, your feet quickly take you to your bed where you kept a few pieces of parchment. back when you were younger and clive had taught you how to read and write, you kept the parchment and quills clive had gifted you. a short pang was felt as the soft memories fill you with nostalgia, but you were quick to purge them from the confines of your mind, focusing solely on your admirer.

you wanted to write something just as passionate as the letter, something that would convey your desire to meet this admirer.

a part of you knew that this was possibly an excuse to get over your heartache over clive and jill, but for once in your life, you wanted a chance to be selfish and finally obtain your own happiness.

taking in a deep breath, you smooth out the parchment paper with the quill poised against the sheet before writing:

i cannot tell you how deeply your words have warmed my very heart. i feel as though it has been frozen for so long, and your words have finally awakened something deep within me.

i always held an unrequited love, and it is more evident now that my beloved has fallen into another woman's arms. but i don't want to hinder his happiness any longer.

please tell me who you are, so that i may finally meet you.

your heart truly was feeling like it had come alive once more, and you just hoped that such a miracle won't end in tragedy. you read your letter over and over again, hoping that it was enough to convey your desires whist bringing your loneliness to light.

perhaps it wasn't fair to simply use your admirer as a way to get over clive-

your mind knew it was wrong, but your heart was saying otherwise. you had felt the pangs of unrequited love for too long, and you were tired of feeling sick all the time with the heartache.

you desperately wanted to feel the love of a man who adored you and you alone; who saw no other woman and had dreams of sharing his life with you and you alone. your strong desire for having such an intense love was born from the many times you had witnessed clive being so close to jill.

but it is one memory that struck a chord within the confines of your heart.

you are now 16 again, with your heart becoming heavier at the sight of clive getting closer to jill, the young woman the rosfield patriarch took in to be his sons' main source of comfort and confidant due to the loss of their mother at a young age.

whereas joshua simply saw her as a mere sister, it seemed that clive was beginning to feel pinpricks of a budding romance with the young beauty. there wasn't a single moment that went by where clive wasn't close to jill.

despite how much their closeness greatly hurt you, making a devasating void that could never be filled take residence within your very heart, you did your best to take it in stride and go on with a smile each time you were near them. but there was only so much you could do-

and that all came to a boiling point one fateful night.

there was a sense of loneliness haunting your very being. it was keeping you awake, making you struggle with truly falling asleep as you slowly crept out of the servant's quarters.

knowing you could find peace and solace within the confines of the rosfield gardens, you gently tiptoe your way towards the gorgeous area. already, the sight of the beautiful flowers swaying ever so gently in the wind fills your heart with a tranquility you desperately craved for.

you walk closer to the rose bushes, ready to admire all the different colored blooms when a gentle yet melodious laughter fills the air a few feet away from where you stood. with your lips pursed, you follow the sound of laughter to catch a familiar sight of silver hair in the arms of a young man with dark hair and blue eyes.

it felt as though the entirety of your body was doused in ice cold water. it was harder to breathe, seeing clive holding jill so tenderly in his arms, his handsome features in absolute awe of the young beauty in his arms. it was clear that he was dancing with her, swaying her petite body ever so gently as he spun her body around the garden.

the scene was just like all those lovely romances you read in those books, with the prince holding his princess so tightly in his arms, never daring to let her go as he got lost in her eyes-

"l-like this?" you listen as clive's voice takes on an almost shyer tone, making your heart break even further at how softly he was treating jill.

"goodness clive, has no one ever told you what a horrible dancer you are?" jill ends up laughing at clive, yet still, you could detect the fondness in her voice whilst clive held her in his arms.

ah, so not only was she allowed to refer to him freely by name, but he was truly dancing with her, allowing jill to live out every fantasy you had pertaining to your beloved clive.

with a hand clasped over your mouth to keep your pained cries from interrupting the young lover's dance, you swiftly run away from them, praying that your bare feet didn't make too much noise as you ran back to your room.

the days that followed was filled with nights spent crying yourself to sleep. the image of clive holding jill so gently within his arms kept haunting you over and over again, which further prompted you to hide and distance yourself away from him.

you spent your whole life yearning for him; begging him to spare you a second glance as you willed clive to feel your love for him-

but it was all for naught. after all, jill was simply so perfect that there's no way clive could possibly have romantic interest in you. and truly, you couldn't even blame clive for feeling that way.

which is why you felt so hopeful with this letter and your reply in your hands.

this was your final chance at happiness; a final chance to achieve your dreams of starting a family with the person you loved-

even if that person wasn't clive.

the next day, you kept the letter close to your form. you do your best to put your whole heart and soul into your chores, making sure that everything was in its proper place before smoothing out your letter.

with your duties finished for the day, you eagerly make your way back to the gardens. you went back to the same spot you had seen the letter addressed to you and settle your own letter on the exact spot your admirer had placed his letter for you. despite your strong desire to wait around to see if you could catch a glimpse of him, you knew it was better to give him the privacy he deserved-

at least, until he was brave enough to face you directly.

the newfound anticipation you felt was indescribable. hope truly was like a shot of liquor through your veins, warming you to your very core as you could taste the happiness on the tip of your tongue.

your days were now filled with daydreams of your potential suitor. no longer did you yearn for clive like the way you used to when you were younger.

your confidence as a woman was carefully blossoming, and you found yourself wondering if your admirer received your reply as the day went on. in the midst of you being in the middle of your daydream, you could have sworn you felt a presence swiftly walk behind you, giving you a tap on your shoulder as you faced them-

only to see no one there.

yet when you turn back around, you found yet another rolled piece of parchment paper with the same ribbon attached along with your name written in the familiar scrawl.

your heart kept racing with anticipation, eager to know the words written in reply to your own desires of meeting your admirer.

but your hope ends up falling short:

i'm sorry, despite how much i love and yearn for you, i'm afraid that you'll reject me out of anger.

i'm afraid that you'll be disappointed in me, and i don't want to disappoint you.

i would rather spend the rest of my life loving you from the shadows than reveal myself to you, for i do not wish for your love to turn into anger the moment you realize who i am.

i am a coward. i am unworthy of your affections.

please forgive me.

forever yours.

you sigh, feeling the tiniest bit of disappointment-

yet still, your heart sang upon reading such sweet words. memories of your heartache pertaining to clive began to melt away, still giving you a blinding hope that your admirer would someday be brave enough to come into the light.

never before had such romantic words been directed at you.

never before have you been the recipient of such absolute yearning and adoration.

so far, the letters you received filled you with such giddiness that you found yourself daydreaming just who the author of these letters could be.

during your musing, you couldn't help but think back to clive, a part of you somehow wishing it were him-

but truly, recalling clive and his mannerisms, it just didn't match up. before even meeting jill and having her be the catalyst of your heartbreak, clive was never one to immerse himself in stories of romance and true love.

he loved training, honing his strength with his sword alone while skipping on most of his lessons set by his teacher. you knew clive to be a man that would much rather pick up a sword than a quill, so clearly him being your admirer was out of the question.

in fact, the way your letters were penned seemed more fitting for his younger brother, joshua, than clive. it was more believable for the younger rosfield prince to write such carefully romantic words due to his bookish nature.

however, you were certain that joshua wasn't the culprit. for starters, he was far too young and secondly, his handwriting was far more beautiful and elegant compared to your admirer's hurried yet somewhat neat scrawl.

with a gentle smile, you hold the dear letter close to your chest. if nothing else, then you could find comfort in knowing that you are loved-

even if it wasn't with the man you yearned for your entire life.

while you distracted yourself with reading the new love letter, you were completely unaware of the boy who hid behind one of the castle pillars, silently declaring his love for you over and over again as he prayed for some miracle that someday, you would notice him.

and so, with the letters keeping you company and giving you a new light on life, time goes on.

time is nothing but a way to heal all wounds, and as the days slowly morph into months, bringing with it the changing seasons was when you finally came face to face with your admirer.

lately, it seemed as though he were becoming bolder, leaving not just mere notes for you, but adding trinkets as well. from tiny rings that held your favorite gemstones to tasty treats such as chocolates filled with berries, you were in awe of such lavish gifts.

but just who could your admirer be? and how was it possible that he has hidden himself from you so achingly well?

your desire to meet him still hasn't faded. in fact, in only seemed to increase as time went on, and you were getting desperate to unveil his identity and finally be with him.

but alas, you simply didnt know how to coax him out of his shell; to bring his heart closer to yours when all you desired was him. there just had to be something you could do to finally bring him out of the shadows, but what, you didn't know.

with your head aching with sharp pains from thinking far too much, you decide to take some time for yourself and explore the gardens once more. even if it were late in the night, you had a feeling that sleep just wouldn't find you so easily during this late evening.

with a simple shawl wrapped around your form, you could feel the cool wind against your bare skin, causing you to shiver as goosebumps erupted all across your form. perhaps you should have worn a proper dress after all-

but ultimately, you decided against it, since you were sure no one was awake at this ungodly hour, and you needed the fresh air to help with clearing your mind. with a gentle sigh, you allow yourself the pleasure of being a free woman, naked from beneath the covers of your shawl while surrounded by the beautiful scent and sight of flowers.

you came close to your favorite spot, one that was in the middle of the lilies that grew within the garden when your heart froze upon seeing a dark figure hunched over the pure white blooms you often enjoyed staring at.

the fear was evident in your stance when you stilled completely at the sight of the unknown man who had invaded your sanctuary. your legs were rooted on the spot, and your mind kept racing, begging you to run, to alert the duke- anyone to get the intruder out of the confines of rosfield castle.

finally gathering your courage, you take a step away from the intruder, ready to bolt back into the castle when your back suddenly met with one of the oak trees that surrounded the garden, causing the sounds of leaves rustling to alert the intruder of your presence.

it's then that you watch with wide eyes as the man stood back to his full height, appearing just as shocked as you were as your eyes met with a startling sapphire gaze.

"clive?!"

the sight of the oldest rosfield son was undeniable, with his broad shoulders and sheer height being more than a dead giveaway. he appeared to be in shock by your presence, with him limply holding a bouquet of white lilies within his hands. "whatever are you doing out here so late, and with a bouquet of lilies no less."

he blushes a bit, hiding the flowers from your curious gaze, "i could ask you the same thing."

you huff, feeling the familiar pinpricks of anguish at the thought of him picking those lilies, your favorite flowers, for jill alone. you were about to call him out on his strange behavior, ready to mock him for his love for jill to save yourself some heartache when the sight of something else stops you.

for peaking out from behind clive was a rolled up piece of parchment, the same one you had been receiving from your admirer this entire time. taking advantage of clive's vulnerable and embarrassed state, you surge forward and take the parchment from his hands.

"hey, give that back...!" clive drops the flowers then, reaching out to try and get the letter back from you, but he was too late.

you unfurl it with shaking hands, reading out loud, "you are lovelier than these lilies, and how i wish i could kiss your skin and mar them with my kisses alone."

you gasp, reading the rest of the letter as he made his desires of becoming one with you, his fantasies pertaining to being your lover, intimately clear. with your heart pounding, you hold the letter against your chest. "is this a joke, clive?"

"what? no, absolutely not!"

"then why do you have this letter? are you here to deliver it from my admirer himself?"

slowly, ever so slowly, clive steps closer to you, shaking his head as a soft expression paints his features. "the reason why i have it is because i was the one who wrote it."

"n-no! it cannot be true!" you cry out, refusing to believe that the same man who had tormented you with his open affections for jill had written you these letters, giving you so much hope in such a short period of time.

now, you felt as though clive and jill were simply playing a cruel trick on you. perhaps they wanted to see you hurt and broken beyond compare.

just how cruel could they be?

with a sob, you toss the parchment to the ground, breasts heaving as you ran back into the direction of your quarters-

only to be stopped by a strong grip on your wrist, causing you to fall back into the arms of the same man who still held your heart within the confines of his very hands.

you struggle within his grip, trying to fight back the sensual feeling of having his hands gently holding at your sensitive skin. the chilly air didn't bother you as much anymore, not when clive's body was sufficient enough to ward off any chill.

the way he held you was maddening to your senses, it almost felt as though you were the one he cherished so deeply as he held you in a manner that seemed to shield you from the world.

"please, just listen to what i have to say, my darling."

it was his sweet nickname for you that ends up winning you over, causing you to slump over against his body as clive continues to sweetly whisper within your ear. "it's always been you, my first and darling love, the one who has captivated my heart since i first laid eyes on you when i was merely 8 years old."

"that's impossible, with how close you are to jill."

what you weren't expecting was to hear the sound of his rich chuckle. clive ends up sitting down against the tree, with you settled on his lap as he keeps his arms around you.

"i apologize, for making you jealous, my love. it wasn't my intention."

"wha-"

but you were cut off the moment he leans in to kiss at your burning cheeks, "i see and feel nothing but a brother's love he has for his younger sister with jill. it is you that has captivated me so deeply... jill was...well, she was a shield that helped me hide my emotions for you in front of my father."

his sudden admission makes you stiffen, but clive takes your silence as a chance to finally come clean. "back then, i wasn't strong enough to protect you. if he had known the depths of my love for you, i was certain that he would banish you from the confines of rosfield castle.

i would never be able to see you again, and the thought of you leaving my side pained me so much."

he caresses your body, gently touching at the skin of your collarbone before clearing his throat and closing the slight opening of your shawl. "i knew back then that i adored you, that i would to anything to keep you- but i knew, not only was i unfit to love you, but my father was getting suspicious of my feelings for you."

he lets out a sigh of your name, bringing you closer to his chest as clive kept you protected within his muscular arms.

holding you tightly while breathing in your scent, he continues with his confession, "i wasn't soft with a love for words like joshua. i was a man filled with hard angles who was always afraid of breaking you, my dear love. the years i spent avoiding you, loving you from a distance, was the years i spent growing stronger. i wanted to be with you in every fiber of my being, and i could not let anyone tear you away from me, not even my father."

"despite all the reservations and insecurities i harbored when it came to my desire for your love, i couldn't help but want to try and better myself for you."

"i kept my distance the entire time, growing stronger while jill and joshua taught me how to become a proper gentleman."

a newfound hope was felt filling your veins now as you took this chance to really look at him. facing him, you allow yourself to straddle his waist while framing at his handsome face. "oh clive, do you mean it?"

he lets out another one of his rich chuckles, giving you a simple nod, "yes. in fact, it was jill who taught me to dance, but that didn't go so well since i kept stepping on her poor feet."

it was at that moment the crushing relief was felt coursing through your veins, giving you the courage to surge forward as you captured his lips in a sweet kiss.

and in that very moment, you swore that everything finally fell into place. the same man you were madly in love with was your admirer all along, with him teaching himself the words that would make you fall in love with him all over again. the fact that he wanted the strength to face his father when the day came and he could properly profess his love for you made your life overflow for him, bringing you bliss that you didn't know you could even feel anymore.

"you're such a brutish oaf sometimes, clive." you whisper against his lips the moment you pulled away from the kiss first, earning a low groan from him, "you never needed to change yourself, not when i have loved you since the beginning, clive rosfield."

he says your name in a hoarse whisper, ready to hold you in his arms once more when you end up surprising him.

moving your form slightly away from him, you finally shrug off the shawl that once covered your nakedness from the intensity of his sapphire eyes. you allow the flimsy cloth to fall into the grass, leaving your pliant body bare for him to see.

"to make up for lost time, i want you to take me, clive. show me pleasure that you alone can bring me."

with a hoarse cry of your name, clive wastes no time in fulfilling your wishes, pressing you even closer to him as he gently plays and prods at your aching breasts. as his mouth kept pressing heated kisses against your lips, you couldn't help but sigh against him.

"if you have already learned pleasure from jill herself, i might have to smite you in anger, ahhh." you trail off with a moan the moment he takes your hardened nipples into his hot mouth, gently biting down against your skin as he keeps you still with his large hands alone.

"don't let your envy cloud your judgment, for i do not wish to experience this with anyone else but you."

you were satisfied with his answer, becoming achingly aware of the pain felt between your legs as the moisture kept pooling from between your thighs. yet still, clive continues his ministrations on your body, eagerly licking every inch of skin he saw on your form.

you had ever felt such burning pleasure before, being a virgin in every sense of the word as clive continued his ministrations on your body. his lips were relentless, with his tongue darting out to taste every inch of you. it was as though clive desired nothing more than to devour you, acting like a starving man who was finally presented with all the foods he could ever desire in a silver plate each time he brought your body closer to him.

you gasp, feeling his heaviness weighing down on your soft body as you couldn't stop yourself from delving your fingers into his hair. all you could feel was the sheer amount of warmth he exuded from his body, surrounding you so well that you were quickly becoming drunk off of him.

"you have no idea how happy you've made me, my love, by giving me this chance to worship you like you deserve."

he continues his ministrations on your form, but by now you knew that you were quickly becoming desperate for him. the sudden ache felt between your legs was absolutely maddening, becoming so painful that you couldn't stop yourself from dragging your nails down his biceps in response.

"clive, please...! i need you so badly." you gasp, clinging to him like your life depended on it, wanting for him to take away the ache that was settled within your most intimate part of you.

yet still, clive simply kisses you in response, displaying desire to take things slow when he tells you, "have patience, my love."

lifting himself off of you, clive takes off his clothes, leaving him in his pants alone before coming back down to fully kiss you once more.

feeling drunk off the scent of flowers and the way clive held you so tightly against his chest, as if fearing that you would disappear if he let you go for even a second, you allow yourself to drown in his love.

he truly didn't want to leave any part of you untouched, with his mouth carefully exploring the curve of your body with such precision that it takes your very breath away. his mouth lovingly nips and prods at your sensitive skin, with his fingertips trailing all across your body, eliciting such wanton moans from your parted lips that you prayed no one had heard you.

once clive was satisfied with kissing and marking your skin with gentle bites was when he whispers to you, "it's time for me to do what i have always craved. just relax, my love, and let me have a taste of you."

his large hands gently pin your form down against the grass, giving your sensitive skin teasing pinches here and there before settling himself between your legs. he purposely spreads out your thighs, making room for him to take residence between them as he takes in the scent of your aching flower. he spends some time admiring the moisture that seems to coat your core, collecting the evidence of your arousal with the tip of his fingers.

teasing you now, you could feel the way clive dips his thick finger inside of your gummy walls, the sensation enough to cause your back to arch in response. not wanting you to move, clive continues to hold you down with his free hand. seemingly unsatisfied with the distance between his face and the pretty flower between your legs, clive uses his strength to bring your sex even closer to him, earning a surprised squeal from you when you felt the coarseness of his beard against your softness.

it was an absolutely sinful sensation, feeling his beard and mouth lightly scrape at your silky walls. he groans upon breathing in your scent, "dear gods you smell so sweet, far sweeter than all of the flowers in this garden, nay, the world combined...!"

"oh clive, p-please, i need you..ah!"

the moment you felt his hot mouth engulf the entirety of your sex was the moment you knew you were done for. all you could feel was the red hot pleasure coursing through your very veins as you kept crying out to him. with your hands pressed against his dark hair, you kept moving your hips against his sinful mouth with fervor. he groans against your sex, sending pleasurable vibrations to your core before inserting his thick middle finger within your aching core. ready for him to bring you to completion with a shout of his name, you felt your thighs instinctively tighten around his head as you gave him your first release of the night. you could feel your honey sweet arousal flowing out of you and into clive's awaiting mouth, earning a guttural groan from him as he drank up all you had to offer.

you were seeing stars now, only dimly aware of the way clive moves away from you momentarily, shedding the last bit of his clothes before rejoining you.

with his broad chest pressed against your breasts, he resumes kissing you all while spreading your legs to properly settle himself against them. it was at that moment you felt something prominently large poking you, filling your veins with a wave of desire.

"clive." you moan when you felt the tip of his erection prod against your slickness, collecting the evidence of your prior release as clive struggled to keep his breathing even.

"dear gods, you feel so good. i haven't even fully sheathed myself inside of you and already i feel like i am about to go insane...!"

you felt a sense of feminine pride coursing through you when you manage to rub your core against him, causing him to groan in response.

"then let's go insane together, my darling knight."

that was all the urging clive needed to fully push himself into your wet and gummy walls.

the sensation of being filled so perfectly makes you toss your head back in response, and it was so quick and painless that you were unaware of the small drip of blood that came from clive breaking through your virginity with the proof his manhood. while you were caught up in how full clive made you feel, your beloved knight was struggling to hold back from releasing deep within you right then and there.

his breathing was ragged, and he was all too aware of the way you kept thrusting your hips back and forth, trying to mitigate the ache by getting some friction in. the sheer sensation of you perfectly surrounding him makes clive grit his teeth in response.

taking a hold of your waist, clive was able to still your hips before pulling out and pushing himself back into you at a rapid pace. "i cannot hold back my love and desire for you any longer...! fuck, you feel too good my love."

your breasts kept bouncing in tune to his lovemaking, making you gasp as your nails clawed at his back in response, your legs opening wide as they invited clive to thrust even deeper inside of you. never before had you felt such all consuming pleasure before, and you couldn't stop yourself from crying out to him, begging him for more as you prayed for him to never stop.

it was in that moment that all your dreams came true, with your beloved showing you the greatest pleasure that could be accomplished between a man and a woman as he continued pumping himself into you, eyes wild with lust and desire for you and you alone.

you spent god knows how long being loved by clive beneath the light of the moon, gasping and whispering your love for him as he does the same. despite the way you both reached your completion some time ago, clive was an insatiable young man. he couldn't get enough of you-

and truthfully, you couldn't get enough of him, either.

it was only when you acted on your desire to ride him, with your hands clasped to the front of his chest as you gyrate your hips up and down his aching shaft that you came one last time with a soft whimper, feeling your walls clamp down on clive's erection one last time before he finally released himself within your walls. you sigh at the sensation of his seed painting your walls white once more, feeling almost drunk at all the pleasure you felt as he too, had finally succumbed to the post lovemaking exhaustion, finally becoming limp inside of you.

by now, the lovers were tired to their cores, laying back against the grass as you rest against clive's chest. you gently kiss at his heart, licking away the beads of sweat that appears while clive lets out a groan upon feeling your tongue against his skin.

"please, don't be so naughty my love, lest you want me to take you all morning as well?" he completes his teasing threat with a smack against your naked bottom, earning a gasp from you, "c-clive!"

your cute reaction is what makes clive smile once more as he leans down to give you a bruising kiss. "i promise you, my dear love, to never leave your side. i-if you truly accept and love me as i am, then i no longer have a reason to fear."

you share several more kisses throughout the night, making plans for the future while knowing of the potential obstacles that could get in the way of your love for one another. and despite how you knew the fight to keep clive would be difficult, it was all worth it in the end.

feeling clive press another kiss against your damp hair, he lets out a sigh of your name before picking up your shawl and his shirt, throwing the clothes over both of your naked forms before falling back into the grass with you on his chest.

"rest now, my love, and we shall tackle whatever the morning brings together."

with your heart finally free of its heartache, you press a final kiss against his chest before cuddling yourself close to him, dreaming of being decorated in white on your wedding day as you promised your forevers to clive, your soulmate and husband.

a.n. - this has got to be the longest story i have ever written, coming out to a total of 9.3K words 🥹 this is a story trade with the lovely @revoirestbelle , and i hope you readers were able to enjoy this story as well ♡

for context for the title choice for this story, please look up serenade + requited on youtube ♡

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations; and plagiarism are not allowed.

#clive rosfield x reader #clive rosfield x you #clive rosfield #ffxvi x reader #.stories

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drawnaghht · 7 months

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Neo Edo magnetic "holsters"

so today/yesterday I started thinking....

what a cool detail the magnetic "holsters" - knobs and stripes are. A very unique design idea for the setting they went with (basically energy-punk or a kind of close-futuristic sci-fantasy)

for example, Gen has large magnet strips on his back, but also on the front of his vest?

The back strips are bigger, while the front strips I'm not entirely sure about, but they are slightly smaller and thinner, so it could be that they are something else, like pockets.

Chizu's appears to have dual magnetic strips on both her pants, her jacket lapels at the bottom, as well as a bigger/stronger magnet triangle on her back, assuming for her polearm, then later for her bow. The strips on her pants could also be just re-enforcing

The other Neko Ninja also appear to have magnets on their armor's backs and hip-pieces. (more longer images under cut)

Kitsune does not appear to have any magnets on her body? but she has a belt which she has a small pouch on and her belt goes around enough times that it could be easy to store her first set of tessen on her back.

Usagi's are small magnets on his obi, both the yoyo and sword have space to fit, one on either side. The sword is always on the left side, so that Usagi can draw it fast enough with his right hand without hurting himself by accident (at least, according to how sword-carrying became tradition during the Edo-era, the show is fairly consistent about this way the swords are carried)

From the first episode with Usagi, we see that the magnets appear to be strong enough that they lock onto the metal of the weapon long enough that the user can remove their fingers from holding the weapon.

and with the yoyo:

Overall, it's a super-interesting feature in the city! Other characters also have these magnets on their outfits/armor - you can pause any shot and see that characters have something magnetic/metallic on their body, with (I think) the exception of Karasu-Tengu and auntie, and the regular citizens of Neo Edo. So here for example the Keisatsu and Lord Kogane.

Most notably, one of the keisatsu guarding Usagi in ep 102, a set of keys dangles from it and we later find out it's this keisatsu's apartment keys haha.

Usagi waits and holds to test the magnet on his left side when he is holstering his auntie's sword, and we see that the effect is quite strong. But then in ep 2, he just slaps the yoyo onto his other side un-ceremoniously, even though this one is directly given to him by a magic stone haha xD You'll notice how Usagi's magnets have some sort of inset inlay, and a glowing symbol inside it which appears to be his clan emblem. Perhaps this means that his obi, or the magnet inlays were once commissioned for one of his ancestors? Since auntie does not appear to wear one of these, maybe it was a direct heirloom to Usagi from one of his parents? Or maybe it was something specially made for when Usagi was a bit older? Could even be that Auntie had it made for one of Usagi's birthdays (good source of a fanfic plot hehe). The magnets are also shown to always glow purple, like the Ki-Stone, and so is Usagi's yoyo itself, when activating any of its abilities, but in this case, the lines on the two sides of the yoyo glow just like the inset on Usagi's weapon-holster magnets.

For other fighter groups in the series, the Mogura crew don't seem to use any visible(?) weapons, while the Bat Squadron have switchblades on the top of their wings/fingers(?), while on their backs they have parachute backpacks. The Neko Ninja appear to have no visible magnets, but possibly their entire armor has hidden magnets within? just a theory for now.

Now, while Usagi's obi and its magnets seem to be custom, could the rest of Usagi's outfit be too? possibly. It seems to be a very specifc combination of both samurai, ninja and farmer outfits, as well as practical application of what samurai used to travel lighter while staying protected. First of all, his vest is a kind of deep blue which according to some historic records, is hemophilic? meaning, it can hold in blood if the wearer is struck suddenly, and according to older beliefs, it even had some healing properties. The vest is tied together by the obi, and the shoulder-gaps/edges appear to have either wooden or leather guards attached to the vest, enforced by these peculiar rectangular (i've seen this kind of work before in woodwork workshops but cannot remember the exact name) Under this vest, he appears to have a light leather or wood breastplate for protectin and under this in turn, he has a dark blue/black undershirt. His pants appear to be in two parts. The first part being the dark blue pants he wears, and the second a patterned "pants cover" which attaches to his chest guard or armor under the vest via light blue clasps. [edit: 10.10.2023:] Still looking around for the basis of this, but this appears similar to some pants I've seen irl. This cover and the pants both seem to be either tucked into or covered by the leg guards Usagi wears. [end edit] Whatever 3rd undergarment he has connects with the blue sleeves he has, which are tied with strings similar to his auntie's sleeves, but these strings are only drawn and animated in the 2D sequences (for the sake of simpler animation, it seems, since Usagi appears in so many scenes and has many moving parts) Then he has dark blue arm guards and kneeguards, while the boot part of his shoes seem to be some harder leather or other material. Usagi, because of wanting to follow in the steps of his samurai ancestor, does not have any other magnetic holsters on his body.

Chizu and Gen also seem to have customized magnets, but of a different appearance. First of all obviously, their shape is rectangular longer or shorter strips, without inlays or emblems, and Chizu has her back-triangle magnet.

I've sometimes also wondered if Gen's emblem is also a magnet, tho this is less likely... The rest of his outfit is fashioned to protect his body enough to also be mobile. So his back magnet-strips are way larger and fit nicely there, enough for his kanabo to attach comfortably to it without falling off. He has a lighter and thinner looking metal plate over his chest, which is obviously armor with a dipping neckline which is colored a golden/bronze? while the bottom part is a deep indigo, covered with studs. Traditionally what these kinds of studs do, is that if someone hits you in the stomach area (one of the most vulnerable areas in an armed fight), the metal studs set in the plate should deflect metal weapon blows to the stomach. so that's interesting to see, Gen's outfit is very practical and he is obviously a bounty hunter who has been doing the job for a while, evidenced also by Gen's healed-over facial scars. A purple vest with a higher collar covers this armor partly. The vest is patterned with these outlined hexagons which have a smaller hexagon inside them. The sleeves of this vest are puffed up(?) and either tied to his arms or it's a rubber band inside the fabric of the light magenta strip of his sleeve. I cannot see that he has any magnets on his belt, which is otherwise tied around the latter-bottom part of his armor and pants. The armor near the belt and on the stomach bends upwards in a semi-trapeze shape toward the dipping neckline of the upper part of his armor. His shoulder pads, kneepads and armguards appear to be enforced leather. I can't remember the exact term for this, but you see that the shoulder parts have stronger leather strings going through the inner parts, possibly to strengthen the rest of the pads. His warclubs sit comfortably on his back on the larger magnet strips.

Chizu's outfit is obviously made for blending in as a civilian, while retaining mobility and flexibility as a ninja, so it's not metal/hard armor like the other Neko Ninja - but instead seems to be wooden/light armor made to look like the shapes on the shirts of other (the dipping rectangle), and undergarment (black) + red and black leather vest and pants. The strips blend in nicely with this sort of outfit, while also allowing Chizu to have many weapons besides the hidden ones she has, the ninja stars and the small crossbow in her gauntlets/hand guards. Chizu's back-magnet triangle meanwhile fits her outfit style exactly, with a black inlay and golden-color outer rim, sort of like Usagi's magnet, but with no inset. Perhaps it's not a magnet at all then? But it sorta makse sense to be a magnet still. In ep 2, she brings her collapsible naginata along and sets it on her back. So this is a running design element amont the characters of Neo Edo that they carry their weapons on these magnetic shapes - strips, circlets, triangles, etc

Kitsune has a very straight-forward outfit. She presents herself as an ordinary street performer while also stealing during her performances, skillfully enough that she doesn't need a helping hand in this. Her outfit consists of mostly greens, teals and on the leaf-prints of her kimono vest, we see that she has maple-leaf patterns in beige, orance and yellow tones, in homage to her namesake and inspiration, the Kitsune in the Usagi Yojimbo comics. Her belt goes around her waist 2 times, while the 3rd time sits more loosely around her left hip, carrying her leather pouch, possibly from weight, but also comfort. compared to the previous two, Kitsune's outfit seems less about hiding or being openly her profession and more about her feeling comfortable, being herself. This is also why she has different bracelets and bangles on her writsts. As with Usagi and Chizu, her clothings are closed in the traditional kimono 'y' shape, left over right side, but while Usagi has only his vest over his armor and undershirt, and Chizu's is just her undershirt, for Kitsune she has both a vest and dark green undershirt, meaning that she appears more casual and layered. Possibly, because of living on the streets, she is ready for any weather and these clothes might have more other practical applications. But also likely, she just feels comfortable in these warm clothes. It is spring after all at the start of the series (exactly the same day it aired, April 28th), so possibly the air is more brisk and Kitsune has kept this look for just a while. All this is more observation + fantheory, but otherwise, there seem to be no metal or magnetic parts on her body. She does not focus on fighting as much as the others and her modus operandi in fights seems to more self-defense, which is what her battle fans are meant for, a self-defense weapon. It's possible she could have hiding places on her open-toed boots for smaller weapons, but then again, I do not believe we've seen them used as such in the show.

Now I wonder how these magnet strips are produced and made at all... do they use the Ki-Stone to magnetize strips of metal somehow? There are many methods to make magnets irl, so I wonder which ones were used here to achieve this strong magnet effect together with the rest of the Ki-Stone's effects...

Anyway, this isn't a deep-dive about clothing, I just wanted to shortly write about the interesting element of magnet wepon-holders, because these seem a ki-stone specific magic/science, but I got a bit lengthy about the clothings anyway bc I like this show ^^

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soubi122 · 8 months

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How Long? - Part 6

TRIGGER WARNING! Manipulation, mentions of pregnancy, thoughts of baby trapping, drug use, kidnapping, fear, angst, anxiety, suggestive, possessive/toxic Ran.

2 more chapters to go.

Beginning of the End

You felt like you were going to pass out. The smell of your old perfume and the sight of your proposal photo triggered a panic attack. He didn't change a Goddamn thing in this room. “I kept everything the same just for you.” Ran whispered in your ear. “I couldn't let you go, I never stopped loving you, never stopped thinking about you…” “I’ve never wanted to start a family with anyone else but you my love…” His words felt like poison, it was a lie. He stopped loving you the moment he decided to fuck around with Rindou’s ex. Who is he trying to fool? “We can make this work again, my love. We can do all the things we planned together before the fallout. Maybe even start a family…” Ran caressed your belly, almost rubbing it like you were pregnant or something. Your breathing became unsteady and your body tensed up.

The more he guided you into the room, the more you struggled to breathe and your mind was going blank. Panic was deluging your whole body, overwhelming your senses to the point where your teeth began to chatter. “Baby…what’s wrong?” Ran’s bittersweet tone echoed in your ear. His hands were pulling you closer to his body, his warmth felt like fire, as if someone put a hot iron on your back. Your hair was sticking to your face from the nervous sweat. “...stop.” You say barely audible, it feels like a nightmare - when you’re trying to scream but there is no sound.

He nuzzled his face in your neck, breathing in your scent and roaming his hands along your figure. “(Y/N), I want to start over…” Ran says, his breath against your neck made a shiver run down your spine. How could you start over with someone who not only cheated on you but also tried to kill you yesterday. Was it intentional or was it a mistake? It was hard to read him now, after three years of no contact you realize that you didn’t know him anymore. He gave you but a taste of who he used to be, that is until you stirred the devil inside him and he lashed out.

In one swift motion, Ran spun you around so that you could face him. His violet eyes had tears brimming in them, almost threatening to stream down his face. For a moment, you were taken back to the time when he proposed to you - his facial expression looked the same as it did now. He could see the qualm reflected in your eyes, it was painful and he deserved it - he deserved to be doubted. Being too close like this you could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He was being sincere about this but your heart was not allowing you to fall for him. “I can’t…” You whisper, hesitating to say what’s been plaguing you this entire time.

Ran didn’t stop, he leaned in to kiss you, his breath was shaky - he knew you were struggling. “Yes, you can…you love me, right?” His question added so much weight to your shoulders. You didn’t know how to answer him, did you really love him? His lips quivered while trying to kiss you, he was begging you to profess your love to him. “Tell me you love me…” He spoke almost pleadingly. Desperation was eating away at him, he needed to hear you say it. He needed some sort of validation from you. 'She has to love me…there is no way she lied to me…' He thought to himself. The silence grew uncomfortable. With the way Ran’s hands began to tremble, you said your next words carefully. The last thing you wanted was to end up at his again. “I need time…” You say softly and cupped his face, hoping that he wouldn't overreact. Ran’s eyes widened, did he hear that right? You needed time? Time for what? “Don’t you love me? You said you loved me while we were fucking yesterday.” His tone was low and there was venom on his tongue. 'Fuck, fuck fuck fuck….' You think to yourself, Ran’s devil was beginning to stir up and you’re in his home now. What if you aren’t able to escape him this time?

“Ran...please, I just need to-” You were cut off by the sudden shove on to the mattress. His hand pinned your wrists above your head. He was not being himself. “You think you can just take back what you said?” The acrimony on his tongue was enough to make you shrink down. “You can’t leave me (Y/N), you need me…” “No one will love you like I do, no one will be able to satisfy you like me…” His words were that of a man who was losing his sanity. The crazed look in his eyes made you whimper and the tears were beginning to blur your vision. “Baby, you know you can’t be without me…” He said while nuzzling your cheek and placing his knee between your thighs. His objective was clear - he wasn’t going to let you go.

Ran lowered his body against yours, his full weight was now on you - it was hard to breathe.“Come on…say it!” He raised his voice when you remained quiet. His left hand gripped your chin and his thumb swiped your lower lip almost forcing you to open your mouth. “Stop it!” You yell and try turning away but the grip on your chin was too much - you couldn’t dodge the incoming kiss. When you refused to give in, he bit your lower lip to make you yelp and he took the opportunity to dart his tongue in your mouth. He was poison, he was blight, he was taking over your reasoning from wrong and right. “You’re my woman…” He pants and continues to kiss you with haste, almost as if you were going to disappear from him and he was right to think that.

“Mine…mine…mine…” He kept repeating while kissing you. What happened to him? He was never one to lose his composure nor obsess over anyone or anything. Ran’s kisses began to trail from your mouth to your cheek and down to your neck. The sweet spots were being ravaged by him and you couldn’t help but moan and gasp. He took that as a sign to keep going, there was no way you would resist him right? This obsessive/possessive nature was new to you. Where was this when you were together? Your heart couldn’t keep up, it kept beating non stop making it hard to focus. There was too much running through your mind to make sense of the situation at hand. This wasn’t the man you loved, this was someone completely different. “Stop, please.” You begged him. Your mind muddled in sin and resentment, you rut your hips against his - partly to wiggle away and well…the heat was becoming too much.

Ran's free hand moved under your shirt and up to your chest to knead your breasts. He could feel your goosebumps and how your nipples hardened from being touched. Your body responded to him as it always has, submissive and compliant. His low snicker made you nauseous.

“I can only imagine what you would look like with our baby in your belly.” He said as he trailed his hand down to your abdomen. Slowly, he released your wrists and trails kisses from your neck to your chest and down to your stomach. It felt like everything went quiet in the room. You could only focus on his voice and his touch, nothing else came into focus.

The ceiling started to become distorted, your vision was fading as your body went numb - you were on the verge of shutting down. “You’d be a wonderful mommy… loving and nurturing our baby, they will be spoiled rotten by all their uncles.” He continued his delusion of you baring his child. Ran then lowered your pants enough to snake his hand between your bare thighs and kissed your lower abdomen. The way his eyes flickered up to take in the view of your body, he noticed something.

With your arms still over your head, he saw it - a light scar on the upper side of your arm. He then looked at your other arm and noticed that it did not have a scar, you still have the implant. Of course you did, you wouldn’t have let him fuck you raw if you didn’t have it in place. “We’re gonna have to get rid of that little matchstick darling…” He said teasingly and was beginning to reach for your arm. Something inside you snapped, was he going to try and take it out himself?

A sick feeling in your stomach gave you the strength, strength you didn’t even know you had, to push him off. Without hesitation, you booked it out of the room. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, you were getting tunnel vision as you ran down the hall to the elevators, your body was on autopilot. The sound of heavy footsteps sounded like rolling thunder behind you as Ran chased after you. Getting in the elevator and repeatedly pushing the lobby button, you turned around and could see his tall figure coming closer. You must have knocked him down to the floor when you pushed him as he didn’t make it in time before the doors closed in his face. The look of rage and betrayal was clear, those handsome features for once…became ugly.

Pacing back and forth in the elevator, you were praying to the gods that Ran wouldn’t be waiting for you on any floor like something out of a horror movie. The moment you reached the lobby you darted out. Pushing past the people on the busy streets, you could hear people yelling and cursing at you - 'WATCH WHERE THE FUCK YOU'RE GOING!' You kept running non stop until your legs finally gave out.

Finding some sort of solace in a park, you hid in the bushes to avoid being seen. You dropped to your knees heaving, and struggled to catch your breath. Clutching your chest you could feel your heart pound, beating against your chest like a hammer. The contents in your stomach started coming up and the bile was in your throat. You immediately threw up. Coughing and crying, your body trembled as your panic attack continued. When you finished blowing chunks, you felt lightheaded and wiped the drool away from the corners of your mouth. You fell backwards, hitting the grass with soft thud and staring up at the sky.

The sky was already between lava orange and blue tones as the sun was setting. Blurred lines began to appear as your vision was going in and out of focus. Ran was going to hunt you down, he wasn't going to stop until he caught you or until you're dead and your actual corpse would be presented to him. There was no way to undo what you've just done.

This moment of silence was soon interrupted by a tall shadow hovering over you. Your vision was too blurry to make out who it was but in a flash, everything went dark.

*Two hours later*

Mikey and the rest of Bonten were waiting at the main office - waiting for Ran’s return and of course waiting for your return as well. The tension was thick, Rindou was sitting down and kept moving his leg as if he had restless leg syndrome. Even though Mikey confirmed that you were still alive, Rindou was still not having it. He was hoping that they were wrong - he didn’t want to see Ran go through that again if you decide to leave him. Then again, Rindou did nothing to stop Ran when he started cheating on you. His mental state isn’t what it used to be. What if he- Rindou’s thoughts were interrupted when his phone rang, he excused himself to another office. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Taking that call made his blood run cold.

After a few minutes the sound of the office door being kicked in startled everyone, making them whip their heads around so fast that they could have gotten whiplash. In walked Ran with you slung over his shoulders, unconscious. “What the hell happened?” Mikey questioned Ran in a low tone. He was concerned for your safety and who would have seen Ran carrying you like this. They could have called it into the cops as a kidnapping.

Ran’s disheveled look made everyone question what happened and why he walked in like a caveman carrying his bride. “So she is alive.” Kokonoi said while moving your hair away from your face after Ran set your body down on the couch. “She left me no choice…” Ran said as he wiped your face with a wet rag, you fought for a brief moment when he was trying to knock you out with chloroform. After what occurred, he knew you were going to run from him again. In order to get this over with, he figured that bringing you to Bonten’s headquarters was a better option than to bring you home.

The men surrounding you were still having trouble believing that it was you. You were dead, the news confirmed it, the cops confirmed it, but yet here you were. Even with Mikey’s explanation, it was difficult to believe that he spared your life. Bonten was known not to let people go, if you knew too much - you’d end up in a body bag or working as a prostitute for life. “Why’d you knock her out?” Sanzu asked. “She ran…” His tone was cold. It threw everyone off guard, they thought he would be head over heels for you or that he would have waltz right in with you hand-in-hand. “Did anyone see you?” Kakucho asked him while peering out the window, making sure that there were no cops outside.

Seeing you in this state, Mikey wanted nothing more than to put a bullet in Ran’s head. He had a feeling everyone would be watching him carefully so he kept his composure, stoic and silent. “Did you two fight or something? There are marks-” Takeomi began to say when he was cut off by Rindou coming through the doors. His face was rather pale. When his eyes landed on Ran and your figure, he furrowed his eyebrows. They all knew that Rindou was against Ran finding you but his expression was different. “We need to talk…” He said and signaled Ran to follow him. “It can wait.” Ran replied coldly, he was not having it. “Aniki (兄貴), now.” Something was seriously wrong if Rindou raised his voice at Ran. With a heavy sigh Ran followed Rindou outside of the office.

Meanwhile, the rest of the admins were still surrounding you, trying to analyze your figure and face. Was it really you? You haven’t changed one bit. Mikey noticed the marks around your neck and he felt his blood boil. What could have caused Ran to lay his hands on you like this? “Mikey, you knew about her being alive. Why let Ran go through that?” Mochizuki’s question made everyone question Mikey’s motive. Kakucho could see that Mochi was a little upset at him. The old Tenjiku members were like brothers in arms or family. Why would you let one of your admins go through something so cruel? Perhaps…there was more to this situation that Mikey was letting on. “You never bend the rules for anyone, why her?” Sanzu followed up, he was also curious about this. “She gave this organization everything and we failed her.” Mikey’s words surprised everyone. They didn’t see the bigger picture. Despite your role as Ran’s fiance, you were doing more than just keeping his cock warm. Organization skills and business insights were an asset to Bonten - most of the celebratory dinners were due to your help.

Which was true, you were loyal and skillful - no other woman was able to stay alongside Bonten long enough to stay alive. “She deserves a choice and her choice was to leave - quietly.” He said and patted your head softly. Kakucho and Kokonoi immediately caught on to more than just Mikey’s words. They had a feeling that you had a red string tying you to Manjiro.

A loud crash made everyone turn around, the sound of glass breaking and things being thrown around had them on high alert. Mochizuki bolted towards the office where the sound was coming from. Upon opening the door, he immediately ducks - a glass vase smashed against the door. “What the fuck is going on over there?” Takeomi says and heads over to Mochizku. Screaming and yelling soon echoes through the doorway, Ran is yelling and throwing shit all across the room. He became enraged upon speaking with Rindou. What the hell happened and why was he losing his shit even more?

Soon everyone but Mikey left the room to see what the commotion was about. He took the opportunity to cup your cheek and examined the light markings around your neck. Maybe he should have stopped Ran from finding you or warned you ahead of time so that you could leave the Wakkanai. Even though he knew you’d resist, he didn’t know that Ran would do something so reckless.

With all the noise, you slowly began to wake up, groaning and fluttering your eyelids. The person in front of you came into focus. Silver hair and dark eyes…Mikey. He smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead. You tried reaching for him, however, you couldn’t move your body, it felt like your limbs were made out of lead. Panic soon started to consume you when you realized you couldn’t move, your body was partially paralyzed. Your breathing quickened and your eyes began to water. “Hey, Hey…relax, you’re safe.” Mikey says and tries to massage your hand. He began to answer your unsaid questions. “You’re in the office with us. Ran brought you in, you were unconscious - blink twice for yes and once for no.” He instructed you and soon followed with a series of quick questions.

“Do you feel comfortable around him right now?” You blinked once.

“Did you run away from him?” You blinked twice.

“Did he hurt you?” Blinking twice, you hiccupped and sniffled.

“Does he know about us?” You blinked once.

Mikey felt himself losing his composure. Never has he been swayed by a woman before, but you were precious to him. Regaining some muscle movement, you hold his hand and close your eyes - the warmth of his hand was soothing and calming your nerves.

The tender moment was interrupted by Sanzu walking over and witnessing the most feared man in Japan holding a woman’s hand. “Boss…we um, we got a problem.” Sanzu said and nudged his head in the direction where all the yelling was coming from. Hearing Ran’s screaming, it made you flinch - what the hell was going on? Oh no, are they holding him back from killing you?

Mikey stood up and began to make his way towards the noise but before he got close to the door he stopped Sanzu and gave him an order. “Watch her, do not let her leave and do not let Ran get near her.” His words were sharp and cold. Sanzu was left a bit confused at his orders. Why would he not let Ran get close to his own fiance? “Sure…” Sanzu replied slightly suspicious. When Manjiro was out of the room, Sanzu turned to look at you and his eyes were full of mistrust. Your breathing became unsteady when he got closer to you. His grin was that of a mad man, of course you never got used to it.

“What’s going on between you and Mikey?” You thanked whatever drug was in your system that kept you from talking. Sanzu has his ways of making people talk. “You had us fooled for a while and even the boss was in on it…” The low tone was making chills run down your spine. Truth be told, you feared him more than you feared Mikey or Ran. It was a well known fact that Sanzu was well…crazy. He got closer to you and leaned in to whisper in your ear. “You might just be set free (Y/N)...” What the hell does he mean by that? You could only twitch your fingers and mutter. Barely being able to speak, you managed to ask him - “W-what…ngh…do-” Your struggle only made him chuckle. “Y-you…mean?” He backed away and looked towards the doorway. The next words that came out of his mouth…shattered the last fragment it held for your beloved ex-fiance. “Ran’s expecting a baby…”

END

Tags:

@rinrinfoxy @mor-pheus @no-signal-found @namelessnikki2 @gabi-moureira @spookys-s @slvtmeow @jinii-desu @mmmaaannnsssiii @3xchooo @kokotakeomi @no-name-jack @barriesandcrem @reidsmexyconverse @waterfallsdown @1980losersliveinme @gabytodd @simp4ren @fffsksixj @whatsonthemirror @jcrml @reiners-milkbiddies @unr-u-1y @bakugosgf2005 @whoisneth @bluephoenix908 @asmosslut @laurenzitaa @uniqueeggtoast @arlertsbaby @ilivefortheleague @mytaiyakeylover @niko-ash

#tokyo revengers #tokyorevengers #ran haitani #bonten ran #bonten ran haitani #bonten mikey #bonten manjiro #manjiro sano #sano manjiro #haitani ran #how long series #how long part 6 #tokyo revengers angst #bonten ran haitani angst #ran haitani angst

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magickcandie · 5 months

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Brian May x Fem!Reader

Brian May was a talented songwriter. He wrote many songs for Queen, but there was always something so melancholy and sad. That was until he met a woman that became his muse, his inspiration, the love of his life; Y/N L/N.

On many occasions, Brian wrote a song about you. The first time, he went to his band mates during the making of Sheer Heart Attack.

“I’ve written a new song!”

“Sing it for us!” Freddie said, eager to hear the music.

You were in the studio that day. He pulled out a guitar and started to sing.

I love she makes me She is my heart She is my love She is my love

I know you're jealous of her She makes me need She is my love She is my love

You overheard conversation about it yesterday among the rest of the band. Firstly, they decided Brian should sing the song on the record. Secondly, they were talking about interpretations.

“Sounds entirely fictional. Maybe some sad war story.” Roger shrugged.

“Sounds sad. Maybe it wrote it about death when he was in the hospital.” Freddie said.

“I think it’s about Y/N.” John said. You looked up at him. “Maybe he uses the death and war feel to make it about if he died and leaving her.”

You frowned but not at John’s statement which was beautiful. Just the thought of Brian dying was scary.

He had written the song when he had gotten Hepatitis, but the fear of Brian’s death was terrifying beyond measure.

In 1978, you had fought with Brian. It was really surface level, but you and Brian were both to stubborn to apologize. So you had broken up. But it didn’t change the fact that Brian still loves you and decided to write a sad (and slightly backhanded) song about you.

It was Roger that called you just to hand the phone to Brian. They all knew you’d hang up if you heard his voice first.

“Hey, Y/N.” He said ever so quietly.

You could imagine the frown and sad eyes he wore so comfortably. “Brian.” You didn’t mean to sound as exasperated as you did.

“I wrote a new song about you. It’s going to be on the Jazz record. If you decide to listen to it, it’ll be called Dreamer’s Ball.”

It took some time for Jazz to reach your record store but once you saw it, you were quick to purchase it. It was a lovely album.

I used to be your baby Used to be your pride and joy You used to take me dancing Just like any other boy But now you've found another partner You’ve left me like a broken toy

It's someone else you're taking Someone else you're playing to Honey, though I'm aching Just know what I have to do If I can't have you when I'm waking I'll go to sleep and dream I'm with you

So take me, take me, take me to the dreamer's ball I'll be right on time and I'll dress so fine You'll love me when you see me, I won't have to worry Take me, take me, promise not to wake me When I'm singing it's all been true

‘What d’you say about that, hey, honey? You got to take me to that dreamers ball I’d like that’

It was lovely. That next morning you were calling Brian, praising him for the song (and the album) and apologizing over and over and the same about him. Brian came over later and spoke of how the song came to be.

You enjoyed doing things with each Queen member. With John, you loved to go to discos with him. And what better than to drag Brian with you.

John had disappeared somewhere in the crowd, dancing. You swayed next to Brian who sat by the bar.

“Please, Bri. Come dance with me.”

“I’m not much of a dancer, love. Go find Deacy, and dance with him. I’m better off here, not spoiling your night.”

You tried to convince him with an opened mouth kiss, before taking his hands into yours and taking him to the dance floor.

You smiled wide at him, putting his own hands on your hips and dancing along with him. You kept him distracted by kissing him and whispering in his ear.

It was the next week that you stumbled across the song. You could tell if was still a work on progress but it was about your night out with him.

I'm not invited to the party Been sitting here all night I'm all alone at the party I don't feel alright Ain't got no black coat Ain't got no tie I gotta shape up now Come on baby you gotta know why

Take off! Dancer, dancer I can't live with it, I'm gonna die without it Dancer, dancer Ain't no doubt about it Dancer, dancer Why don't you kick off your dancing shoes And come and ride with me? Cool.

You're the life and soul of the 'funktion' It took me all night To get hold of the right introduction Blew me out of sight I taste your lipstick I look in your eyes You feel fantastic My body cries

What you didn’t expect was Brian to present the song to the band. John was just accepting that Brian was willing to write music for Hot Space in general. Roger just said “I like it.” Freddie went on to tease Brian and yourself.

“I love you, Y/N L/N. You’re my inspiration, my light, my life. I’d do anything for you.”

“And I you, Brian May.”

#brian may #queen band #brian may x reader #request #ask

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yesimwriting · 1 year

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Resurgence

A/n this is a product of me going with the flow to get rid of some writer’s block, i originally wanted to write a jason x reader story but this became much more background heavy and turned into something else so i’m thinking maybe mini series! some found family vibes, idk though

Summary: After an impulsive attempt to run away with your best friend ends in an accident that alters everything about you (literally--like on a genetic level), you’re pushed into the Titan’s world.

----

Earlier.

I know it’s too early for total cynicism, but the note Jenna left out on the counter doesn’t allow for much else. A passive aggressive, vague scribbling reminding me that just because we went to bed and woke up doesn’t mean the fight is over. The note is taped to a box of cereal because she’s pointedly reminding me that there’s a reason she’s not here making me breakfast. Whatever.

I pour myself a bowl before pulling open the door to the fridge. The nearly empty carton of milk is expired. Perfect.

My phone starts to buzz before I can get rid of souring milk. Violet’s contact name and picture takes up my screen as I pick up the device. “Hey.”

“Do you remember yesterday? When you were talking about just getting in a car and driving anywhere and everywhere and never looking back?”

Intense way to start a before 8AM call. “Weird conversation starter... but yeah.”

She sighs, the sound a puff of air into my receiver. “I took my step dad’s car, I’m about to pass your house, do you want to come with me?”

Oh my god. She’s lost it. “Are you insane?”

“Do you want to get out of here or not?”

My eyes fall to the skirt of my uniform and then to Jenna’s note. Memories of last night’s argument hit with no warning. “Let’s go.”

----

Present.

There’s light and then I’m plunged back into darkness. A nothingness that I can feel. A nothingness that aches. Get up. Get up. Get--

My body won’t move. I latch onto the only thing I can, the faint prickle of light from behind my eyes. It’s kind of...irritating. And I can hear a strange, flat ringing. I screw my eyes shut tighter, a touch of mobility returning. Slowly, enough of it comes back for me to open my eyes.

Okay. I’m staring at a roof. Not at the sky...and not at Violet’s...The thought brings me back to the pain in my body. Everything is sore, but I’m resting somewhere that should be comfortable. A bed, not the side of the road...not the last place I remember.

Wait--where am I? I sit up fully, the buzzing noise turns into a sporadic mess of beeping. Each bump of noise feels like it’s striking me in the head. My hands stretch forward to rub my face. The movement feels like mush and restrained.

My eyes drop to my arms. There’s a tube sticking out of my arm, an object I vaguely register as an IV. A few other wires are sticking out from me, including a tube in my nose. Okay--this is getting weird. I sit up a little more before twisting my fingers around the oxygen tube.

“I wouldn’t--” My body presses as far back into the cot as I physically can before snapping my head forward. There’s a guy standing next to one of two chairs lined neatly against a wall. “I don’t think you should touch that.”

Has he been here the entire time? And--and what is ‘the entire time’? How long has it been since Violet?

The question claws its way all the way to the tip of my tongue. I clamp my mouth shut to keep from asking it because I already know. After what I saw...what I felt...I know the answer. No one gets put back together after going through what happened to Violet and the last thing I want right now is to get into it with a stranger who may or may not be a danger. Speaking it into the world feels too real, too solid a vulnerability.

All I can do is stare at the stranger. His neat brown hair and put together posture seem mature enough that he could be a doctor if I’m going with the assumption that this is a hospital, but that doesn’t feel right. He’s not wearing a lab coat and his clothing feels a little too casual. He also feels a little too young to have finished med school.

“...You’re not a doctor.”

He takes my analysis well, tilting his chin down quickly in some sort of nod. “No.” The stranger takes a small step forward, more of a shift in my direction. “What do--do you know where you are? Do you remember anything?”

The question is a jab to already bruised ribs. Do I remember? Remember the car that came out of nowhere, that started chasing us at the gas station; the box Jenna pulled out from under the seats; the electric feeling of that liquid in my veins; waking up again and seeing the wreckage, seeing Jenna...

I swallow it all down, eyeing the stranger a little more cautiously. The urgency is weird. There are only so many reasons for a stranger to be in a hospital room with me. There’s a small chance he’s just some kind of good samaritan, who found me bleeding out somehow. He could also be with the people from the car or--or something else. Something bigger.

“Why do you care?” The words feel too raspy to have any real bite. “Actually, a better question--who even are you?”

His eyebrows draw together briefly, almost reluctantly. “I’m Dick Grayson.”

It’s a patient introduction, not exactly soft but politer than I expected. I don’t know what the appropriate reaction is, so I just nod.

Something about the way he’s lingering tells me that this strange interaction hasn’t been enough for him. Dick is going to push his questions or ask something else or maybe even justify his presence, but before he gets to do any of that, the door is pushed open.

A woman in a lab coat doesn’t even throw a curious glance in Dick’s direction. Does that indicate that he’s been in here for awhile? Or--or did he tell the hospital we’re in that I know him somehow?

“Okay,” the doctor hums, extending the last syllable as she glances at a clipboard, “You’re looking a lot better after the scare you gave us.” Her eyes shift away from my chart and towards the heart monitor that’s now beeping steadily, “Hm. That last alert must have been some kind of system error.”

Whatever that means. “Uh--scare?”

She presses her lips together, briefly turning her attention back to the clip board. “You were rushed into treatment, your body has experienced significant trauma.” The doctor pauses to take a breath, “Maybe this would be better discussed later. With a parent.”

“What happened after...the accident?” She still seems unsure. “Please.”

The doctor lets out a hesitant sigh, “During your treatment, your heart briefly stopped.” I--I flatlined? “But after you restabilized, there were no further complications and you seem well on your way to making a full recovery.” I nod blankly. “Is there anyone we should call for you?” Ugh. Jenna’s so going to kill me. “Could you use a minute first?”

“A minute sounds like a good idea.” Whoever Dick Grayson is, he has no issue over inserting himself.

The doctor nods, being suspiciously unsuspicious of the random guy, “Alright, I’ll be back.”

She leaves; Dick doesn’t. I turn my arm over, staring at the IV in my arm. Maybe if I’m quiet enough, he’ll leave.

“You remember the accident.” Guess the assumption that he’d just leave was an optimistic one.

My fingers twist the thin fabric of the hospital blanket. “Did you find me or something?”

Dick pauses, thinking about the best way to answer what must feel like a fragile question. “Or something.” Weird. “That car you were in, it wasn’t yours.”

Great, now I’m not only going to have to tell Violet’s parents what happened to her, I’m also going to get arrested for stealing a car. “No.”

The confession has no affect on him. He seemed sure enough in his assumption, so maybe he already decided my answer wouldn’t matter. “Did you know what was in the car?”

There’s a generalness in the question that I could use to my advantage--should use to my advantage--but the memories resurfacing make all rational thought impossible. The stuff in the car is what got me here.

“No,” the answer is more honest than I should be, “Not until after.”

His eyebrows pinch together, a hint of something less stoic bleeding into his expression. Maybe a touch of empathy. It’s not overbearing or much, but the shift is enough to make me feel exposed. Too exposed for some guy who I met through a hospital room and has only given me his name. A part of me wishes my phone was on me--a google search could potentially help.

I flatten my hands on my lap. “How do you know about the car?” The last people that knew about the weird fluid rammed themselves into a car until it flipped off a bridge. He could easily be working for them--some nice enough looking guy to make sure I woke up without freaking out and alerting anyone.

“I’m not with them.” Dick provides his defense stiffly, like he’s aware of its lack of strength.

The call button is only inches away from my hand. “Right, ‘cause the people that used a car to push my car off a bridge are for sure above lying.”

He takes another mini-step forward. “I’m actually trying to help you.”

Another thing he can’t prove. “Then tell me how you know about the blue stuff.”

Dick tries to suppress a sigh. I can’t tell if he was working under the assumption that I’d just wake up and happily go along with whatever. “...Because I’ve been looking for it.”

“That’s not sketchy at all.”

Something else tugs at his expression that’s different than before. Not pity or an apology, more like a general acknowledgement of how weird he’s being. “I saw the accident.” The words hit harder than they should considering the lack of meanness. “One of the vials was missing.”

Right before the accident, I opened the small box to see what Violet was talking about. I took one of the vials out to examine it and then the car flipped. “So you have the other vials?”

My question isn’t appreciated. “Do you know what happened after the accident?” The first few minutes, I was still awake. Conscious enough to crawl my way out of the car, but everything after that is stuck behind a dark wall. He takes my silence as an answer. “The battery was completely fried, but the engine was still running.”

That’s a fun fact? “Uh--cool?” I never did ask him anything that would reveal how mentally well he is. “I must have missed that while trying to crawl out of it before it exploded or something.”

“I didn’t--” The corner of my mouth turns up a little at his slight unease. I wasn’t sarcastic with the intention of being mean or making the stranger uncomfortable, but I’m not exactly mad it happened. He seems to catch onto the fact that I’m only giving him a hard time because I can. “Cars need batteries to run.”

Dick’s eyes stay trained on me after those words, analyzing my reaction to them. My first instinct is to dismiss it. I can’t imagine that car ever being fixed and car batteries are replaceable. That’s the least of its issues. Then it hits me--how was the engine running? “Oh.” He’s still watching. Why? “...What does a car have to do with me?”

“The people that are looking for the vials are dangerous.” I lift an arm to gesture to my IV, a quiet way of saying no shit. “They’re going to come back.”

My stomach knots at that. It’s not like I necessarily thought this was all over, but I hadn’t considered what could happen next. “I don’t have the missing vial.” As far as I know, he’s no one important, but the urge to get him to believe me hits hard and fast. “It probably fell and--and shattered or something.”

His expression doesn’t give me anything to work with. “If you come with me, I can test if it had any effects on you--”

Okay, I know a kidnapping scam when I see one. “You’re kidding, right?” He keeps his blankness, his posture somehow straighter than it was before. Dick’s radiating a sense of authority that’s definitely practiced. “Are you asking or telling?”

“I’m trying to help.”

“And if I don’t want your help because there’s no way some weird, lab goo did anything to me?” My hand shifts forward, reaching for the remote with the help button. “You seem nice enough, thank you for not leaving me to die in some underpass, but I think it’s time you go. Good luck with your goo situation.”

Dick’s eyes drop down to my hand. In about two steps, he’s at the side of my bed. “Don’t.”

I’ve never wanted to press a button more in my life. My thumb finds the trigger, but before I can press it, a strong grip secures itself around my wrist. He moved so quickly, I’m still registering the fact that he went to grab me. Who is this guy?

Before I can warn him that I have nothing against screaming bloody murder until someone separates us, I’m snapped out of my thoughts. My body feels disconnected, like it’s floating.

A light flickers behind my eyes, glazing over my vision. Some strong, hard to name thing pulls at my stomach, an even stronger feeling settles in my chest. That one is easier to listen to as something flickers to the front of my mind like a hazy memory or unfinished dream. I can’t tell what it is, but my body knows to trust it. To believe it. Do I know him?

The feeling is so close to familiarity that it feels like a physical hit. My fingers go slack, and the remote slips from my grasp and onto the cot. He lets go and moves back into place immediately.

I know that deciding whether or not to let some random guy run some sort of test on me cannot be a choice so influenced by a vibe. But what I saw has drained most of the fight from me. Maybe it’s a side effect of the car accident. Like some type of internal bleeding?

“Sorry, I don’t--”

“You want to run some tests on me or--?” It’s more of a summary for me than a direct question for him. Ugh. Maybe if he had asked for anything less weird...then again, I can’t think of anything that wouldn’t be weird from a stranger that’s just in my hospital room. “How do you even know about this?”

He hesitates, “Long story.”

Helpful. I guess it is kind of comforting that he’s this bad at getting me to want to come with him, because no respectable kidnapper would be this openly weird. And that instinct is still at the back of my mind, urging me to trust him. “You get that you’re super sketchy, right?” If this is some kind of trap, I deserve what I’m going to get. “If I agree, can I borrow a phone to call someone?” Grabbing my phone wasn’t a priority when I crawled out of that car, and I really doubt it somehow miraculously made its way to the hospital with me.

“Parents?”

Jenna’s so gonna kill me. “Sort of.” I’m not in the mood to get into my living situation, so I just stare at my sheets before he can ask. “What? You’re the only that gets to be cryptic?” The attempt at humor surprises me. He’s still a stranger, but my head isn’t accepting that.

“You can call them.”

“Then...okay.” I’m going to end up on dateline and my episode will be so boring some girl with a true crime podcast will skip my episode. “But if you’re some kidnapping serial killer, I will fuck you up.”

The corner of his mouth turns up a bit, like something about what I said is amusing him. Kind of rude, considering that I’m being completely serious, but I can’t decide if that makes me feel better or worse about my decision.

----

This might be one of the nicest buildings I’ve ever stepped foot in. It’s not like the building Dick’s led me to is overly extravagant, but it’s definitely structured in a way that feels well off. Like it’s owned by the kind of rich person that’s so wealthy they don’t feel the need to prove it.

“Dude,” I give myself a second to take in the space, “If you had led with how nice this place is, we could’ve skipped the whole hospital argument.”

My presence here feels a little bit like a smudge. It’s not like I’m always put together or feel like I should be overly dressed up, but the hospital gave me back what I was wearing during the accident. Because Violet decided to runaway before school, I left the house in my uniform. It’s not the cruelest thing I’ve seen a Catholic school put someone in, but the plaid skirt and white button down don’t do much for my confidence, and they didn’t exactly hold up in the chaos of the accident...neither did my hair or face.

“Really?”

I shrug, still looking around the space, “It definitely wouldn’t have hurt.” Tugging on the dirt smeared edge of my sleeve, I turn back to him. “I’m Y/n, by the way.” It’s not information I really wanted to give, but I’m already here. It’s not like he can double kidnap me if that’s what this is, and knowing who I am won’t change anything. If he tries to use me for ransom all he’ll be able to get from Jenna is an IOU. “Felt weird that I hadn’t said that yet.”

The car accident must have seriously damaged my self preservation abilities, or maybe it’s the fact that anything I can latch onto is a distraction from Violet, because I step further into the room, fully entering the space and seeing the full living room.

Two heads on the side of the couch that I couldn’t see before snap towards me so quickly it almost feels like they moved in sync. The one farthest from me has a dark purple bob and the boy next to her has green hair. The stare off is a little weird and refuels my doubts. They both look a lot closer to my age than Dick’s.

The girl breaks the silence, “Who’s this?”

I’m not sure if that’s a question directed at me or Dick, but I answer anyway, “I--”

“You wanted to call someone, right?” Dick steps up so that he’s next to me, handing me an unlocked cell phone.

Weird place to jump in, but at least he isn’t being cagey and taking away my ability to contact someone. “Yeah.” I take the phone, already dreading this conversation. “Could I get some water?”

“Kitchen’s that way, take whatever you want.” Looking through a rich guy’s fridge might take the sting out of being berated by Jenna.

I start walking in the direction he gestured towards. “Cool.”

After finding the kitchen, I dial Jenna’s number. She answers on the second ring. “Okay--don’t freak out.”

“Where the fuck are you? Were you kidnapped?”

“One, that sounds like freaking out. Two, why are you always assuming I’ve been kidnapped?”

She sighs before getting my name out in a way that tells me to not mess with her right now. That makes me cut to the chase, summarizing majority of what happened and glossing over what I can’t get out or explain. She gets extra mad when I tell her that I followed a stranger home just because they said they found me. Jenna rightfully yells at me, and then finally asks me where I am.

The realization that I have no clue makes me feel a lot worse about the situation. I paid extra attention on the drive here, but no part of this felt like any part of Gotham I’ve ever been to. Maybe it’s because it’s a richer area?

I duck my head back into the living room, “Hey, Dick?” He looks up from the two in the living room, who I guess he was giving some context to. “I’m on the phone and someone wants to pick me up. Where are--” Jenna cuts me off in that way of hers, reminding me how much I suck at giving directions. “Uh--she wants to talk to you.”

His eyebrows draw together, “Your mom?”

Shrugging, I start walking towards him. “Uh--my Jenna,” I hold the phone out towards him, “That’s like having a mom, just...louder.” He eyes the phone oddly. “You’ll see.” He’ll have to, Jenna gets her way.

Dick takes the phone, instantly catching on to what I meant and stepping away to talk to her. He throws out the part of stolen car, which would have been nice for him to keep to himself. Then he says...San Francisco, which makes no sense to me because Violet and I were nowhere near California. That’s where she wanted to go, but we barely made it out of Gotham before it all happened.

I blink, sitting down on the couch in shock. My head then turns to the boy next to me, “Hi, I’m Y/n.”

After a second, he smiles politely and says, “Gar.”

“Nice to meet you,” a little awkward, but he’s looking at me so politely I can’t help but fall back on normal habits, “Are we not in Gotham?”

He briefly looks confused and then a little apologetic, “No.”

Great, I’m brain damaged. That’s the only logical explanation for how I got to San Francisco without even realizing it. “...Cool.”

The girl sits up a little more, looking over at me, “Are you okay?”

“Uh,” all of my potential answers make me sound insane, “I’ve been better.”

Dick’s conversation with Jenna seems to be getting calmer, which bugs me a little. I can’t explain it, it’s just suspicious that he’s not only this super upstanding guy that helped me get to and from the hospital, he’s also capable of getting Jenna on his side. He ends the call.

Before he can give any kind of update, I’m already up, “How am I not in Gotham?” I don’t give him the chance to answer. “You said you saw the accident, so that means you got me here.”

“No.” I wonder how quickly I could get out of here. My body’s still sore, but pain’s something to worry about later. “I--exaggerated on how much I saw.”

He’s not exactly helping himself, “So you've been lying this entire time.”

“I didn’t want to scare you.”

That sounds like something a kidnapper would be worried about. Panic rises in my chest and the room feels too hot, too charged. The lights briefly waver and that only adds to my stress. “Then how did I get here?”

Dick’s looking at me the same way he did in the hospital. A hesitant sort of empathy. It’s restrained, but it feels so genuine that my stomach twists. If he’s not the one that dragged me here, then that means that--and how much time did I lose?

It feels too naive to believe him just because of a look, but that would explain a lot. If he had seen the accident, he would have had more questions. He probably would have mentioned Violet. “How’d you find me? And--and why’d you say that stuff about the car battery?”

“They had you, and the battery thing was a little different than what I said.” The confirmation is a punch to the gut. How long was I out? What did they do to me? Why did they take me when they had the vials? “Jenna’s flying out first thing tomorrow.” I must look like I’m about to snap, because he’s making a point of keeping his words even and slow. I don’t know how she’s going to fly out considering she maxed out her credit card trying to buy concert tickets. “We can get you something more comfortable to wear and something to eat before we get into anything else.”

He’s just trying to be nice, understanding, but it makes me feel too much like a little kid. Especially since there are two people around my age watching this play out. There’s still a chance this is some kind of trap, but it’s a little too late to decide if I trust him. I give in with a reluctant nod.

----

The shower pressure I just experienced is something that I can’t see myself forgetting. Before I walked into the bathroom the girl, who I learned is named Rachel, brought me something comfortable. Some elastic pajama pants and a black crewneck.

I don’t know how much of it is Rachel being genuine or if Dick told her to hang around a little, but she showed up a little after I got out of the shower and took me to a guest bedroom so I could put away my clothes. She then walked me to the kitchen, awkwardly admitted that they’re overdue for a grocery run before giving me some options.

Rachel ends up making me a grilled cheese. It’s a little awkward letting a stranger do something for me, but it’d feel even weirder casually using an unfamiliar kitchen like I live here.

My hunger felt all consuming until food was put in front of me. I keep thinking of Violet and all the hours I lost. But rationally, I know I should eat something and that it’d be kind of rude not to, so I take small bites of the edge of my sandwich.

I’m still working on the first triangular half when Gar shows up, offering me another polite smile. I force myself to return it even though the day’s starting to catch up with me.

“Uh-hey,” he walks into the kitchen, “I know I introduced myself earlier, but that was...” Gar brushes that train of thought away with a small breath, “Uh--are you feeling better?”

I nod, turning to face him, “The shower helped.” I set my half of the grilled cheese down, “I picked so many twigs out of my hair.” Why would I say that?

“Yeah, you look a little better.” He reaches the counter, tapping his fingers on the counter, “Not that you looked bad before! Just that you look like you’re feeling a little better.”

The correction comes out like a knee-jerk reaction. Like he really thought he might have offended me. “I get it,” I can’t help but smile a little, “And absolutely no worries if you had meant it the other way, I saw myself in the mirror. I definitely looked accurate to my car accident.” I thought mentioning the car accident casually would make it feel breezy and normal, but it just feels sad. “There’s no non-weird way to say that.”

“It’s fine.” Gar’s words come out so assured I almost believe him, “We’ve heard weirder.”

Rachel nods, “A lot weirder.”

I look between the two of them before taking another bite out of my grilled cheese. They’re both looking at me while trying to pretend that they’re doing something else. I guess I know how my 4th grade class guinea pig felt.

A part of me wants to start conversation. Some of it is the awkward feel of silence and some of it is the urge to return their niceness, but I’m also tired and not sure how much of a point there is. Tomorrow, I’ll be back home and likely permanently grounded.

“Do you feel like we’re hovering?” Rachel’s question takes me by surprise. Before I can instinctually tell them that they’re both fine, she continues, “We can give you some space if you want. I know it’s a little overwhelming.”

What is? Showing up here? The accident? It shouldn’t matter considering that I’m leaving tomorrow. “Some quiet might be nice,” I admit, “Just because Dick’s probably going to show up and get me to--” He never did specify what he was going to check out about me. Do they know that’s why I’m here? Also--why are they here? “I don’t even know. Just something I’m not really looking forward to.”

“We get it,” Rachel hums, stepping away from the counter, “We’ll give you a minute.”

The two actually leave, a part of me is surprised at how genuine that was. They didn’t even linger like I might at best steal something and at worse finally snap. I get two minutes of quiet before the sound of footsteps entering the kitchen puts me back into focus mode.

I tilt my head slightly, expecting Rachel or Gar or maybe even Dick. It’s...none of them. The person I don’t know walks straight past me and towards the fridge. They open it, the small light illuminating their skin in a way that makes the sheen of sweat impossible to ignore.

He pulls out a bottle of water, shuts the door, and then looks at me. There’s no hint of surprise as his eyes briefly focus on my face before trailing downwards. Is he-- “Something happen to your face?”

This again. Stupid car accident had to bust my lip and bruise my face. “Uh--” While Rachel and Gar were attentive and purposefully polite, trying to apply regular social standards to an abnormal situation, this guy doesn’t seem to care about that at all. The thought of just blankly stating the car accident thing again, especially to someone this forward, is so unappealing I just blurt out, “Drug deal gone wrong.”

Oh my god, the more I interact with people, the more I realize there has to be something seriously wrong with me. Like brain damage. Like over-40-pro-football player lever of concussed.

Before I can say anything, he tilts his head again, looking me over more openly than before, "Right, because you seem the type.”

I can’t tell if he’s making fun of me or amused. Probably the first one. “The best drug dealers don’t seem like drug dealers.”

“Really?” There’s a level of kind-of-there annoyance that throws me. Like irritated is his natural state and it’s miracle enough that I didn’t make it worse. But the confidence in his voice keeps it from being fully bitter.

“No,” I tap my nails on the counter, “I just didn’t feel like getting into the car accident thing again.”

He’s quiet for a second, “And you thought drug deals would be easier?”

I shrug, feeling a little smaller. I can’t tell if I can’t stand him or think he’s a little funny. “Must be an early sign of brain damage.”

He tilts his water bottle in a vague gesture towards my face. “I’d believe it.”

Rude. I know I just said it, but still. “At least I have an excuse.”

His eyebrows draw together in offense, and it doesn’t make me feel great. He wasn’t that bad and that was sort of a jump, but I’ll probably never see him again, so...

“What’s your--”

Before he can get into any sort of rant, a voice cuts him off, “Jason.” Oh, it’s Dick. I turn my head enough to catch his tense look. “Leave her alone.”

“She started it.”

Okay, yeah, I think he annoys me more than I find him funny. “Nice come back,” I mumble, pushing away from the counter, “What are you? 12?”

“If you want to find out--”

Ah. I’ve been through too much today for this. "Like that line’s ever worked.”

He isn’t swayed by my reaction, “Trust me, I don’t need--”

“Okay,” Dick inserts himself into the conversation, and a part of me is glad for the excuse to leave. “Enough.” He then looks at me, “Are you ready?”

At least it’ll be over soon. “As long as you don’t tell me that stuff turned me part alien or whatever.”

He draws his eyebrows together, “Part alien?”

“So magical science goo is real, but my thing’s unrealistic.”

#dc titans #titans show #titans x reader #dick grayson #jason todd x reader #jason todd #redhood #redhood x reader #gar logan #rachel roth

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takenbyheartstrings · 2 years

Text

KEEP YOUR ENEMIES CLOSER

summary: you and peter hate each other, but spider-man and black cat are close as ever. what happens when you and peter are forced to spend time together and the two worlds bleed together?

pairing: peter parker x fem!black cat!reader

warnings: SMUT!! (extended warnings under the cut), fluff, angsty, can be read as any peter!

word count: 12k (2.3k is smut <3)

extended smut warnings: pretty vanilla, fingering, oral (fem), unprotected sex (pulls out) wrap it before you tap it! that should be it i think <3

If you could choose one person in the whole entire world to kill. You’d choose Peter Parker.

He’s an annoying, unbearable, know it all, who’s way too cocky. Who is nice to everybody but you. You thought it was strange at first, but then you learnt not to question it. You didn’t know why he hated you, but you eventually learned how to hate him. Eventually he’s hatred for you turned into your hatred for him. Nit-picking on everything he did. Not letting him have a break. Much like he hadn’t let you have one slither of fresh air since the moment you had met him.

If you could choose one person in the whole entire world to be stuck in an elevator with. You’d choose Spider-Man.

Easily your best friend. Your favourite person. He’s kind, sweet and cocky, yet not in the way Peter is. He gives you those moments away from Peter to forget the dread before going back home and remembering everything, overthinking constantly. But he’s funny and he’s self-assured and he has every right to be. He stops these villians, he stops crime, he’s your partner in stopping those crimes. You were known as Black Cat.

Your powers surfaced when your father died. It felt like everything in your life had turned upside down, nothing went your way anymore; like there was a constant raincloud over your head warning you that something was going to happen to you. It followed you day after day. It used to be unbearable… until you learnt to control it. Your bad luck suddenly turned into everyone else’s bad luck. You became a hero. In meeting Spider-Man, you learnt that you could use these powers for good.

You remember it like yesterday, meeting him on a rooftop, you used to be a petty thief. You used to steal art that your father had sold. Trying to collect pieces of him back. He was an artist, the best artist he could’ve been. These paintings belonged to the rich. They had taken them, so why not take them back?

You were doing exactly that... and when you met the arachnid, you didn’t fight him, and he didn’t fight you. He saw you were young like him. He saw the anger in your eyes as he spoke. He told you that you could come back from this. He convinced you that you didn’t have to live this life. He convinced you to be a good person. He convinced you to help him stop crime.

The two people were very different. It never even occurred to you that they could be the same person. Never in your lifetime would you had thought that the confident, sassy, superhero, could be that fucking nerd that makes fun of you. That you argue with every single day – fuck banter... This was different. This was hard hitting insults that would make both of you overthink at night. That would make both of you stay awake thinking about every possible outcome, everything you could’ve said, everything you wanted to say. Everything that would’ve made the end of today different.

Upon meeting Peter, you honestly think you’d only got a totally of eight hours of sleep-in total. If Peter was the same, you couldn’t tell. Hopefully he couldn’t see how tired you were either, because then all the makeup that you pound onto your face in the morning would be a fucking waste of time and if he knew you’d probably just stop all together.

The weekday rolled around, and you sat in chemistry. Your least favourite class and probably everyone else’s too (because of you and Peter). You sat next to Peter, and it wasn’t by choice. It was by force. You knew your teacher regretted it as soon as the two of you started arguing over Peter writing down the wrong measurements, which he argued would be correct. You scolded him for not following your instructions. He argued that your instruction was wrong – Mr. Harrington knew he had fucked up, but what’s the point of making a point if you can’t stick to it? He was stubborn enough to leave the two of you next to each other.

Gwen often told you how tired she was of the arguing she was. So did Michelle and Betty. All of them knew Peter. All of them liked Peter. He was so nice to all of them – so why not to you?

You honestly acted like you didn’t care. Your friends knew better, though. Your friends knew that in spite of everything that you and Peter had. You questioned why he didn’t like you. He didn’t like you from the moment he met you… why? Why? Why? Why?

The question lived in your head in those sleepless nights – acting like everything was fine. Acting like you were fine, was tiring. But what’s the point? It’s draining when you argue with him, but it gives your normal life purpose. You wake up every single day and you don’t know how the day will go. But you do know that you’ll argue with Peter. Sometimes it was the highlight of your day.

“Hardy.” He says as he sits down, and you shoot him a glare.

“Parker.” You match his seething tone. You’d been having a shitty day already and you didn’t really need this. Not today.

He pulls out his book as Mr. Harrington begins to write on the board. You write with a blue pen – a blue pen that has sparkles in it, a gel pen with glitter. Peter doesn’t know why this catches him off guard. You do it all the time. You write with a pen with sparkles in them. Maybe it’s how it glides on the page as he stares at you writing, how your eyes are twinkling just like the fractures of glitter in the pen.

He snaps out of it so quickly, “What?” You question him, your voice snaps, you’re angry. He can tell you’ve had a shitty day. For some reason, that doesn’t bring as much joy as he thought it would.

“Nothing.” He shrugs, peeling his eyes away from you – it’s reluctant and he doesn’t know why. He’s supposed to hate you. But he’s never really been good at doing that. It’s all just a front. A front he has to uphold just to remain close to you, it’s the only way you’ll speak to him and quite frankly, the only way he’ll ever speak to you.

At the end of the class Mr. Harrington smiles coyly as he pulls out a stack of paper. Which is exactly what you needed. Your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach. Because this is just what today you needed another reminder that Peter Parker is better than you. Another reminder that he’ll be valedictorian and you won’t be.

Mr. Harrington hands out the tests, dropping both you and Peter’s upside down, in hopes, in prayers, that the two of you won’t exchange marks. That he wouldn’t start another argument between the two of you when you’d both been so quiet today.

You pick up your paper and you want to cheer. You got a ninety-eight. You would’ve preferred full marks. But either way, you thought you’d definitely beaten Peter. You had a gut feeling.

Peter feels bad when he picks up his paper, there’s the number one-hundred circled in big red marker. He looks over at you and feels his heart ache. You’ve had a terrible day.

He knows. He knew from the moment he walked in the door. He doesn’t know why he feels so fucking bad for you. But in reality, he knows you better than anyone. He knows what makes you tick. He knows what pisses you off... when you think of it. That’s the key to knowing someone. Peter would push the buttons that most people would tend to avoid, but that’s why he knew you’d had a bad day, because Peter had only ever seen you mad. But today was different. There was something about the way you spoke. There was something about your eyes and the ghost of a smile you flashed at Michelle, Ned, and Harry. The scowl you had on your face as you sat down and took out the blue pen instead of the purple.

That’s what caught him off guard. The colour.

Peter’s thoughts about you are interrupted by your own condescending tone and coy smirk that doesn’t quite bring you or him the satisfaction either of you were hoping for. Instead, it’s empty and weak.

“Ninety-Eight, Parker.”

Peter swallows his pride, today. Peter knows better than to ruin your day today. Even if you’ve had a shitty day Peter would usually push and push. But today was different. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Maybe it’s because of the colour of your pen – maybe that’s why Peter feels like he’s going to throw up as he speaks a lie from his mouth.

“Damn, I got Ninety-Seven.”

He lies to you, but he doesn’t regret it, not when he sees your genuine smile, fighting the urge to let his own take over the sad look on his face.

“Fucking beat you, Parker.”

Peter doesn’t say anything else when the bells goes after your sentence. The day is finally over. You can finally see Spidey again. He was the real highlight of your day. You got home, did homework and anything else you had to do before seven pm. School got out at three. That gives you four hours.

You live near Peter. In the apartment complex two buildings down. So, the two of you catch the same train. You always stand on the opposite side, your headphones in. Music blasting. You’re sure people all around you can hear what you’re listening too, and you think Peter does the same.

You get off at your stop and so does Peter. You’re so tempted to grapple your way back home, and you would. You want to go into an alley and put on the suit that sits in your bag. But you can’t. Because of Peter fucking Parker.

You’re quick to reach your bedroom, throwing your bag onto your bed.

Your room is neat and painted blue. Your bedsheets are white and blue, and you wished your suit was the same, but it’s black and white. Like a cat. Your curtains are white, and they have a sparkle. Though, there are posters on your walls of movies like Star Wars or TV shows like The Mandalorian.

Ned often tells you to come over for movie night, where him and Peter watch Star Wars all the time. He tries to convince you by telling you MJ and Harry come along, but it’s not much. They’re all friends with Peter and you’re not. You also don’t want to ruin their movie nights by being unpleasant and arguing with Peter.

The posters are accompanied by pictures of you and your friends and fairy lights. Your bed sits in the corner, so the posters and pictures surround it. Your bookshelf is organised by colour, and you’ve got this large soft white rug that covers almost all of the hardwood floor underneath it.

You pull your homework out of your bag, so sure that it’ll take you all the way until seven pm. The light outside is starting to dim, the sky is beginning to get dark. You turn your desk light on and notice that it’s six-fifty. You shut your books; you have one question left but you’re way too excited to see Spidey again.

You slide on your suit. Latex and fur. Skin-tight. It makes you feel confident. Nobody can see your face; nobody can see you in the night. That’s why you’re not afraid to fight. Because you’re anonymous. Nobody knows you’re Black Cat.

You meet Spidey on the roof top, grappling yourself up onto the building. You smile, running into his arms. Your mask covers your eyes, but it covers you enough so that Peter doesn’t know who you actually are. Your features are usually different anyway. Your eyes are softer, and your smile is wide. Whereas Peter only sees your glare. The way your eyes fume with anger.

Spider-Man wraps his arms around you. Pulling you closer. Peter’s bad days are made better by you. He’s pretty sure he’s in love with you. That he’s got feelings for you. Your flirty demeanour and attitude turns him on. But you’re also the kindest and sweetest – the softest person he’s ever met. He swears, if he didn’t know you could fight, if he didn’t know you could hurt someone – he’d believe you’d never harm a fly.

The hug lasts longer than usual. Both of you gripping onto each other for dear life, “Bad day?” Peter questions you.

“Y-yeah.” You want to cry but you pull away quickly before you can dampen his suit, “You?”

“Yeah.” He nods solemnly, he gives a smile, “But hey! Now we get to patrol, right?”

You nod matching his grin, “Yeah, exactly… did you end up finding that Maggia warehouse?”

“I did. I’ll swing us over there, but we have to be stealthy. We can’t drag any attention to ourselves, or we’ll be done.”

You and Peter had been trying to take down the Maggia for almost a year. They know the two of you are after them. Which makes your life way harder than it has to be. Tombstone is a danger to this city – much like Fisk. But Peter had put him behind bars before he had met Black Cat. But people like Tombstone need to be put behind bars before more people die.

You smile, holding onto Peter again, “Take us away, Spidey.”

The two of you are inside the warehouse. God, you want to get out of here. It’s making you nervous.

“Spidey, what if this isn’t a good idea?” You question the arachnid.

Peter shakes his head, “No. We have to do this. We have to take on Tombstone.”

You know he’s right, but everything in your body is telling you to turn around and run. If you were still on the other side maybe, you would’ve. Your instincts always tell you to run – your fight or flight is always to run. Maybe it makes you a shitty hero. Maybe it just tells you that you’re a natural thief. But the Spider keeps you grounded. If you lost him. If you stopped knowing him, you’d probably turn back to that life of crime and that thrill of not being caught. Taking back what was rightfully yours.

You nod, “Let’s just get this over with,”

The two of you are the perfect pair. It’s mind blowing how in sync the two of you can work. Your identities keeping you hidden. Yet, if the two of you were to know who the other was, you’d probably hate each other all over again… or maybe the two of you would finally set aside your differences.

The most you’d ever seen of his face was his mouth, when the two of you get pizza after a long night of patrolling. Sitting on a random rooftop. Enjoying each other’s company. Talking about each other’s day. You’ve alluded to Peter once in conversation. Mentioning there was a boy at school who made fun of you. Peter had said the same thing about a girl. You obviously didn’t know it was you who he was talking about, but you went on a long tangent about how he shouldn’t listen to her (you), and how she (you) should go fuck herself (still you). He said the same thing about himself – safe to say you are not following the advice you had given yourselves without the knowledge.

Your actions are almost replicated. As Peter webs enemies up to walls and has them hanging in nets made out of his web, completely out of sight from anyone on the ground. You were incapacitating them. Wrapping your arms and mouth around the ones Peter couldn’t reach. Keeping them quiet, setting them on the ground and when Peter would reach you. He’d web them to the roof with a number of webs.

That’s how the two of you worked together.

Once you had most of Tombstones men incapacitated, the two of you move throughout the warehouse. You can finally get a good look at it. There’s an endless number of cars and oil tanks, and the air smells of it too.

As the two of you walked up to his door, ready to pounce. Ready to take him out. But the world clearly had other plans for you at least. Because although Peter has his Spidey-Sense. You’ve got nothing… and he warned you too late.

“KITTEN!” Was the last word that you heard as the whole world went dark, that and the thwip! of a web shot out of Peter’s wrist. A sharp pain pulses through your body.

You woke up on the rooftop where you and Spider-Man would meet. He was sitting there, and you were wrapped in a blanket. Your wound still hurt, but your suit was cut, and your goggles were latched to your face, the suction getting strong – they’re slightly fogged up.

You meet Peters eyes as you sit up with a grunt, wanting to cry through the pain surging through you. Appreciating the gesture of him patching you up without getting you naked or without taking off your goggles. The only downside, apart from the bullet, was that you have to fix your suit… and fixing your suit is expensive.

“Fuck,” you mutter carefully looking down at your side.

“It’ll heal but it’ll hurt.” Peter speaks as he turns around which allows you to remove your goggles.

You can feel the red circles around your eyes, you remove them for a few moments, knowing you’ll have to put them back on in a minute. As you do you feel the familiar sting, “What happened to me?” You question the boy.

You hear him take in a rigid, broken, breath, “Tombstone shot you.” It’s quiet, but loud enough for you to hear. His whisper leaves his lips as you limp carefully, placing a hand on his back, wrapping your arms around me.

“What happened?” You’re not asking about you anymore. You’re asking about him. What he did when Tombstone shot you. His eyes look at you, and although you can only see the lenses; his eyes absent but you feel like you can see them. All you can see are his lips. The fabric of his mask bunched up over them.

He turns into your body, it’s sudden, but his head falls into your arms, “I got out of there.” His grip on you is tight and the bullet wound isn’t kind to you, it hurts, but you can’t tell him that because then he’ll stop, “I got you out of there first and I- I tried to web him up but I was doing a bad job… This is all my fault.”

You give him a gentle smack on the head, “Spidey.” You say stern, “None of this is your fault.”

“But if I had just warned you-”

“NO!” You raise your voice, taking a seat next to him, “I don’t have a sixth sense, okay. But it doesn’t mean you have to be responsible for me. You care about me, Spidey, but I can’t have you guilty over me of all people. My life isn’t yours to worry about.”

He shakes his head, “You’re my friend-”

“That doesn’t matter.” You say softly, “You don’t have to worry about me like this. Don’t have guilt over the things you can’t control, Spidey.”

“What if I can’t help it? What if I can’t help the fact that I care so much about you? About us?”

There’s a fire in his voice as he speaks, ignite, shining bright. You swear you can see an orange glow around him as he talks about you. Each word falling off of his lip with want and need for something more and suddenly it doesn’t feel like the two of you are talking about the bullet that flew straight through your body.

You can’t meet his eyes; you can’t meet those lenses that move as he speaks passionately about his desire without saying a single word. But you can’t act on this because if you become more than his friend... more than his partner, there’s no stopping it. You’d have to reveal a layer of yourself that you swore you would never let yourself show.

You’d learnt to keep people at arm’s length, and it was dangerous letting the spiderling get close to you because today was the first warning. The first wakeup call that anything could happen to either of you or both of you were so close, so tight, that it would kill you if something were to happen to him.

You realise you’re looking down at your legs rather than his face, determined not to look, but you can’t stop yourself, “Spidey...” You trail off softly.

Your faces are beckoned closer, you can feel the heat of his breath on your lips, and everything is happening in slow motion, and you feel like everything is calling you to stop because you can’t let this happen. You can’t let him feel guilty if something more happens to you than a stupid gunshot to your side. You’re battling with yourself over whether to place your lips on his or run away.

“Stop.” You whisper quietly as you look over at Peter, “You’re shaking the table.”

He rolls his eyes, “I would stop if I could help it.”

You turn to face him, “Can you just be nice to me for one second? Is that so hard?”

He fakes his pout, “It really is. I’m so sorry.” He’s voice is dripping with condensation, not letting you escape his eyes that say he really doesn’t care if you’re inconvenienced by him.

“Are you really, though?” You question knowing the answer and you can hear your voice start to raise, the volume getting louder.

“Right because you’d stop if I asked. You’re the most hypocritical person I know.” His tone seethes with hatred towards you.

You scoff ready to pounce, opening your mouth to speak, hypocritical? You are not hypocritical.... you are not hypocritical... right?... right?

There he goes again, getting in your head, making you question yourself – but you know better than to show it as you get ready to fire back but a voice cuts through the two of you. Making the two of you jump – and it’s angry. Angrier than you and Peter both are and you can finally hear Mr. Harrington just snap.

“WOULD THE TWO OF YOU STOP?!” The tone, the volume of his voice, all of it send you and Peter into a shock that makes both of you paralysed; unable to move... scared, “I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR ARGUING!”

He stalks up to your desk, “I have let the two of you argue and fight, but this is the last straw. This has been going on for months. So... on Thursday afternoon, the two of you have detention here. The two of you will be cleaning the room of its filth after the Chemistry practical exams. Are we clear?”

Both of you nod your heads, but Mr. Harrington doesn’t bite.

“Are we clear?” He questions, his voice is firm, and it makes the two of you all the more scared.

“Yes, Mr. Harrington.” You’re short to follow Peter’s words but they’re mumbled anyway.

“Phones.” He speaks.

“What do you mean?” Peter questions.

“Give me your phones. After you’re done with your detention you can grab them from my office. I won’t be there, so just let yourselves in.”

You and Peter reluctantly hand Mr. Harrington your phones and you feel a pit in your stomach.

You didn’t know how long it would take the two of you to clean up, but you knew it would be a long few hours you’d probably have to spend with Peter. You’re praying that you can get it done within the hour and see Spidey, but you doubt that’s going to happen.

As Thursday rolls around, the two of you stay back after your exam, you’re supposed to clean up after every single test, but you think Mr. Harrington disregarded that rule because the amount of test tubes lying around the room is just gross and the room smells like chemicals.

He leaves the two of you to it, shutting the door behind him. You turned to face Peter with an awkward smile, “I can take the right side of the room and you can take the left. Hopefully we’ll be done by the hour.” You’re crossing your fingers but you’re not sure it’ll happen.

“Right, because your measurement of time is always right.” He shoots at you with a glare, and you fight the urge to slap him in the face.

“One time, Peter.” You speak through gritted teeth.

He scoffs, “One time that fucked us up for the whole semester.”

It’s a pang of guilt that hits you, your eyes soften before sharpening once more, Peter sees the way you deflate for a moment and decides not to push it any more than he already has. You don’t say anything either, making your way over to your side of the room.

The only sounds in the room are the taps turning on and the squelch of the sponge and soap that bleeds to the bottom of test tubes. There’s this tension in the room, awkward? Yeah, you’d guess so. But there’s something else too – you want to talk to Peter. Maybe it’s because the tension that’s in the air is something you could cut with a knife. Except for the fact that there’s not much you could say. Your stomach feels weird because of it, and you want it to go away, but you know it won’t.

An hour passes and Peter is right – your measurement of time is one of your greatest weaknesses. You look over at him as he furrows his eyebrows, trying to clean a stain off of a beaker. You debate in your head whether or not you should help him since you’ve only got two of your own left and he’s got three.

Against all your thoughts you walk over to him and take the beaker from his hands.

Peter doesn’t say anything as he watches you clean the glass, using one of the cleaning products to scrub it off. Instead of a cutting edge glare his eyes are soft as he watches you; admires you. Admires the furrow of your own brows and the fury in your eyes as you attempt to do the same thing he had. The way your hairs a bit of a mess, some loose strands of hair sticking out of place. How you bite your lip as you focus. His mind starts to wonder to how he could be the one doing that – biting your lip. He wonders why he’s thinking like this, but he doesn’t stop himself. But what makes his heart do backflips is the way you smile triumphantly as you complete the task of removing the stain from the beaker.

“I wonder what they had to do to get a stain like that on there.” Peter says absent minded. You had expected him not to say anything at all, but you grab another one of his beakers.

“They’ve been sitting here for hours... which is, gross, so, it’s not surprising.” You shrug as you meet his eyes.

You can see a small smile upon his lips, but it’s barely anything, the corners of his lip quirk the tiniest bit, “Glad we didn’t have to do this experiment again.”

You chuckle as you scrub the glass, “Right! It was such a pain.”

“Especially when you got the time wrong,” You and Peter spoke in unison, and you finally realised what was going on.

The kindness you had offered Peter and the kindness that he had offered you was short and sweet, but it couldn’t happen again. You scoff shaking your head. You knew he was the one who had messed up that assignment.

“It was you.” You scrubbed the beaker harder this time; Peter was scared it was going to break underneath your anger.

He sighs, “Mr. Harrington said it was you, remember.”

You freeze for a moment, there wasn’t an excuse for that one. The teacher made the call, no matter if he was right or wrong, “Well Mr. Harrington is sexist, then... an incel, if you will.” You glare at the boy in front of you, setting down the beaker you had cleaned and moved over to your side of the room again.

It had been another half-hour since you had last checked the time. When you finally cleaned your last beaker, the look on Peters face was one of relief. The two of you began grabbing your things and making your way towards the door.

Your hand wrapped around the knob and twisted it, but it didn’t open. You tried again and nothing. You and Peter were stuck.

“What?” Peter questions you.

“The door...” You grunt, trying again, “Won’t...” Again, “Open.” You let go of the handle with a long breath.

“Let me try.” Peter walks over to the door and jiggles the handle, trying it again and again like the times you had already attempted.

You and Peter were stuck.

“Fuck!” Peter huffs, slamming his fist into the door making you jump.

You sit down on the floor in front of the desk, “We don’t even have our phones.” You throw your head back, slamming the back of it into the table a few times.

Peter sits next to you, looking at you as you pull your legs up to your chest. He does the same, both of your heads leaning against the desk.

About a three quarters of an hour had passed. The room feels weird, and you and Peter haven’t said a single word to each other. You stole some pens and paper from the desk and begun drawing Peter in all of his misery; in all of your shared misery.

There was something soothing about drawing him. Like he’s got the perfect face for it. It’s not anywhere close to even. He’s got scars on his face and his eyebrows are slightly bushy. His eyes are wide, and his lips are leaning more towards the thin side but are also quite plump. His hair flops over his face in all of his dishevelled mess. His jawline is sharp, and his nose is actually quite perfect, not too small, and not too big, but his ears lean to the larger side of the scale.

Luckily for you, Peter hasn’t noticed you drawing him. He’s got his head in his chemistry book, doing his homework. Which is what you would be doing if you hadn’t left your chemistry book in your locker. You promised yourself you would go grab it so you could do the work because it was due tomorrow, but it didn’t look like that would be happening. The clock on the wall had almost reached eight pm and you and Peter had settled for the reality that you’d be here all night.

You feel lucky that you’d worn a hoodie so you could at least use that as a pillow.

The room isn’t dark, but you and Peter didn’t want to turn on the overhead lights. You hadn’t talked about it – it was more of a silent agreement because you both turned on lamps.

Peter shuts his textbook, startling you slightly and making his way over to you. He takes notice of your drawing. How you’ve drawn him. He didn’t know you could draw. Peter didn’t know much about you – he thought he didn’t know much about you. He thought the two of you had nothing in common at all.

“You’re good at drawing.” He says quietly, pulling a chair to sit next to you.

You bite your lip, you don’t look up at him, you don’t meet his eyes, “Thanks.” You mutter softly, “Is there anything you’re good at?”

You ask him a question. Partially because you like the sound of his voice. Partially because it releases whatever tension is in the room.

Peter needs a moment to think about it. Other than school and Spider-Man, there’s not really much. He could tell you he also draws, but that would be a blatant lie. You can feel his body shrug.

“Not really. I’m okay at video games.” He chuckles.

You smile as you continue to draw, taking a moment to turn your head to face his. You see how he’s looking at you. There’s no hate in this moment. There’s no anger. There’s just the two of you. You feel as though it won’t last long, because the two of you only know how to argue. You don’t know how to be friends.

You continue to meet his eyes for a moment, with a hum, you speak again, “That’s not bad. I’m not good at much either, there’s school or drawing... I’ve never been good at much. I’ve never been able to be good at anything... bad luck kinda just follows me wherever I go, y’know?” You can feel yourself opening up to Peter and you’re not stopping yourself. You’re giving him more ammo.

Why are you giving him more ammo?

He sighs, “I get that. There’s like three things I’m good at.”

You turn your head back to your paper and for a second, there’s a comfortable silence. Until Peter decides to talk again – you knew this wouldn’t last long.

“I’m sorry.” Peter states suddenly and your head whips to face him.

“For what?” Your tone is curious, but mad, why would he be apologising... did you want him to apologise for something?

He shakes his head softly, leaning his arms on his knees, letting his head rest on them, “Because I'm the one that got us into this mess.”

You roll your eyes, pulling your gaze away, trying to focus on your drawing, “Yeah you are.”

Peter huffs, “You know what?... While we’re here, what’s your fucking problem with me?”

Your head snaps back to face him again, “My fucking problem with you? God, Peter, you’re the one who hated me first! I should be asking you that question. You never stop nit-picking on everything I do and you’re constantly the voice in my head telling me that I’m worthless! You’re nice to everybody but me!”

You’re standing up now and Peter matches your stance, “My god, do not throw all of that in my face! The first day I met you, you were boasting that you were the smartest person here and it made me feel like absolute shit and then you started comparing your marks with mine.”

Peter stalks closer to you as you move back into the side-bench. The room is darker now that Peter had turned off his lamp when he had decided to come and sit next to you. The tension that built in the room from earlier is only growing and growing and it’s going to explode. You can feel is as Peter moves closer to you, both of you mad. Both of you seething with anger. Both of you are breathing heavy.

“You constantly make me feel like shit, Hardy.” He says as you’re pinned, and you can feel his breath on your face. It smells like mint; he smells like wood and cinnamon and it’s the only thing you can bear to breathe, “and guess what? I... hate you.”

You let out a dry chuckle and Peter could fall to his knees. The way you look pinned to the wall, the way your eyes are darker than before, filled with something unrecognisable. You could say the same for Peter.

“Guess what, Parker.” You almost spit your words, leaning forward as much as you possibly can. You swear you can hear his heartbeat coming out of his chest, “I hate you too. That’s one thing we’re both good at, isn’t it?”

You’re not quite sure who moves first but in the heat of the moment, your lips; his lips, were smashed together. Your teeth clashing and your tongues down each other’s throats. Peter uses his strength to lift you onto the bench, as he sits in between your legs, continuing to fuck your mouth with his tongue.

Your saliva mixes in heat and the room is silent, except for your soft moans against Peter’s mouth. You can feel your core growing wet and all you want is Peter. You’ve never wanted Peter so badly in your whole entire life.

Peter pulls away, you know that for sure. You can feel your lips getting red and swollen already, but he pulls your hoodie over your head, “A tank top and no bra... who are you trying to impress?” He mutters before peppering kisses down your neck.

“Certainly, was not you.” You shoot back at him, and you feel his teeth nip at the skin that he kisses.

His breath is burning hot as he talks, “Don’t be a fuckin’ brat, Hardy.” He kisses your neck again and all you can do is put your arms behind you for support, letting your head fall back.

“What do you want?” He asks you pulling away from you and he can hear you mewl in response. He wants to hear you moan; he wants to feel you squirm in pleasure underneath him. He wants to hear you whine when he denies you from cumming because you’ve been so bad to him. But he also wants to hear your moan when you orgasm, when you cum all over his fingers.

That’s what he intends to do to you today. Right now, on the science bench the two of you do your projects on and nobody will know, and it’ll have to be a secret the two of you share. Something you can’t tell anyone else. Something that ties the two of you together.

“Anything.” You mewl underneath his body, “Give me anything.” You’re begging, he can hear how desperate you are. How much you need this source of release.

He chuckles against your neck, and you could feel the smirk on his lips, “God, you are so needy... if I knew that, I would’ve done this sooner.”

You slap him softly and he only chuckles, “Don’t do that or I’ll hold back.” You don’t do it again and Peter’s hand slides into your sweatpants, “This okay?”

You nod, “Y-yeah.” You mutter softly.

Peter feels how wet you are, how your slits are covered in your arousal and want for him. He could cum in his pants from just feeling you.

“God,” His breath his hot against your ear, “You are so wet... all of this for me. Seems like you don’t hate me that much.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Peter.” You shudder as you feel his fingers dip into you for a second before pulling them back out.

You’re desperate. You need it. You want it, “Peter, please.” You mewl. God, you hate yourself. You hate the way you want him so bad. But everything was telling you yes. That burning in your stomach filling you with desire for Peter and only Peter.

He loved hearing his name on your tongue. How you only ever called him by his last name, but this was personal. This was something that made both of you venerable.

“P-Please.” It was hard for you to even speak. You were already drunk on Peter. You hated the way you sounded. You hate how much you like this. Finally, being able to submit to Peter. Finally, be able to do whatever he wants.

Peter doesn’t speak as he slides two fingers into your dripping cunt. Penetrating your hole as your body folds inward against his. Your head falling into the crane of his neck as you moan in pleasure. Your body moves against his as he moves his fingers in and out of you. Your body falling back onto the bench.

The squelch of your pussy fills the room and your moans do too. You’re trying to keep quiet, but his fingers are thick, and strong. You can feel him in every inch of you. How his middle and pointer finger pressing inside of you and his thumb rubbing your clit making you retract once more. Your head falling back onto his shoulder.

“God, Petey.” The nickname slips off of your tongue and you feel yourself get hot, but Peter continues to press into you, harder, rougher. Everything that you wanted. Everything you need.

“Say it again.”

“Fuck, Petey.” You groan again as he presses into you, further, deeper.

You can feel that pit in your stomach burning up, you can feel your stomach churn and tie itself into a knot. You can feel yourself coming closer and closer to that sweet release. You need it.

“Fuck, Petey, I’m gonna cum.” You bite his shoulder in need.

“That’s right, that’s right, cum for me, y/n.” He speaks and all it does is push you over the edge. Your cum all over Peter’s fingers and he groans as he pulls them out of your pants, wrapping his mouth around them licking off your cum.

You bite your lip as you watch him do so with everything inside of you compelling you to speak, “This doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“Didn’t expect us to be.”

“I still hate you.”

You feel like you’re compensating.

“Didn’t expect you not to.”

Peter seems so completely chill. He seems like he actually doesn’t care. When in reality, he does. You can still feel yourself soiled in your pants and you’re slightly uncomfortable because of it. That and the fact that Peter had just made you feel good, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just weird.

Peter climbs onto the other side of the room and onto the table. You’ve bunched up your hoodie underneath your head and try to fall asleep. You can hear Peter’s soft snores, but despite your tiredness nothing gets you to sleep. Peter’s trying his best not to let himself feel something as he lets himself go.

You wake up in the morning met with the face of Mr. Harrington’s face as he had realised his mistake. He was clearly embarrassed and lets the two of you go, telling you that you can miss the first two periods, which were in fact, Chemistry. You and Peter walk home together, and you don’t say anything. Neither of you can muster up anything to say. Honestly, you’re considering skipping the rest of the school day and just wandering around in your suit. Alone or with Spidey, you weren’t sure. But regardless, you needed to stop thinking.

When Peter reaches his complex, you’re not sure if you should stop or continue, settling for the latter you keep going. It’s frustrating, that your feelings toward Peter are more complicated than ever.

You feel the burn of the warm water cascade down your skin, and you’ve decided you weren’t going back to school. Mr Harrington could be pissed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go back there. It was Friday anyway; you wouldn’t be missed over the weekend.

You check if your mum is home before slipping on your suit and the second you do, a message from the spider shows up on your goggles. Thank God.

You find him on the roof the two of you usually visit, “Hey, Spider.” You say softly, he can tell something’s up, and you know it.

“Something wrong, kitty?” He questions you, placing his hand on your arm, you can tell his eyes are looking at you with ease, with pity.

You nod softly, “I did something and I’m not sure If I’ll regret it.” The eyes on his suit begin to widen, “I didn’t steal again, Spidey, relax. I told you I’m never going back, no matter how much I want to.”

He nods, “I know, I just wanted to make sure,” He caresses your arm softly, “So what happened?”

“There’s this guy at my school and he makes my life hell, and I did something I never thought I would do... I dunno, I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

The arachnid nods, “It’s alright, let’s just swing around the city, take your mind off of whatever you’ve done.”

“Hopefully it does, Spider.” You smile carefully.

The two of you spend time in the city, flying off of buildings, racing. The two of you had a run in with a couple petty criminals. But nothing major. It’s not until the two of you are on the familiar rooftop with a box of pizza. His mask just above his lips and nose as he eats. The two of you laughing.

“D’you ever think any of our villains follow us back here?” You question Peter.

He shakes his head carefully, dangling his feet, “Nah, besides, there’s thousands of kids that go to this school, it doesn’t mean we’re any of them at all.”

You nod, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

You turn to face him, the two of you close. He sets down the pizza box, “So, did you forget?” He asks you softly.

“No... but I had fun.”

“I’m actually in the same position,” The spider sighs, “There’s this girl I can’t stand, and I did something to her. I’m not really sure if I regret it, though. Truth be told, I’ve kinda got feelings for her, but she, uh, she’d never feel the same.”

“Well, you don’t know till you try.”

He chuckles, “She’s a tough egg to crack, yesterday, I shed her of a few layers, but I don’t think it was enough.”

You place your hand on his thigh, “Don’t beat yourself up, Spidey.” You stand up on the ledge with a sigh, “Well, I’ve gotta go home... homework,” You smile, “And hey, thanks for today, I- uh- really needed it... bad luck kinda follows me wherever I go.”

A kiss to his cheek is the last thing you do and as you fall off of the edge, disappearing into the night. Peter feels something familiar about the words you had spoken. Thinking back to last night, the night the two of you did what you did. How his worst enemy couldn’t possibly the person he seeks comfort in... his partner in stopping crime.

... it couldn’t be? Right?

The next few days were spent with Peter freaking out over what he had learned. Everything about you. Everything the two of you really had. He hadn’t seen you... Black Cat... you. He hadn’t seen you, these past couple days. Given, crime was quiet this weekend, it didn’t stop. He hadn’t heard from you either.

Which made him worry? Should he be worried? It’s like you’re two totally different people, yet he can see parts of you in your superhero alias, the insults you shoot at the enemy are much like the ones you shoot at Peter. Both of you quipping at them as you fight. He looks at a selfie the two of you took on his phone, and he can finally see you. The glass of your goggles are quite tinted, and you’re smile completely changes the way Peter sees you. He’d only ever seen the way you sneered and moaned. God, that face you made when you moaned turned him on so much, but the sneer you’d give him made him feel like shit – but your smile made him want to smile.

Peter remembered the day he met you as he lay in bed that night. Thinking back to why the two of you hated each other. Maybe Peter had started this but that’s because of the Cat. The Black Cat. The person that was you. Peter loved Black Cat. He had harboured so many feelings for you over the past few years – so when a cute new girl had shown up at Midtown, someone who he could actually get along with, someone just as smart as him, he was rude and condescending because he knew he would begin to feel something for you, but it turned out that he already had, and he had no clue.

He thought about how he could bring this up to you. How he could confront you. How he could tell you that he knows you’re his best friend. How he’s yours.

Peter thinks about different scenarios of how this could all go. None of them end well.

Well, there’s the fairy tale ending where you kiss him and love him for exactly who he is, because he’s ninety-nine, point, nine percent sure Black Cat has a crush on Spider-Man. But even though he can look past it. He can turn everything he hates about you into something he loves. He’s been doing that ever since the rooftop.

He knows it’ll never happen.

“Parker, what the hell are you doing?” He’s dragging you into a janitors closet, as you protest against his hand.

He doesn’t know how to say this to you, but the light is dim and all he can do is stare. Albeit you’re angry, the way he looks at you is making you want to melt. But you can’t let yourself feel something for Peter. He’s your greatest enemy. Besides, you love Spider-Man. You love whoever is underneath that stupid mask – no matter what.

“I know who, I know what you are, Hardy.” He speaks softly, “I know you’re Black Cat.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Parker. She’s a vigilante. She works with Spider-Man. Do I look like someone who knows fucking Spider-Man?”

He nods, “Yeah. You do.”

You scoff, “Fuck off. I’m leaving. You can’t throw accusations like that around.”

Your hand goes for the door, and you feel something stick to the knob, your hand sticks to the knob. The familiar webbing that your best friend uses. The familiar webbing that Spider-Man uses. The Spider-Man you know. The Spider-Man you love. The man you said you loved underneath the mask no matter what.

“No.” You whisper, turning your head to face Peter, “No. It can’t be you... It can’t be you.” You’re shaking your head frantically, trying to enable any sort of hope you have that he’s lying to you. That this is some sick prank.

But it’s not. You know that. You hate this. Because you said you’d love the man under the mask, but the man underneath the mask is Peter.

You gulp, the question reluctant to fall from your tongue, “How did you know it was me?”

“Bad luck kinda follows me wherever I go. I’ve only ever heard two people say that. You and Black Cat. Technically one person.” Peter says, “I didn’t want to believe it at first, but the whole reason I was an asshole to you was because I had feelings for you... but Black Cat you. Not Y/n you. I didn’t want to fall for you because let’s be real, you’re an amazing, smart, incredible girl and suddenly all the things I hated about you became things I liked, but I’m not really sure that’s true because I kinda liked you the whole time.”

You can’t listen to this anymore. “Let me go, Spidey.” You whisper, “I’m sorry, but I can’t... I need time... you’re the person I love the most but you’re also the person I hate. The person who made the last few years hell... I’m sorry.”

Peter pulls out some web remover from his pocket, “I get it. It took me the whole weekend to try and understand... I still can’t understand, but I want us to be the same as we were. I want Peter and Y/n to be Spidey and Kitty.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible, Peter.” You turn the knob of the door with your now free hand, “I’m not sure we’re even Spidey and Kitty anymore.”

You leave the janitors closet and you can’t even stay at school anymore. The one person you could count on to make you feel better was the only person you couldn’t stand. The person that took your mind off of Peter finger-fucking you was Peter. The person who fucked you. Peter knew things about you that nobody else knew. Nobody ever would know except for him.

Suddenly, you felt exposed.

More exposed than you’d ever feel if your identity was actually exposed to the public.

You ran out the door and headed home, making your way into your room. You promised yourself you wouldn’t go back... but you also promised yourself that you’d love whoever was underneath that goddamn mask no matter what. You weren’t quite sure what promises you could keep anymore.

This had been calling to you. You needed to do this, and you needed to do it now. You put on your suit and took out a bulletin board hidden inside your closet.

The last piece of art your father had ever painted.

You knew who had it. You just didn’t know where they were. You didn’t know where Wilson Fisk would be. This was the big leagues. Bigger than anything you’d ever done before. Bigger than any job you would’ve let yourself do before. But now it’s different.

It’s different because you have more experience. You’re stealthier than you were two years ago. You’re more agile. You’re quicker. Sneakier. Less reluctant to stun and hurt people.

You, however, have somewhere to go first.

Tombstone walks into his office, and you sit at his chair, a smirk lacing your face as he pulls out a gun. But you hold your hands up.

“Woah, woah, woah! Relax, I’m not here to bust you, graveyard.” You snicker at your own quip, “I’m here to ask you a question... I need some help.”

“So, you’re back to your own ways.” The smirk on his face is anything but large, small, discreet, and so enticing. You want to slap him in the face. You still want to bust him. But you can’t, otherwise he won’t give you the information you need, “Crime was never the same without you.”

You shake your head, “This is my last job before retirement. It’s risky and big. But I don’t know where he is... I have one painting left, Lonnie.” Your voice is somber, genuine.

“How do I know I can trust you’re not working with the Spider?” He questions, folding his arms.

“He did something to me. He betrayed me.” Your tone is seething and angry. You’re angry. That’s all you are. Mad. Unspeakably mad, “I don’t need him anymore. What I need is his last painting. You know how much they mean to me. You know how long I’ve been waiting.”

He nods, “I know, I know. But what’s in it for me?”

You shake your head, “I have nothing to offer money wise. I keep them. But should you ever need something incredibly hard to find. Hard to acquire. You’ve got the number for these.” You tap your goggles, “... and I will be happy to come out of retirement.”

He lets out a dry chuckle, “Alright... who are you looking for?”

Perched on the building across from Fisk’s, you stare into the apartment, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Your spray paint is in the belt of your suit and you’re ready to make your mark. You can see your father’s painting. You can see the beautiful light blues and candy pink hues that cover the canvas in contrast with Fisk’s white walls, it’s the only colour in the room. It’s the only sign of life in the apartment.

You desperately want to take it and replace that sign of life with your signature tag. The tag that lets him know that he’s the victim of your wrath. The victim of stolen art that he had stolen from you first. The painting had barely made a dent in his bank account and your families had acquired nothing because of the art museum ripping you off after his death. How all they did was gain and all you did was loose. How your mum was working shift after shift to keep you in Midtown so you could do something great for the both of you. Your mother Felicia Hardy was nothing short of amazing.

She didn’t deserve what had happened to her.

How she suffered for both of you more than you would ever have to.

But your stakeout is interrupted by the familiar padding of feet behind you. The familiar voice that breaks you out of this trance you’ve got happening. It’s going to kill you to face him. To look at him. Especially after turning back, trying to turn back to this life you’d promised him you would never turn back to.

“I thought you promised me you wouldn’t go back.” He says quietly, loud enough for you to hear, but his voice laced with disappointment. You’d rather him be angry or mad.

Knowing that it’s Peter now. Hearing disappointment in his voice rather than familiar venom.

You look at him through your goggles. They’re tinted, you have to remind yourself of that every time you look into his eyes. Though, it doesn’t really matter anymore.

“I guess we make promises we can’t keep.” You sigh, turning back to look back into the room.

“You don’t want to do this, Kitty... this isn’t you.”

“You don’t know me, Parker!” You say exasperated, “You don’t know anything about me.”

You’re lying to yourself – he knows you more than your mother. He knows you the best out of anyone you ever know. You keep reminding yourself about that and it keeps bringing you pain. But it’s something you can’t seem to stop thinking about. Something that won’t seem to leave you alone.

Something that regrets making you lash out like this. Something that makes you regret not kissing him in that janitors closet and telling him you can work through it. Work through the confusion. Work through the problems you face with yourself and him. Work through the problems that can bring Y/n and Peter together just like your superhero counterparts.

You’re so confused and it’s killing you. You want Peter. You do. But you’re scared to let yourself want him more than you’ve already had him. This whole time you’ve had Peter. You’ve had Peter Parker.

“Stop lying to yourself!” Peter reads your mind, “We have something. You know it. I know it. You can’t keep hiding yourself from the truth.”

“I’m not hiding from any truth, Peter. I want to love you. But how can I love someone who’s provoked me into being the worst version and the best version of myself around them?”

“That’s my point... I’ve made you better.”

“You’ve also made me horrid... do you not understand that?”

He moves closer to you, placing his hand on your shoulder, “I do... because you’ve done the same thing to me, sweetheart. But now that I know you. Now that I truly know you. I can only make you better. I don’t have to pretend to hate you anymore.”

You look up at Peter and his hand flies to your chin, caressing it softly, “Petey...” You say quiet, “I don’t know what I want. I mean, I do. I want you. I want Spider-Man. But I don’t know what I want right now.”

“I can put the mask on, I can leave, and I can let you get back to your business, or you can leave, either way, we can pretend this never happened... or we can face the music. I can stay. I can make you feel good, I can make you feel better. Then you can choose to go back to your business, and I’ll leave... or you can come back with me.”

You stare into the lens’ of his suit, “Peter...” You trail off, taking the next step and removing your goggles slowly, there aren’t any red marks yet.

Peter takes off his own too, moving towards you until you’re leaning against the ledge, “So what it’ll be, Kitty? What do you want?”

You look up him and it feels like the science room all over again, but now it’s real. Everything is real. The boy standing in front of you is one of love. One that you do love. That you need to love.

“I- I need you, Peter.” Your voice is quiet and all you can inhale is him. All that fills your scent is him.

And soon, all you can taste is his tongue. How your tongues are intertwined, moving together. In sync. Sharing control. It’s not rough like the first time the two of you kissed. Full of anger and desire. Now full of passion, romance.

His lips were softer and plump, they moved with yours so fluidly. They mix in with your grape Chapstick which Peter thinks only makes you taste better. Although, he should believe you always taste good. His hands are wrapped around your waist and his they make your skin tingle, burning straight through you.

Peter’s hands manage to find the zipper of your suit and as he pulls away, “Can I?” He questions.

You debate it for a moment. You like him. You like all of him. You want him. Right now. But do you want to have sex on a rooftop?

“Yeah.” You smirk, “It’s okay.”

His fingers slip for a moment, before gripping back onto the zipper, sliding it down. You’re pulling it off and you’re left in your panties, “If I knew you didn’t wear a bra underneath this thing maybe I would’ve acted on this sooner.”

“Peter!” You say through a laugh, and his lips land back on yours, through your smile. Your laugh doesn’t last long as Peter’s lips begin to trail down your neck, reaching one of your many sweet spots. This was one Peter had discovered the other night, “Peter.” You moan breathless.

How he’s been kissing you for a moment, a single moment and you’re already gone. You’re head leans back slightly as his head is in the crane of your neck, “God,” you moan once more, your hands run along Peter’s suit, “I can’t be the only one, Petey.”

He nods and removes his lips from your neck, taking off his own suit and you can see how hard he is through his boxers. You palm his cock before his lips are back on yours, “Fuck, Kitty.” He groans softly as you hold his cock through his pants, he removes your hand from his pants, “Kitty... I wanna taste your kitty.”

“EW! Peter!” You slap him quickly through a laugh, “God, you are such a dork!”

“You love it,” He presses a soft kiss to your lips, and you can’t help but smile.

“I do.” You say quietly against his lips. Your breath hot on his, “So what’re you waiting for?”

Peter pulls you onto the floor of the rooftop, on top of the pile of your suits, his tongue trails down your body, before finally reaching your pussy. His thumb flies over the thin material of your panties. You shudder at how sensitive you are. God, he’s barely even touched you and you’re already folding underneath him.

“God, you’re so wet. You’re so fuckin’ wet.” He almost growls? You don’t care, he’s too hot for you to care. You feel so high on the feeling already that you don’t care.

Your hand runs through his hair, through his pretty curls, they lace your fingers, his hair is soft... so soft. You think about asking what shampoo he uses after all this is done. He’d laugh at you and the feeling of bliss you feel from the thought of that overtakes everything that you ever felt before.

“Petey,” Your moan is breathless and needy. You were allowing him to let him have you. You were finally letting him have all of you.

Maybe you’d come to regret this someday... maybe Peter will break your heart. But you don’t feel any of that right now. All you feel is love and hope. All you feel is good.

Your moans are turning Peter on by the minute. He wants nothing to devour you. He wants nothing more than to make you feel good because that makes him feel good. He’s addicted to the taste of you. It’s a taste he desperately wanted back the second the two of you stopped. He tried too hard to remember your taste and scent over the weekend and now he’s got it all splayed out in front of him.

Peter slides his hands into the waistband of your panties, “This good, Kitty?” He questions you in a whisper and all you can do is nod, “I need words, baby.”

“Yes, Peter.” You match his volume, “Please. Do whatever you want with me. I just need you.”

You can feel his smirk as he pulls down your panties, it’s not long before they’re all the way down your legs and it doesn’t take long for his tongue to dip into the deep pool that is your pussy. Your wetness coats his tongue, covering it in the sweet juice. He moans at how sweet you are, how good you taste. The vibrations of his moans on your clit make you want to scream. How he's kitten licking and trying different speeds.

You mewl underneath him so needy for him – your knuckles turn white as you’re gripping onto his hair, holding on for what feels like dear life as he continues to lap at you. Long and small strokes with his tongue. He feels so good against you. Your moans filling the air of the cold rooftop as your nipples stand hard. Peter’s hands make their way up your body. His hands so warm against you. Holding your tits, his fingers grazing against the hard nubs.

He sucks and makes circles around your clit, making you moan and your back arch. How is he so fucking good at this? He was supposed to be quiet and kept, you’d expect nothing like this of him... though, you also should’ve asked yourself that question in the science room.

Peter’s breath is hot on your pussy as he continues to lap at your sweet juices, moving faster and faster until you have your final release. Your stomach churning with desire, swirling with a fire that brings you nothing but bliss; nothing but that sweet release. Your hand remains in his hair, but slowly slithers out as Peter comes up to meet your face once more. His lips are swollen and red from the taste of you. He presses a kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself.

You run your hand down Peter’s body, finally reaching his boxers, finally feeling how hard his cock really is, “What do you want, Peter? Cause I know what I want.” You say quietly.

“I wanna fuck you so bad.” He smiles and you match his grin.

As he slides his cock into you, it feels like a revelation. There’s not much here but feelings for each other. Somehow this is proving to you that Peter won’t hurt you like he has in the past. You wonder why this is showing you everything’s. Maybe it’s because the two of you are in such a venerable state that makes both of you exposed in all the best ways. Sure, it’s dark on the roof, but the light of the moon, the lights of most buildings and the shimmer of the stars in the sky make Peter look as beautiful as ever. The moon light on his face, the drunken haze of sex the both of you are in. Breathing in that cinnamon scent you smelled two days ago, trying to fight it, but now that you’ve let yourself have it all, it’s as though he’s put you into a trance.

His cock and how wet you are just making it all the easier. Peter groans deep, his voice husky and the way he kisses your neck again, needy, full of want for your body. His lips come back onto yours. He bites your lip softly and you moan against the feeling. His cock is pushing deeper inside of you. The two of you moving in motion. Only being able to feel each other. You can feel the slit of his cock pressing against your g-spot and his fingers move down your body, landing on your clit, stimulating you further.

His balls hit your skin as your bodies blend. Till the two of you are one large chunk of flesh. Together, made into one. Partners in stopping crime. Best friends.

His lips hit yours again, togues intertwined once more. You pull away breathless, panting, sweating. You feel like you’re seeing stars and you’re drunk, drunk off of the feeling of Peter’s raw cock inside of you.

Your moans fill the air once more and Peter can feel you getting tighter as he continues to move in and out of you. Your clit is pulsing and sensitive, throbbing.

“Peter, I’m gonna cum.” You moan, letting him know exactly what you’re doing, you can feel the desire awaken inside of you. You can feel your stomach burn and burn. You can feel yourself walking closer and closer to that edge.

“That’s right, Kitty, cum for me.” He groans as he too can feel himself getting closer, but he needs you to cum first.

“Ah! Fuck!” You groan as you feel yourself pour over. His words pushing you over. You’re stuck panting as Peter begins to ride you off of your high, all you sensitive and the hole of your pussy feels raw and wet.

“Fuck...” Peter moans as he feels that same sensation of desire built up inside of him. That fire. That need for release.

“Cum on my stomach.” You tell him you’re your pants of breath, unable to catch yourself.

Peter growls as he pulls out of you, rubbing his cock as cum comes out of the slit of his cock, warm and sticky all over your stomach.

He falls next to you with a soft chuckle, “How are we going to clean you up?”

You turn to face him, “I’m not sure... but right now? I don’t really care.”

Peter pulls you into his arms, kissing your collarbone, “I’m sorry I hurt you like I did.” He mutters against the sweat of your skin.

You shakes your head softly, “I’m sorry too... we both kinda fucked up, right?”

He nods softly, “Yeah.” He presses another kiss to your shoulder, “What does this mean for us?”

You smile wide, grinning brightly, “I’d be willing to give us a shot if you are.”

“I most definitely am.”

“Peter! Guess what!” You call across the room, running back to your table from Mr. Harrington’s desk, “I got one hundred!” Your cheerful, you’re happy.

“Congrats, baby!” He presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

The adjustment for everyone was weird. Especially for Mr. Harrington. Seeing both of you kind to each other. Nice.

Yes. The arguing was familiar, but this is something that he never thought he would see. The two of you getting along let alone a couple.

“Me too.” He mutters against your cheek.

You shove him playfully, “Why didn’t you say anything!”

“You want me to be honest?” He questions you softly.

You nod, “Yeah... I do.”

“Sometimes if I notice you’ve had a bad day, I lie to make you feel better.”

“Wait what do you mean?”

“You remember last semester when you got that mark back and I said I got ninety-seven because you got ninety-nine?”

You nod your head, your eyes morphing into a sceptical glare, “Yeah... I do.”

“I lied. I got a hundred, but you looked like you had a bad day.”

“Peter. We didn’t even like each other then.” You said softly.

Honestly, this was heart-warming, tugging on every single string your heart could muster up.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

The bell goes, and Peter begins to walk away.

“Peter what do you mean?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Peter!”

You run after him feeling nothing but warmth and love.

#peter parker x reader #tom holland x reader #andrew garfield x reader #tobey maguire x reader #spiderman x reader

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