#Have I mentioned how much I love Natalie

[webslingingslasher]

Begin Again

an: this has been a long time in the making and I think it's a favorite of mine.

Pairing: Peter Parker X Mean!Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers.

CW: harsh language, mental breakdowns, mentions of cheating (not peter)

Word Count: 24K

Summary: You've lived next door to Peter your whole life and the last nine years you've detested him. Now you're going through a breakup and it's nice to know someone's awake with you. Even if it is Peter Parker.

Breakups suck.

That’s it. That’s the whole message. There’s nothing else to add, except you’d never let yourself love again. It’s not like you didn’t know it wasn’t going to happen, you were aware the entire year what it would lead into, but hasn’t every girl sworn, at least once, they were the exception to a boys rule? 

Natalie Greene’s voice echoed in your mind, “don’t get involved with a senior boy. They move on and you’re left picking up the pieces in homeroom.” You didn’t listen. You got involved and it was a good year, you knew he was going to college and when he left the break up was inevitable. Still, it didn’t hurt as hard until three months into the school year he called and said he met someone else. 

You wish you weren’t so kind and understanding to him.

You called Natalie Greene the second it ended, she picked up and that angel voice of hers shined through the phone. She asked ‘hello?’ three times before you sobbed. You could feel the empathy in her tone, ‘he ended it, huh?’ All you could do is squeak back, ‘stay right there babe, I’m on my way with the break up kit.’  

She showed up with a stray grocery bag. “alright,” she stated, hands on her hips. 

“I got ice cream, a super soft blanket, movies - of all genres, face masks, a lighter-” 

“Why do you have a lighter?” 

Natalie rolls her eyes with a goofy grin, “to burn stuff, duh.“

The gesture was nice, but you couldn’t focus on the movie.

It felt like everytime you blinked there were tears that would find themselves tracking down your cheeks, you sniffled occasionally and blankly stared at the screen; flashbacks clouding your mind. Each kiss, each laugh, each touch, every fight and makeup, the first time you felt someone's hips melt into yours. 

A supercut of every moment. 

You were replaying a thousand things and all he was thinking about was the new girl under him, you were angry at everything all at once. Angry at yourself for letting yourself get hurt and feeling this much pain, because you knew it was coming, it was the whole agreement when it started. Angry at him for not breaking his promise and loving you anyway, angry at him for not telling you he’d wait for you and everything would be okay. 

Angry that you hate him and yourself but more angry how quickly you’d fall back into him if he called. 

“I knew this was gonna happen, Nat.” You sniff, a cry bubbles from your throat, “so why does it hurt so bad?” 

Your friend frowns, she’s no savor to heartbreak. She’s been where you are more times than one could take, she still loves with her whole heart and you don’t know if you could ever do it again. Natalie wraps her arms around your shoulders while you shake with a sob, you cry into her knowing you're matting her blonde hair but she just pats you and holds you close. 

“Because even though the ending was coming it didn’t feel real until the book closed. And maybe a little bit because you hoped he’d change his mind.” 

You gasp, “how do I get past this? Nat, it feels..” 

You’re tugged into her so tight you can feel her collarbone against your cheek, “like you’re dying? Yeah, that happens. But, you’ll live. It doesn’t feel like it now, but the day will come where you can think about him, smile, and thank him for the opportunity.” 

You snort, “for breaking my heart?” 

Natalie Greene holds you as tight as she can, “for making you grow.” 

Your shoulders feel like they’re falling behind you as you inch along the hallway, everything feels heavy. Your feet are like lead blocks, and your heart feels like it’s been tied down with an anchor. It hurts more to know he’s not aching like this, he has someone new to keep him busy. 

Blinking at your locker you fight back a yawn, two weeks after heartbreak and it still feels the same. You sleep like shit, tossing and turning and weird dreams when you finally dozed off. The one thing that’s helped keep your mind away from him, was your neighbor. Every night, at 3:02 am, on the dot, you hear the same movements. 

A window slams shut, two soft hops on the floor and three bumps against the wall. 

For six nights straight you kept count, it was methodical. A nightly routine, you weren’t sure what he was doing, but it was something. It made your mind wonder, your most recent theory was that he was a smoker; weed, cigarettes or whatever, and he would blow smoke out his window before landing in bed. 

Maybe his bed was against your wall and that’s why you heard so many small knocks. 

Last night you stayed up, you waited and right on the minute, like you expected, you heard a window slam shut. A small grin crossed your face, not at him, but at the idea of a constant. You lost your reliable figure, he’s thousands of miles away with his own new person, but tonight, and for the last seven nights you’ve had something to rely on. Something that couldn’t go anywhere. 

You blink and suddenly you’re staring at your open locker, you don’t even remember putting in the combination. On autopilot you grab what you need for your next three classes and shrug your backpack down. Lately, it seemed like everything moved in slow motion. 

“Are we ready to go to Flash’s party friday and makeout with a rando or are we still numb to everything?” 

Natalie smiles at your figure, when you slouch and give her a “hey, Nat,” her blonde hair bounces as she nods her head understandingly, “still dead to the world, understandable.” 

“At this point I’d do heroin to feel something,” your deadstare makes her think you might be serious. “Tell you what, if you’re still this miserable in six weeks, we’ll do it together.” 

Your eyebrow quirks, “you’d do heroin with me if I’m still this miserable?” 

Natalie Greene’s hand sticks out, her eyes ferocious. You know immediately she has something up her sleeve. 

“Six weeks, starting today.” 

You have nothing else to go on except the nightly wake up call and Natalie Greene’s plan. 

“Six weeks.” 

It’s solidified with a handshake, your fingertips turn white in her hold. 

WEEK ONE.

Natalie Greene had talked you into going to Flash’s party, not to makeout with anyone, she quickly withdrew that from the table. You had been very hesitant at first, pushing at every restraint and reason to why you shouldn’t go and she stopped you right there. Manicured hand and all, petite and poised, she stopped your path. 

“Here’s why you should go: get fucking wrecked, absolutely smashed and let it all out. I promise you, babe, it feels so, so good.” 

“You think that will make me feel better? Getting hammered at a house party on a friday night?”

“I’ll take care of you for the night, okay? I’ll get you drunk and you can cry or scream or whatever you want. Let go of anything you’re holding back, that’s why you should go.” 

You look her over, she’s been your rock the last three years in the school. Natalie is different, she protects and cares for herself like she does someone else. She also gives out more of her heart than she should, but she appreciates the burn it leaves. She tells you it’s one more ache preparing her for the one who would never make it hurt again. 

If Natalie Greene says it’ll help, you’ll listen. 

“You’ll drive me home and take care of me the next morning? Hungover and all?” 

A denim jacket covered shoulder shrugs, “I think it’s time I repay you for all these years.” 

For the first time in two weeks a real smile crosses your face, it’s small but it’s there. 

Flashforward two days later, you’re eight drinks in and feeling like you’re flying. 

You sway against your friend, “and he,” you hiccup, “he said he was like, soooo in love with me but then like, fuckin four days later,” it took you a moment to hold up the correct number on your hand, “boom, no boyfriend.” Natalie tried to hold back a laugh but her cheeks blew up when she let it escape, you pulled the most comical ‘what the fuck?’ face. 

“I mean who the fuck does that- a sick person. That’s who! And- And you know what?” you hiccup, “I thought I’d be sad, but I just kinda hate him, does that make me bad?” 

“Nah, I had some that killed me inside and some that I just shrugged off. Some moved in waves. One minute I’d say ‘fuck him!’ and the next I’d be overwhelmed with sadness because I didn’t have anyone to hold me anymore.” 

You blink at her words and swallow the rest of your cup, you hadn’t thought about that part yet. Not having anyone to call yours anymore, that’s the hardest hitting part. You really, really wanted to call him. Just one more time, maybe he misses you just as much, maybe he doesn’t know how to say sorry, maybe he’s waiting for you to call. 

“I should call him, right?” Your hands fumble at your pockets, your friend panics and grabs at your arms. “No! No, no, no! You absolutely should not call him!” You whine, “but what if he-” 

Natalie grabs you tight, it makes you look at her confused. Her tone takes a sharp turn, she breaks through your drunken stupor in a second. 

“He’s not. He’s not thinking about you, he’s not missing you, he’s not sitting around wishing you’d call him, he’s just not. He broke up with you, you don’t do that if you still care. Don’t do that to yourself, it ended mature. You have to be mature now.” 

Brutal honesty. It puts everything in perspective. 

He didn’t miss you, and that… really, really hurt. 

Natalie was right, it comes in waves. Because there comes that sadness, it starts with small blinks and suddenly fat tears skip down your cheeks. “You’re right! He, he doesn’t-” you take harsh breaths, for the first time in two weeks you had a full breakdown. Everything you held back bottled over, you didn’t know how you could hold in so much hurt. 

“Okay, okay. Let’s go, we can cry in the car but not here.” 

Your breath shook the entire way to the car, the moment you sat in the passenger seat you cried. Your voice cracked, “he said he loved me!” Natalie nodded, cranking the engine, “And I’m sure he did, babe. Sometimes these things run their course and it’s no one's fault.” 

It went like that the entire car ride, until she stopped at a McDonald's and got you a milkshake so you could focus on getting the liquid up the straw instead of saying the same three things on a loop. Once you got fries in your mouth the thought of him was erased from your mind, choosing to sing loudly and stick your head out the window on the way back. 

Stumbling and giggling quietly at the late hour while you swayed on the walk to your door, you stretched freely and yawned when you stumbled in. Home alone for the weekend, just how it should be. “I’m getting naked,” you started stripping while walking to your room to change into pajamas, your heart lurches when you see one of his shirts. 

You flop backwards on your bed, the room slightly spins and you close your eyes tight trying to ground yourself. Wriggling into the sheets you sigh, and yawn again. Your head buries into a pillow and sleep is imminent. 

“Sleepy?” 

Natalie Greene stands in the doorway with water and some advil, you smile and pat your bed, inviting her to join. 

“Natalie Greene, you are so great, did you know that?” 

Your friend laughs, you nuzzle into her hand while she strokes your hair, “I did, but a reminder is always nice. Go to sleep, babe. I’ll make toast in the morning.” 

Her gentle touch makes it easy, you yawn one more time. Your voice flutters while you talk into sleep.

“Do me a favor?” 

“Anything,” she whispers. You don’t think he ever loved you this soft.  

“Make sure he gets home for me.” 

Natalie Greene asked who but all she received were soft snores. 

The birds were screaming the earth back awake. 

At least that’s how it felt, your ears were ringing and there was a dull, present thud in your head. The sunlight has never been so bright, you hold your eyes shut but the ache gets louder and you can’t get comfortable. 

There’s two pills and half a glass of water waiting for you, god bless Natalie Greene. 

“Good morning, sunshine!” You wince and choke on your gulp of water, a knife has pierced your eardrum. “Oh my god, everything is on dial eleven, I think I’m dying.” 

“How are you feeling? Besides the obvious, I mean.” 

She means about him, you take a moment to really think about it. 

“I think… I think I’m doing okay.” 

Your friend smiles and throws her hair into a ponytail, “good, I’m making breakfast. Come join.” 

After ten minutes and infinite pep talk you rise on shaky knees, stumbling towards your door and barely making it to the couch where you spread wide and gulped for air. Your friend snorted at your exaggeration over her shoulder and carefully walked towards you with a piping mug of tea. 

Sitting up you bring a blanket over your shoulders, you squint at her before taking the handle. Taking a sip while you turn the TV on, searching for a midmorning throwaway show. A re-run of The Wendy Williams Show wins, you rest your head on a cushion and stare blankly at the screen. Natalie Greene humming up a tune in the kitchen. 

You hadn’t even checked your phone yet, “what time is it?” 

“Noon thirty.” 

Your eyes widen, “my god,” you mumble to yourself. 

Listening to Wendy your eyes lull shut and suddenly you're sinking back into sleep, you roll over and smack your dry lips. Until your friend is kicking at your shin with two plates in her hands, stacked full of the breakfast nines. 

Your queasy stomach grumbles and any drowsiness is ripped away with hunger. Nearly drooling, you stuff a piece of french toast in your mouth and moan, “Nat, you’re the greatest thing I got.” She bounces her shoulder into yours, “I know.”  

You fall into silence while you scarf breakfast down, booing and applauding when deemed necessary by Wendy. Leaning back you rest your hands over your full belly and pat gently. Swiping your tongue over your gums for any crumbs, you sigh happily. 

“Hey, what did you mean last night? You said to let you know if he got home safely.” 

You wave her off, “drunk stupidness, I hear my neighbor every night around the same time moving around. This last week, I dunno, it felt nice knowing someone else was up too?” 

“Have you ever-” 

Both your necks turn to look at the front door then back at each other, the knocking that caught your attention continues. 

“Who’s-” 

“Did you-” 

You swallow and stand up, not so shaky anymore. Looking through the peephole your forehead hits the door at the sight of said neighbor, you know what they say about devils and appearing, groaning you take a moment to collect yourself and open the door. 

“What do you want, penis?” 

Peter Parker in all his glory, is knocking at your door with a plate of… cookies? 

Neighbors forever, close pals never. You’d played together as kids, mostly elementary age but since you were eight you’ve had a disdain for Peter Parker. You’re not sure where it went wrong, but just looking at him you wanted to roll your eyes. 

“I was going to say, ‘wow, how could a guy ever dump you?’ but now, I’d say that’s how.” 

Normally that wouldn’t hurt, but the recent circumstances made it a cheap shot. 

“Is this your sorry attempt to be a rebound? Because if it is, I want to make it extremely clear I’d rather eat glass than-” 

The plate is shoved into your face, “May had me bring these over, she said your mom told her you’ve been a weepy, miserable mess because some dickhead thought he found someone better.” 

You huff at him, your fingers wrap around his wristwatch as you pull it down, all you heard was weepy and miserable.

“I know you wouldn’t know anything about someone loving you but-” 

“Is that Peter B. Parker?” 

Natalie Greene reminds you of your hangover in record timing, you wince at her shriek. Peter gives a polite, dare you say charming (?) smile. It makes you fight back a gag, “hello, Natalie Greene.” Her eyes flash from his, to the plate, to the cracked open door across the hall and she gets a wicked grin. 

The person you’ve hated and bickered with the most is suddenly the one you listen out for in the middle of the night. The look on her face, the glance she shared with you, proved she knew. 

“Cookies?” Natalie nudges your arm, “he brought cookies and he’s right across the hallway, how nice.” 

Peter’s oblivious to her tone, he has his goofy smile on and it makes you seeth. He’s always so god damn happy, it’s annoying. 

“Well, actually, my aunt made them. But I am delivering, so I can accept some praise.” 

She laughs, full on cackles and nudges you again. 

“You know, in all the times you talked about Peter you never mentioned how funny he was!” 

You don’t know what she’s playing at but you’re shutting it down immediately. 

Peter looks at you, he seems almost hopeful and you have to settle the urge to toss the plate to the ground. “You talk about me?” 

You cross your arms and sneer, “don’t worry, nothing good.” 

His smile drops, “yeah, sorry. I don’t know why..” his curls bounce as he gently shakes his head before pushing the glass into your chest. “Here, eat as many as it takes to feel somewhat okay again.” 

You grip the plate and look down, they’re your favorite. 

“We, um. We have more over here, so if you want more. Or if you wanna hang out or something I’m here, so…” 

Peter’s never been a friend like this before and it was some pity party you wanted no part of now. 

“It’s a breakup. I’m sure I can manage without you just fine.” 

His eyebrows turn in, “right. I just thought- nevermind, enjoy the cookies.” 

Natalie gives him a sympathetic frown and sulks back inside, you keep your glare on his figure until he reaches his door. As you’re about to retreat he stops in the doorway, “for what it’s worth, I think he’s stupid and he’s gonna realize what he lost when it’s way too late.” 

It’s almost nice, sometimes it sucks when the person you’re supposed to hate has human peek through their armor. 

Too bad you’re more guarded than ever. 

“Well, then. It’s a good thing you’re not worth much.” 

Maybe it’s his resilience that troubles you, no matter how hard you push him away or beat him down with words he’ll pick himself back up and hand your words back in a package of self reflection. 

Today is no exception, Peter flashes you a sad smile, this one actually is filled with pity. 

“I’m sorry you’re hurting,” you didn’t have a chance to fire back. His door was already shut.

Heartache throbbed but the cookies were damn good. 

On your third, you down half a cup of milk. You reach for a fourth and Natalie hasn’t said one word. Instead she cleaned the kitchen and packed up her overnight bag, before settling next to you for an episode of Jerry Springer and her own deserved treat. 

“So, do tell, my friend. Is Peter the one you wanted to know was home safe?” 

Deny till death. 

“No way, I’m talking about Mr. Harrington, he’s like a hundred years old.” 

Natalie takes her time chewing and swallowing, “your hundred year old neighbor is up in the middle of the night?”

It’s dumb to lie, you and her know the truth. 

You shrug and take a fifth cookie, “he may have a routine, I dunno.” 

Your friend hums, “I just thought it may be Peter, cause you share a wall and all.” 

Gagging at his name you shake it off, “Gross! It’s bad enough knowing the plate these were on were in his hands.” It takes you a second but you’re able to plow through another bite. 

“I just… why do we hate Peter so much?” 

You don’t know, you think you blocked it out. Every time you look at him a weird feeling bubbles up and it makes you want to scream, cry, fight and hug it out with him in one second. It’s easier to bark at him than confront him about your feelings. 

“I don’t know. He’s just a pest to me, every time I turn around he’s there. And I swear to god he spilled the beans about that party last year.” 

Natalie Greene knows three things to be true. 

One: Peter Parker likes you, you just don’t know it yet. 

“What if you talked to him?” 

Cookie crumbs fall over your shirt as you talk, “I’m sorry, what?” 

Two: You like Peter Parker, you just don’t know it yet. 

“If you need me and I’m not around, if you need someone to support you through this and I can’t be here, promise me you’ll knock on his door.” 

You scoff at the idea, “yeah, sure.” she’s not very confident you mean it. 

“Seriously, promise me right now if I can’t be there for you, you’ll ask him.” 

She was serious, something in her tone made you shift and agree. It’s not like she’d go anywhere, Natalie Green was your lifeline. 

“Alright! If you aren’t around and it’s literally life or death, I’ll ask… him.” 

Three: Things get worse before they get better, you just don’t know it yet.

WEEK TWO.

Your mornings always started the same, a routine was important to you. It was consistent. It was wake up, hit up the bathroom, change, yawn and rub your eyes through breakfast before leaving to thrive in silence before school. 

Today, when leaving, right as you’re pocketing your keys, your neighbor speaks out. 

“Hey.” 

You freeze, it’s rare you run into Peter in the mornings. You figure he leaves way earlier, or later than you. But when you do, you ignore each other with silence. You really don’t like the sudden change. 

“How are you doing?” 

You wonder if he heard you crying last night, you thought you got rid of it after the party. You didn’t understand how you could be happy one moment and miserable the next. What made it worse was when 3:02 am hit and you heard his window slam, your sniffles settled. 

“Like I was dumped, thanks for the reminder.” 

Your foot hits the first step when he calls out, “and the cookies?” 

Biting your bottom lip you turn, it really was a nice gesture. You may not like him, but you loved May and she’s the one that put in all that hard work. Peter lights up when you face him, if he had a tail he’d start wagging it. It makes you bite down on your cheek, he doesn’t deserve unprovoked rage. 

“They were really good,” you take three steps before turning back around. 

“And, I uh, took your advice. Ate the whole plate, I mean.” 

Peter fumbles, his key chain drops but he stays looking at you. His thumb shoots behind him to point at his door, “we have like, twenty left. Want some more?” 

You shake your head softly, “maybe later?” Peter nods exuberantly, “yeah, yeah. I’ll bring them over.” 

You curl your lip up and stomp down the steps, “thanks for the warning, penis!” 

This was it. 

This was your worst nightmare. 

Not only did things get shuffled around until you were sitting next to Peter at dinner, where you made it a point to scoot your chair away from him when his shoulder touched yours and immediately swiped the area clean- But now you blinked blankly at your dinner while your mom droned on and on and on about the guy who dumped you. It didn’t matter if it was good or bad, you just wanted her to stop. 

“And he was so sweet, wasn’t he? Honey, are you sure he hasn’t reached out? It’s not too late to call him, maybe if you-” May didn’t deserve to see you upset, and it kills you that Peter saw that emotion. Your mom didn’t even deserve it, you were so sick of trying to keep it together. 

Your chair screeches with how quick you jump out of your seat. 

“He doesn’t give a shit, he dumped me! So why do you think he’d call? He doesn’t want me, I mean he’s made that clear right?” Your eyes shoot to May’s, “I’m right, right? You don’t break up with someone if you still care, or want them, right?” 

Tears haze your vision, “he ended it with me mom, and you know why? It’s cause he found a new girl! He fucking-” water rushes down your cheeks but you don’t stop, “he,” you collapse on the word, you can’t get a good inhale on breath. 

“He left me to pick up the pieces, that’s all he did.” It clicked full motion, he left you behind and ended it. He got a fresh start and you were left trying to hold it together, like how it was, how it was supposed to be. 

You sob, your chest has never felt so tight. Shaky breaths fade into sharp inhales, you can’t fucking breathe. Gasping you put a hand over your heart, you know in the back of your mind it’s a panic attack but all you feel is imminent death. 

Peter stands and blocks your body with his, you don’t know what’s happening but you’re trying to get away. Each step you take backwards he takes one forwards until you're wheezing in your room, your ears are ringing and it feels like a heart attack is in approach. Your eyes squeeze shut and in an instant you feel calmer, it’s not because of your sudden blink. It’s because Peter has his hands over your ears pressing in, your back against the wall and front against his chest.  

It’s the last place you want to be but you’re angry, and he’s there, and it’s all coming out. 

You’re able to breathe but at what cost? You grip Peter’s shirt as tight as you could and wail into his chest, it’s the first time you’ve ever actually felt him against you. He’s more sturdy than you thought, as you push more and more weight on him he doesn’t stagger one bit. His arms held you to him, keeping steady until you’d push him away. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you coughed the words into his shirt, you held tighter when his only response was resting his chin on your head. You apologized and cried until you ran out of tears and your breaths were nothing but sharp inhales. 

When reality hits and you realize you've been crying into Peter’s hold for minutes you push him away and wipe your nose. Avoiding his eyes, you look to the carpet, you have a fresh cry glow and mindset, it’s the good kind of emotional numb. 

“I, um, I still have those cookies?” 

Those being his choice of words after a troubling breakdown was warming, it made you feel like you weren’t so crazy. Or at least, Peter didn’t see you as crazy, which when thinking about didn’t mean much. 

You can’t help but laugh, it’s so loud and opposite of every other emotion you spilled tonight it makes him jump, you see him setting up for the attack. The moment you snap at him and call him a weirdo for cornering you and throwing himself on you. 

Tonight, you were full of surprises. 

“Yeah,” you nod your head and wipe your nose one last time, “I’d love to come over for cookies.” 

You had to look away from his smile, it was too blinding. 

You broke the rule, you went lurking and hurt your own feelings. She’s all over his instagram, and she’s pretty. He’s all over hers, dating back to five months ago. 

You do a double take, five months? 

He had been cheating on you for months before he ended it. You feel sick. He told you he loved you while he was in bed with another girl. You felt so much rage inside you couldn’t hold it in, Natalie was too far away and Peter’s already seen you at your worst. 

You move without thinking, slamming your fist on his door. 

Wide eyes open it, Peter would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared he was the subject of attack. You swerve past him, if you were in a cartoon, steam would be billowing from your ears. You didn’t get angry often, and you’ve never felt upset enough to punch someone, but all you could think about was screaming and slamming your fist into the wall. 

“I hate him, I fucking hate him so fucking much. If you ever hear me crying I need you to come over and tell me I’m absolutely pathetic for crying over a fucking cheater.” 

While he’s glad you’re not there to yell at him, his heart sinks for you. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“It was right in front of my face, too. She’d been claiming him since the second week of school. I’ve been a fool, god, I fucking hate him. I hate him so much I… I want to break something.” 

Peter eyes his science notebook, he doesn’t have anything for you to break, but he has something that will make enough noise to drown out the voices. He grabs it and holds it out, you gently take it giving him a confused look. 

“Wack it. Beat the absolute shit out of it on the counter.” 

You look unsure, you don’t want to ruin his things, even if you don’t like him. 

“Right on the edge, go on, do it.” His egging you on makes you follow his command, it’s gentle. 

“Harder,” you test it. 

“Harder,” you give a smack, it makes a popping sound and you jump, it feels good. 

“Like you mean it, like you need it.” You do it again, it’s louder. You strike down without instruction, Peter starts barking at you, it makes you angrier. 

“Harder, don’t be so weak!”

He hit the right nerve, you can’t stop, you’re moving so quick and using so much force the spine starts to rip from the cardboard. It feels good destroying something, it makes you beat the laminate harder. Loud cracks echoing from the walls. 

You heave for air, every bit of force directed into your diminished trust. You yell between each blow. 

“Fucking!” 

“Piece!”

“Of!”

“Shit!” 

You start to slow down, Peter’s notebook is fucked. You feel bad. Gasping for air when you’re done, Peter gives you a head nod, “better?” 

You nod, “lots. Sorry about your book.” He doesn’t look bothered in the slightest, “it’s a good excuse to get a new one, I hate green.” You peer over the contents in the pages, “that’s a lie, everyone knows science is green.” Peter laughs, he nods like he’s saying ‘you got me there.’ “Doesn’t mean I like it though.” 

Looking down at the notebook, you peer up at Peter. He looks soft, the sleeves of his zip up hoodie covered his thumbs, he has sweater paws. His hair framed his face nicely, his cheeks have a natural pink hue, it’s like he’s always sunkissed, or calming down from a laughing fit. 

The sun is backlighting him perfectly, it makes his eyes look even more honey golden than they already do. You don’t know why you find him slightly cute at the moment, it makes your stomach tug and not in a good way. The last time you thought someone was cute you got burned, and you’ve always had a disdain for Peter. 

Peter was the worst kind of rebound to have because you can’t decide who’d get more hurt from it, and the thought of that makes you want to avoid him forever. 

“You’re looking at me funny.” 

You are, it’s because you’re noticing him for the first time, at least since you were eight. Suddenly you can remember why you cut him out when you were a kid. 

“I had a crush on you when we were younger. I think that’s why I stopped being your friend.” 

Your confession made Peter’s eyes widen, he looks to the ground and hides his smile. When he picks his head back up he looks to the side, his cheeks a bit more flushed than normal. “That’s cute.” 

It was. It was innocent and juvenile, his small response made you laugh. “Yeah, it really was.” You shouldn’t entertain it any further, but you can’t stop. Something about seeing his blush makes you want to keep going, “Wanna know when it started?” He looks curious, “sure.” 

You go quiet for a minute, you haven’t thought about it in years. The moment it clicked you were freaked out, the first time you liked a boy and he was your best friend. You went from wanting to play in dirt to holding his hand. A smile spreads over your face when you watch the memory replay in your mind. 

“We were at the complex playground and we were digging by that droopy tree across from the swingset, and I saw a lizard in the grass and I pointed it out to you. I told you I always wanted to hold one but they moved too fast and scared me, but you held out your arm and said ‘I got this.’” You laugh, replaying it once more. 

“And you dive bombed and picked it up, and you were so fucking proud to have caught it. Then you placed it in my hand but I felt it move around and freaked out, but you held your hand over mine and said ‘don’t be scared.’” 

There’s something about an eight year old Peter Parker with glasses and dirt smudged cheeks that had child you giddy.

Peter’s smiling, it’s like he’s reliving that day in his head too. “I fulfilled your lifelong dream and you fell for me.” You shrug, “maybe.” Setting his notebook on the counter you look around, you feel like you’ve said too much. 

“Hey, um, thanks for the whole… unleashing my anger thing.” You're setting yourself up for a goodbye, Peter can sense it. 

“Are you hungry? Wanna go get some pizza?” 

No matter what was said, or thought, you still have that pinch of annoyance at him. But his brightness was what you needed today, and you hadn’t had lunch. You have a sinking feeling you’d regret it, there was something that felt like it was a bit more than friendly and it had you throwing up every wall possible. 

Still, you find yourself agreeing. 

“Sure. Let’s get some pizza.” 

It was a stereotypical pizza place and those were the best ones. The wall is covered in pictures of random people, terrible paintings and red checkered tablecloths covered wobbly tables. They had a permanent sticky residue, your elbows peeled when you raised them up. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t judge me on my hawaiian choice.” He always did, he told you it wasn’t authentic and childish.

“Hey, I’m a pizza guy, alright? Anything you put on a pizza belongs on it. I mean, I get the appeal, sweet and savory.” Your face brightens, he understands. “Exactly! And the warm pineapple just hits differently, it’s like-” Peter can read your mind, you say it at the same time. “Fries and ice cream.” 

Another thing he found gross, your head tilts, it just kind of clicks with Peter. Your ex would sneer when you’d go for a dip, you begged him to try it a hundred times, you promised he’d like it but he’d tell you it was ‘fucking gross’. 

“Hawaiian and pepperoni, can I get you kids anything else?” You shake your head while Peter responds for the both of you, ‘no thanks, we’re good.” Peter’s slice has a pool of grease in a slice of his pepperoni, it looks delicious. He sees you eying his choice and holds it out, “you want a bite don’t you?” Your eyes flash to your slice, “only if you take a bite of mine.” It’s only fair. “Swap with me,” you trade plates and tap slices as a cheers, humming when you take a bite Peter nods impressively. 

You swap back and take a bite of yours, it’s heavenly. “I’m glad I got mine.” Peter agrees with the statement, “I’m sorry, babe, but pepperoni is superior. It’s all about keeping it simple.” You know he meant nothing by it, you know it meant it in a friendly way, you know it’s a regular pet name to use in passing, but he called you babe. 

Hearing the term of affection makes your skin crawl, you swallow a lump in your throat. You want to snap at him, but instead your voice comes out soft. “Please don’t call me that.” Peter’s eyes soften, he almost tells you he didn’t mean it like that, but he knows you already understand that. 

“No problem, old lady.” It took a second, but you couldn’t stop the laugh. “What did you just call me?” Peter bites his bottom lip, “well, that’s the opposite of babe, isn’t it?” It makes your smile bigger, it’s funny, if you had asked him something that simple he’d fight you on it, ask a million questions and push it until you gave up. 

For the first time in a month you really can’t remember why you thought he was so great. 

WEEK THREE.

Natalie Greene has her hair pulled slick back in a ponytail, a determined look and hands on her hips. 

“Let’s fuck some shit up.” 

Lunch with Peter had really pushed you forward, you had strayed away from him the last few days. You still listened for him nightly but avoided him in the hallway and at school, he was everything he was not, and it made you feel queasy. 

It was time you removed him from your life, you started with blocking him on everything. From instagram to duolingo. Then, you piled up everything he left behind or things that reminded you of him, but you couldn’t touch your closet. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Enter Natalie Greene.

“I don’t know why it’s so hard for me, everything else was fine.” Natalie shrugs, your closet doors are open and she’s itching to start rummaging. “It’s not for me. What are we thinking, trash, donate, burn? Dare I say detonate?” 

You snort, “think I could do some black magic?” Her eyes light up, “I’ll look up the dark arts right now, don’t dare me.” You sigh, “I don’t care what you do with them, I just need them out of here.” Natalie Greene understands, she’s been there too a few times. Everything that reminds you of him burns like hell. A constant reminder of what’s no longer. 

It’s only five shirts and some sweatpants but it feels paralyzing. Once his clothes are gone he’s no longer, like the last year never meant anything. He cheated but you still feel like it was real for the time you had him. 

“Shit, can we raincheck the disposal?” Natalie is staring at her phone in her hand, a worried line where her lips were. “Family stuff.” You tell her it’s fine and send her out in a second, staring at the bag you started to twitch. 

It felt daunting- a looming presence. You almost got rid of him but couldn’t. It was five minutes of harsh breathing, then you drag it across the hall hoping Peter was home. You needed them gone. 

 May answered the door and you feel slightly flustered. 

“Hi, May. Is Peter home?” 

She welcomes you in the door, skipping over the makeshift laundry bag and giving a quick but squeezing hug. “How are you feeling?” If you had been asked that a week ago you’d fly off the handle, but this week it feels like you can breathe a bit better. 

“I think I’m doing pretty okay. It helped to know he cheated, it makes me miss him sixty percent less. The other forty makes me feel pathetic.” May frowns with empathy, “my college boyfriend cheated. Betrayal and hurt is a weird feeling when mixed with love.” 

You laugh, “yeah, it really is.” May clears her throat, “Peter’s in his room, he may be busy with some homework.” You thank her and move down the hallway, the plastic bag follows, half of you hopes it rips because it’s what he deserves. 

You knock and wait for his response, grunting when you swing the trash bag over the threshold and let it drop. “I have an odd request for a man.” Peter seems surprised to see you for a second, then looks at the bag and back at you. He seems a bit more weary. 

“Uh huh.” 

“I’m getting rid of his things and Nat had to dip, wanna come with?” You follow up with a wince, “I’m sorry, this is super weird and out of place.”

Peter shrugs, “if it helps, it helps. And if you’re serious, I’ll go with you.” You take a deep breath, healing and growing isn’t always comfortable. “Fuck it, let’s donate some shit.” 

You feel like you stand straighter walking out with Peter behind you, he’s carrying the dead weight and you feel accomplished. May has a raised eyebrow, you hold out your hand and settle her curiosity. 

“Don’t worry, justice is about to be served.” 

May grins at her nephew's soft smile, she’s seen and heard about you more in the last two weeks than she has in the last nine years. “It’s sounding a lot more like twenty percent.” 

The moment things started turning south was at the donation center. You weren’t even standing super close to Peter, or radiating an aura that even suggested he was anything more than a conveniently close acquaintance. But the volunteer at the front thought differently. 

“Aw, I wish more young couples came in, it always seems to brighten up the place!” 

You feel like a force of wind caught you breathless, every inch of you froze on the spot. When she says couple you think of him, but you’re not a couple anymore. When she says ‘couple’ you feel your heart encapsulate with rubble, the idea of him makes you feel sick. 

You don’t think you could ever love again. 

Especially not with Peter, not even when he shies away with pink cheeks and tries to shrug her comment off. It’s not worth the awkwardness of announcing you’re not a couple, you both know you’re not, and she doesn’t really care if you were or not. 

“We were just in the mood to donate today,” he plays it off well. You chew on your lip and watch him fill out the donation slip, it’s second nature for Peter to take care of you, it was something he mostly failed at. 

Before the attendant can take the bag, Peter stops her by hovering his hand over it, he turns his neck and makes eye contact. “Are you sure you want to do this?” 

Your heart pounds, threatening to crack the rock. 

“I’m sure.” Because, you really are. 

Peter smiles, “any last words?” You try to think of something, nothing comes to mind other than a blur of frustration and confusion. Raising your hand you give it the middle finger, Peter’s laughing at your blank face, “c’mon, you know you wanna double it.” You do, so you did. 

It feels freeing, you’re not healed but you don’t have a daunting weight on your shoulders anymore. A satisfied smile spreads, your hands drop for a second before Peter’s high-fiving you. You’re tucked under his arm after saying his thanks to the confused volunteer, bumping your hip against his and caged in his hold you feel safe. Safer than you’ve ever felt. 

A crack in the rocks, your heart thumps wildly when he drags you opposite from where you came. “Let me buy you a hawaiian.” 

Peter is pretty. You could admit it. Never out loud, but you’d admit it silently. He’s on fire tonight, keeping you laughing and talking. He’s a perfect story teller, he has a way of pulling you in. He’s charismatic and throws himself into every role, voices and body movements.

Your chin is resting on your hand while you focus on every word of his, entranced in his excitement. A lamp hanging over your mini booth makes him look a tad yellow, but his eyes shine brighter than all hell, you never knew brown eyes could suck you in for hours. 

For a second your mind blips and you truly can’t remember his eye color. But you know they’re nothing like Peter’s. 

You forget to react, because Peter cut himself off and waved his hand in front of his face. You blink alert, he has a very charming smile, you look at a table of older women. “You good? Felt like you were trying to look into my soul.”

You can’t stop it, it's a knee jerk reaction and the moment you say it you regret it. 

“Your eyes are very pretty.” You won’t stop looking at a slice of mozzarella on a grandma’s plate. Peter hums, nodding his head like he understands, “so you weren’t trying to sacrifice me, you just got lost in my very pretty eyes.”

The crack splinters, a chunk falls off. You meet his eyes, he’s not making fun of you. You sit straighter and reach out to steal a piece of pepperoni from his slice, acting like you’re not blatantly flirting with ease.

“I just haven’t noticed them before I think.” 

Peter’s quiet for a moment, his arms are crossed on the table, fingers tap on his elbows. 

“Well, I’m glad you are now.” It’s a little too much, he’s not allowed to entertain you back, he could hurt you too. 

You clear your throat, “I need to ask you something.” Peter stops tapping, it’s like he’s been waiting on you to say it. “Yeah, anything.” 

You lean forward a little, “did you tell my mom about the party last year?” He looks slightly disappointed that was your question, “nope.” Your eyes narrow, “I’d rather us not start a friendship built on lies.” 

Peter lights up, “friendship?” A displeased expression was shared, “thin ice, Parker.” He seems a bit more determined to tell the truth this time. 

Peter sits up and interlocks his fingers, “I promise I didn’t tell her. Mr. Harrington did. And I know how much you like him and I thought you would stop going to see him if you knew and he’s super old so I just kinda… let you believe it was me.” 

Your heart breaks free, it’s loud and pumping and it’s making you feel alive. A sense of urgency to do something to him makes you itch, you have to pull your hands to your lap. In that second, for whatever reason, all you want is to feel his skin on yours. 

He’d be willing to do anything for you, even at the cost of you hating him. 

“You’re the most selfless person I know and it’s kind of insufferable.” Peter rolls his eyes, “just admit you like me, god.” Your breath stutters, but you move right past it. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, keep talking about the petting zoo.” 

Peter jumps back into character, “alright, so I’m down on-”

For the first time in weeks you slept through the night, until three am. You woke up on your own, a mental alarm had you looking out for him. After you hear the comforting chorus of movement, you hide under your pillow and go back to sleep.

Your world is falling apart. You were on the track to healing, each piece of your heart was slowly mending back together. Until news of Natalie Greene going out of town hits, you collapse to your bed with an arm over your eyes. Facetime carries her into your room.

“Why couldn’t your grandma die next month?” She nods her head, folding a tank top to drop it into her carry on. “So true, she should’ve known you were having a crisis.” You nod, “it’s so hard knowing the world doesn’t revolve around me.” 

The room goes quiet as she moves around and packs. You contemplate telling her, you didn’t want a spectacle and you didn’t even know if or what you wanted from Peter. But damn if you hadn’t been thinking about it for days. You wonder if she’s picked up on the hints, you’d been relying on her less and less. 

“Are you going to hang with Peter while I’m gone?” Your mind flashes to him, the past few nights he’d sent you a few videos that he thought you’d like. And you did, even if he didn’t know you as deeply as he has until recently, he still makes you feel seen. 

He would send you things he found funny. 

Peter sends you things he knows you’d find funny. 

“Maybe. He buys me pizza so he’s cool to have around, I guess.” Natalie Greene snorts, “and I’m sure he makes fun of your pineapple.” It feels like your heart shines, “no, actually. He gets it.” Your eyes flash to the top of the screen, a text from Peter pops up, you waste no time hitting the notification. 

‘Wanna come have some brownie cookies?’ 

You bite your lip, rising from your bed you shuffle into your slippers. “Hey, Nat, I gotta go. I’m really sorry about your grandma.” She rolls her eyes, “she was super old and I didn’t really know her, it’ll be cool to see my cousins though.” 

“Have fun on the trip!” 

A wicked grin, “have fun with Peter.” You don’t even fight her on it, she knew exactly what you were doing. 

Your knuckles tapped on the door, it was opened in seconds. Peter had a glow like you’ve never noticed, he only got more and more pretty. A smile stretched across his face, you love how it always meets his eyes.

“Hi.” 

Your slippers softly scrape the wood floors when you enter, “hi.” Peter gestures you towards the kitchen, and for whatever reason, you reach behind you and tug him along. 

“Okay, okay, so what did she say?” 

Your legs swing on the counter, mumbling between mouthfuls of the dessert fusion you’re fully invested in Peter’s story. He had caught Mrs. Hopkins and the chef that lives on floor two in an argument, and it turns out Mrs. Hopkins was the complex's porch pirate. 

Peter swallows his own bite, “she asked me to back her up! And I was all like, ‘hell no, you stole my aunt’s juicer.’” You gasp, “not May’s juicer.” Peter holds a finger up, ‘nah, I caught her red handed. She was so pissed and on the spot she snapped at me like, ‘it wasn’t a juicer, it was a butter dish.” 

You slap a hand over your mouth, “oh no.” Peter’s eyebrows raise, turning his back to grab a glass of milk. “I wish you could’ve seen the look on her face when she realized she told on herself, it was awesome. She was spewing shit all the way to the elevator.” 

Finishing your treat your tongue feels thick, holding out a hand in a silent request for a swig of his milk. Peter looks between your hand and his glass, he looks weary. 

“Are you sure you wanna drink after me? I figured you’d be scared of my cooties.” You motion for the cup, he passes it over and you wrap your palms around the glass. 

“Oh, you absolutely have boy cooties, they just become non-contagious at puberty.” Peter runs his tongue over his teeth, “I think I forgot that lesson, what else can I expect from puberty?” You laugh on a gulp of milk, “trust me, Parker, puberty hit you like a bus. 

He steps closer, you set the glass down next to you. 

“Is that a good thing?” 

You look over his face, he’s got a defined bone structure but soft features. A boyish charm coats over him, it’s just enough of a hint of innocence you beg he never loses it. It’s a no brainer, he was attractive, your eyes flash to his mouth, it’s a wild instinct and you try your best to shake it off. 

“Yes. I’d say puberty was very kind to you.” Peter takes another step, “how so?” Pretending to think about it, like you weren’t already, you take a second to respond. You don’t notice him taking another step. 

“Well, you have a nice jawline.” Peter tilts his head slightly, “is that all?” You’re not sure what it is, but there’s an undertone and it fills you with excitement. 

“And very nice curls.” 

“I don’t think that has anything to do with puberty.” You suppose he’s right, “you’re taller than me now.” You had an inch on him when you were kids. Peter’s suddenly right in front of you, “especially now.” He has to look down at you while you blink up at him from the counter, “yeah, you’re like a giant.” 

Your mind betrays you, his lips are unnaturally pink, they look like they’re the right amount chapped. “Anything else?” You’re struggling, all you can think about is him but you can’t follow a train of thought. 

“You smell really good,” you take a deep breath when his hands rest on either side of you, he’s caging you in and everything builds with anticipation, you fight the urge to pull him in. “You’re just complimenting me now.” 

You shake your head, “do you know how many teenage boys smell bad?” It’s not your fault, he’s so close his scent has invaded your senses, you wanted to inhale him until you turned blue. 

“One more.” You try to think, he’s making it very hard. It takes a second but you have one, proud to have pulled it from the chamber, a sly grin takes place. 

“You-” Lips on yours, it happened so fast you couldn’t catch up. Mind spinning when you realize Peter Parker was kissing you, you know you should shove him off, but it feels right. It’s over as quick as it started. 

You just got out of a relationship, one that tugged you to one of the lowest points of your life so far. It’s not lost on you when you weren’t the one to pull away, but you’re the first one to comment on it. 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” You weren’t mad, you were warning him, he doesn’t know what lies ahead.

“But I really wanted to.” His eyes keep looking you over, was he expecting you to scream? 

It’s dangerous territory, your voice feather soft when it comes out. “And do you want to again?” Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea.

It felt like the air went still in the room, everything slowly melted into the background until it was only you and him. The quiet hum of the air conditioner faded into silence, the scene music from a movie on the tv in the room behind you diluted to nothing. 

It was just you and Peter, and he was getting closer. It was achingly slow, you know what he’s doing, he’s giving you a chance to escape. Bail before it became too real, but has he thought about the possibility of you leaning closer? 

What are you doing?

His lips hovered over yours, when you closed your eyes he took it as permission. 

You’d always heard of the fireworks, that kisses are like explosions of happiness. And they were, and you loved them, but there were no fireworks. At least with him. 

With Peter, your entire sky brightened. Little prickles of electricity dolly chained up your spine, an explosion of color in your mind. It made you starving and whole in one touch, his body made to fit against yours perfect. 

You wonder if he has the same feeling, you think he does when his hand cups your face, the other one tugs your hip so you fit him better. It’s bold of you, but when you feel that entranced you don’t know how to stop. Your tongue swipes on his bottom lip, it’s very clear he doesn’t know what to do. 

You pull away for air, Peter’s pupils blow wide before looking at the floor. His head feels like it’s spinning, the girl he’s always wanted, wants him right back. Peter feels very aware of his surroundings, how hard his heart is pounding, how you’re holding him to you, how you’re tracing his bottom lip with your thumb, how you’re leaning back in, how he’s holding you into him. 

You take the lead, it’s slow but you build his confidence, he’s a quick learner. 

In minutes you’re nearly laid back on the kitchen counter, you’re about to suggest he takes it to his bedroom, but the thought of breaking away from his kiss keeps you stationary. Peter’s locked to you too, your legs hooked around his waist, keeping him as close as he could get. 

All you can think is Peter, Peter, Peter.

He claims he doesn’t know much, but it feels like he’s intune with your body. Peter matches you perfectly, you never knew a makeout session could bring so much tension. A moan pulls from the back of your throat when his thumb peeks under the cotton of your shirt. 

Peter breaks the kiss, little huffs of air billow from your mouth while he kisses down the side of your neck. When he finds the spot that makes you squirm he nibbles gently, a hand tangled at the back of his hair lets him know he’s doing something right. 

Especially when you arch into his touch as his hand confidently slides under your shirt, digging his fingers into the plush skin over your ribcage. “Fuck, Peter,” it’s breathy and eggs him on, he wants to hear nothing but that for the rest of his life. 

Caught up in the moment neither of you heard the door, or noticed the third person in the room, until shock spewed from their mouth. 

“Oh, wow!” 

Peter rips himself away, his instinct is to hide your face into his chest. You’re grateful, it saves the embarrassment of looking his aunt in the eye after she watched you fold under his hands. Peter’s mind is racing, his only priority was keeping you comfortable.

Fuck, he kisses so sweet. Shut up!  

“Hey, May. Get anything good at the farmers market?” 

Blatant ignorance and casual conversation was the route he took, and it seemed to have worked. Cloth bags hit the counter, you stay hidden, Peter’s hand pressed into the back of your head. He’s sturdy, your head lays perfect on his sternum, it was made for you. No, stop.

“Yes! I got more of that european bread we really liked.” As much as you would like to be ignored, May wouldn’t let you. A pat on your knee sent your arms curling around Peter’s waist, he tried his best to settle the clench of his heart. 

Fits perfect, fits perfect, fits-

“You’d love it, it’s roasted garlic, real pieces too!” 

It may be rude to ignore the owner of a home, but you weren’t looking at her for another ten lightyears. At least you give a muffled response into Peter’s chest, “sounds good.” May giggles a little, you hear the fridge open and rustling. 

“Are you gonna hide from me forever?” 

If Peter could play pretend, so could you. You pushed him away softly, “Peter made brownie cookies.” May raises an eyebrow, directing her attention towards her nephew. “Ever since that first plate of cookies Peter’s been baking like it’s his job.” 

He’s perfect.

“You made the cookies?” Peter had told you May did, you’re sure of it. He nods quickly, “I figured if I told you, you’d think they were poisoned.”

You want his touch, you want him pressed into you again. This has to stop.

It’s dramatic, but you’ll bite. “Smart boy.” Peter has a gleam in his eye, “I really am.” 

May knows when she’s third wheeling, she makes an excuse to move to the living room, Peter nods towards his room. You accept his hand down and look behind you at the door. He was frustratingly magnetic, you wanted to do nothing more than fall into bed and stay forever attached to his lips. 

It was a new rush of feelings, most of them new and almost dangerous. You wanted to explore and learn and take some of Natalie Greene’s advice and grow. But more than wanting, you knew you had to leave. 

You were still healing, and if it hurt this bad with him, where nothing felt like this, you can’t imagine the burn this could leave.

“I should go,” you can’t look him in the eye, he’d suck you back in. You’d never be able to leave, you have to leave.

“Is this because of May? Cause we can leave and..” You shake your head fast and take a step back, he’s too kind, too understanding, too new and thrilling and, and… loving. You don’t deserve him or what he brings, you can’t bear the imagination of what his heartbreak would feel like. 

“No, not May.” There was only one thing that kept you from him before, you were still pulling the same childish tricks. Something about Peter Parker caused you irrational terror. 

“I told you, you shouldn’t have done that.” 

Peter tries to look at you, you take another step back. “You asked if I wanted to do it again.” He can’t use logic, it won’t work here. “That didn’t mean do it again.” 

“You sure? Cause it really seemed like you wanted me to do it again.” You feel choked for air, he’s backing you into a corner. 

“You understood wrong. I need to leave.” Your footsteps paused when Peter called out your name, a timid look over your shoulder made him continue. 

“Don’t do this. I know what you’re doing, and it doesn’t end well for either of us. We’re not eight anymore.” Your game was called, you didn’t want to do this, you don’t want to be mean. Why did he have to make you do this to him? 

“Desperation isn’t a good look on you.” 

Peter crosses his arms over his chest, his tongue swipes over his top teeth before poking out his cheek. “Of course it isn’t.” You’re very aware that he expected this to happen, he expected you to push him away and close the gates. If he did, then he shouldn’t have kissed you. He brought this on himself. 

“Nothing is.” What’s a final blow if only to tie the bow on no future contact? Peter took a deep breath and gives you the escape you were looking for, “I’ll see you later.” You shake your head, “no, you won’t.” 

The hallway is cold and so is your heart. Removing Peter as a potential threat didn’t do much, somehow you think it feels worse than what it would be like to love and then lose him. 

Too bad he wasn’t worth the risk. 

You knew dinner was going to be awkward. You did your best to get out of it but it was deemed impossible, you were about to gouge your eyes out of your head just for a solid excuse. But your mom said that you weren’t allowed to do that. So you didn’t. 

Peter on the other hand, looked like he was having the time of his life. Especially when May shot you a wink across the table when he reached over your plate. You threatened your eye with a fork, your mom gave you a nasty glare. 

“Butter, please?” 

You cross your arms and scoff, “get it yourself, penis.” Your mom gasped out your name, appalled you would say something like that. She told you to look him in the eye and apologize, using his real name. Peter showed no reaction, chewing on a buttered biscuit. 

“I’m sorry for calling you a penis, Peter.” It was the least authentic apology he’s ever heard. 

“Aw, let them be kids, they’re in love.” 

Your knife hits your plate so hard it chips, Peter chokes on his bite, crumbs fall from his mouth as he tries to speak as fast as he can. “No, no, May… no.” 

You feel the walls closing in, the more you run from it, the more it’s announced. You can’t win. It’s brutal silence on your end, you’re shutting down into a shell of a human. 

“Oh? I thought after-” 

Peter has your back. “After we made pizza? It was one time, May. It wasn’t like I planned it, it just happened. We were hanging out and I just really wanted pizza and I didn’t really stop to think if she wanted pizza, I just made it.” 

May plays right along, and asks you directly. “Does that mean you’re not coming over for pizza anymore?” Does that mean you’re not dating my nephew anymore?

Peter already knows the answer, he just wonders if it’s different if his aunt asks. 

“The last pizza I had burned to a crisp in the oven and it tasted really, really bad. And if that was a pizza I thought I loved, I can’t imagine how bad it would’ve been if it was my favorite.” 

Your mother has never seen you so passionate about pizza. May quirks an eyebrow, she looks at Peter while she asks. 

“You don’t trust Peter in the kitchen?” 

You’re doing your best to ignore Peter’s eyes on the side of your face, you’re trying to pretend you’re not being vulnerable. 

“He’s the only person who could burn it all down.” 

May clicks her tongue, she’s more focused on cutting up her dinner. “For what it’s worth, as Peter’s aunt, he’s a great chef. He takes his time in the kitchen, he doesn’t mind waiting for the yeast to bloom. Because when the dough is ready, he’s really gentle at scooping it up and helping it turn into whatever it needs to be.” 

You turn to Peter, he gives a shy smile. “You’re not scared of burning yourself?” 

A shrug, “It’s a precaution you take each time you cook, but from what I’ve learned, burns heal.” 

“Scars don’t.” 

Peter tilts his head, “they fade over time, don’t they?” 

May speaks up, she’s looking right at you. It goes past the depth of high school love, it goes to the deepest mark one could leave on a heart. A lover lost too soon. 

“They do.” 

WEEK FOUR

Peter Parker has been on your mind for four days, (and nights,) straight. Each morning you wake at 3:02 and hear his muffled metronome. You’ve gotten avoiding him down to a T. The first morning you woke up early to watch him leave, then planned a ten minute window in case he was running late one day, and left around that. 

You’ve been successful so far. But there was an underlying tug that wanted to be caught, you wanted him to hold you close to him and tell you that he wasn’t going anywhere and nothing safe is worth the risk. 

Is that why you let yourself be caught by him this morning? 

“Good morning,” it was shot over his shoulder while he locked the door. You grumbled out to him, Peter doesn’t mind you didn’t use words, you were directing expression towards him and that’s enough. “Wanna walk together?” 

The idea sends flutters to the middle of your stomach, a brief image of his hand in yours while your hip bumps against his every so often and you laugh at whatever he tells you takes over your mind. “If you want to walk near me while we go to the same location, that’s on you.” 

Peter’s hot on your heels down the steps, “that’s a total yes.” You ignore him and try to subtly shut the main door on him, it doesn’t work. “How have you been?” Walking faster, you hope he catches the hint. Peter matches pace perfectly- damn him and his puberty bus and his big strides.

“Personally, I have been mourning the loss of my favorite neighbor coming over.” Peter blinks at the side of your face while carrying a grin. “I mean you, by the way. In case you needed that hint.” 

“Got it. Thanks.” You know you need to pick a side, but something in you won’t let you ignore him. 

“Welcome. You know, if you’re free, you’re invited for dinner tonight.” You pout sarcastically, “tell May I’ll miss her presence.” Peter bumps your arm, you feel like dropping to your knees. “She keeps asking about you, I’m running out of excuses.” 

You scoff, “excuse what? You can tell her the truth, penis.” Peter almost loses you when you swerve around a stranger’s shoulder, in one second he’s next to you again. “And what would the truth be?” 

“You pushed yourself onto me,” you stare at Peter in shock when your wrist was grabbed tightly, you came to a stop on the sidewalk with him. He maneuvered to stand in front of you, noticing every inch he had on you; it seemed like his playful mood vanished. 

“Hey, I was just messing with you, okay? I thought you just didn’t want to talk about it, but pushing myself on you is the last thing I want you to think I did. If I made you uncomfortable, I’m really sorry.” 

Your features softened, your words sent him into a shame spiral. It was annoying how upset he looked with himself, even if you had to swear him off forever, you didn’t want him to think he sexually harassed you.

“I was kidding, Peter. I don’t think you pushed yourself onto me, you gave me the option to back out and I pulled you in. I’d just rather never speak or think about it ever again.” 

A weary smile, “that bad, huh?” You pulled your coat tighter around your chest, the cold making the tip of your nose numb. “Quite the opposite, really.” Before you could fall into temptation and kiss him in the middle of the city, you pulled away to keep heading towards school. 

“Can I ask what that means?” You nod, “sure.” You offer up no more explanation. 

“Well?” You look at him for a second, “oh, sorry. You can ask all you want, doesn’t mean I’ll tell you.” 

“You’re gonna inflate my ego, you’re telling me it was so good you can’t put it into words.” 

You give him a side eye, “I wasn’t aware there would be so much talking when I allowed you to walk next to me.” 

“That’s not denial…” His cadence was sing-songy. 

“You’re in denial.” 

Peter shook his head confidently, “I’m not in denial, I am very okay with the fact I like you.” 

You came to a halt. He’s not allowed to feel this way, he doesn’t know what it could bring. Has he not seen what love can do to a person? Has he not watched you crumble into a thousand pieces over and over throughout the weeks? 

And why did his confession turn every piece of rubble into stained glass? 

Peter’s not allowed to like you because reciprocation leads to temptation which bleeds into dating where it comes to a crashing end in heartbreak. 

You tried to put on a serious face, but you know Peter sees the mask. “Don’t.” Pointing a finger at his chest, “don’t say that, don’t think that, and sure as shit don’t act on it.” 

Peter must think you’re joking because he pushes your hand down before lightly laughing. “Don’t act on it? I already did.” Is that what he did? Did he plan that moment? You thought it was a spur of the moment thing, but maybe he’s been planning it for weeks. 

How long has he liked you? 

It doesn’t matter. You’ll be the adult and end it before it can start, he doesn’t know what this can do to a person. You can do it nicely, or at least try. Maybe he’d find it more sincere if it comes from the heart. 

“Peter, have you ever had your heart broken? Like, really broken? Because I wouldn’t put that on my worst enemy. It’s a type of emotional pain that turns physical, I mean, have you ever been so heartbroken you throw up? Have you ever been so sad you don’t eat for days? Have you ever cried so hard you almost fainted? It’s shit, Peter.” 

“But was it worth it?” 

Did he not hear anything you just said? “What does that mean?” 

Peter adjusts the strap of his backpack, “you loved him, right?” You don’t need to give an answer, he already knows it. “Do you regret it? Even with the heartbreak, did that undo all the good that came out of it all?” 

You lick your bottom lip, it’s been a circulating thought. Love opened up doors you didn’t know were closed, in the end it was a beautiful tragedy. But that’s the worst part, with Peter you don’t know what it would feel like. You’ve only had a glimpse and it tells you that it’s something that’s going to change you forever. 

If Peter leaves, if Peter cheats, it’ll kill you, it’d be nothing like when he did it and you can’t take the gamble. 

It was worth it with him, he made you grow. With Peter you’d take ten steps back and never be the same. 

“There isn’t always a silver lining, Peter.” You refuse to answer. 

“So, what, you’re never going to fall in love again?” Peter’s matching your pace again, you can’t wait until you’re in the four safe walls of Midtown. 

“No, I just can’t fall in love with you.” 

“Can’t is a funny word choice.” 

“Won’t.” You exhale sharply, “I won’t fall in love with you.” 

Peter has no interest in your claim, “it’d be easier if you just said you didn’t like me, but you’re not.” 

You don’t have to answer, you can choose to ignore him entirely and you’ll be doing just that. 

“I don’t like this conversation anymore and I’m ending it.” It works, only for twenty seconds, but it worked until Peter thinks he has a brilliant idea. 

“Break up with me.” 

Your steps slow, his did the same. Peter’s hands were tucked in his jacket pockets, the urge to kiss him breathless unmeasurable. You fight past it, “huh?” 

“You said I don’t know real heartache, so I want you to break up with me. Right here.” He’s entirely way too amused for you, even the idea makes you feel sick. 

“I’m not going to break up with you, Peter. I can’t get another tardy slip.” You keep walking, Peter hopped to keep up. “Ten seconds, just end it.” 

“No.” 

“C’mon, it’ll be easy. Dump me and break my heart.” 

“We’re not dating. I can’t dump you, even if I wanted to.” What happened to ending the conversation? 

You hear the smirk when he speaks. “If.”

“I’m not playing your word games, Peter.” Because you’re not. 

A laugh, “then break up with me.” 

You thought he was supposed to be smart. How has he not gotten any of this, does he think it’s a joke, does he think you’re playing? Peter has no idea what this means, but you do. 

Tugging at his elbow, you stop him in his tracks. Staring into his eyes and daring yourself not to get lost, you try to make things extremely clear. “I can’t break up with you, Peter. I barely made it through him. I wouldn’t know how to handle losing you. You’d hurt me too bad and I can’t take that risk.” 

Peter’s voice is soft when he answers, you want to close your eyes and have it carry you to heaven. “I can’t break up with you either. You’d be able to hurt me just as bad.” It takes you from your trance, “you would. Because I’m a bad girlfriend. If I wasn’t he wouldn’t have replaced me before he could end it.” 

Peter’s eyebrows pull together, you stuff your hands into your coat pockets to keep from smoothing them out. “Hey, woah, let’s pause there. You did nothing wrong. Even if you were a bad girlfriend, and trust me, you weren’t, that would never justify him doing that to you. Nothing could.” 

It’s nice of him, but he doesn’t know that. “We didn’t talk, you don’t know I wasn’t a bad girlfriend.” Peter scoffs, like the idea of you calling yourself a bad girlfriend offends him personally. “He made you cry all the time,” the words followed by your name. “Bad girlfriends don’t cry, bad boyfriends make their good girlfriends cry.” 

Peter heard you. Every time you cried, every time you felt unloved, every time you sobbed out an ‘I’m sorry’ for something you didn’t know you did. He listened, Peter listened like you did each night. How did you never notice the universal gimmick?

If you think back, most of the bad moments were at the hands of him. And for Peter to notice when you were worlds away from his person, makes your heart wrench inside your chest. You know you already drew the line and there’s no crossing it, but it’s nice living in a moment make believe. 

“You’d never be able to call me babe.” It was a shitty pet name. You never liked it. 

You get flashed with a toothy grin. “That’s okay, I have a million to choose from.” 

Or the obvious hang up, “May would totally hate me too, she knows I’ll take your virginity.” Peter waves you off, “we don’t know that.” You quirk an eyebrow, “we don’t?” Peter corrects himself, “she doesn’t have to know that.” 

You chuckle from the back of your throat. “But she will. You wouldn’t be able to hide it. I definitely wouldn’t be able to hide it.” Peter looks down for a second, you follow his gaze, you wonder if you’re both zoned in on a black skid on the side of his shoe. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I don’t know. It’s like, you just get a lot more… touchy, I guess. Nothing’s off limits anymore.” 

A monotone reply, “yeah, that sounds like a total nightmare.” 

It gets too real. Make believe time is over, now you have to be an adult and stick to your guns. 

“It wouldn’t work between us, Peter.”

You feel sad, there’s no good answer and both of you would be left with a bruise. He wanted more than you’d let yourself give and you wanted more than you’d let yourself have. Peter was right, you could hurt him just as bad, and you’d never forgive yourself. 

Peter made himself a constant, someone you could really rely on the last few weeks, and if you lose that you don’t know how you’d ever be okay again. 

“If you think so.” His kind smile doesn’t meet his eyes. It’s a quiet journey the rest of the way, both of you receiving a tardy slip and parting ways in the hall without a word or glance.

Peter Parker had gotten his wish. You just broke his heart. 

This was all Natalie Greene’s fault. If she wasn’t stuck states away at a funeral she would’ve held you accountable and used every means necessary to stop you from going to Peter’s. 

It could also be Peter’s fault. He should’ve never kissed you like he did, he should’ve never made your heart beat with purpose and left a sear where he touched. Doesn’t he know you could never forget it? 

It also didn’t help that you were drunk. Not drunk enough to be slamming into walls and slurring words, but enough to stop that part in your brain to hold you back from the things you truly wanted. Like your neighbor. 

It had been three days of nothing and that wasn’t Peter’s choice. He respected your decisions too much. If you didn’t want him in your life, he wouldn’t be. Doesn’t he know that just makes you want him more? 

Peter wasn’t at the party, you didn’t expect him to be, but you were a little hopeful he’d surprise you and show up. He didn’t. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t on your mind with each shot you took, or when you stopped for pizza with a group of friends, when everyone teased you for pineapple but you knew Peter wouldn’t. 

You grabbed him a slice of pepperoni without thinking. Or maybe you were. It was an excuse to talk to him, to see him, to touch him. You could take it home and reheat it in the morning, or you could lean into your excuse of a few too many and knock on his door. 

It’s Peter’s fault. He really shouldn’t have kissed you like that, he doesn’t understand his power. 

Harsh banging. It’s over your head how late it is, you have important things to do. Like, lay over his body in his bed like you kiss down his neck, or squirm with harsh whimpers when he kisses down yours. You bet he likes to cuddle too, he never did, but Peter seems like he couldn’t get enough of you. 

If you couldn’t date Peter you could use him as a rebound, right?

Faster knocking, why isn’t he answering? At your loudest, the door opens. He was sleeping, you could tell by the puffy eyes but you didn’t look at his face too long, no, Peter was in nothing but a pair of boxers. 

When the fuck did he get so toned? You would’ve reached out for a light graze, but he stopped you. 

“You’re so lucky May’s on overnight duty.” No, you’re lucky because he’s half naked and sleepy, you’ve never seen anyone so tempting. It feels like you’re dying and only he could save you. 

You can’t help it, your palm connects with his chest, it’s there longer than a second. It’s less about pushing him aside and more about touching him, and he knows that. Peter talks at a normal volume for the hour, “what are you doing here?” 

Your thumb traces his collarbones, “I brought you pizza.” Your breath skips when he turns his head to the side to check the time on the microwave in the kitchen, his jawline ultra toned. 

“At one in the morning?” Peter’s amused, you don’t think he would’ve ever been so kind if you disrupted his sleep. You nod, “I was thinking of you.” You raise the small box, just as proof as you really did get him a slice. 

Peter takes it with a smile. “Thanks, kid.” You don’t know why, but you really like that one. 

“Can I come in?” If he thought all you wanted was to share a midnight snack, he was terribly mistaken. The door widened in response, you made sure to brush against his side, he said nothing.  

Following him into the kitchen, you have a flashback. It’s one you want to reenact, maybe if you sit in the same spot he’ll catch the drift. A blue wave of light washes over him when his snack is stored for morning, he looks angelic. 

You don’t think you’ve ever been this fascinated with him. 

“Now I understand all the song references about refrigerator lights.” Peter looks over his shoulder, his grin makes you feel like you’re flying. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He emerges with two water bottles, cracking the lid on yours and passing it over. His rests on the counter. He doesn’t need water but you do and he’s not about to make you feel singled out. 

You think it might be too late. You think you might already be falling. 

“I don’t know, but I just get it.” He’s letting you do all the talking, it’s odd, you’re not used to being listened to. If Peter realizes what you’re doing, he says nothing. Maybe you just have to point it out. 

You gesture to yourself, the real reason you came over finally announced. 

“Do you see where I’m sitting?” 

Peter nods, “I do.” 

Your fingers tap on the countertop, “remember the last time I sat here?” Peter breathes deep, you wonder if he’s thinking about it right now. “I do.” 

You wait. He makes no move. Where’s your kiss?

“Well? Are you gonna do it again?” You pucker for good measure, just in case there was an inkling of uncertainty on his end. You’re making it clear what you want. A faulty smile, you don’t like it one bit. 

“No,” at least he sounds sorry about it. But he likes you, he told you himself, why would he deny you? Doesn’t he know how much you need this? 

“Why not? If you think this is a trick, it’s not. If you want, I’ll kiss you first.” You jump down but you’re held back by a hand, he’s literally pushing you away. It’s a feeling that causes a tug, you really don’t like it. 

“You’re drunk,” Peter follows the statement with your name, he’s not mean but he’s also not going to change his mind. 

You scoff, buzzed would be more accurate. “I’m not drunk.”

“Drunk enough you’re allowing yourself to have this conversation.” 

He has a very fair point. 

“Liquid courage, kiss me?” Peter shakes his head, “you made it clear nothing would happen, so nothing is going to happen.” 

You grin, “consider it practice then.” Your words make him frown, “you don’t want this.” Who is he to tell you what you do or don’t want? 

“How do you know I don’t want this?” 

“Because this isn’t you.” 

You feel a tightness in your chest, he doesn’t get to think he knows you more than you do. “You don’t know me, Peter. You just have an idea of me.” 

“You’re hurt and confused. I won’t take advantage of that, being mad at me won’t make me change my mind.” 

Where was his care coming from? He didn’t care about you this much and neither should Peter. It wasn’t normal, was it? But it’s also not fair to compare Peter to him at every chance, especially because Peter only ever seems to outshine. 

“Why didn't you act like this a year ago?” If he truly cares, where was it before?

“You mean when you had a boyfriend?” 

Is that why he waited until now to be a friend? Did he think you’d be sad and have weak defense, making it easy for him to get first in line? “Is that what it is? You waited until I was dumped to put on this act and lay it on me while I’m all confused? How long have you had this planned out?” 

Your words are like daggers, the things you’re alluding to, he would never do them. Ever. 

“Don’t. I’ve always liked you but you had a boyfriend and the last thing on my mind was trying to get with you when it ended. You were so miserable, I just wanted to be a friend or something, but it changed and maybe a little piece of it was me being selfish. I made the first move, several times. I kissed you, I asked you out, I told you I liked you. And you said no. I respect your no, why don’t you?” 

You could tell him the truth, tell him that he was right and his love terrified you because you haven’t felt something so raw before in your entire life. Peter wasn’t yours, or anywhere close to it. It shouldn’t be natural to feel magnetized to him. 

You could tell him the truth, but you’re better at hiding behind false walls. 

“I liked you better when you didn’t care about me.” 

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” 

He knows you’re lying but he won’t make you admit it, no, he’ll push you into your corner of lies until you force your way out with the truth. Peter Parker will not chase you. 

Would it be wrong to push him so far away he wouldn’t let you chase him too? 

“You have a superiority complex. That’s why you can’t find a girlfriend, or any friend really. You think you’re better than everyone else and it’s a natural repellent.” You back up towards the door, you spit words as they come to your mind. 

“I was willing to do it. I was willing to give you a shot but you ruined it for yourself. You’re going to look back on this moment and regret it.” 

Peter really doesn’t care for your dramatics. It’s impressive he can one, handle it and two, make you check yourself. “Regret not taking advantage of a drunk girl? Is that what you’re insinuating?” 

“No! I just meant that… I don’t know what I mean, Peter! I don’t know anything and you’re not helping in the slightest and everything about you makes me want to fucking cry or scream or, or… I don’t know.” Your voice trails, it’s the most honest you’ve been in weeks. 

“I don’t know anything anymore, Peter.” 

Everything you’ve ever thought about love has been wrong.

He made you feel flightless. But Peter, Peter made you feel free. Peter made you feel like you were flying at full speed, like the wind washes over your cheeks so harshly you’re in a permanent grin. You’ve never seen the world from this high up, in this much color, it’s never been so beautiful. 

The flight is amazing, thinking about stopping it hurts you. How would it feel to be on the ground again, to walk around, to be without wings and treetops and colors and wind? How would it feel to be without Peter? 

Would it feel like an agonizing death? 

Would your wings ever be patchable again? 

Questions that make you realize the closer you get to him, the harder you’ll hit the ground. You’re okay with falling, you’re able to brace yourself the best way you can. But will Peter be there to catch your landing? 

It looks like he’s trying to stop himself from hugging you, it’s a good thing he is. He might be thinking you’d yell or push him away, you think you’d just cry. 

Peter looks tired, and more than just because you woke him up. You wonder if it’s because he’s up late every other night, you want to ask him about the routine and why he broke it tonight. You won’t. 

Your back hits the door, there was only one thing you were sure of, it had been a chain reaction since. This was Peter’s fault, he’s the one that kissed you. He started it. 

“You shouldn't have kissed me, you really, really shouldn’t have. You’ve fucked this all up, penis.” 

Peter’s tired of the blame. “You came here,” he ends it with your name, like he’s pleading. 

It’s annoying, at least you tell yourself it is. If you can replace feelings with antonyms you’ll trick your brain and you’ll be right on track to hating him again and only seeing him as a void object. 

You open the door, it’s the last time you’ll allow yourself to look at his face.

It’s Peter’s fault. 

“Because you made me want to.” 

WEEK FIVE. 

It’s way too early for the hysteric buzz of a mosquito in your ear, yet, it still sings to you while you’re locking your front door.

“Good morning.” 

You nod your head, “penis.” 

And just like that, the mosquito’s squashed. 

You yawn so harshly that you rub at your jaw. You’re unable to sleep and miserable. You’ve tried everything under the moon and stars, nothing worked. Staring up at the ceiling you tried to count sheep but they kept turning into the tiny freckles that dotted over Peter’s cheeks. 

It wasn’t fair to keep thinking about him, you’re doing your part. You cut him out and you decided to hate him. You’re just finding out that that’s not how it works. 

3:02, you hear his window. 

3:04, your eyes finally get heavy. 

3:07, you’re dozing off. 

3:10, you’re asleep. 

It wasn’t fair. 

Three nights later, It’s 3:02 in the morning and a window slams shut. This time, it isn’t your neighbors. This time, it was your own. You should be scared, but you don’t feel threatened, you’re curious. You pull your head from under your pillow. 

Spider-Man is at the foot of your bed, his shoulder hits the window frame when he pulls his mask off. He’s racing for air, he looks beat up, a gash crossed over his chest. 

If you didn’t have as much distain as you did, you’d be slightly shocked. 

“If you get blood on my carpet, I will fucking kill you.” 

Peter must be dizzy, because he’s imagining you in his room.

"Seriously, if you get blood on my carpet I'll have you come over tomorrow and scrub it out with your toothbrush."

Peter tries to swallow, it's hard to do. His head feels like a brick, his hands won't stop shaking.

“Hey, pesky pete, I mean it. Get the fuck outta here.”

When he holds his eyes close, then opens them, he still sees you there. Peter looks down at his hands, turning them back and forth. They go in and out of focus, it’s dizzying, at one point he has five hands. 

He says your name questioningly, it’s hard to get words off his tongue, his brain is moving too slow. “Yup, that’s me. Now get out.” Peter touches his chest, it’s beet red. His shoulder is killing him, he stumbles and slams into the wall- now you’re sitting up in bed. 

“Peter, are you okay?” It’s pure worry, the act is dropped for a second, he’s not normal. He’s not answering, you think he’s trying but he can’t bring himself to speak, he’s lagging in real time. One foot hits the floor, the rest of you perched in your bed keeping an eye on his frame.

“Peter.” You need his focus on you.

He presses his hand to his wound, a last ditch effort to protect your carpet. Then, he hits the floor. You jump up, “Peter? Peter, are you okay? Peter,” he’s passed out and tore up to shreds. Every bit of you wants to scoop him into your lap and hold him tight, but instead, you get to work. 

Peter flies up from the bed gasping for air, his face is cold and wet. The source is your twisted grin above him, a water glass held tightly. 

“Oh, good. You’re up.”

Peter pats his chest, a blur of last night follows. He sits up in a haste, a tug in his side makes him cradle it, you both wince at the same time. 

“Yeah, I tried doing the best I could, but I wasn’t sure if there was something under that.. Or how to take it off. You probably have significant damage.” 

“Thanks.” His mouth is dry and his voice crackly, it sends a zing up your spine. Peter’s never felt so weak after a rough night, his head is pounding and he can feel the crunch of dried blood under his suit. 

“Can I get some of that or are you still punishing me?” The only reason you give him the rest of the glass is because you like Spider-Man. He has a job to do, Peter on the other hand, could die of thirst. 

“You passed out on me last night.” 

Peter chugs the glass, you almost think about getting him another. “I did.” 

You nod, “I had to lug you up here, you’re extremely heavy when you’re dead weight.” He almost smiles at the imagery, instead he glances down and realizes you did your best attempt at working on the gashes over his chest and arms through the spandex. 

Even as he was passed out and rendered useless. You must not hate him as much as you say. It's still nice to know he's not getting special treatment because of who he is, not even Spider-Man could make you like Peter.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have excellent bedside manner?” 

“Oh no, anything I could do to make it worse?” 

“I think another water and some advil might kill me.” 

“Perfect, coming right up.” 

Peter takes another ten minutes before trying to sit up, “I should go home and shower.” Your hand gently pushes his shoulder back down, “easy, tiger. May isn’t home and you’re not about to turn your shower into a personal slip and slide.” 

Before you could regret the words, “if you want a shower, you’re doing it here.” He paused under your touch, scared you made the wrong impression, your eyes widened. “Not with me or anything, I just meant so you’d have someone around.” 

Peter doesn’t care how it has to get done, he wants the suit and dried blood off him. He nods his head and sits up a little slower before tugging at his neckline. You look away for a minute, unsure where to settle your eyes. 

“Help me get my arm out?” Your hands pull at the suit, his arm escapes, it’s covered in small knicks. It’s a subconscious move, you gently tap the cuts with your thumb. Peering into his eyes you hold a frown. 

“Does it hurt?” 

Peter feels like you might kiss his marks. “Not really, it’s mostly my side.” 

You rub his chest, “you got a gash right here.” It’s over his heart. 

“Guess we’re twinsies now.” 

If he wasn’t in pain, you’d slap his arm for the comment. Instead, you watch him carefully remove the red and blue until he’s left in his boxers. You do your best to keep your eyes on his face, Peter looks amused. 

“You’re trying really hard not to look at me.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Parker.” You offer a hand to pull him up, he accepts. A slow stand, his back’s more defined than his front, you almost bite your fist. Peter has the same shower as you, but you still explain how to use it. And allow him to use your products. 

“Got it.” The tap is turned on, the water hits against the ceramic. You make no effort to move, instead watching for a moment. Peter’s fingers pull at the waistline of his briefs, your eyes dart right to them. 

“You know, this is the part where most people leave.” It’s teasing. 

“I just wanted to make sure you got in okay, it’s a high step.” It’s a quarter of the truth. 

“I’ll be alright, I’ve been doing this alone for a few years.” Peter says it like it’s an inside joke, but it just makes you feel sad. He’s never had someone to be there for him, or patch up his wounds, or make sure he’s okay to shower. You wonder how many times he’s passed out on his bedroom floor with no one to drag him to bed. 

“You okay?” A hand on your skin wakes you back up, clearing your mind of Peter. 

You nod, it was a flash of empathy. You couldn’t imagine what it’s like for him. 

“I’m just sorry you’ve had to do it all alone. It doesn’t seem fair, Spider-Man does nothing but take care of other people. He should have someone to take care of him for a change.” 

It may sound like you’re insinuating, especially the way he looks at you when he responds. 

“Yeah. That’d be nice.” 

Seconds tick, it’s getting a little weird, mostly because you want to tackle him into the shower and race your mouth over every inch of skin. You clear your throat, “you want me to get you anything from your place?”

“Sure. Go shopping for me.” 

You use the copied key May left for you several years ago when you tended to some plants while her and Peter went on vacation, and it feels weird being in their home alone. It’s too quiet, the Parker’s are expressive in everything they do, when they're not around everything lacks passion. 

Peter’s bedroom is almost the same as it was the last time you were in it, the same furniture but moved around. His posters looked updated and there’s a few extra awards he’s tucked away, you frown, he should be proud of his achievements and hang them high. 

A new picture of him and May from last year, you ignore the part of your brain that says he has very kissable cheeks. His closet is clean and he’s made it easy for you to search around, each drawer is dedicated to a different clothing and everything that should be hung up, is. 

It’s something you hadn’t considered, but a man taking care of his laundry creates an entire new standard. 

Peter handed over the control when you said to get what you wanted, that means you can dress him how you please. And wouldn’t he look yummy in sweatpants and a white shirt? You don’t see how he couldn’t, it’s the male version of a sundress. 

Arms full of cotton, you tap at the bathroom door with your foot. You shout over the water, “I have your clothes.” It’s muffled but you hear him and gently push the door open, a faint outline on the shower curtain suddenly makes you shy. 

“They’re right here,” patting the clothes for good measure. Peter shoots out a ‘thanks!’ and you slowly back out until you’re sitting patiently on your bed, listening closely when the tap turns off. If he goes falling, you’re busting the door down. 

No struggles, at least not until he emerges. Peter’s fine, but you’re speechless and choked. There was no one you punished but yourself with the outfit, the t-shirt is tight on his arms and the sweatpants hug his hips just right. 

“I feel human again, thanks, kid.” You turn on manual breathing mode and distantly nod, his biceps are stretching the cotton, you lick your lips subconsciously. “No problem.” You watch a water droplet fall from his hair to his shoulder, your eyes stay hooked in place, his arms flexed when he dried it with the towel you lended him. 

“Where should I put this?” You point to your hamper, if he put it anywhere else you’d be half tempted to sniff it. “Did you tell May I was here?” You nod and finally find strength to talk to him, “yeah. I sent her a text last night, I wasn’t sure of her Spider-Man knowledge so it was a little cryptic.” You take a breath and choose honesty, no doubt he’d get a third degree. 

“I think she interpreted it as us hooking up.” Another breath, “I did not correct her.” 

Peter has a boyish smile spread, it squeezes your chest, you want him in your hold more than anything. “Nice.” You scream and cheer and thank your lucky stars when he sits next to you. He used your products, but he still smells like Peter. You want to stuff your nose into his shirt and breathe him in until you physically can’t. 

“May knows, by the way.” You nod absentmindedly, “anyone else?” “A couple friends.” You almost make a quip like ‘wow, you have friends?’ but you really can’t find it in you to pretend to hate him anymore. Especially when he almost died on your floor and all you wanted to do was tell him that you were sorry and you were mostly in love with him. 

“Can I ask a question?” 

“Shoot.” 

“Do the webs come out of you?” Peter lightly laughs, it’s always the same question off the bat. “No. I make a special web fluid and I have these bracelet kind of things to shoot them out.” 

“Oh. Cool.” You’re hiding the burn in your lower stomach at the thought of him over his desk creating a new form of technology. He’s so fucking smart it’s unfair, he’s too smart for his own good. 

He’s grinning at you, “is it?” You can’t stop staring at his mouth, “yeah.” You’d do anything to kiss him again, the last time you truly felt alive was when his lips were on yours. “Any other questions?” There’s one. But it’s not about Spider-Man. 

“Not really.” Your interest could be explored later, right now, all you needed was him. Peter finds it surprising, “I think you are the least curious person to find out about this.” You shrug, shifting your body more towards him. Peter rejected you last time but if you move like he did when he kissed you, if you move in slow for the kill, you might just get your way. 

“Give me the cliff notes.” Peter starts ticking them off with his fingers, while he’s distracted you move in closer. “Bit by a radioactive spider when I was fifteen. Heightened senses plus a cool sixth sense where I can sense danger. Super strength-” You stop listening right there, your eyes are all over his build, no fucking wonder he’s a contender for worlds fittest man. 

You shuffle in, your knee brushes his thigh, if he notices, he doesn’t say anything. You thank the sweatpants, the material too thick to give you away. “-Oh, and I stopped needing my glasses which is pretty cool. I think that’s pretty much it, but if you want me to expand on anyth…”

 Now or never.

You push up and straddle Peter’s waist, his hands immediately hold your hips. You lean down, his grip tightens. Peter mumbles out your name, you answer with a slow kiss. Your fingers drag through his hair, curls wrap themselves around your fingers, you hold them tight. When Peter licks your bottom lip, when Peter takes control, you need to feel every bit of him. 

Your hands fall down his neck and over his shoulders, then they fall to his arms, your nails lightly drag up the skin. A hum from Peter, your lower stomach clenches, you answer with a roll of your hips, he sighs into your mouth. You drag your palms over his chest, his heart is at the same pace as yours. 

You break the kiss, both of you breathing fast, it doesn’t last. You kiss over his jawline, you can’t hold it in, you can’t fucking stop yourself. “You’re so fucking hot,” wet marks are dotted down his neck. “I wanna take you right here, I wanna make you feel so good.” Another grind, this time, Peter moves with you, it pulls a moan from the back of your throat. The favor returned with a hickey at the bottom of his neck, it sent him falling into your hold. 

You’re kissing anywhere you can reach, “you gotta stop,” it comes out in a puff. “You’re killing me here.” Too bad, not so sad, you’re latched onto his mouth again, this time, you tug at the bottom of his shirt, it takes three times before you realize he’s not catching the hint and you pull it up yourself. 

You study him when it goes flying, his eyes are more pupil than brown, his lips pouty and pulling a red hue. “Lay back,” he does, you lean over him, you’re marking up his collarbones while his hand has a fistful of your hair. Then… the kisses get lower, you're grazing over his chest, delicate brushes across the semi-healed cuts, you must’ve blocked out the advanced healing perk. 

Your hand trails over his side, you soak in the grooves and muscle, your fingers brushing against the waistband of his sweatpants. Peter’s breathing hitches, you keep teasing, then bring your lower body into play. Bumps and grinds have Peter panting in your mouth, you pull back, even as he’s heaving for air, Peter’s trying to follow your kiss. 

Your fingers slip further under the elastic, holding his gaze when you tell him about your intentions. “I wanna suck you off.”

There’s a pause, then he sits up on his elbows. 

“Does this mean you want to be my girlfriend?” Does it? You don’t think so. You just want him, you want his mouth and his hands and his body intertwined with yours. But to fall into him and have him see all your worst parts, to have him hold your heart between his hands and trust he’d take care of it is too much. 

“No.” 

He’s sad. It’s not just something you think, it’s something you know. Your heart tumbles with his face. You want to hug him, you try, but he tossed you off his lap like nothing. 

“May told me to get groceries today, so I should probably head out.” You swallow tightly, you’re not liking how this is sounding. “Are you mad at me?” You feel nothing but shame at his sigh, it’s debilitating when you hear his cutthroat tone. “I’m not a fucking rebound.” But he wanted to be. He wanted this. He wanted you. 

Peter doesn’t use the f word, not ever.

“Whether I’m your girlfriend or sucking your dick, you’d still be a rebound.” Silence rings around the room. Peter’s voice is tight when he answers you. 

“Is that all you think of me? Just a rebound?” 

You don’t know how to be honest with him. You never have. “Would I be wrong?” 

“Very.” It’s clipped. You’ve never heard Peter with an edge and you don’t like it. You really don’t like being on the other side of his frustration. He’s only ever been soft and kind with you, you can’t handle any more change in your life. You need Peter to keep being Peter. 

You were so scared of losing him you went and filled his head up with words of affirmation, used your mouth on him, then turned around and shut him down. If this is only a fraction of how it stings when Peter’s upset you don’t know if you could handle more. You’ve never felt Peter’s cold shoulder before and it hurts.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” It’s bullshit, Peter can sense it too. “You did.” You chew on your bottom lip, “I did, but not like that.” Peter seems taller than normal when he’s standing over you, you can’t look him in the face, it’s nothing but being mortified. You really put your foot in your mouth. 

“Do you even like me or are you just horny?” You can’t allow yourself to answer him. 

“I’m an idiot.” Your face turns in, Peter’s laughing at himself. “I’m such an idiot. I really thought you liked me. I thought you were trying to fight it but no, that was just me daydreaming.” You’re looking up at him but he’s already standing at the door with his shirt on and suit tucked under his arm. 

“You don’t like me. You never did and now I’m trying to make pieces fit where they don’t.” He’s staring right into your eyes, he says it louder, he’s saying it for himself. “I’m not a rebound.” 

“You’ve never been properly loved and it shows.” 

And that’s the most brutal thing he could’ve ever said to you. Your lower lip trembles with the tears pricking at your eyes, he started it and you can’t stop it. 

“I fucking hate you. I hate you so fucking much, Peter.” 

No surprises there. “Yeah, I know.” He sounds just as defeated. 

When he leaves you cry harder for Peter than you ever did him, and that says something. But you’re not listening. 

WEEK SIX.

You finally broke down and told everything to Natalie Greene. She held you in her arms while you cried about losing what you could’ve had. “I’m sure he’ll come around babe, he likes you a lot.” You shake your head, “not anymore. He hasn’t answered any of my texts in three days.” 

You can at least give yourself the benefit of trying to do damage control. He wouldn’t let you. You’d sent a flurry of texts, each one more apologetic than the next, begging him for a chance to see you but he refused. 

You think you broke him. 

“Have you tried talking to him? In person?” You shake your head, he doesn’t want to talk to you. You blew everything up and for the first time you really hate it. Two weeks ago you were begging for this but now you just feel terrible. 

“Nat, this is nothing like what I had with him and I don’t know what that means.” Your friend hugged you close, “it means you love him more than you ever did him.” You swallow hard, you knew the truth but it was different hearing it. 

It doesn’t matter anymore. You ruined it and Peter won’t talk to you anymore. 

“You should’ve seen the look on his face, Nat. He was fucking crushed. It’s like…” You take in a sharp breath, you’ve been beating yourself up over it since he walked out. “It’s like I used him.” Natalie Greene doesn’t bullshit but she’s still soft as ever with her response, it’s purred out while her acrylics scratch your back. “You did.” 

She’s your best friend. She should be on your side. “But I didn’t! I just-”

“Yeah, you did. You knew how he felt about you and you said no so he stopped trying. Then you showed up drunk and threw yourself at him, he said no and you got all butthurt. Then he comes over and somehow passes out on your floor and you offer him a blowjob.” 

Well, when she puts it like that… 

“Of course he’s going to think you flipped your script, you’re the one who kept pushing after you told him no.” Peter’s words echo in your mind, ‘I respect your no, so why don’t you?’ Because you can’t allow yourself to have him, that’s why. But… you already do, don’t you? Or, you did. 

“He’s gonna wreck me, Nat. He already is.” 

“Because you’re fighting it. I get it, babe, I’ve been where you are a dozen times. But you don’t get over heartbreak by hiding from love. I know it’s Peter Parker and he’s been your enemy since you were eight, but no matter how fast you try to run, he’s right there matching your stride.” 

You sniff into her arm, she smells like lavender and it makes you snuggle further. “I think I’ve always liked him.” You could finally admit it. Natalie’s been there for months, years possibly. “I know. You always talk about him.” 

You scrunch your eyebrows, “no I don’t.” Natalie thinks you must’ve said a funny joke because she’s laughing like it. “Yeah you do. Sure, it might have been mean things but if you truly hate someone you don’t notice everything they do.” 

You noticed everything about Peter and made sure to fill Natalie Greene in on the gossip. 

Like when he cut his hair way too short in middle school and his curls disappeared for months. 

When he slipped in mashed potatoes in the cafeteria and fumbled until he could steady himself. 

When his cheeks flamed pink because he forgot to silence his phone during a test and the Game of Thrones theme song blasted through the room as he awkwardly tried to silence the call. 

Then there’s the time he stuttered when giving an answer in biology because Lindsey Snipes was twirling her hair at him. A small tug in your stomach, the answer suddenly clear to why you’ve always hated her too. 

And when he bumped a friend's coke all over his notebook and he just watched with an open mouth while all his hard work was ruined. 

When he stumbled up the steps. 

When he hit his head with his locker.

When he stepped on his glasses. 

When he was tackled in flag football. 

When he tripped over his shoelace. 

When he got glue in his hair. 

When he winced while dissecting a frog. 

When he cracked his phone because he dropped it and a guy on the football team kicked it clear across the cafeteria while he laughed. That one didn’t make you laugh. That one made you so angry you made a point to tell Kristina, said player's girlfriend, so she could give him a well deserved tongue lashing. And not the good kind. 

When he fell asleep at the library and had a red mark on his cheek to prove it. 

When he spit milk everywhere because the one he grabbed was expired. 

When, no matter what, each time you met his eyes he’d send you a smile. And how each time there was something that made you want to give it back. 

“Natalie,” you can hear it in your voice. It’s dangerous. It’s terrifying. 

It’s worth it. 

“I think I’m in love with Peter Parker.” 

Natalie Greene and you had carefully conducted Operation: Get Peter Back. 

Step one: Tell him, (IN PERSON) how you feel. 

Step two: See above. 

There were no other steps. Natalie Greene told you that’s all you could do. 

One day later you knocked at his door before you could lose the small amount of courage you had, it’s soft enough you hope it’s unnoticeable, you could quit and say you tried. Your heartbeat’s in the bottom of your throat, your palms itch as you rub them over your shirt. 

A smidge of relief, no one heard you. You’re about to quietly escape, May doesn’t let you off that easily. She’s surprised when your name comes from her mouth, you wonder how much she knows. “Hi, May. Is Peter home?” She’s got a weak poker face, her eyes dart to the side of the door before she’s smiling sweetly. 

“Sorry, honey. He’s out with some friends.” You know he’s right behind the wood. You speak up, you want to be sure he hears you too. “Can I leave you with a message?” May stands straighter, she wasn’t expecting this. “Of course.” 

“Can you tell him I’m sorry? And that I’ve been way too selfish and mean and a complete and utter fucking bitch to him for no good reason for nine years? Can you tell him that he’s the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this and that I really want to say it to his face?” 

May ignores the colorful language and you’re thankful for it. Her eyes trail to the side again, she smiles softly. “I’ll let him know.” There’s no need, he already knows and you both know it. His answer lies in the fact that he’s allowing May to keep up the charade. You don’t know if Peter is bad at forgiveness or just that you don’t deserve it. 

“Thanks, May.” You watch the door slowly close, when there's just a crack left you stop it with a hand. “He’s… He’s okay, right?” Your heart thumped slowly, you’re reading her face like it’s your job, you need to know he’s okay. 

A tight nod. “He’s okay.” You can breathe a little better. “Good.” 

You stare at his door for another two minutes after it shuts. 

Is this an asshole move? Yes. 

Is this worse than what you’ve already done? Possibly. 

Peter still wasn’t talking to you and you only had one card to pull. He was home, but he wasn’t answering your texts. You think it’s time to fight fire with fire. You’re standing by his apartment door, and loudly talk into your phone. No one’s on the other side, but he doesn’t know that. 

“Hello? Yes, I’m looking for J. Jonah Jameson?” Your eyes twitch to his door, nothing. You speak a little louder. “I understand he’s busy. Well I just… Uh huh, right, I understand, yes ma’am. Is he interested in Spider-Man’s identity?” 

You hear something drop inside his apartment. 

“Yeah, I know who Spider-Man is.” Peter swings the door open, your phone is ripped from your hand. He glares down at the screen, you’re not connected to anyone. “That’s a low move.” You lightly shrug, “did you expect anything more than that?” 

A scoff, “with you? No.” Your lips twitch, you have to fight the frown. You catch his arm when he turns around, there’s no trying, he’s an unstoppable force, you’re moving with him. “I’m sorry! Peter, please! I’m sorry, I am so so sorry and I need you, okay? I need you to not be mad at me.” 

Was that honesty? Were you actually being honest with him? Your shoes squeak when he stops pulling you, you’re looking at him desperately searching his face for emotion. There is none. “You’re not a rebound. Not at all. I should’ve never called you one.” 

There’s a lot you’ve done to Peter you never should’ve done. Maybe it’s time you start owning up to it. 

“I should’ve never said you were a rebound, I shouldn’t have kissed you, I shouldn’t have shown up here drunk, I shouldn’t have kept coming back for more after I told you no. I shouldn’t have ignored you for nine years, I shouldn’t have shut you out when I was eight, I shouldn’t have hurt you.” 

Peter’s not saying anything and you don’t mind. You need to say this, you need him to know. 

“I shouldn’t have hurt you. I meant what I told May. You’re the last person I ever wanted to hurt like this. You’re Peter. You’re nice, you’re warming, you’re always positive and you buy me pizza without making fun of me and you sign off on donation slips and you let me rip your notebooks apart and you bake me things.” 

You blink through your tears. “You were there when I really needed you and you are anything but a fucking rebound to me.” Your chest feels tight, “you’re so good to me, even when I don’t deserve it. I really don’t deserve it now but I really fucking need you, Peter. I know I went on this whole speech thing where Spider-Man needs someone but-” 

“I’m here.” Relief fills you, Peter has you tucked into his chest with his arms around you. “I’m right here, okay?” It’s the selflessness that really gets you. You’ve been nothing but mean and standoffish but Peter’s hugging you because you need it. 

But really, it’s because he knows he was right. You do like him. You like him more than you’re willing to admit to him yet. 

“Can you catch popcorn with your mouth?” 

Peter tosses a piece up and catches it with his eyes closed. You grumble and throw your own at him, he also catches that with his eyes closed. 

“Okay, turn off the powers and try again.” He laughs at you, “it doesn’t work like that.” You huff, “well, make it.” Peter tosses a piece up and dodges it, it satisfies you. “Ha. Loser normy.” 

“Did you just call me a normy?” 

“You’re just a boring normal person, I hate to tell you, but it’s true.” 

There’s been a brief pause in the actual relationship aspect of your friendship. There’s no more kissing, but you’d really like there to be. You think Peter’s starting to sweat you out and you have no issues with it. If he wants you to make the first move, you’ll do it. 

But it’s all in the timing. 

“Did I ever tell you that six weeks ago Nat said she’d do heroin with me?” Popcorn spills on the couch, Peter’s darting his eyes over your arms looking for track marks. “We didn’t do it! She said that if I still felt miserable after six weeks she’d do it with me.” 

“Miserable? What, about the breakup?” 

“Yeah,” you shove a handful of buttery styrofoam into your mouth. For the first time in weeks it doesn’t hurt to talk about. It’s not even a little sore, there’s no bitterness or resentment. There’s nothing there. It’s pure indifference. 

You pushed Peter away because you didn’t want him to be a rebound, you didn’t want to use him to get over someone else. But you haven’t thought of him since… since… you can’t remember the last time you actually thought of him. 

But when you think of Peter your heart races, your palms feel warm, your stomach flutters. His kisses ignite you. You wake up in the morning and think of him, you wake up every night to make sure he’s home and go right back to sleep. You walk with him every morning, you wave and smile at school, you come over everyday. 

You’re in love with Peter and only Peter. 

“I don’t know why I ever thought he was worth that.” 

Peter has the answer, it’s muffled around popcorn. “Cause you loved him.” You pick a piece off Peter’s shirt and crunch down on it. “Yeah, I don’t think I knew what love was. How embarrassing.”  

He smiles. Your eyes catch the screen again, you shuffle more towards Peter, then stop yourself. “Is it weird if we cuddle?” Peter rips the popcorn bowl between you away, he’s never cuddled with a girl before but he’d be an idiot to say no. 

“Weird for who? Weird for me? Weird for us?” Peter doesn’t care about the answer. “Those are rhetorical, just come cuddle me.” It’s all you needed, you press up against him and wait, he’s not moving. Fine with you, you halfway lay on him, head on his chest. You’ve never been this close to him, you’ve kissed him and you’ve made a bold move that backfired, but you’ve never been this soft or domesticated with him. 

Peter’s heart is drumming a little fast, you make no comment. Yours is beating at the same rate. 

You expected Peter to still like you but you haven’t asked. After what happened maybe he decided you’d be better friends. It wasn’t talked out, you both skimmed over what happened and started hanging out like nothing happened. 

But it did and you’re glad. It puts things in perspective. It made you realize how much you like him. You just need to know if it made him feel the opposite. 

“Do you still like me?” 

“I’m sorry, I’ve never cuddled with anyone before so I don’t really know what-” 

“No, I mean do you still like me?” Peter knows what you mean. He doesn’t know how you think he doesn’t. “Of course I do.” You peek up at him, he’s already got eyes on you, it makes your cheeks feel warm. 

“Even after I was shitty to you?” Peter laughs, a hard laugh, you move with his jostles. “Honey, you’ve been giving me shit for nine years, it hasn’t slowed me down one bit.” 

Honey. It has a nice ring to it, you like it. But the one you’ve always liked hasn’t ever been uttered with endearment and you really want it, you want it to come from Peter’s voice and have it wrap around your ears while your heart bubbles up with giddiness. 

“Can you call me sweetheart?” 

“Is that the one you like?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” 

It’s so much sweeter than you imagined. 

You’re not sure what details May knows, but she knows you hurt her nephew. She hasn’t said anything but you can feel her watching your back every time you’re with Peter. Her tone isn’t clipped and she’s just as welcoming as before, but you can feel it. You can sense that she isn’t fully trusting. 

May had stared at you for a good thirty seconds when she caught you spread across Peter’s lap while he studied. You tried to focus on his rubix cube in your hand, even going as far to prove you’re not a threat by giving him a light kiss on his cheek. She didn’t seem convinced, but she left it alone. 

Two days ago she burst into Peter’s room and made it very clear that when you were over the door stays open. Peter tried to fight it, he said that you were just hanging out but she was dead serious, going as far as saying that if he couldn’t handle her rules, he wasn’t allowed to have company. 

Peter didn’t tell you that you were the only person with this rule, but you knew you were. 

“I just don’t get why you’re making such a big deal out of this, May. She’s just-” You weren’t going to be involved, you weren’t going to give May more ammo. 

“Door stays open, Peter. If May says it, we follow it.” Peter doesn’t agree with you, you can tell by the way he nods his head and clicks his pen. When did you start being able to read him? And why do you like it so much? 

But the real hint was when you weren’t welcome to stay for dinner the previous night. There’s never been a time May denied you food, most of the times she’d come over begging you to join so they wouldn’t have so many leftovers. But last night she just suggested you go home and prepare for the next day. 

You watched Peter’s jaw clench in frustration, then you sweetened him up with a smile and told him you were planning on leaving anyway. You don’t think he bought it. You needed to talk to May, you needed to know she was okay with you and Peter, if she wasn’t- no matter how hard it would hurt, you’d stay away from Peter. 

May is all he has and you’re not going to put any strain on their relationship. Not over you. 

Peter was staying late at school for math club and it’s your perfect opportunity. A light knock, May answers almost instantly. She’s surprised but she melts into a smile, it’s lacking something. “Oh! Peter isn’t here.” 

“I know. I wanted to talk to you.” Now you’ve got her interest. May opens the door wide, you go straight to the kitchen for the batch of cookies Peter made you last night. You can taste the love in them. 

“May, I need you to level with me here. Do you have a problem with me dating Peter?” There’s a beat of silence, “are you dating him?” You swallow a bite, “not yet. I needed to make sure it was okay with you.” 

“You’re asking for my blessing?” You slightly nod. “More or less. You’ve been really nice but I feel like there’s a little tension. I feel like you don’t totally trust me with him.” Confirmation, but it doesn’t hurt like you think. 

“Peter’s a sensitive boy. He does everything a hundred and ten percent. If you want him, he’ll give you more than his all. Can you say the same?” Can you? Yes. It’s without a doubt. You want him and only him and you’d lay your life on the line. There’s been so much wasted time, Peter could’ve been your first but you were too stubborn. 

Peter wasn’t your first, but with everything in you he’s going to be your last. 

“Yes. I’m in love with him. I love him more than I ever loved anyone, I love him more than I thought was possible. I want to be there for him, I want to support him through the bad days and I want to be by his side for the good ones. I want him and only him, I was just too dumb to see it before.” 

May’s mouth etches into a smile, this time it reaches her eyes and she’s hugging you. A whisper in your ear, “I always knew this is how it would end.” You grin into her shoulder, “really?” 

“Peter’s nothing but determined. It was only a matter of time.” You know what that means. “Are you giving me your blessing?” She laughs and pulls you closer, “you always had it. I just needed to know you were serious.” 

Time passes quickly, you’re three cookies down and you’re itching for a fourth. You swear he puts crack in them. You talk animatedly with May, you’re fawning over her own love story and hoping that that would be your future with Peter. When the door unlocks you perk up, you can’t bite back your smile or tapping feet. 

“Whatcha doing here? Hi May.” Your arms spread wide, Peter fills them. “I came to talk to May, I stayed to see your handsome face.” How did you once see it as annoying? How did you once find his smile revolting? He’s the prettiest person you’ve ever seen. You want to kiss him more than anything, May gave you the green light, you press up on your toes to give him a peck. 

“I missed you. How was math club? Were you the smartest hunk there? Don’t answer, I already know it’s a yes.” Peter’s still reeling from the kiss but he powers through. “I wouldn’t be too confident about that, sweetheart.” Your heart clenches, him saying it makes your knees feel weak. “Mathew Ryan is in the club with me.” 

“I hate blondes. I only like cuties with brown, curly hair by the name of Peter Parker.” His eyes squint at you, it makes you feel warm, you hide back in his chest. May’s watching with heart eyes, she’s never seen you so happy. “You’re laying it on thick today. You must need something.” 

“Just you, handsome.” Okay, you might be laying it on a little thick, but you can’t hold it in. You just love him too much, it’s uncontainable. He’s perfect. “May, she’s up to something. I don’t trust it.” His aunt keeps grinning. “I do.” 

Peter pats your back, “if you trust it, I guess I have to, too.” You squeeze him tight and mumble into his chest, he still hears you. “What, now?” You asked if you could talk to him, it had him looking down and giving you his full attention. 

“What’s up?” Your eyes shoot to his door, message received. Peter leaves a small gap in the door, you pause and poke your head out to his aunt. “Can I shut the door?” A three second count, “permission granted.” It clicks shut, you spin, you have all his attention. 

“You said I was never properly loved.” 

Peter feels his heart drop, it was the nastiest thing he could ever say to you. Part of him wished you had forgotten but that’s not something that’s forgettable, that’s something that sticks with you forever. He never meant to say it, it was something he spewed out to make you feel just as bad but that’s not who he is and that’s not what he does and he really should’ve apologized way before now. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. It was a shitty thing to say and I-” 

“You weren’t wrong. I haven’t been properly loved. But I’d like for you to show me how it feels.” 

Your pulse rises with his silence, Peter holds out a steady hand. “Just to be clear, you’re asking me-” 

“If you’d be my boyfriend.” 

You let out a soft groan, you’re spinning in his hold and pushing at his arms. “Peter!” He doesn’t care, your feet lightly dangle, you’re laughing with him. “Nuh uh, you’re not allowed to push me away anymore, I’m your boyfriend.” 

Boyfriend. Peter Parker is your boyfriend. What a rush of feelings, there’s a new one you haven’t felt before. Pride. You’re prideful that Peter’s your boyfriend, you’ve got the greatest person in the world tethered to your hip and he’s going absolutely nowhere. Ever. 

“I’ve been waiting for this day since I was fifteen.” A flurry of kisses over your face, “holy wow, you’re my girlfriend. I can kiss you whenever I want, and I can touch you! Oh, and now I always have someone to eat pizza with. And the science museum! No one ever wants to go to the science museum with me!” 

“Holy wow?” You giggle at a string of kisses to your jawline, you never knew someone would be so excited at the thought of dating you. “Wow, wow, wowie, my girlfriend’s a hottie.” You push him away with a disgusted sound, “that’s so gross, Peter.” 

“Oops, let me repent with a kiss.” 

It’s the fireworks again. This time they’re blinding. Your back burns with his touch, you want to swallow him whole. It’s not lacking passion, but it’s soft. You reach for his shirt collar when he pulls away, this time he laughs. 

“I was going to ask if I was a bad kisser but-” 

“No.” This time you’re keeping him chained to you with your hands behind his neck. “Best kisser ever,” you give him a chaste one to prove it. “My handsome baby.” Your waist is squeezed, “you’re too nice.” He doesn’t understand, he’ll never be able to understand. 

“I wasted so much time, Peter. You were right there and I was so… so stupid that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. I have no idea why you like me, I was so mean and cruel and I never appreciated you.” 

Peter has secrets too. “I was friendly, but I didn’t like you. You were super aggressive and made a point to say something mean… but then Ben died.” The oxygen runs from your lungs, it wasn’t something you thought about, you thought he didn’t either. 

It was brutal watching him and May go through that. You remember that night vividly, the night May got the call. You could hear her screams from your room, it’s something you’ll never forget. Her wails, the way she begged to God that it was all a dream. You knew what happened before you could see them and the one thing you thought of in that moment was Peter. 

You can still remember the panic you felt, the overwhelming urge to make sure he was okay. You remember your feet skidding across the carpet, the cold hardwood in the hall, the way your middle knuckle split you were knocking so hard. 

‘Peter,’ it’s all you had to say. Then you were scooping him into your arms, holding him tight as he sobbed. You kept telling him you were sorry, you brushed his hair back and rubbed circles on his back. You kept him tucked into your neck while he cried, you didn’t tell him it was okay, nothing about that night was okay. You remember holding in your own tears, you swallowed them down and held Peter all night. 

Fourteen hours. You had him curled up with you while you kept telling him sorry, you had stayed up all night with him and took care of him. You got him water, you made him eat a snack, you did what you could while they slept. You did laundry, you did the dishes, you made cookies. 

Peter’s uncle died and you made him cookies. 

Your boyfriend dumped you and Peter made you cookies. 

You basically lived there for a week, you slept with Peter, held him with each bout of sadness, and never ever told him it was okay. You held his hand at the funeral and kissed him on the back of it before he gave his eulogy. You made sure he was minimally functioning, you tried to keep him busy with dumb tasks. 

After two weeks he didn’t need you anymore and you slowly faded away until it settled into how it used to be. You think Peter liked it a little, not everything had to change because Ben died. But you never went out of your way to hurt him anymore, he didn’t need your help in that department. What used to be petty attacks turned into silence and gentle name calling. 

But you were there for him when he needed it. Just how he was with you. 

“You pulled an Uncle Ben on me.” 

A twitch in his lips, “you were there for me when my world ended, I had to return the favor.” It’s not fair for him to compare the two. “I was broken up with, I didn’t have my-” 

“Devastation comes in all forms. It’s not about whos is worse, it’s about being there for someone you care about.” He doesn’t hide his smile, “even if they claim to hate you for all eternity.” 

“I don’t hate you anymore.” 

“Spoiler alert, you never did.” 

You’ve been caught. Peter knew the whole time, he was just waiting on you. “Are you sure you don’t hate me? Cause I’ve been really terrible to you the last month.” Your boyfriend rolls his eyes before giving you a big hug. 

“That’s because you’re stubborn and didn’t want to admit you liked me.” You poke his ribs, “you knew?” 

“Sweetheart, I knew the day you said I had very pretty eyes.” 

“Yeah, you do. Let me see them again, boyfriend.” 

The last six weeks you detested love and what it brings. The disaster, the heartbreak, the pain. You never thought you’d love again and definitely not with the neighbor you hated. But right there, in his room, you felt your heart crack open and ooze onto his bedroom floor. 

And you watched love begin again. 

“Anything for you, girlfriend.” 

----

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#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker angst #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter smut #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #my writing

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR ─── jonathan crane ✧♤

ೃ⁀➷ “Finally, a sin worth hurting for, a fervor, a sweet--you are mine.” — ‘Postcolonial Love Poem’, Natalie Diaz.

pairing. yandere!jonathan crane x reader

summary. a few months ago, you found out about your close friend’s… habit, of “cleaning up” creeps who hung around you. you use this to your advantage, but can you deal with the repercussions when your words backfire?

warnings. swearing, stalking, jonathan being creepy & delusional, manipulative but naive reader, mention of murder, p in v, creampie, breeding kink/forced breeding/babytrapping, unprotected sex, mild somno, oral sex (f), panty kink, forced cockwarming, drugging, heavy dubcon/noncon, SMUT UNDER THE CUT! 

word count. 6.1k

a/n. this is definitely the darkest thing ive ever written. pls read w caution everyone!!! this is also inspired by these headcanons by @babybluebex and this alphabet by @scorpiussage !!

i.

You covered your face with your palms, sniffling. “Maybe I’m just being overdramatic. I was always too nice to him, y’know? Maybe I did lead him on.”

Jonathan’s head snapped to you, swiftly stepping toward the couch and kneeling down in front of you. “No, no, that’s what he wants you to think. You did nothing wrong,” he assured, pulling your hands away from your face and wiping a sneaky, non-existent tear from the corner of your eye. 

You pouted at Jonathan, big doe eyes glistening with grief. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do tomorrow… and everyday after that,” you lamented, “because it’ll be so - upsetting, seeing him.”

Jonathan’s large hands clasped around your own, delicate and warm. “Does it scare you? Him being there?” he murmured softly, peering deeply into you with an indecipherable look.

You nodded pitifully, looking down at his hands wrapped in yours so your hair would fall in front of your face, hopefully shielding the glee sparkling in your eyes. Thank god Jonathan had taken the bait -- it was only a matter of time before your dear, obsessive friend would get rid of your competitor for you. 

It was late evening, and you’d called Jonathan, pretending to rant about a coworker who confessed and got slightly violent at the fact you did not reciprocate his feelings. In truth, none of that had happened at all— said coworker was vying for the same promotion opportunity as you were, and it was just your luck that a few months ago you discovered your sweet friend from college had made it a habit to “clean up” any creeps and freaks hanging around you. 

What kind of ambitious career-woman would you be if you didn’t take advantage of that, huh? So there you were, crying on the phone so devastatingly that Jonathan would have no choice but to come over, comfort you, and later, be your knight in shining armor and kill, kidnap or maim your coworker. 

You didn’t think it immoral to do so, y’know, even though it clearly was. To you, it was just… indulging his little hero-fantasy, while also making your life just that much easier. It made you happy, and it made Jonathan happy. 

It was all harmless (to you, anyway), because you knew how reserved Jonathan was… how logical he was. You were positive he’d never cross that line, go too far; stray out of the shadows with that possibility of losing you still hanging over him like a cloud. 

You wrapped your arms around Jonathan’s thin neck, hugging him tightly. “Thank you for coming tonight,” you murmured, your lips ghosting the shell of his ear. He shuddered under your touch, and you knew you had him whipped; probably already so deep within a plan to kill your coworker nothing could stop him.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said, pulling away and letting his hand come up to the hand-print sized bruises on your shoulder. “I can’t believe that - that monster hurt you.” Jonathan shook his head aghast, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes moved from your bruised shoulder to the strap of your lacy bra, trailing down your breasts before snapping back up to your face.

Your coworker hadn’t actually hurt you, obviously, but you had asked him to knead out a knot in your shoulder at lunch, and made him pinch harder ‘till you knew it would bruise. You’d known him for a couple of years now, coming from the same training batch, and had been involved in plenty of tit-for-tat exchanges, “scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” type of deals. 

So you were close enough to be comfortable massaging the other-- but you’d be fucking damned if he got the promotion and you didn’t. 

“It’s not that bad,” you murmured, ducking your head like you were ashamed. 

“You don’t need to downplay it -- least of all to me,” Jonathan tutted softly, two fingers tilting your chin up to meet his gaze again. 

You pressed your lips into a thin line, brows knitting. “I know, I’m sorry, I just…” you blinked rapidly, as if you were trying to do away with on-coming tears, “I thought you wouldn’t believe me. He said… he said that nobody would believe me.”

And just like that, it was like a shadow had passed over him. Jonathan’s expression contorted almost frighteningly quickly, and gone were the delicate, comforting sweetness of his sharp features; thus came the darkened eyes, clenched jaw, frown digging into his cheeks. 

“…He said that?” Jonathan whispered, voice low, barely containing the rage seeping into his words.

“He said that - he could do… do whatever he wanted to me, and I’d never convince a soul.” You confided, letting your face get weepy, tear tracks running along the curve of your cheeks. 

At that, you suddenly pulled Jonathan close to you, pressing your face to his chest and making anguished cries leave your throat. His hands shakily came up to pet your hair, and you could hear his heartbeat; skipping beats and growing faster the longer you clutched onto him. 

“I believe you,” Jonathan insisted, and went from petting you to holding you so tight you could barely breathe, “I believe you.”

ii.

You never saw your coworker again. He’d sent in a notice of “vacation” that nobody could really object to… considering he also informed your boss he’d already gone, and was sending said notice from his hotel.

Sure, that was incredibly suspicious anywhere else, but that’s the thing— you weren’t “anywhere else”, you were in Gotham. If your coworker had actually gone on a split-second vacation, nobody would blame him; everyone you knew who lived in Gotham had snapped, at least once, and had to get away. Most temporarily, some permanently -- in which, chalking his fate up to Jonathan, your coworker was definitely the latter. 

Honestly, you weren’t very surprised when you found out Jonathan was, for lack of better word, murdering people. Specifically, people he deemed a “threat” to you. 

Jonathan had always been… a touch too overprotective. Territorial, even. It was far subtler in college, but you supposed that was because you’d seen him everyday; with both of you trekking through your hellish career aspirations, you couldn’t see each other as often as you had back in school. It was like that saying-- absence makes the heart grow fonder. 

You’d first met Jonathan in GSU’s large community library, after you dropped a book on his head. You were on one side of the bookshelf, he on the other, and you were trying to grab a book on a too-tall ledge. Instead of getting your measly grip on it, it went backwards and smacked Jonathan right in the rimless frames. It was a meet-cute, sort of, with you apologizing profusely, him brushing your worries off with that irritatingly charming smile of his, and then helping you with any books you needed (a clear advantage of his height) for the rest of the day. 

From there you became close friends. He always knew the right things to say, had various fascinating interests (half of them coinciding with your own), and was always, without fail nor doubt, an absolute darling. He never poked or prodded into information you didn’t want to tell him (at least not yet), constantly staying polite, respectful, eloquent, and patient. 

You knew now why and how your relationship had escalated like so: you suspected he’d been one of those “creeps” hanging around you, long before the library incident in your early college days. You first began adoring him for the most part because it felt like he understood you perfectly, unknowingly adhering to all your creature habits, liking all your hobbies, and knowing every word that could make you let your guard down like you’d been friends for years. It all made sense now-- he’d collected said information just from watching you for so long. 

Thus the “meet cute, sort of”; Jonathan had probably been planning the moment for months. Polite, respectful, eloquent, patient. 

Why you? Well, you didn’t know either. Getting psychological about this, you probably reminded him of a relative he adored - some Freudian aspect coming into play, y’know? But it all boiled down to one constant fact: he was obsessed with you. 

It should’ve scared you, and it probably would’ve, back in college, but it didn’t now. His type was a dime a dozen, incredibly hard to come by; the kind of guy who you know you can trust, rely on, know without a doubt he will never leave. 

Even if you and Jonathan were just friends, you suspected in his sweet, beautiful, sick and twisted mind he’d long since considered you his — and, similarly, since finding out his secret, you began thinking of him as yours. Perhaps not yours romantically, but more like you owned him. He was the ever-present lucky charm in your pocket, the one who reminded you that you’d been loved before so you’ll be loved again, your constant support. 

“How’re you feeling?” Jonathan’s worried voice crackled out of your beat-up phone, startling you back to reality. You were hiding in your car while on break, not keen on talking to any of your coworkers or bosses in the cafeteria, when you’d gotten a call from him. 

“A lot better, actually.” You said, taking a bite of your lunch and trying to sound relieved rather than giddy. “…He went on vacation.”

Jonathan hummed on the other end of the line. You could hear the grin in his tone, but he quickly coughed, smoothing out the cheerful jitters in his voice.  “Really? That’s rather… well-timed.”

You shrugged, as if Jonathan could see you, “Whether it’s about me, or not, I’m just… glad I don’t have to see him.”

“Know that I agree wholeheartedly– the thought of him being near you made my stomach turn.” He let out a sigh, like his nerves were finally relaxing, “How about you come over tonight? I can make us a nice dinner, you can stay over if you want-- I regret leaving you alone last night… you were terrified.”

You bit your lip. When it came to Jonathan actually getting, well, romantic, you hesitated. Did he really want you, or was it his obsession kicking in? You knew he loved who he thought you were: a frail girl he needed to protect, not knowing you’d been using him to your heart's content since you found out his dirty little secret.

You were running out of fingers on your hands to count how many people you’d directed him to… clean up. First it was little targets, like the barista at your usual coffee place who’d flirt and always take too long making your drink, causing several lates at work. More recently it was the landlord of your apartment, who’d raised the rent three times in one month; after she died, the ownership went to her absent-minded son who reset the prices to the original, more-than-comfortable regular rate. 

But… you supposed you could humor him. A reward of some sorts; an unknowing treat to your obedient, sweetheart guard dog. “I’ll stop by, then,” you responded delicately. “I… didn't want you to leave either, Jon,” you murmured, before quickly hanging up. 

Later, after work, you’re driving to Jonathan’s with a bottle of white wine. You did these kinds of things for eachother -- little gifts, you mean -- often. Yesterday, he visited your flat with pastries from a bakery you liked all the way down in Old Gotham. 

“Chardonnay,” Jonathan commented when you arrived, ushering you through the front door with a squeeze to the thigh and gently inspecting the bottle. “You know me so well.” 

“Dare I say the best,” you grinned, pressing a friendly peck to his cheek and handing him your evening coat before traversing into his house’s large kitchen, swiping a finger-dip into the various dishes he had laid out in the middle of cooking.

“At least don’t touch dessert,” he pouted, quickly hanging your coat in his entry closet and trailing behind you. But his expression still cracked into a loving smile when he saw you sneak your pinkie-finger into a chocolate custard. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll be patient,” you backed off with a cheeky smile, arms up in the air and opting to hoist yourself on an empty counter and watch him resume cooking. 

“How thoughtful of you,” he responded sarcastically.

It didn’t take him long at all to finish up, and your eyes were trained on his sinewy figure the whole way through; the careful way he cooked, the absolute attention to every detail. 

Sure, you could say that was because Jonathan was a detail-oriented person (because he was), but you also knew it was because he was nervous, fumbling to impress you-- you noticed these kinds of things a whole lot more after finding out. Like how he gave you his coat when you went out together late at night and it was cold, how he often kept you close with a hand to the small of your back, how intently he listened to your every word, like it was the last thing he’d ever hear. 

“Like what you see?” Jonathan joked when he was done, urging you to sit down across from him and handing you the chardonnay poured in one of his wine glasses. 

“M’just admiring your cooking skills,” you explained sweetly, taking the glass and sipping it mildly. 

Jonathan’s eyes crinkled, lips curling into a sheepish smile. He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to: he radiated delight. You swore you could see pink dusting his high cheekbones, a feverish blush burning from his ears to his pale neck. 

From there, dinner went on with some friendly chatter, his skillful dishes, and several more glasses of chardonnay. Nothing ever got old with Jonathan-- he listened well and he spoke gently and he revered your every word; you felt important just by being near him, he was so devoted. 

By the end of the night, however, you were feeling rather light-headed- veering on the edge of unconsciousness: “I think I’ll - take you up on that offer, Jon…” you murmured, trailing off and getting up from your seat. It was odd, surely, how quickly a mere white wine had gotten you drunk, but then again you’d been housing a nearly-full glass every few minutes. You lost your drink count ages ago. 

Jonathan, ever the gentleman, stopped tidying up immediately. “Good judgment,” he nodded agreeably, coming to your aid and picking you up bridal style. Your head swam at the sudden movement, his feet swiftly heading down the hallway, but his gentle voice quickly aided the dizziness: “Don’t force yourself and don’t worry, just sleep…”

“M’sorry,” you whispered, holding him tightly by the lapel, more words on the tip of your tongue, but he just shushed you, “didn’t help.”

“That’s quite alright, my love,” he replied lowly, entering his bedroom. He pressed an uncharacteristic kiss to your forehead and let you down onto his cushy mattress, watching how quickly your eyes dropped. You were certainly feeling the effects of the glass he laced now-- and then you were out. 

Jonathan needed to have you now, under his protection, and he’d achieve that through any means necessary, be it liquid melatonin or anything else…

“You’ll have plenty of time to help later. You’re home now.”

iii.

“Sorry about… last night,” you said the next morning when you got up, rubbing your eyes sleepily and padding into Jonathan’s kitchen. 

You found him leaning against his marble countertops, gently sipping down a mug of black coffee within his calloused grip, and he raised a brow amusedly. “You said the same thing in your sleep.”

Your gaze darted away from his own at the sudden embarrasssment. “Nonetheless… thanks, Jon. I’ll be out of your hair immediately-- I’m actually rather late for work. I kept a dress here last time, right?”

He set down his mug with a dull clink, and in your rambling, he’d made his way right in front of you. “No need,” he murmured, to which you tilted your head in confusion. 

“I already called in for you. You’re not going to work today.” He explained, a thin smile coming up to his face, eyes gleaming.

You laughed awkwardly, suddenly feeling trapped at the way he took slow steps forward, making you backtrack into the wall. “What are -- Jonathan, what are you talking about?”

“I can’t, in good conscience, let you leave.” Jonathan insisted with a nod, expression knitted in a way you knew he thought he was doing the right thing. 

‘“Let me’ leave? Is- is this a joke? Because it’s… it’s not a funny one,” you stuttered, heart beginning to hammer in your chest at the way he looked down at you. It was like he was watching a wounded animal-- in a way, you felt like it… and Jonathan was clearly your predator. 

“It’s not a joke, dear. Gotham’s gotten too dangerous for you,” he informed you softly, hands coming up to hold your face lovingly. His steps stopped, and you felt it: he’d finally pinned you against the wall, and there was no escape. “That coworker of yours was the last straw. My heart aches at the thought of what he could’ve done to you.”

“I - that wasn’t…” You trailed off, cringing at the way he leaned in further, his hot breath fanning on your cheeks -- how helpless you were against his advances. 

You knew something was going to happen when Jonathan couldn’t just stay on the sidelines anymore, but you didn’t think it’d happen like this. You thought it might end with him professing his love to you, pleading and begging you to indulge him fully. That he’d fume and sob at rejection… that he’d let you go. 

But Jonathan was like a ticking time bomb: with every victim you gave him, moments were ticked off his clock. It seemed that your coworker was the last second… and that he’d had enough of his frail darling being surrounded left and right by threats to take care of. He knew it’d all be so much easier if he could keep you safe in one spot, a place only he could enter.

“That wasn’t what? My god, I knew I couldn’t leave you all alone like that anymore… you’re too sweet, too innocent to know what’s gone too far,” he shook his head pityingly, unaware how hypocritical his words were. 

“Jonathan,” you looked up at him, breath catching at the way his fingers dug into your neck, “what are -- what are you going to do to me?”

He let out a sharp laugh, “Do to you? Oh… no, my love, I won’t be doing anything to you… no, I’ll be keeping you safe.”

“Safe?” you repeated incredulously, “but what about - my life? My friends? My family? My job?”

He shushed you, not unlike he had done just the other night, or the night before that, “You don’t need to worry about any of those trivial things anymore. You have me. I’ll give you anything -- no, everything you want.”

Your lips parted and closed, unable to come up with a response that may cause him to realize the sheer insanity of what he was saying. He’d gone too far… had slipped too deep into the infatuation while you weren’t looking.

Then, Jonathan wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pressing your face into the crook of his neck and immediately invading your nostrils with the scent of his cologne. It had been nice, once, but now it sickened you: how quickly that scent made your head swirl and your stomach clench… how quickly Jonathan had went from a darling pet of yours to a terror of unimaginable size. 

Fuck, you thought, fuck, you’d been playing with fire this whole time-- you had been playing with fire while being naive and underestimating and wholly stupid. 

You’d completely underestimated the depth of his commitment; how Jonathan was the kind of man who loved one and only one, and that there was no letting go with him. That once he had his claws in your skin, there was nothing that could stop him. 

But then, you remembered your thoughts from just two days prior-- you had him whipped. It was like a lightbulb went off; you knew you could use that, use his mindless, adoring obsession to you…

“Jonathan,” you murmured under your breath, too quiet for him to hear as he hummed lovingly above you. “Jonathan,” you repeated, louder this time, pushing him away and startling him.

He blinked rapidly, fixing his glasses that had gone askew in your sudden movement. “What is it, my love?”

“You -- you love me, do you not?” you asked, swallowing the cowardly dryness in your throat.

Jonathan nodded vehemently, inching closer, desperate to have you in his arms again. “Nothing in the world could compete with my love for you. Nothing.”

You exhaled shakily, putting your hands out in a poor way of creating more distance between you two. “I - I love you, too. I love you.”

You saw Jonathan’s face light up at your sudden confession, saw how his demeanor changed from hesitant to beaming. “You love me?”

“Yes, yes, I do,” you insisted, panting as beads of sweat rolled down your back, “and I’m telling you… I won’t anymore, not if you keep me here. If you truly love me, you won’t trap me here.”

“It’s because I love you that I plan to keep you here,” he frowned, before grabbing you by the extended wrist, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you in a deathgrip. 

“But you love me,” he repeated in amazement, pressing rough kisses along the side of your neck that had you whimpering, “so you’ll understand. God, how I’ve longed to hear those words leave your mouth.”

Jonathan had gotten tunnel vision at this point, barely registering your pleas, and when he began pawing at your clothes, apparently in some kind of delusion that your “confession” was a lustful one… you jumped ship. 

He thought your confession meant he had permission to have a taste of you, and while it made your knees buckle and your throat burn, if it meant he might finally fucking listen, let you convince him to let you leave… so fucking be it. 

The two of you then stumbled back down his hallway to the bedroom, tugging at each other’s garments while pressing hungry kisses on one another. You played along dutifully, trailing your hands along his back while tugging off his jacket, and other articles of clothing. 

Entering the bedroom at last, Jonathan gently pushed you down onto the springy bed, having long since undone you-- you were left in your lacy underwear from the night before: black bra, black stockings, lacy thong hidden beneath it. 

You wore thongs because they didn’t leave any panty lines under your thin pencil skirts, but you were quickly regretting the choice when Jonathan crawled onto the bed and roughly tugged down your stockings, surely leaving holes and runs in them, and let out a lecherous groan at the sight. 

“God, I love your body,” he purred, hands hungrily groping your thighs and throwing your ruined stockings off to the side. “Can’t believe how long I waited for this.”

You closed your legs on instinct shyly, but he just as quickly pried your legs apart, leaning in and pressing sweet kisses along the soft flesh. “Jonathan…” you whimpered, trying to act needy, like you wanted him so bad-- in reality, you wanted to get this over with. 

You reckoned if you let him fuck you, get him pussywhipped, you could promise you’d adore him wholeheartedly if he just fucking let you leave his house. You couldn’t deny how his ministrations made you feel, though; his plush lips brushing along your clothed cunt made tingles run up your spine, made your heart beat in a way that was anticipatory rather than terrified. 

“Let me take care of you,” he promised, slipping off your panties and leaving your lips bare. You would’ve hissed at the cold, but the noise died in your throat as you saw Jonathan ball up the lace and press it to his face, inhaling deeply. 

“Fuck, you smell so good,” Jonathan groaned, and you almost gagged. “Wonder how good you’ll taste…” With that, he pressed his face between your legs and began lapping up your wetness, and you felt a gleeful smile tug at his face. 

You gasped at the sudden action, bucking up into him on instinct. Your cheeks burned with shame, but you still choked on an unwarranted mewl when Jonathan’s tongue slipped inside your sticky hole and felt along your velvet walls. 

He couldn’t exactly speak, with his mouth trained artfully on your cunt, but he let out an unintelligible noise of approval. All of this made you nauseous, your insides twisting in disgust, but your body reacted the opposite, pussy pulsing and clenching around him. 

It was just -- fucking criminal how skillful he was with that long tongue of his, licking long stripes up and down, suckling on your clit, searching for the spongy spot in your cunt that he knew he couldn’t find without his cock, but wanted to make you squirm anyway. 

You felt that familiar pressure building within you, his tongue going down on you faster, making shameful squelching noises echo around the room. He was hitting every pressure point, something you hadn’t felt in… well, honestly, you weren’t sure you’d been eaten out like this ever… 

The thought you were enjoying this, that he might actually make you come made you queasy, and your hands tangled through his locks, pulling him away. “Want - want your… your cock,” you panted, shaking your head when he tried to bury himself in your sex again. 

Jonathan frowned, going from all fours to sitting on the backs of his heels. “Baby…” he said, hesitant. You knew he wanted to take his time, worship you, treat you lovingly, but you were getting confused… losing yourself to the pleasure, forgetting you were doing this to stop him from holding you captive, not because you actually wanted it. 

You pouted, and, to prove your point further, you pressed one of your feet onto his extremely noticeable bulge, fondling it softly. He nearly doubled over at the much needed friction to his neglected cock, and then Jonathan finally let go of all his inhibitions, giving into his primal needs. 

He quickly undid his belt buckle and fly, slipping out of his suit trousers. Your heart sank at the reveal of his size; the imprint of his cock looked extremely intimidating, and that was beneath his boxer shorts. 

It seemed your thoughts showed on your face, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, leaving an embarrassing amount of your wetness on the skin. “It’s okay, my love,” he reassured, “your pretty pussy can take me.”

You nodded hesitantly, your teeth capturing your bottom lip and nipping at it nervously as you watched him completely undress… his cock wasn’t very thick, but boy, was it long, coloured a delicate pink hue that was pretty and aching, but you knew he wouldn’t be using it delicately at all. 

The way he looked at you, almost feral, eyes dragging over every curve and practically melting at how your hole gaped for him had you wanting to cover up, run away-- but you held still and forced yourself to brave through it. 

You only need to do this once, you repeat mentally, only once, and you can convince him to let you go. 

Jonathan didn’t waste any time touching himself or anything like that, he merely crawled atop of you and slotted himself between your shuddering lips. “So wet,” he grunted, slowly pushing his cockhead in. 

Despite his words, and the terrifyingly glaring feeling of your wetness, you still winced at the stretch; your back arched at the intrusion, your arms wrapping around his neck and digging your fingernails into his back just from the pain of his tip at your entrance. 

He slid the rest of the way in jiltedly, and you let out a pained gasp, then a helpless whimper, and finally, his name, your voice weak and raspy as he laid his weight on your torso, panting at how you soaked him. His unruly length was going deeper than you thought possible, and your mind went fuzzy with fear at how it’d feel when he actually started thrusting in and out. You could only pray he didn’t break you. 

“You did it, dear,” Jonathan announced proudly, pressing a kiss to your lips this time. You shuddered at the intimate gesture, but he didn’t seem to notice, and slowly pulled out, before slamming back in. 

You swore you saw stars, tears welling in your eyes at the rough action, and Jonathan placed his hands on your hips to soothe you by rubbing circles into the skin. “Full,” you choked out simply. 

Apparently, he thought that was praise, and he repeated the action, falling into a steady rhythm of slow but brutal thrusts. It had you gasping for air each time, the sting in your lower-half almost unbearable, but you suddenly felt yourself falling into a morally muddled, puzzling state of mind: he was practically torturing you with his length, but he was also whispering sweet nothings in your ear, gently massaging your rear. 

“You’re so -- fuck, thats a tight pussy -- beautiful,” he’d murmur, hanging his head low into the dip of your collarbone, “so beautiful.”

But, as you had to keep reminding yourself, you didn’t want this-- this was just the only way you’d escape. You didn’t want to be fucked by him, and most of all, you didn’t want him.

That train of thought was thrown out the window, however, when Jonathan’s hands suddenly hooked under your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist. You were pulled further beneath him, and his cock went even deeper, punching up against the spongy spot in your pussy. 

You moaned; feverish, loud, wanton, and Jonathan drank it in fiendishly. From there, he knew where to thrust, pounding in and out of your cunt and hitting that spot everytime. The pain fell away into a sickly pleasure, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at how deliciously he was fucking you. 

“Jonathan!” You mewled, digging your heels into the small of his back. He was relentless, ruthlessly rutting his hips into yours and gripping your thighs so tight there’d be hand-shape sized bruises littering your body later. 

“You like that, darling?” he groaned proudly, pushing your hips further down his cock. “God, you love it, don’t you? I can feel you squeezing me…”

Your fucked out mind couldn’t discern between your lustful thoughts and your logical ones; you couldn’t help how you nodded, how you pleaded for more, despite the terror swimming in your gut -- despite how the sober part of yourself weeped. 

Then, it was like a tight rubber band around your stomach snapped; the pleasure that had been building in your gut burst, sending electric shocks of ecstasy running through your entire body. You saw white for a moment, your toes curling along his back as your thighs shook, your moan coming out terribly loud and sounding every bit his name. You didn’t mean to, of course, not again, but your mind filled in the gaps: Jonathan was fucking you, so Jonathan deserved the praise.

“Fuck!” Jonathan growled, “You came so hard… all because of this cock, all because of me.” Then, he began slamming his cock into your quivering hole quicker, desperately chasing his orgasm. 

It was only then in your foggy, post-high mind did you realize he’d never used a condom… you weren’t on anything, you hadn’t been for years, and the way Jonathan was fucking into you gave no indication he was stopping. The thought of him coming inside made your blood run cold; there’d be no escape, you’d be fucking finished— 

“Jon-- Jon, pull out,” you instructed weakly, trying to push him off you and watching how his focussed face tensed and tightened with the oncoming orgasm. 

“Sweetheart,” he panted with a frown, “what’re you talking about?”

“Please,” you whimpered helplessly, “just - just please pull out… don’t come inside, please!”

“I’m afraid not, my love,” He grunted, baring his teeth and hammering into you faster, “m’gonna paint your walls white… get you nice and pregnant, fuck, no-one’ll have to question who you belong to…”

“Don’t, no, no -- Jon, please,” you begged, struggling to get away from his assault on your cunt as he pressed his weight further onto you, pinning you down against the bed. 

But Jonathan wasn’t listening to you, not anymore. “Gon’ come, fuck, gon’ come,” he repeated, his thrusts stuttering, and you could only let out a grievous cry when you felt his cock twitch, hot spend spilling deep within you. 

Jonathan laid on top of you for a moment, pressing his forehead against your sweaty chest, before leaning back and pulling out of you. The painful stretch was reawakened, and your tears really came this time, large sobs exiting your mouth as you crumpled into a ball on the mattress. 

“Oh, my love,” he called your pet name with a furrowed brow, crawling closer to you, “what’s wrong? Was it too much? I know how delicate you can be…”

God, you could’ve screamed. He was still treating you like his little lamb… but you were beginning to feel that way, too; feeling like someone helpless he needed to protect. With the way you bunched up devastatedly beside him, it felt like Jonathan had fucking broken you, and then put you back together again with that doll image in mind. Not all the pieces fit the way he wanted them to, but Jonathan had time and brute force to fix all that…

“You -- you… I’m ruined,” you weeped, unable to explain properly with how terrified you felt, bringing your hands up to your face to shield yourself from him. 

Your plan had no future of fruition, not anymore… you’d fucked him so you could convince him you were trustful enough to leave and still be his, but you’d fallen into his trap; fucking him was the way he attached a ball and chain to your ankle.

His hand curled around your wrist roughly, pinning it to the bed and letting his other brush a tear from your eye.  “No, no, you’ll be the most gorgeous mother I know… your tits and your stomach all swollen like that? I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

Jonathan said that like you wanted him to be all over you, and it only made your cries wrack through your body harder. He then pulled you close to him, pressing your tear-stained face to his chest, letting you sob into him like he brought any comfort at all. 

You suddenly felt him press up to your entrance and your tears stopped momentarily, a fearful whine exiting your mouth instead. 

At your noise, he pet you gently, reassuringly, “Don’t worry… I’m just keeping us warm… keeping my come inside, my love.” With that, Jonathan slowly slid his length past your aching lips, until he was seated so deep within you his cockhead brushed up against your cervix.

His cream squelched within you and coated himself, feeling terribly slick and sticky between your thighs; you wanted to throw up there was such a large amount of it marking you from the inside.

“God, how d’you already feel brand new… need to do this more often….” he grunted the praise, and you felt shame colour you entirely.

But despite that shame and the terror swelling in your chest, the fact him within you was a surefire way none of his seed went anywhere but inside, his cock resting there did feel nice, like his rough fuck molded your pussy to fit him perfectly.

It was confusing… all of it very mind-boggling; how his actions petrified you while still making you feel nice and appreciated and loved… how his obsession was possessive and toxic but all at once delicate and thoughtful… how you felt yourself cry because he’d come inside you but was slowly succumbing to a sweet and comfortable sleep within his wiry arms. 

There was much time to make sense of your amalgamated terror and love later, however. Nine-months long, to be exact: you later woke up to Jomathan pummeling his leaking, hard cock back into you. All you did was whimper, keep limp as he used you-- there was no choice fighting back, not anymore; not since he’d fully marked you… impregnated you… made it so there was no way you were ever leaving him. 

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #batman begins #does anyone see the parallel between the first part and the last part #scarecrow x reader #dc scarecrow

[rootbeersturniolo]

the first part of this series.

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: the new semester at chicago university started with nothing more than the troubles of relationships, rumors, and studies. everything was going fine until the death of their bestfriend. at the end of the day there’s only one question they can ask; would you love somebody enough to kill for them?

warnings: mentions of death and murder, alcohol, drinking, semi public smut, homophobia, assault.

-

Chicago, Illinois. The place I’ve been living in for the past nineteen years. Most people look at our city as a tourist attraction. The scenery catching many visitors eyes as they stopped through the states of the northeast.

What made it so interesting? I wouldn't know. There was much beauty to the actual city, I'll admit that, but there was more mystery under the rooted trees of Illinois.

My life in Chicago was something I’ve grown comfortable with, almost like a routine.

Walking back from school with my best friends while the wind entangled our hair, a group of people I cherished with every fibre of my being.

I met Natalie first, she was one of the popular girls in our elementary school and I was… not. But one day she asked me to color with her and she’s been stuck by my side since, like sisters.

We argued occasionally, like sisters did, but other than that we’ve been close ever since. We’ve made it through middle school, high school, and now we were attending college together, along with the a few other members of our group.

Through Natalie I met Jackson, yet another person who I considered to be too popular for my presence, but somehow the dynamic worked.

The two of them have been on and off since freshman year of high school. Though, no matter how much they went through they always ended up together again. No amount of tears would stop that.

Nobody even considered what they had to be a relationship. Most wouldn’t even consider it love. They loved each other obviously, they’d known each other for so long. But they’ve never been in love, but in lust instead.

It was not a relationship I ever aspired for.

When I was left to play by myself at recess, Nick had approached me, his atmosphere was immediately welcoming and we became swing buddies for the rest of middle school—Even when it was considered childish.

Nick was someone I could tell everything to, there was never judgement between the two of us and it was always comfortable, safe.

Clicking with Nicks brother Chris was easy, him and I were practically the same person and we shared so many similar thought processes. It was like a brother-sister dynamic, sure, there was bickering and teasing, but at the end of the day I knew he’d be there for me. His words of affirmation got me through high school, but for a while Matt was just sort of… there.

He was never one to start a conversation, even getting him to actively participate in one was a stretch. He was reserved and mainly kept to himself. I didn’t mind though, because when he did speak it was sweet.

Our dynamic started to change our junior year of highschool. Through raging hormones, and the fact we were always together, it was inevitable that our friendship would soon change.

Now we’d been together for two years. The best two years of my life.

Matt was my first boyfriend, and he was the perfect example of how every boyfriend should be. He was loving, caring, and would do anything for me. I’ll never forget the day that changed everything.

“Chris! What are you doing?” Nick asked, visibly annoyed at his brother’s actions. Chris just rolled his eyes in response. “It’s a small bite Nick calm down, you’re acting like I ate the whole thing.”

Nick scoffed. “Have you heard of asking? Last time I checked we weren’t obligated to share food since we were in the womb thirteen years ago.” He rolled his eyes.

“Hey guys—” Matt started speaking from beside me, not getting far before his brother interrupted him. Like usual.

“It’s ice cream Nick, not gold.” Chris replied as he takes another bite of his own fro yo, clearly not understanding or caring for his brother’s frustrated reaction.

Our group had decided to bike to the local ice cream diner on the warm summer day, especially because those days aren’t common in Chicago.

“Guys let’s—” Matt’s cut off yet again, even after raising the volume behind his voice. I look to him briefly, not wanting to stare but also feeling bad for the boy.

The rest of the group eventually continues their conversation, not even acknowledging Matt or his attempts to speak and it’s clear he’s defeated—his head laying low as he mumbled something to himself.

I felt a slight sting to my heart looking at him like that, it wouldn’t feel right to join in with the rest of the group. “Hey Matt?”

His head perked up, he made eye contact with me as a slight glimmer of hope re entered his face. “Yeah Charlotte?” He asked.

I smile, him and I aren’t close, but for whatever reason seeing him happy made me happy. “What were you trying to say earlier?”

Ever since that simple summer day, getting ice cream with the group, Matt and I had a newfound understanding for one another.

He wasn’t always listened to, getting caught behind his over achieving brothers in almost every aspect of his life, but I would always be there to tell him that he’s doing enough—that he is enough.

This wasn’t a one sided thing though, I had often struggled with surges of sadness. There wasn’t always a reason but it could easily get to a point where I’d lose all motivation for everything and feel incredibly helpless—and maybe I was a little helpless, but I always had Matt there to try to help and that’s what stuck with me.

He’d clean my room if it felt too overwhelming to complete, or just sit in silence next to me when I didn’t have it in me to speak to him. It’s a mutual relationship that’s carried by balance on both ends and it works for us.

This general understanding of one another has made us… close.

-

“Mm— fuck just like that.” I let out a muffled moan as my eyes rolled into the back of my head, a familiar hand covering my mouth as our bodies moved in a rhythm that suits us.

My leg begins to ache slightly as it’s propped up on a toilet seat, but it’s impossible to focus on anything when Matt’s thrusting his hips into me at a pace I can’t stay quiet in—one hand is placed gently on my lower stomach as leverage for him to thrust impossibly deeper into me while his other hand holds a firm pressure on my swollen lips, keeping me silent.

Public sex was not something on my bucket list, but the combination of my boyfriend's neediness and my inability to focus on anything other than his hands… it was kind of inevitable.

“Stay quiet baby, cmon.” He speaks quietly, clearly fighting back moans of his own as his tip continually makes contact with my g-spot, the angle only making the feeling more intense.

One thing about a quickie is that it needs to be quick, the loud music pouring through the hinges of the door serving as a constant reminder that we aren’t entirely alone.

I’m unable to speak fully, but Matt knows me well enough to know I’m close by the way my back arches away from him and my toes curl slightly onto the seat.

He also knows exactly what it takes for me to finish quick.

The boys lips make gentle contact with my exposed neck, sucking at a spot he’s grown comfortable with while his hand on my lower stomach inches even lower. “You gonna cum for me here? Getting fucked senseless in a public bathroom turn you on?” He asks.

Once again I’m unable to reply, if I speak, I moan—and that’s the last thing we need with our whole friend group out in the living room, oblivious to our current position.

His fingers make a light contact with my throbbing clit, causing my head to fall back into his shoulder as my body shutters at the touch. Subconsciously I clench onto him, nearing my orgasam already, what’s unfortunate is that he’s unable to mask the moan that escapes his lips.

I love his noises, always have—but right now? I wish the fucker would shut the hell up.

He looked at me with an apology riddled in his blue eyes, and it’s hard not to forgive him with his fingers that pick up the pace on my clit and his hips that continue to slam into my walls.

Definitely forgiven.

I grab on the sink in front of me to stabilize myself, my orgasam still threatening to release onto the length inside of me, my mouth widening at the sensation coursing through my body. He leans in to whisper into my ear once more. “Can you be quiet cumming on my cock pretty girl?”

I nod almost too enthusiastically as the build up in my stomach becomes too overwhelming to ignore, squeezing my eyes shut and biting my lip, trying so desperately to stay quiet—although with Matt’s slip up, it might be a lost cause.

My abs clench as shocks of pleasure shoot through my muscles, the feelings of Matt’s chest pressed against my back has me smiling at the closeness of it all, the small amount of intimacy that can come with a bathroom quickie.

He finishes practically right after me. He also got off knowing how good he made me feel, that was his favorite part.

With one more kiss planted on my temple he pulls out, discarding the condom in the small trashcan while I slide my pants back on, pulling down my shirt slightly to fully cover myself again.

We look to each other once more, mentally preparing ourselves for the walk of shame, knowing Matt’s loud ass will be teased by our friends awaiting our return. I place a finger on his chest. “This is your fault Matthew just letting you know.” He smiles slightly before opening the door and walking out to the slightly less crowded living room.

Our friend group resides in the living room, sprawled around the floor and the couch, most of them at least five drinks in.

Matt’s hand stayed interlocked with mine as we occupied our recent position on the couch beside the window cill littered with our old drinks.

I knew someone was going to mention something regarding Matt and I’s disappearance to the bathroom, but the last thing I needed was the recently found annoying voice from across the room to bring it up.

“Did you two have fun?” Natalie asked, raising her eyebrow as she leaned further against her seat. I rolled my eyes before shaking my head, taking my previous cup from the window.

She clearly sensed my annoyance, but she was drunk, and she was also Natalie which meant she didn’t care enough to move on.

“Better than doing it with Collin’s in there.” She chuckled lightly, her flushed cheeks turning into a smile as she ran her fingers throughout her dirty blonde locks.

My grip on Matt’s hand tightened out of pure frustration and embarrassment. At a party full of half of our class, and this is what she wanted to talk about. The rumor had been spreading like wildfire, and there was only one person to blame.

Natalie.

Her recent inquiries and speculations over me hooking up with our professor for extra credit instead of just doing the work myself.

"We've all been there before, there's no shame." Natalie shrugged as she brought the red solo cups to her matching red lips. Her eyes were heavy and her words were slow, more relaxed than her usual personality.

l let out a soft sigh as my gaze traced towards her.

This wasn't the night I wanted to talk about anything regarding Natalie's theories about my personal life. Even though they were obviously wrong, and everyone else could vouch for that.

She looked at me with her drunken eyes, her expression screaming I don't believe you as she took another drink.

"I don't blame you, he's hot."

"You're just getting ridiculous." I finally snapped, my jaw slightly clenched as I turned to her once more. Suddenly the attention was only on me. She furrowed her eyebrows in surprise. "Do you have anything better to do?” I shook my head.

It was becoming hard to pretend that her constant comments weren't driving me crazy. Even if I knew that they shouldn't, and even if I knew that what she was saying was just her own personal beliefs.

The room quickly turned silent as my eyes remained on Natalie. Her cheeks flushed red. Either from the alcohol or being put on the spot for the first time in her life.

"Excuse me?" She replied, setting down her drink as a soft laugh left her lips. I let out a frustrated breath before pushing myself from the couch, letting my feet take me as far away from her as possible. Even if that was just the kitchen.

I placed my hands on the counter, taking a deep breath as the crowd pushed around me, pouring endless combinations of beverages into their recycled red cups.

Only a few moments had passed before a pair of ringed hands came in contact with my waist. I let out a muffled sigh as Matt turned me around, my face coming in contact with his. He smiled gently, running his hands along my hipbone.

"You ok?" He mumbled, scanning my face as I rolled my eyes with a shrug. I crossed my arms over my chest before I finally nodded. "I'm fine, she's drunk." I replied.

“Doesn’t mean she’s not annoying you.” He replied, his cold rings continuing to glide along my hips as his eyes stay fixated on my own.

He’s right of course, Natalie became more and more annoying as time went on, her inflated self esteem made it impossible to be around her sometimes—but she’s still apart of the group that stays rooted in middle school friendships.

“I’m just sick of the shit.” I pause, taking a quick swig of whatever random substance resides on the counter next to me. “But professor Collin’s? Really?” I sighed.

He frowned gently, pushing a strand of hair behind my face as he continued to look down at me. His eyes had been slightly glazed over from the alcohol mixed with our recent events.

“I don’t love the way he talks to you.” He said, quietly enough to avoid anyone overhearing this conversation. The rumor was already spread, no need to continue to slander my name.

I roll my eyes. “He’s a nice guy with a wife and kids. I don’t think he’s an actual weirdo he just…” I paused my words. “He chooses the wrong way to say things sometimes”

“He also wants to get in your pants.” He blurts out slightly.

I can’t be bothered to continue this conversation anymore, we’ve talked about it before but I stand by the innocence of the teacher-student dynamic I share with my professor. “He’s not the only one.” I tease, pulling Matt closer to me by the loops on him jeans, his hips connecting with my own.

“Ok, weirdo we get it.” He shakes his head, a smile plastered on his face. “Why don’t we go back to the bathroom?” I asked, a faux frown plastered on my face as I tugged him impossibly closer. Our bodies pressed together.

He hummed in response before gesturing to our friends back on the couch. “They might think we’re ditching them.” He breathed out, his hands running along my hips.

“I’m okay with that.” I shrugged, a smile taking over my face as my gaze remained on Matt. He chuckled lightly before shaking his head. “Wait until I can treat you right on a real bed, make it worth your while.” He joked.

“I enjoyed it.”

“I did too.” He assured, nodding gently. “But it’s too risky to go back.” He spoke with a raised brow. It was true, it was definitely risky, but it was also so worth it.

Another sigh escaped my lips as I let go off his denim loops, wrapping my arms around my chest. He returned the sigh.

“Hey.” He breathed out, taking my hand off of my chest and interlocking them. “Don’t be mad at me.” He spoke, raising his eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes, starting to speak again before hearing a crash in the living room behind us. I furrowed my eyebrows, letting go of Matt’s hand as I walked from the kitchen towards the noise.

My eyes widened as I saw Bryce on the floor, the familiar boy Josh on top of him, continuing to swing punches like that was all he could do. Matt stood next to me, a heavy breath leaving his lips before rushing forward.

Bryce Reyes was Nicks boyfriend. They’d been together for exactly three months now, and he was one of the best and only additions to our group in a long time.

Always a light to our constant chaotic mess of a group, his smile providing a sense of calm to everyone, especially to Nick. It’s why we all like him so much, anyone Nick likes we like.

Natalie stood from the couch, drunken words leaving her slips as everyone watched the scene unfold in front of them.

“You like fucking boys?” Josh asked before his fists collided with his cheekbone again. The blood on his face was getting more visible by the minute, a panicked Nick stood in the corner of the room. The party went silent.

“Enough—” Matt yelled, placing his hands on Josh’s shoulders, attempting to pull him off of Bryce before he himself was pushed back. My heart raced in my chest.

Matt stood from the ground, frustration on his features as he tried to breakup the fight once more, but nobody paid any attention to him, still focused on the terrifying scene unraveling.

“You’re pathetic.” Josh scoffed, his hands tightening around the collar of Bryce’s shirt, pulling him from the ground.

“He said enough!” Jackson spoke, successfully pulling Josh off of Bryce who laid against the carpet with more than just a bloody nose. His hair was a mess, his eye was already bruising, and he looked like he had been found at the scene of a crime.

His actions were successful, Josh standing up before wiping his own bloody nose, a slight smirk pulling his the side of his mouth. Nick rushed toward Bryce’s side as the party slowly started to resume once again.

I glanced toward my side, a purely pissed off Matt standing with his jaw clenched. It was obvious why he was upset. No one listened to him. He shook his head before turning on his heel.

“Matt, where are you going?” I frowned, taking a step forward but he had already rushed toward the doors of the party. There was no point to try and run after him, he would push me away like he had been recently.

I sighed, running my hands through my hair. I needed to let Matt cool off, and I was fine doing that as long as I knew he was safe.

“Don’t stress.” Chris spoke, walking beside me as he held an empty bottle of vodka, clearly starting to cleanup the mess. “He always comes back.” He shrugged before walking past me.

Chris was my bestfriend, practically my closest, and I loved him. But sometimes I wish he paid more attention to his brother.

It hurt me to see him hurt.

-

My arms slumped against the wooden desk as I groaned lightly, the slight hangover behind my head. The fluorescent lights of the classroom hadn’t been helping either.

I had returned back to my dorm soon after. I hadn’t heard from Matt since, so seeing him for the first time in class was making me more nervous than I should.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he was mad at me for not running after him— I was just trying to help. But then again that’s usually where I seem to go wrong.

The only thing I did know was that Natalie hadn’t returned last night. My only assumption could be that she snuck off with Jackson after the party, and she was still intertwined against his body popping a bottle of pain killers or whatever else it is she does.

They had gotten back together one month ago after their two week separation period. The last time I had seen her she was drooling over him with a bottle of whiskey in her hand.

“Have you seen Natalie?” I asked Chris, furrowing my eyebrows with a soft sigh as I glanced around the room. There was still no trace of her, and the silence filling the air could prove it.

The early mornings of Professor Collin’s American history course were usually filled with recent gossip, and constant giggling.

Today it was silent.

And it was suffocating.

Chris shook his head with a soft shrug before taking his notebook from his bag, turning the pages as the desk beside me soon became occupied. I looked over to see Matt with an undeniable smile crossing over my face as he turned to me.

“You ok?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. He nodded quickly, returning the smile before taking his supplies out as well. I didn’t question him, instead nodding before our professor walked in, his eyes instantly finding mine.

He gave me the usual flustered smile before walking to his desk, turning the projector and preparing for the lecture.

I didn’t mind history, I actually enjoyed it. Though sometimes it got frustrating when my professor couldn’t find the right words to express how well I did on my recent assignment.

The class went by slow. Two hours of endless notes and timelines that I wouldn’t remember by the next day.

“One last question to wrap this up.” Professor Collin’s spoke, an amused smile on his face before his eyes turned to me. “You can answer, right?” He asked, raising his eyebrow.

I furrowed my eyebrow, sighing gently before looking down at my half assed noted. Instead of denying I simply nodded.

“Great!” He exclaimed, walking over toward me as his arms crossed over his chest. “During which war was a Christmas Truce called?” He asked. I took a deep breath, glancing down to my notes before scrunching my face in confusion.

“We didn’t learn that.” I shook my head. He nodded slowly before walking away from my desk. “We didn’t, but we did in my other history class. Which I think you would be interested in.” He spoke again. I sighed.

“I don’t have the time.” I replied, nodding slowly as I tried to change the conversation. The last thing I needed after last night was even more rumors circulating.

Especially when my boyfriend is beside me.

The professor frowned gently, clearly causing a scene in front of the entire class “Come on, you can’t drop one class— for me?” He asked. My eyes widened in embarrassment.

I didn’t respond, instead shaking my head as I swallowed my nerves. I could feel Matt’s eyes against my head like lasers.

“That’s ok.” He sighed again, before turning to the clock on the wall. “Class is over anyway.” He mumbled before sitting in his desk once more. I let out a breath of relief before standing up, sliding my books into my bag as quickly as possible before turning through the door.

-

My book bag was tightly pressed against my shoulders as I walked along the sidewalk of our campus. My eyes people watched with every step I took back to my dorm.

One of my favorite parts about our University was the variety of people that attended. Endless opportunities to make new friends, but for some reason I’ve had the same ones for years.

“Wait up!” A familiar voice called from behind me. I quickly turned around, my expression relaxing once I saw it was only Matt. He gave me a soft smile before running toward me, placing a soft kiss on my forehead before walking beside me.

“Let’s do something later.” He suggested as he interlaced our hands together. I liked when he didn’t mention the obvious.

“I can’t, I have to study.” I spoke with a soft sigh, frowning gently as he swung our arms back and forth. He chuckled lightly. “You’d rather study than see me?” He asked.

I shook my head, rolling my eyes. He was so stubborn sometimes. So prone to take everything out of context just to get a kick out of me.

“That isn’t what I said.” I replied as we continued to walk throughout the campus. He shrugged, our arms still swinging in the air. “Then have me over. I’ll help you study.” He spoke.

Another sigh escaped my lips. I wanted to see Matt, I really did, but Natalie would be back at some point tonight.

I also really did have to study.

There wasn’t a response from me, instead simple silence as we approached the building. I turned to him with a raised brow, an amused smirk creeping on his face. “So it’s a yes?”

“Fine.” I sighed, rolling my eyes as he smiled down at me. It was so hard to say no to someone with a smile like that.

-

“You know I love you, right?” Matt asked, playing with the lace fabric of my shirt as I read the book in front of me. Our bodies were intertwined as my back rested against his chest.

I furrowed my eyebrows before nodding, placing my bookmark in between the pages before closing my book. I turned around so I was facing him, my legs over his.

“I know.” I smiled gently, scanning his face with a worried expression. “Why?” I asked, the obvious confusion present in my time. He didn’t reply instead his cheeks filling red before he pulled me closer to him by my waist.

He brought his lips against mine, his hands moving up my sides. I almost melted into his touch instantly, but I wanted an answer.

I pulled away from him, a frown replacing his one blushed expression. “What?” He mumbled, sliding his hand under my shirt gently, letting it rest against the fabric of my jeans.

“Why’d you say that?” I asked, raising my eyebrow as I looked down at him. He shrugged before laughing lightly. “I just wanted to remind you.” He nodded. My eyebrows furrowed.

For whatever reason it felt as though he cut off his own thoughts, but our dynamic worked because I don’t pry, so I’m not going to start now.

He leans in once more, presumably to stop me from asking more questions, but it was easy to get distracted when kissing him.

My hands make their way to his hair, scratching slightly on the back of his head in the way i know always makes him shiver.

Unfortunately, being the boy that he is, he takes this as a sign to begin lifting up my shirt, pulling the fabric up on my back exposing the back of my bra.

“Ok lover boy.” I pull back out of the kiss. “As much as I’d love to continue this I do have to study and you are meant to help me.” I sighed, placing a finger on his chest as I’ve fully leaned away.

He lets out an overdramatic sigh, faking a frown as I pull myself off of him. “If I fail this lit course it will be your fault.” I say, refocusing my attention on the numerous notes displayed in front of me.

“Yeah yeah I get it. Be studious.” Matt sits up, leaning against me as I sort through all the papers that remain unorganized. “What’s this test worth again?” He asks as, resting his chin on my shoulder, his breath on my neck causing a slight chill down my spine.

“It’s like fifteen percent I think but—” I get cut off by the sound of my phone ringing, my mom’s profile picture lighting up the screen.

My relationship with my parents was complicated. I was raised by two workaholics who would rather solve numerous crimes than drive their daughter to her first ballet recital.

I respect it, obviously, but Chicago will always have crime. They do great things and they help people, I just wish it didn’t come at the expense of my childhood.

The phone doesn’t ring for long when I finally pick it up, a smile on my face. “Hey mom what’s up?” I asked, looking at Matt who has a stupid innocent smirk on his face.

As embarrassing as it might be to admit, I was excited my mom was calling me because at least, even if she was out at work, she was still talking to me. I loved talking to my mom—when she wasn’t swamped with cases that is.

“Char sweetie, It’s about Natalie.” She spoke with a tone that terrifies me, one that’s both serious yet cautious—something I wasn’t expecting when answering.

“What’s up? Everything okay?” My eyebrows furrowed, I’m sure Natalie’s fine, she always is. I would place money on her being at Jackson’s place right now with a killer hangover and a dead phone.

“Are you alone right now?” My mom finally asked, causing a sense of worry to course through my stomach. My face must show how i’m feeling because Matt adapts the same expression, one of worry.

“I’m uh, I’m with Matt right now. Are you sure everything’s okay?” I asked, worry fueling my voice as I await a respond.

“Natalie was murdered.”

You know when people say that certain phrases or experiences can freeze time? This was mine.

The rest of the call was a blur, my mom telling me to seek comfort in Matt because she’s swamped with this case, but really I just wanted to hug her, I wanted to hug my mom and have her tell me everything’s okay.

Death is weird. One second, someone’s there. Annoying or not they are there and that feels constant—until it isn’t.

I could find Natalie annoying all I want, and I could continue to be upset over a dumb rumor, but she was family to me, possibly the closest I ever had.

When I hang up the phone I freeze, eyes situated on the sight ahead of me as my brain tries to process this, tears traveling down my cheeks before I can fully comprehend this situation at hand.

Matt gently places his hand on my upper back and the contact was enough to send me over the edge, the build up in my stomach releasing and sobs exiting my mouth. “It’s okay baby It’s okay.”

He doesn’t even know why I’m crying, I doubt he heard the phone but he’s still here for me regardless. “She’s gone Matt, they said she was—” I choke, trying to gain composure for the boy. “She was murdered.”

I’m simply a mess, my stomach hurts from the muscles tensing at each sob I let out. Matt’s hand just rubs soft strokes on my back as my head falls into his lap.

She’s gone and the last thing I did was bitch her out. I can’t get that night back.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n: sincerely, sienna and grace

taglist: @lovingmattysposts @sturniolho @greatooglymooglyyy @fake-sturniolos @mayhem-72 @luv4kozume @junnniiieee07 @sturniolosbxtch @wurlibydominicfike @bernardsbendystraws @txssvx @thecynthh @biimpanicking @junnniiieee07 @stazsi @mazzystar111 @gnxosblog @imwetforyourmom @stonermattsgf @paibey @lovelottos @creamoncreamoncream2 @m4ttschewtoy @sturnioloslife @bitchydragonparadise @anlqq @y0urm4m @bernardenjoyer @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @cherrypostsposts @thenickgirl

#the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets x reader

[dreamauri]

WHEN IS THE NEXT CHAPTER OF My love mine all mine COMING OUT BCZ IM INVESTED

┇𝗠𝗬 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘 - part five ┇୧ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ :🪴: ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ୨୧ ╮ ┇arranged marriage does not always hold ┇the outcome you expect !! ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦˚₊   ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( max vertsappen  x  wife! reader ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠genre — ( romance + smut )  ┇ . 🌿 :: ⁠song — ( link ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠word count — ( 1, 047 ) ╰  🌿 :: ⁠ content warning — ( oral f receiving )

★ ☆ 🫡 ━━━━━━━

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )

"First driving lesson. Are you ready?" "Absolutely not."

You gave a smile and thumbs up to the camera recording you and your husband, whilst max adjusted the strap to your helmet. "Learning to drive in a fast car is a bad idea." You warned him. looking around the controls to the NSX.

"It's not a bad idea." Max assured you, reaching over and buckling you up. "It very much is, liefje." [baby] You dismissed, looking out the open window to the Red Bull team filming you guys from the outside. "Can we get a slower car? I feel like We'd be much safter in . . . I have no idea. A slow car. A Kia maybe?."

Max laughed at you. "Are you serious? A kia? You think I'm a bad teacher." "No!" You turned to him quickly, holding his hands. He was teasing you but you still felt the need to make sure he knew. "Max, you're an amazing teacher. But you being intact is more for our home race is more important than me learning drive."

"You don't like my birthday present?" He gasped, putting his hand on his chest, being dramatic. "I—" you pulled him in a kiss only for your headgear to bump into his and stop you. "ow . . . I was gonna say I love it." Max laughed at you, leaning his head on the window while your glared at him.

"Where's the go and stop." You were commanding him now, putting both your hands on the steering wheel.

You did eventually get the basics, you were to scared to lift your leg off the brake that the car was literally only moving for a meter before it came to a full stop. The process of breaking every few seconds continued until max was able to get you confident in yourself to drive a steady 40 kilometre per hour around the long straight.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"How is it, with the wife." "My wife?" Max's eyes light up at the mention of you. He was up onstage in the fan zone, sitting on a stool with checo and an f1 presenter. "Married life, how is it?"

"Well, I didn't know if the video went out yet, but i just gave her her first driving lesson this morning—" "really?" Natalie pink ham butted in, giggling.

"Is that what that was?" Checo laughed along with the crowd.

"I mean, no offense, Shatje; she sucks at driving. But it's nice to have that contrast, because I cannot paint or cook for the life of me." He laughed, leaning back to look at the side stage where you stood, smiling at him. "She's gonna kill me when we get home. Look at that smile."

The crowd erupted in laughter. Max waved you a hi, even though he was spending the whole day with you. You rolled your eyes playfully, folding your arms. You couldn't help the smile that curled on your lips as you looked at the cute puppy of a Dutch f1 driver. "Beautiful smile." Max chuckled, turning back to the fans.

You two were stuck to each other after the interview, sitting all cozied up in the hospitality, snuggled up to each other as you scrolled through your phone, both of you judging the décor and furniture you would need to renovate.

"This wallpaper is nice." You hum, pressing on the image. "My love, we don't need wallpaper. We have you." You chuckled, shaking your head. "I'm serious, you're very talented." He tilted your chin up kissing you.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Maxie!" you called through the house, peaking out of the bathroom door. You peaked down the foreign Belgian house, looking down the hall looking for your husband. "Maxie!" You called louder. "Ja, schat?" [yes, love]

"Kun je een handdoek voor me halen? . . alstublieft." [can you get me a towel, please]

"Wat? ik kan je niet horen."[what? i cant hear you] he called back. You could hear the faint noise of the tv from where max sat in the living room.

"Towel, Max." You sighed. What was he watching, foot ball? "I'm wet, and I'm cold and I'm naked—" yep that did it. You heard his footsteps run up the stairs at the word, his fluff of blond peaked from behind the wall to try and see you.

But you thought before hand and hid your body behind the door so all Max could see was your wet and messy hair and smile as you repeated the word. "Towel."

He pouted with a huff as he stomped to your room, returning seconds later with a fluffy towel. "Thank you." You hum, pulling the towel in with you, disappearing behind the door. Only, the towel was pulling from you. You peaked out the door to see Max holding the opposite corner, puppy eyes as he looked at you.

"Max, not now." You whispered feeling your face redden with embarrassment as he tried to peak in. "één kus, één kus." [one kiss, one kiss] you pleaded and you couldn't say no, leaning in and granting him his wish.

Well, you ended up granting him another wish as well because asking for one kiss turned into two kiss turned into 6 turned into 20 and so on. Which led you to being eaten out for the first time while sitting on the edge of the bathtub, hand entangled in blond locks, with gasps leaving your mouth.

You didn't know what max was doing, head between his thighs, eyes staring up at you as he licked and sucked and lapped and did things you never imagined of before. Your body shivered each time his warm tongue would drag across your gummy walls or take your bud into his mouth. You didn't even realize it when your orgasm dawned on you, heaving with whines and whimpers.

You caught his lips once he was back to your height and max was quick to return the favour, savouring your lips as he pulled you straight to your feet to his bedroom, 2 and a half hours from zandvoort f1 circuit; but he wanted you to have your first time in a home, under the moonlight of his windows.

Which you've got to admit, was a magical night.

#‧˚⊹🪴 ଓ :: 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 ‧₊˚⤾ #‧˚⊹ 🌿ଓ :: 𝗮𝘂𝗿𝗶 𝗮𝗻𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗿𝘀 ‧₊˚⤾ #max verstappen #max #mv1 #mv33 #max x reader #max x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen imagine #formula racing #formula 1 #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #f1 fic #formula one x reader

[emo-batboy]

i'd like the chart thanks!

Also, there's another person who wants to rp Leo, can they?

Okay a few people are asking for the chart so here’s the current chart!! (I took out some characters that are still not as fleshed out. That includes Nathan, Ria, Nina, Ashley, Zoe, Ray, Maggie, and the hater and Metropolis characters, but they’re all filler characters rn)

A Wild Battinson Character Lore Continuity

- Felicity

- Oldest of the bunch, right between Millennial and Gen Z

- Works at an office, besties with everyone there. Corporate girlie (does use the term girlboss)

- Like if a Gothamite/Bruce Wayne fan was swiftie-coded?

- She has a pet pitbull, you know that kind of white girl

- Tatum

- Goth U, Comp Sci major

- Keeps everyone he knows online at arms length so we don’t know much, has a small close knit friend group irl but he’s also mutuals with everybody on twitter because he’s that kinda guy yk?

- But they’re slowly convincing him. He’s getting there

- Marzia

- Oh god poor Marzia

- Italian, born in Northern Italy, English is her second language but you wouldn’t be able to tell if it weren’t for her slight accent

- Biggest Bruce Wayne stan, will go feral, but only gets replies from him at the worst moments possible

- *snorts like cocaine* “Please don’t do cocaine” is my personal favorite

- Goth U, she gives art major vibes but tacked on a double major in psychology last minute so now she’s staying a fifth year

- Reads smut, writes smut, part of the poetry club, def on booktok, you know the type

- Alejandro

- Runs an ice cream stand in the park on the weekends when it’s warm enough

- Bi, Dating Leo (pfp is them holding hands because he’s a whipped son of a bitch)

- He’s like if that normal-looking kind of athletic guy who always wore sweatshirts and basketball shorts to class just suddenly mentioned he had a boyfriend one day.

- He’s straight-coded but more specifically “the straight guy that gay guys have crushes on against their better judgement”-coded

- Knew the whole time he was bi but never REALLY liked a guy until Leo 🥺. whenever he looks at Leo, he’s got those madly in love eyes

- Thinks Batman is hot and suffers constant torment from Leo (who has a crush on Bruce) because of it

- Ale just wants to be bench pressed is that too much to ask? But It’s his fault he’s a twunk dating a twink so—

- Goth U, Really interested in tech stuff but he’s actually a sports medicine major. He wants to be a physical therapist for athletes

- Cannot hold his liquor

- Smile Watch

- Who knows

- It’s a mystery

- Lela

- Goth Girl

- BFF’s with Nico (goth girl, e-boy solidarity)

- Also good friends with Natalie, they lined up all their gen Ed’s together

- Chill in a Morticia Addams kinda way. She is Morticia Addams actually

- Mom owns a convenience store, she helps out after classes a lot

- Studied for the MCAT, did pretty well, she wants to be a doctor (probably neurosurgeon but it depends on what internship she gets)

- Currently completing the undergrad to grad program at Goth University with a masters in public health

- Natalie

- Former intern, now ASSISTANT at Wayne Press

- Got the job because she impressed Bruce with her good reporting skills, now works mostly on organizing press releases and maintaining Bruce’s public image

- Great at her job because she knows social media and Bruce Wayne Stans the best (she is one obv)

- (Babysits Bruce when Alfred is busy, how did this happen, why is this her job now? She’s tired of his shit lol)

- Still technically working part-time because she hasn’t gotten her degree yet, but she’s set to work full time after she graduates Goth U in May

- Sometimes while sitting at her desk she just gets that perspective shift where she’s like “how did I get here” Bruce Wayne Stans’ dreams do come true

- Caleb 🤡

- Literally 18/19 but aging faster than humanly possible with the stress he’s under

- Used to work at Bat Burger, left because the babysitting gig required more time

- Lives with his aunt who’s already retired (used to live alone, she never had kids or a husband so she’s loaded) He’s staying cuz his parents are super busy and travel for work :) and guess what crime-filled alley their window overlooks? I’ll give you one guess

- Babysits Tim, used to be a less serious gig but his parents have been out of town a lot lately (just vacationing without their child 🙄) and thankfully Caleb lives right across from their swanky apartment so he’s practically a nanny now (read: older sibling/third parent)

- Took a ton of childcare courses for this job and now he’s kind of interested in working at a daycare maybe? If Tim doesn’t kill him in his sleep first

- Recently graduated Goth High, now takes online classes at Goth Community College while deciding what to do with his life

- Jarod

- Recently graduated Goth High, now taking a gap year before starting GothU in the fall. Him and Caleb were always in the same classes so they’re super close (they’re the youngest)

- Future Comp Sci/English major (he wants to be a video game writer)

- Has a younger sister, and technically the oldest child but spiritually he’s the middle child.

- His parents and Priyanka’s parents are close friends so he kind of grew up seeing Priyanka as an older sister. That’s why they’re Like That.

- Literally so fed up with Priyanka, it’s not even funny (yes it is) but the second you’re rude to Priyanka, he will deck you, watch yourself

- Katie (Sweater Thief)

- ER Nurse at Gotham General Hospital, mostly does night shifts

- Gives chronically online energy when she’s online, but everyone in real life wouldn’t suspect a thing because she’s so good at having her life together (the code switch will give you whiplash)

- Surprisingly older than most of the others despite being Like That.

- Literally graduated with a 4.2 GPA how tf?

- BFF’s with Leo then became BFF’s with Ale too after they started dating (she is slowly corrupting Ale and I think that’s beautiful)

- Creator of the Babygirl Bruce Wayne Agenda and PROUD

- Priyanka

- Works at coffee shop owned by her mom called Caffe Mood. She plans to run it one day. Currently a barista

- Goth U, business major (accounting)

- Bilingual, knows Hindi

- LESBIAN QUEEN

- Despite being gay, She is allowed to think Bruce Wayne is hot, that is her Right

- Mad fucking crush on Georgia, calls her Georgie. Intends to never tell a soul. Will fail miserably

- Dead fucking set on the idea that Batman’s a vampire

- But she thinks everyone’s a vampire so—

- Her parents and Jarod’s parents are close friends so she kind of grew up seeing Jarod as a younger brother. That’s why they’re Like That

- Jarod is constantly on her nerves, wtf Jarod (but be mean to him and she’ll kill you)

- Leo

- Works at bookstore called Gotham City Bookstore

- Gay, Dating Alejandro

- Twink (derogatory)

- Swears his gaydar is the most accurate there is (always wrong)

- Made being gay his entire personality because he had an identity crisis in middle school and proceeded to have a massive crush on some straight guy all of high school (that guy was Ale, Leo’s gaydar is so off)

- BFF’s with Katie despite being a few years younger. They were in a high school production of Sweeney Todd together and the rest was history

- Calls every single celebrity gay as a joke, Ale reigns him in if he’s getting too out of hand

- Used to have a mad celebrity crush on Bruce, still kinda (definitely) does

- Attends GothU, undecided for a while but ultimately settled on mathematics because it’s ironically his best subject

- One of those mf’s that needs to be held back at all costs, god help Ale

- Rose 🌹

- Works a tailoring job full time

- Good friends with Felicity, she’s like the black cat to Felicity’s golden retriever

- 70% super nice and chill, 30% wild card party girl

- Gets drinks with friends a lot, tweets when drunk but no one can tell the difference. It’s amazing

- Does not seem horny, is horny. But like normal about it? If that’s a thing

- Nico

- Kinda plays the straight man of the group if the straight man was emo

- BFF’s with Lela (e-boy, goth girl solidarity)

- KING of twitter roasts. He makes memes to end lives.

- Pansexual, single, and probably writing bad poetry in his diary about it but don’t tell anyone

- Goth U, actually dunno the major. Probs public health with Lela but doesn’t want to be a doctor. More like research parallel to social sciences

- Has a 8/9yo sister named Madelaine whom he would die for despite not expecting to be an older brother so late in the game (what were his parents thinking)

- Has tea parties with her and all that jazz. She steals his eyeliner and chain accessories all the time, also she’s friends with Dick and Barbie (yes, Barbara Gordon) so sometimes he watches over their play dates

- He’s a “tough emo boy” so he totally doesn’t laugh at Madelaine’s puns. He’s a bitch ass liar

- Kellyanne

- GothU, marine biology. Transferred from GCCC with an associates degree to save money but now she’s got a full ride cuz of the WE higher education fund

- More recent Bruce Stan

- Pretty poor upbringing, that’s how she met Bruce Wayne. He bought her whole family groceries one night after her card declined at the convenience store trying to buy dinner

- Now she’s in it for the long haul :)

- Lia

- GothU, fashion merchandising

- A GIRL’S GIRL

- Older sister also attends Goth U, but she’s in med school

- More recent Bruce Wayne stan, still not particularly in with the culture and jokes but getting there

- Friends with Georgia and Elizabeth irl. Elizabeth was in the same sorority before graduating first. Got to know Georgia after Lia found her dog with Bruce at the park outside GothU. They party together now

- Elizabeth

- Graduated GothU last May and worked an internship at LexCorp, immediately regretted it but snagged a job at WE (thank god)

- Now works as a research assistant at Wayne Tech in the R&D department for commercial products

- Didn’t really get the whole Bruce Wayne Stan thing until Bruce Wayne personally wished her a happy birthday?? The man is so sweet?

- Absolutely loves her job but still screams at rubber ducks over faulty code in her little cubicle, but that’s the industry she chose so it’s a give and take

- Met Natalie through Stan twitter and now they DM each other about working at Wayne Enterprises

- Doesn’t post much on twitter but follows the main Bruce Stan accounts, irl friends with Lia and Georgia

- Georgia

- Has a dog named Bean

- GothU, majoring in like three languages, polyglot (including Hindi 😏)

- Works at a retail home decor kinda store (home goods?)

- So lesbian-coded, but does not know it yet. Priyanka is her gay awakening. She is now a regular at Caffe Mood (She thinks she just likes the coffee (yeah right))

- Works at Goth U’s admissions department over the summer too

- Once got drunk and locked herself onto a roof by accident, ended up hanging out with Batman (he offered to break into her apartment for her but she said “nah”)

- Jane

- Works at Wayne Enterprises

- Runs bring your kid to work day (idk what her actual job is but she’s an Essential Worker, okay?)

- Very sweet, 10/10, looks on the bright side but never in a toxic positivity way

- Super social too, became work friends with Bruce because she’s nice but not draining to his social battery? They have lunch on occasion

- Watched the Graysons die with Bruce, call that trauma bonding

- Watched her toxic ex’s car burn to a crisp after a joker spree and took a selfie with it (she can have a little revenge, as a treat)

#a wild battinson #battinson #bruce wayne #batman

[sawyerconfort]

the yellowjackets when you wear their shirts would include...

Hi, I promised I would come back and I just disappeared, I'm really sorry! As I mentioned before, my computer has been having huge problems, and I've tried to fix it before, but it looks like I'm going to have to format it after all.

In the meantime, I've got a laptop abandoned at home and I'm trying to write on it. Half the delay was because I was trying to adjust to the new method and the other half because I really had no idea for these requests and giving you shitty stuff would not be fair at all.

Ok, so here we go, probably for a wave of headcannons with other fandoms (AHS fans, I promise I'll answer all of your asks, don't worry!

Enjoy!

Requests will be a little closed for a while just until I get my act together! Sorry for the delay and closing!

If you can also let me know in the replies if you want more prompts and headcannons with the yellowjackets, I would appreciate it! And let me know if you want me to include Travis or\and Coach Ben on it too...

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

Jackie Taylor

I don't think Jackie would make a fuzz about it. Alright, she would probably be surprised on the first day. But because she's supposedly the most popular girl in school, she's even happy that you're being influenced by her style, after all, that's what popular girls are for, right?

It will also depend a lot on your relationship. If you are friends, for example, Jackie will insist on letting you take some clothes that no longer fit her. And if you're dating, she'll make sure to tease you as much as she can until you express the reaction that pleases her the most.

"You look beautiful, (Y\N), my style really suits you, like I always said."

Shauna Shipman

Shauna wouldn't mind too much about you wearing her clothes either, but unlike Jackie, I think she'd be pretty insecure about commenting on it, kind of afraid that it would make you stop wearing it, and also, of course, due to her internal issues with herself.

But Shauna would find it incredibly adorable, though, and would give you some signs that she liked the offbeat idea, her way. This includes not-so-subtle glances while you're wearing the fabric, or some clothes, which are her favorites as well, laid out on the bed when you come to visit… Little details that let you know that Shauna isn't bothered at all therefore.

I mean, unless it's her flannels, these inseparable fucking flannels… Those no one can take, not even a significant other.

"Uh… You look cute, (Y\N), in my outfit… I like it."

Natalie Scatorccio

I don't think Natalie would mind you wearing her clothes. In fact, I think it would be a good opportunity for her to take advantage of this and tease you as much as she can. She will do anything to make you self-conscious and blush, but not in a bad way. Like, that's just her love language.

And, let's face it, Natalie is needy enough not to let her scent wash off her clothes when you take them off. On nights when she needs to sleep alone, if you're dating, she'll purposefully grab one of her pieces of clothing and smell in the scent to keep you close.

"Hey, sweetie, lookin' pretty, huh? Is this outfit mine by any chance?"

Taissa Turner

I'm a hundred percent sure that Tai would be one of those people who abominate clichés, unless she's doing it herself. So, at first, this idea of sharing clothes with her significant other is something she would find completely silly. The first time, she would just kindly tell you to stop it, in a way that doesn't hurt your feelings (I love a soft-hearted Tai, don't judge me!).

But then, as time goes on, I'm also one hundred percent sure that Tai would buy clothes in her style that exclusively fit you. It's kind of her guilty pleasure, since spoiling you is one of her most practiced love languages. And well, considering the tantrum she threw the first few times, how much you've evolved is impressive.

"Okay honey, which one do you want to wear today?"

Lottie Matthews

Okay, get ready for the biggest love bomb you've ever received in your life. Lottie would be completely adorable about your wearing her clothes, and not only would she not mind at all, she would make a point of convincing you that you are one of the lost paintings by one of the famous artists of past centuries, or something like that.

In fact, it's kind of a headcannon on my part that Lottie doesn't have her own style and that she's always looking for something that makes her belong somewhere (some clothes in her teens she wore because of her mother's influence, just because it would please her, you know? )

So, seeing you wearing the dresses that she finds extremely over the top, or the blouses that have too much detail and too little simplicity, is like one of the greatest achievements of her life, if not the greatest. I don't think Lottie ever liked that flashy style more than when you started stealing it from her.

"Wow, wow, wait a minute! Wow, (Y\N), I think you wearing this made me a hundred times more in love with you! Wear it more, babe. You can wear my clothes as much as you like."

Van Palmer

(Okay, since Liv identifies as they\them, I'm going to change the pronouns for this one, hope you don't mind!)

Van and Natalie would have the same approach when it comes to stealing their clothes. But, I think, as an honest opinion, Van would turn this more into a flirting game than anything else. They are simply obsessed (it reads turned on) when you wear something of theirs.

And of course, this opens the door for some good teasing that will inevitably end in making out. Like, how would you handle it, with Van looking you up and down and smirking with that smile you're completely drawn to every time? It's almost impossible for nothing to happen.

I'm also pretty sure that if you were dating, they wouldn't let you have only your clothes in your closet or in your bags. There would always have to be three or more pieces of them that you could use as much or as little as you wanted.

"Wow! Watch out, everyone! There's an extremely hot living being crossing the room, and look what a coincidence, they're wearing my clothes!"

Misty Quigley

Misty would probably have the best reaction ever. Then she, who was always ridiculed for her attitudes and style, having someone who was able to wear her clothes as if they were completely ordinary. Are you kidding? You'll practically make her day if you do something like that!

Obviously, she would be embarrassed and reluctant to ask you the first time why you were doing it, but Misty Quigley has two sides to the coin, and one of them being the impulsive side, I think that would be the one that would beat her to the courage. And your response of the type "because I love your style" would simply keep her up all night.

By the next morning, her entire circle of potential friends would have known about it…

"OH MY GOD! Are these… are these my clothes? Okay, now you really need to let me do your makeup, (Y\N)!"

Laura Lee

(Same thing as Liv\Van, but I don't really know if Laura Lee would use neutral pronuns... It's all because of Jane Widdop, our baby!)

Laura Lee would be pretty surprised if you showed up wearing their clothes, and honestly, I don't think there would be any malice on their part when you did. More than a possible sign that they could be more than friends to you, this would mean that you could, above all, be friends.

They would find it extremely sweet, actually, the effort and dedication you put into choosing an item of clothing that they loved, but was also comfortable for you. In short, Laura Lee would just adore you even more, if that were even possible!

"Oh! Oh! I can't believe it! You look beautiful wearing this, (Y\N). In God's eyes and mine mostly."

#lgbt #romance #oneshot #fluff #headcannons #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #jackie taylor x reader #shauna shipman x reader #van palmer x reader #taissa turner x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #lottie matthews x reader #laura lee x reader #misty quigley x reader

[alexfromjersey]

𝓢𝓹𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓞𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 & 𝓕𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓵 𝓐𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓭𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮

jenna x g!poc

summary: jenna avoids talking to her family. jah plans a spontaneous outing

warnings: mature language, smut, tiny bit of violence

a/n: this is my all-time fav fanfic to write. I actually enjoy writing again, it’s been a long time since I’ve said that. also I can’t express enough how much I appreciate 230+ followers it’s small to some but this is huge to me thank you 🥺🫶🏾. enjoy the chapter - 5.5k words

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“Jenna…you’re pregnant?”

Those words coming out of her mother’s mouth made all the air in Jenna’s body disappear. Nervousness filled her and tears started to fill her eyes. At the sight, you instantly stood up from leaning against the car.

“What happened?” You mouthed in concern to her.

“Hello? Jenna?”

Jenna stepped away, “How did you find out?”

It was quiet on the other side for a moment, “So it’s true…you are pregnant.”

“Yeah, Mom I am. Listen I was going to call you and Dad and tell you guys but I had other things to handle first” Jenna explained.

“Handle? What things needed to be handled first? I get a call at one in the morning while on break at work from Hudson. My heart done fell out of my ass because I thought something bad happened to you-”

“Wait, wait Hudson called you and told you?” Jenna questioned.

“Yes. Told me that you got pregnant by some hoodlum. Who is this person anyway? You never mentioned you were seeing anyone” Natalie asked.

Jenna looked at you, you were glancing at her with concern and confusion. You saw that her face contorted into something that kinda scared you…and turned you on.

“Mom I have to go but I promise I will call you back and explain everything,” Jenna said.

Jenna didn’t wait for her mother to reply before she hung up the phone. Her walk back to you was full of annoyance and frustration.

“What happ-”

“I need to go somewhere” Jenna interrupted you and texted Big L to go home. As she passed you, she took the keys out of your hand.

“Uh…” That was all you were able to say as Jenna got into the driver's seat. Sensing the anger radiating from her, you just decided to follow her. You hopped in the car and Jenna pulled off immediately.

After a deathly silent drive to NoHo, you quickly arrive in front of a luxury loft apartment building. Jenna turned off the car and quickly hopped out. You were right on her heels.

She walked into the lobby where she was greeted by a doorman.

“Good evening Ms. Ortega” The doorman greeted.

But Jenna ignored him, her focus was on getting the little bastard on the top floor. You and her walk into the elevator which was thankfully empty.

“You gon’ talk or what? I’m lost on this entire thing right now” You questioned.

“My mother knows” Jenna revealed.

Your eyes widen at the revelation, “oh shit.”

“Oh shit is right. The person who told her lives in this building” Jenna said and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Mhmm” You hummed.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment almost to the floor Hudson lived on. You took the ring off your pinky finger and stuffed your necklace into your shirt. You also pulled off your glasses and held them in your hand.

Jenna looked at you, “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting ready just in case I gotta beat a bitch ass” You shrugged nonchalantly.

Soon, the two of you arrived on Hudson’s floor. You followed behind Jenna until she stopped at the last door on the floor. She started to bang on the door nonstop.

A few moments later, the door swung open to reveal a groggy Hudson. Before the door fully opened, Jenna pushed her way inside.

“You had no right! No fucking right to tell my mother my business” Jenna seethed.

Now Hudson was fully awake, “I did you a favor!”

You casually walked inside the apartment and close the door. You leaned against the counter watching the scene unfold.

“No! You did yourself a favor! I told you to stay out of this. I told you multiple times and you still keep doing it. You were my best friend Hudson and I trusted you! But now I’m done with you Hudson.” Jenna snapped.

Hudson’s face contorts into an angry one, “Done with me! After everything I did for you, you just going to drop me like that! You know what, maybe I should tell the world and your little thug girlfriend everything about you and I mean everything. Show everyone the real Jenna Ortega” Hudson threatened lowly.

If it was possible Hudson would be liquified by the way Jenna was glaring into his soul.

“Or maybe I should just show her all the videos and headlines. Especially the most recent one that’s not even a year old yet.” Hudson challenged the smaller brunette.

Hudson was suddenly cut off by a pain in his left cheek and his head whipped to the right. You instantly get up and pull Jenna away from Hudson.

“Okay, time to go,” You said and continued to pull her away.

Hudson glared at Jenna as he rubbed his cheek. You and Jenna leave the boy’s apartment and make your way back to the elevator. Tears were now falling freely down Jenna’s face. Once inside you push the emergency stop button. The elevator stops and you turn towards Jenna.

Immediately Jenna started to sob and you rushed in to pull her close to you. Your arm wrapped around her and she grabbed a fist full of your shirt. You felt her whole body racked with sobs. You kissed the top of her head and hugged her tighter.

🤰🏻🩵

TWO DAYS LATER

It's been two days since Jenna last spoke with her mother. Technically Natalie was calling and texting her daughter but she was too afraid to answer. Instead, the actress coped in her hotel room avoiding everyone, crying, and eating up all the room service food.

You just came back from shooting hoops with Davis and a few other friends. You took your shower and got dressed in some comfortable clothes. You haven't heard from the actress in a while and you were getting worried. So you grabbed your keys and set off to her hotel.

The journey didn't take long and you made your way up to the floor you knew she stayed on. You then knocked three knocks on the door. A few moments later, an exhausted looking Jenna opened the door.

"Damn girl you look terrible" You spoke without a second thought.

Jenna glared at you, "I will slam this door in your face."

"I'm sorry. My intrusive thoughts won that round. What you doing being cooped up in this stuffy ass room?"

"Sulking in my depression" Jenna replied and left from the door. You stepped inside and closed the door behind you. The hotel room was a lot different from the last of you were in. This was like presidential suite, it had a kitchen, multiple rooms, a big ass dining table, and 85inch TVs.

"That Scream money got you in severe luxury. I might have to dabble into the acting business" You joked.

Jenna, however, ignored you, she instead went back into her room and buried herself under her covers.

"Nah get yo ass up," You said and ripped the comforter off Jenna's body. Underneath, she was only dressed in an oversized white button up shirt and real short shorts.

“No” Jenna moaned and tried to grab the comforter but you moved it out of the way.

“Nah get your pregnant emotional ass up” You stated.

“Real talk, I know the news hitting your fam is not the way you wanted it but they know now. It’s been two days, you can’t keep avoiding them, especially your Moms.” You continued.

“You didn’t hear how she sounded Jah. I never heard my mother sound so disappointed in my life. Not even when pictures of me smoking cigarettes came out” Jenna said.

“I get it. You do your best trying to be this perfect child for your parents. When you disappoint them, you’re afraid that they’ll look at you differently” You commented.

“Yeah,” Jenna nodded.

“But they also gotta understand that you are human. Regardless of how perfect you try to be, you are going to make mistakes in your life. If they can’t accept that then, no offense, they got parenting all wrong” You added.

“You gonna be the fun parent while I be the strict one?” Jenna questioned.

"Why can't we both be fun parents with understandable boundaries" You stated and lay back to next to her.

Jenna sighed and the two of you just lay there in a comfortable silence staring at the ceiling before Jenna spoke again. "This room is suffocating. I need to go somewhere or do something"

You sat up on your forearms, "You are just luck Hollywood. I need you to get up and get dressed. I wanna take you somewhere to get your mind off things."

"I mean there are other ways to take my mind off things" Jenna smirked.

For a second you considered what she was implying but then you had to remember your talk yesterday.

"You are a very horny woman Jenna Ortega. Now get up and get a move on you smell like a reheated supreme pizza" You smirk at her annoyed face and leave her room.

“Asshole” Jenna grumbled.

🤰🏻🩵

It was an hour later, Jenna still had a little attitude with you, which you found amusing. She was finally ready to go. The two of you left your apartment and got in your car.

“Where are we going?” Jenna asked.

“You’ll see.” You smiled and started the journey to your destination. Jenna pouted and sat back in her seat. The car journey was mostly just filled with you bopping along to the music while Jenna stared at the scenery.

The disappointment in her mother’s voice still echoed throughout her head. She knew that she needed to talk to her family and explain everything but she wasn’t ready just yet.

Shortly after, you finally arrived at your destination, The Bronx Museum of the Arts. You always wanted to take someone here but you never found the right person until now.

“Welcome to the Bronx Museum of the Arts,” You smiled as you opened the door for her. The two of you walked into the building that was playing a jazzy instrumental softly.

Immediately, Jenna was amazed by the art she saw. From paintings to sculptures to graffiti art. You stood a little bit behind her as she looked over the art. You, too were interested in all the art, especially the graffiti.

Graffiti reminded you of your father. Before he left, he was a construction worker but had a talent for graffiti art. Often getting in trouble in his youth with his friends for tagging buildings, cars, and billboards. Your father tried to teach your older brother how to make graffiti art but he was never interested enough. But when you came along, he was ecstatic to finally share his talent with his one of his offspring.

“This is amazing” Jenna beamed after she finished reading the description of one of the statues.

“I’m glad you like it. I was kinda worried you wouldn’t like it” You said and scratched the back of your neck nervously.

Jenna smirked as she looked at you, “Nervous?”

You stopped scratching the back of your neck and shoved your hands in your jeans pockets.

“Nah I don’t get nervous,” You said and cleared your throat.

Jenna just nodded with a smile. As much as she wanted to hold your hand, she restrained herself and kept walking through the exhibit. You followed behind her and put a good enough distance between the two of you. Jenna took notice of it but didn't make a comment. The two of you just continued enjoying your time at the museum, learning more about the Bronx and Hip-Hop culture.

Two hours have passed and the museum was, unfortunately, closing. You and Jenna left the building, vowing to come back to finish.

Instead of leading her to the car, you make your way down the street.

It wasn’t long until you arrived at the second destination, Black Knight Lounge. It was recommended to you by one of your buddies you play hoop with. It was a low-key club that served banging food and played fire music. But what made you come here was the fact that it had an open mic night, which coincidentally was tonight.

“Party for 2,” You said to the hostess who nodded and grabbed two menus. The hostess led you to a booth to the right of the stage.

“Enjoy” The hostess smiled and placed the menus down before leaving.

“This seems familiar” Jenna joked.

You chuckled and thought back to the night your child was conceived, “Reminds me of the night we conceived our child. A night that I remember daily.”

Jenna hid her red face in the menu which you laughed at. She went back to looking over the menu while you stared at her, taking in her natural beauty. This was the most relaxed you had seen her in the past week. The girl was a busybody and often forgot that she was human and can get exhausted. Hopefully, since she’s pregnant now she’ll take her body's health into consideration more.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the Black Knight Open Mic Night. For all my newcomers, open mic night is the chance to showcase your musical, poetic, or comedic talents in front of everyone. Do your best cause you never know who’s watching. Rules are: each person gets a limit of 3-4 minutes, you may perform an original or cover, and you must have the instrumental for your music or perform it yourself. The winner gets $500. Without further ado let’s get it started!” The DJ announced excitedly.

Everyone in the building clapped their hands while one person went up to the DJ booth and handed him a USB.

“Alright, we have our first performer for the night. Give it up Mr. ChiBX” The DJ yelled into the microphone.

“Twenty bucks, he chokes” You challenged the girl.

“He’s not going to choke. I believe in him” Jenna said optimistic.

You pulled out a $20 bill and smacked it on the table with a smirk. Jenna smiled and also pulled out a $20 bill and smacked it on top of yours. The two of you then turned towards the stage where the overweight middle-aged man was sweating bullets.

“I like to start off my set by telling a little joke. What do you call an angry carrot?” ChiBX asked.

No one in the room answered the man so the DJ took pity on him, “I don’t know man what do you call an angry carrot?”

“A steamed veggie” ChiBX wheezed.

You and Jenna covered your mouths as you laughed from secondhand embarrassment. Again, no one in the room laughed or chuckled. The DJ cringed before hitting a button that made a buzzing sound.

ChiBX frowned and without another word just left the stage.

“Poor guy” Jenna pouted.

You, on the other hand, grabbed the $40 from the table, “Aye I’m $40 richer.”

Jenna rolled her eyes in amusement while you did a quick little dance in your seat. The two of you continued playing the game after ordering your drinks and entrees, only adding money to the mix when one of you was super confident of winning.

While sipping your Sprite, you noticed Jenna kept glancing down at her phone.

“Call them” You blurt out.

Jenna looked up, “What?”

“Call your folks. Avoiding them more is only going to make things worse than they should be” You explained.

Jenna didn’t want to talk about it so she switched the subject, “When are you going to tell your mom?”

You sighed when she switched the subject but you didn’t want to push her to talk about anything she didn’t want to.

“She gets back from Jamaica tomorrow. Which brings me to asking you if you feel comfortable meeting her tomorrow? You can absolutely suggest another time too” You said.

Jenna contemplated meeting your mom right now, especially when she’s not on speaking terms with hers right now. But then she weighed the facts that, she’s going to be gone for a few months filming Beetlejuice in London. She didn’t want to wait until she was halfway from giving birth to tell your mother.

“Yeah I would love to meet her” Jenna smiled and nodded.

“Great” You smiled.

Moments later, your food has arrived. The two of you sat in silence and devoured your plates entirely. By the time you were both done, the place was packed now. More people got up to the mic and performed comedy pieces with only three performing rap songs.

You were now sitting beside Jenna with your arm around her and her leaning into your side. You guys wanted to stay for a little bit longer to watch whoever got on stage.

“Jahaziel?” Someone called your name from behind you.

The both of you looked to the side and saw an older gentleman dressed in a polo shirt and slacks. You recognized him as one of your father’s old friends.

“Mr. Greenhill, how you doing?” You greeted the man and shook his hand.

“I’m doing good young blood. I haven’t seen you since you were little. How’s Moms?” Mr. Greenhill gleamed.

“Yeah. She’s doing good. She comes back from Jamaica tomorrow” You answered.

“Word? I might stop by and visit her. I haven’t seen her since she and Emanuel moved to Highbridge” Mr. Greenhill said.

At the mention of your father’s name, your smile faltered a little. You hoped he didn’t ask you about how or where your father was.

“Excuse me, where are my manners. I’m Mr. Greenhill, I was a friend of her father's and I used to babysit this knucklehead” Mr. Greenhill introduced himself.

"This is Jenna...we're friends" You introduced her.

Friends. The title left a bitter taste in your mouth and an arrow in Jenna's heart.

"Nice to meet you Jenna" Mr. Greenhill smiled at her which she reciprocated. "Am I gonna see you on that stage?"

“Nah I don’t think so. I don’t have anything prepared” You declined.

“The lies you tell. You are always prepared when it comes to music. This one used to put on concerts for the whole block when she was little. Singing her heart out using songs no one expected her to sing. Like that time you sang Chain Reaction by Diana Ross” Mr. Greenhill reminisced.

You chuckled, “I remember. Dre and I were using buckets as drums.”

“Yes! Good times” Mr. Greenhill said.

You nodded in agreement.

"Alright, I don't want to interrupt your outing more than I already have. It was good seeing you young blood and again nice meeting you too Jenna." Mr. Greenhill said.

"Likewise" Jenna smiled. Mr. Greenhill left your table. You take a sip of your drink but you felt eyes burning into the side of your skull.

“What?” You questioned as you looked at Jenna.

“When were you going to tell me you made music?” Jenna raised an eyebrow.

"Oh see that's how I know you are a fake friend because I have music out," You said.

“How was I supposed to know that? You don’t even promote it” Jenna replied.

"Because I made it when I was 13. I put out four songs and three had music videos. We spent a hefty amount of money on them. Almost went homeless because of it" You shrugged and placed your drink down.

“What do you mean?” Jenna asked.

“I used to do little shows on the corner by my house with Davis and a few other friends. One day, a guy came up to me after I finished performing a song and basically sold me a dream. Told me that he was a record label agent and if I signed with him I’ll be this big child singer and I’ll be rich and yadayadayadaya. So I begged my Moms to let me sign with this man cause music is my dream, singing and dancing and performing is my love language. It took a while but my mom eventually let me sign with the man under the conditions that she will manage everything and I’ll still be in school. Everything was smooth, I made those four songs and did the music videos, my mom went from having two jobs to basically a part time job so she can manage my career. So I don’t know what made her look more deeply into these people but I’m glad she did because she found out that they were pocketing the money I made from those songs.” You explained.

Jenna gasped, “How much?”

“They pocketed almost 70k from us. We never noticed because they would show us falsified documents of where the money was going too. They would tell us all our money was going to these fake ass fees and shit. ” You said and sipped your soda.

“Wow. Do you want to make music again?” Jenna asked.

"Eh I don’t know maybe later in my career. I haven’t properly performed in almost ten years so I don’t know if I still got it in me" You shrugged.

"Doesn’t hurt to try again. This is a good opportunity to practice " Jenna said and motioned to the stage.

“Oh no thank you. I’m good" You stated.

“Aw come on Jah…like you said singing, dancing, and performing is your love language. Don’t give up on something you love. Don’t let those people prior take away your passion” Jenna said.

After a moment of contemplating, you let out a sigh, “Fine.”

You stood up from the booth and Jenna watched with excitement as you walked over to the DJ booth. You opened your phone to the notes section. You found a song you wrote a couple years ago. You skimmed through the lyrics until you felt like you had the lyrics down pack. You handed the DJ your phone with the beat on it.

“What you wanna be introduced as?” The DJ asked.

“Just Jah is fine” You answered and he nodded.

You walked up to the microphone on the small stage. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you which placed your nerves in. But when your eyes locked on brown ones, you felt every single nerve disappear. You took a deep breath in and gave a thumbs up to the DJ.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, give it up for our first singing performance of the night, Just Jah!” The DJ announced.

That’s not…whatever.

The beat for your song started playing.

“It’s crazy how your heart just has a mind of its own, yeah, yeah” You started singing.

Jenna’s jaw dropped at the sound of your raspy R&B-suited voice.

“Like when a smile, that makes a choice on its own”

Jenna was completely enchanted by everything about you. From learning that you can sing to your beauty to your mindset. Everything about you made her realize something.

She was falling in love with you. Hard. Which made her even more petrified.

“My mind tries to deny it but girl I can’t fight what I know. I know. I want you baby ooh” You take your voice up a few octaves and stun every single person in the room except for one.

Mr. Greenhill was by the entrance of the building with a proud smile on his face.

You finished the rest of the song and everyone was giving you a standing ovation. You thanked everyone and went back to the booth.

“I need you to sing just for me every day from now on,” Jenna said.

You laugh as you sat down, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Seriously, I need more music from you. I need it like yesterday” Jenna joked.

You continued to laugh at Jenna's eagerness for more music from you. It gave you the confidence boost you didn't know you needed to actually start making music again.

“Wow! What an amazing performance by Just Jah. Now I’m gonna take a quick 30-minute break and I’ll be right back with some more performances” The DJ said and switched on some music.

You recognized the song as Aaliyah's. All the couples in the room stood from their seats and went to the small dance floor. You grabbed Jenna's hand and pulled her up and towards the dance floor.

"May I have a dance with you darling?" You spoke in a British accent which made Jenna giggle.

"You shall" She replied.

You placed her arms around your neck and your hands on her waist. The two of you start swaying to the beat of the song.

"I know this was a spontaneous friend outing but did you enjoy yourself today?" You asked.

"Best friend outing I've ever been on" Jenna answered honestly.

“The best? You just boosted my ego to astronomical heights” You joked.

Jenna giggled before staring into your hazel eyes. The blue strobe lights in the room bounce off your skin beautifully.

“I want to kiss you so bad” You admitted to the shorter girl.

Before Jenna can stop herself and think, her answer spilled out her mouth instantly.

“Do it” Jenna muttered.

At the consent, you didn't hesitate to connect your lips with hers. The kiss was full of passion and love that it made the both of you slightly dizzy. You pull her closer and grip her waist as the kiss gets deeper. Jenna gripped the hair on the back of your neck. Before the kiss could escalate more in public, you pulled away but kept your forehead on hers.

“My place?” You suggested lowly.

“Absolutely” Jenna nodded quickly.

🤰🏻🩵

The both of you knew it was wrong, especially after the discussion you had two days ago. But you couldn't stop yourselves, you were both addicted to each other. An addiction that is going to generate consequences in the future.

By the time the two of you were back in your apartment, lips were interlocked and clothes were scattered everywhere. You barely made it up to the apartment with how much the two of you couldn't keep your hands to yourselves. But you made it safe and clothed until the door was shut.

Jenna sighed in pleasure as your lips enclosed her nipple. Your other hand makes itself useful by rolling the other bud in between your fingers. You gave attention to the other nipple before continuing your way down her body. Kissing every patch of her skin, worshipping her body.

But Jenna was impatient, she wanted you at her golden area to take care of the ache between her thighs. But you weren’t ready just yet.

"Jah...please" Jenna whined.

The sound of her calling your name was enough to get you even harder than before. You decided to stop teasing her and settled between her legs. You looked up and saw her staring down at you with lust-filled eyes waiting for you. You kept eye contact with her as you slowly licked from her hole up to her clit.

Instantly, she threw her head back against the pillows and dragged out a moan. Then, you went to work. You started your pleasurable assault on her clit, going from kitty licks to sucking on it repeatedly.

“Oh my…fuck” Jenna moaned and arched her back while gripping the sheets in her hands. You hook your hands under her thighs and pull her closer. You moaned at the sweet taste of her which sent vibrations throughout her body.

Her moans went up an octave each time you did it. She felt the knot in her stomach appear and she knew she was going to cum soon. You removed one of your hands from her thigh. You ran a finger up and down her slit, gathering wetness before pushing your middle finger inside her hole.

Her knuckles turned white from her grip on the sheets. You started slowly pumping in and out before reattaching your lips to her clit. You added a second finger, your ring finger to the mix.

Jenna’s chest rose and fell rapidly as she panted from the insertion.

You sat up and hovered over the girl with one free arm. You leaned down towards her lips just brushing yours against hers. She tried to lean up and connect your lips but you backed away. She let out a whine which quickly turned into a gasp as you abruptly sped up your fingers.

“Fuck!” She gasped.

Your fingers were increasing in pace, they also were starting to cramp but you pushed through it. The only sounds being heard were the slapping of your palm against her vagina and the moans spewing from Jenna’s mouth. You slowed your pace and curled your fingers and instantly hit the spongy spot inside her walls. Jenna let out a scream as she now gripped your forearm.

You felt her walls pulsating around your fingers. A few more curls and Jenna’s back arched to the sky as her walls trapped your fingers and you felt hot liquid around them. Her jaw fell open as choked moans came out from her intense orgasm. After a moment, Jenna started to relax and you pulled your fingers out.

“You taste delicious” You smirked as you licked her cum off your fingers. She looked at you with half-lidded eyes and a smirk.

After you finished cleaning her off your fingers, you leaned down and captured her lips. She moaned as she tasted herself on your tongue. You took this time to position yourself over her entrance. You broke the kiss for a moment to grab a condom from your dresser, rolling it on your hardened shaft, and lining yourself up before capturing her lips again.

Slowly, you pushed yourself inside her. Jenna broke the kiss as her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

You loved seeing her like this, so vulnerable. It was only for your eyes and you couldn’t get enough of it. You bottom out in her as she clenched around you at the feeling of you being deep in her.

“Shit” You hissed as a deep groan escaped your mouth.

Jenna’s eyes snapped to you as she watched your face twist in pleasure. She wanted that godly sent sound to escape your lips again.

“Pick me up” Jenna mumbled.

You obeyed her request and sat up on her your knees with her in your arms. You hooked your arms around the back of her knees and gripped her cheeks with your hands.

Instead of starting slow this time, your hips snapped into a quick pace. Nails dug into your shoulder blades making moon crescent-shaped indents. Your lips attached themselves to her collarbone, bruising up the area with love marks.

"F-F-Fuck Jah" Jenna cried out. Her hips bucked wildly as you hit the right spot inside her. Sweat cling to your forehead as you concentrated on bringing her into a blissful state. But there was something in the back of your head telling you this was wrong. But you ignored it and focused on the trembling woman in your arms.

I can definitely handle you…

A devilish smirk grew on your face. You were going to have fun with her tonight. You stopped your thrusts, much to her dismay. You laid her down back on the bed, her legs now resting on your shoulders. You interlock your fingers with hers and start going to town.

Jenna looked down at the sight of your stick, glistening from her arousal, disappearing inside of her. The knot in her stomach tightened and her walls fluttered around you, signaling how close she was. So naturally, your pace sped up to an inhuman one. Your headboard knocks against the wall.

“Yes, don’t stop!” Jenna sobbed.

A couple more thrusts and immediately Jenna saw stars. The knot in her stomach snapped and she arched into you once more, no sound escaping her lips as her second orgasm ripped through her harsher than the first one. She expected you to stop and let her catch her breath but you did the opposite. You kept thrusting into the girl, fucking her through her orgasm.

“W-W-Wait baby” She hissed as her eyes widen from you continuing. She removed her right hand from yours and pushed it against your pelvis, trying to get you to stop and let her catch her breath.

"Nah" You smirked.

Her legs fell from your shoulders, effectively giving you more access to go deeper. At the feeling of you being deeper, Jenna tried to scoot away from you.

"Nah, where you going?" You said. You flipped her onto her stomach. You pulled her ass towards you and you inserted yourself back into her before she could properly take a breath. A long dragged-out moan escaped her lips. Your hands gripped her hips, forcing the girl to move back onto you.

Jenna’s eyes slammed shut and she buried her face into the pillow. But a gasp was muffled by the pillow escaped her as you delivered a sharp hard thrust.

“Fuck!” Jenna screamed. You smirked as you delivered more sharp thrusts. Choked moans spilled from her mouth until she felt herself tremble. She was sent into another orgasm, her third one for the night.

“I can’t. I-I-I can’t baby” She sobbed as she tried running from you once more.

Your hand went around her throat and you pulled her up against you. You kissed her jawline as your other hand explored her body.

“Give me one more baby girl” Your voice dripped with lust. It was deeper and raspier which made Jenna swoon. You littered her neck with hickeys as she reached behind you and slid her fingers through your hair.

You started slow this last time, setting a smooth pace for both of you. Her heavenly pants went straight into your ear as she rested her head on your shoulder.

“You feel so good” You stated with a groan.

Her fourth and final orgasm was quickly approaching. You were almost there too, you wanted to cum together for the final one. Jenna knew you were close to exploding by the way your hands gripped her hips tighter. She purposely clenched around you which made you hiss and bury your face into her neck.

“Baby…look at…me” Jenna moaned.

You didn't want to look at her because you knew if you do, you'll be a goner. But Jenna wasn't having that, she tugged your hair and forced you to look at her. One look into her eyes had you gone, your hips stuttered as you felt yourself empty into the condom.

“Oh fuck” You groaned and gripped her hips tighter. You knew that was going to leave a bruise.

At the sight of you reaching your climax, Jenna cried out, incoherent words escaping her as she climaxed for the final time tonight. You held her close to you as she trembled in your arms. The two of you shared lazy kisses as you calmed down from tonight's activities. Both of you have tired smiles on your faces.

You pulled out her and she whined from the loss and overstimulation. You pulled the used condom off you, tied it up, and threw it into the trashcan beside your bed. The both of you laid back down on the bed. You lay on your back with your arm behind your head as Jenna cuddled up to your side. It wasn't long until Jenna's breath evened out, signaling that she was asleep and you were following her.

a/n: I also change my mind constantly on everything so the fans/public still don't know...yet cause I have a plan for that *insert evil smile*

taglist: @grandpatrolnut @raven-ss @fanboy7794 @morganismspam23 @cinffy23 @darklron @cheesybacon1 @octavias-next-meat-bite @playboysaleen @niqmandu @zaclewiss @yescruzzzzzzz @silentfor @gemz5 @alwaysdangerouschild @onceblinkarmyandmore @melonfruit442 @zataracloud @nepobaby08 @jennasslut @rimaybank @jaewu @j3nc0re

#jenna ortega #g!p reader #jenna ortega x reader #nycxhollywood #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x oc #Spotify

[mymelodymia]

Oh!! Oh!!! How about the Avengers meeting Tony’s kid for the first time? Maybe she isn’t that old yet (youngling, pre-teen maybe?) and they’re all like how can this be Tony’s kid (in a good way)? But then she starts getting sassy and cocky like her Dad, and they’re like, nevermind

I fantasize about this kinda stuff happening constantly LMAO

Summary: your a young stark, but already act exactly like your father.

Warnings: Y/N being sarcastic, Y/N being a little mean, slight mention of tony being a dumbass 🙄

A/N: I honestly loved this request so much, and to all the other people who requested, it might take me a minute to get to some of them, but I'll try to be fast with it <3

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•++•°+*°•++•°+*°•+

You were around 11 when new york went down, and 12 when the Malibu house said bye-bye, and now you live at the tower, your father tony, knew you weren't so good with new people. So him being the dumbass he is, introduced you to everyone at the same time, oof.

He made sure that everyone knew at the same time and that if they step out of line, they'd have it coming for them. You were used to tonys overprotective-ness but he really just wanted you to be protected and feel safe,

"So this is my daughter Y/N" and then he went on and on for like 2 minutes straight taking bout "you even look at her the wrong way you wil-"

"Dad, i think they get it." You looked quite shy and quiet, (you weren't) It was around 7 when you all ate dinner together, you had met nat before (the whole natalie rushman thing) but you didn't know her personally, yet.

You went to your room after dinner, and turned on whatever movie you saw first, tangled, you and your dad LOVED disney movies, it had become a tradition to have a Disney movie marathon at least once a week, it had been about 30 minutes of you being in your room there was a knock at your door,

"Come in" you said flatly not taking your eyes of the screen, tony poked his head through the door and spoke up

"Y/N/N" he said walking deeper into the dark room

"Hmm" you hummed waiting for him to continue,

"Sorry i put you on the spot like that earlier, i know you aren't good with new people" he said with slight guilt in his eyes, coming toward you, sitting down on the bed,

"It's fine, i always knew you didn't love me..."

"What?? I never said that i..."

"I know :')" you said laying back, your father putting his arm around you before you could. You snuggled into him, your head resting softly on his shoulder, continuing to watch your movie, with your dad this time <3

Eventually you fell into a deep slumber, your chest rising and falling continuously, tony putting a blanket over you two, when the movie ended he looked down at you, sleeping peacefully against his shoulder.

He tried to slip his arm out from under you, this made you stir from your slumber, he tried this continuously for about 10 minutes, you holding onto him tighter each time he did. Eventually he gave up and got comfortable, he was clearly sleeping there.

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•+

The next morning you woke up at around 9:27 exactly. Hopping out of bed, you walked into your bathroom, did your business, grabbed your book and walked downstairs to be greeted by the sweet sweet smell of omelets, you walked into the kitchen and saw Steve cooking, everyone else was sitting in the living room or at the dining table.

"Hi steve" you said walking by, smiling and waving to him.

"Morning Y/N" he replied just as tony walked in, heading straight to the coffee ☕️ but when his eyes fell on you, he wrapped you in a hug,

"Hey baby, how'd you sleep?"

"Fine even though there was a peasant in my bed" you said sarcastically, smiling up at your father, your chin resting on his arc reactor, in that moment everyone turned their heads to you, having not expected that, since you had seemed so shy and quiet the night before.

A few minutes later, you made another comment, after Steve had finished eating breakfast, you looked up at him and sighed,

"Steve stop thinking you're ugly" you said with (fake) sympathy,

"What?-"

"I mean, you are ugly, but dont think about it.."

tony was cackling in the back as you walked away.

+•°+*°•+

you were ranting about sm stupid, doing the classic tony walk, (you know the one where he has his chest puffed out and his lower back arched and one of his hands floating in the air using a whole bunch of hand gestures)

Everyone just staring at you, realizing how wrong they were when they thought you were shy and quiet. Your father was smirking at this. When you realized they were staring, you paused

"Why are you looking at me like that" not even realizing how out of breath you were from your ranting

"You really are a mini tony" Natasha spoke up, eyebrows raised. Tony laughed at this and made a comment, showing where you get it.

"Told you, keep going Y/N/N"

*title is mini stark*

@white-wolf-buckaroo

@yummyangy

#tony stark #tony stark x daughter reader #dad!tony stark #daughter reader #tony stark x stark!reader #x reader #tony stark x reader #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #the avengers #marvel mcu #hehehe

[dearbraus]

. ☆ ͡ ݂ The Antler Queen’s Reverie

Feat. Natalie Scatorccio

⊹ Details. 18+ only minors dni, dni if you’re not sapphic, afab reader, canon divergence, set in the wilderness at s2 finale, cheating (emotional and physical in nat and travis' relationship), discussions of cannibalism, allusion’s to cannibalism, mentions of canon character death, allusions to compulsory heterosexuality, blood consumption, biting (til it bleeds), reader is described as being able to have viable bruises, reader is described as having fingers carded in their hair, making out, scissoring, love as consumption. ⊹ Runtime. 4.5k ⊹ Note. Natalie is canonically eighteen by the season two ending and her actress is nearly twenty-three, peace and love she is above age, don’t like don’t read! If you do read I hope you enjoy <3

Travis sleeps in front of the dying hearth, warmed by the still hot embers and the feeling of a full belly. It’s pleasantly lavish, even when his back will inevitably grow frigid with goosebumps beneath the thick plaid blanket that covers him because he is assuaged. It’ll last him the next few days, perhaps even a week if he’s lucky, before they’ll have to tap into their reserves and Travis will be reminded of why his plate is filled with more than belt-soaked soup. For now, he rests easily, for the first time in the ten months they’ve been trapped. Sleep comes to him before his head even reaches the lumpy pillow that used to be Laura Lee’s– it no longer smells of the vanilla perfume she wore until the day she died, only Lottie missed the scent or even noticed.

Natalie sleeps comfortably in Dead Cabin Guy's bed, nestled behind a shoddily built pine wood door. Coach Scott has disappeared but no one voiced concern if they had any left for the man. Nat takes the opportunity to relish the modicum of privacy the room provides. If Shauna could hole herself up in the attic the moment Lottie was well enough to lay with her acolytes, then Natalie could give her body the much-needed reprieve and sleep somewhere either than the uneven floorboards of the cabin.

It’s quiet, too quiet without Van’s snoring, the crackling fire, and the sounds of creaking wood as Mari tosses and turns to get comfortable. The Wilderness was already suffocatingly silent, in the warm months it wasn’t so bad. The woods were alive, the June bugs buzzed and the trees swayed in the breeze. It was easy then to pretend the sounds of wildlife were no different from the constant thrum of the trailer park she lived in a lifetime ago. She’d learn that in the winter months, the mountains of snow that blanketed the greenery shut everything else out. They could yell but their voices would bounce back at them and be swallowed up just as quickly as it was uttered. 

Natalie found herself staring up at the thick wooden slats that made up the roof, eyes heavy and wet with unshed tears. There was nothing to distract her idle mind as it replayed the events of the day. They looped in her mind like a broken VHS tape. Jackie’s necklace burned against the column of her throat but she couldn’t bring herself to take it off, it wouldn’t make her forget the feeling of a dull blade pressed against her skin by shaky hands or the way bitter wind whipped across her cheeks as she ran. 

The worst part, the thing that kept her mind racing and her body unable to settle into a restful sleep was her lack of regret. Guilt didn’t eat away at her stomach the way it was supposed to. When she thought of the fear that filled Coach Ben’s eyes and how his expression crumbled when she confessed her sins to him, Natalie felt nothing. She should have felt sick, she should have been consumed with such grief that it killed her but Natalie felt nothing of the sort. The tears that sat idle in her eyes weren’t for Javi but they should have been. They were for her. 

Her head snapped towards the door, the sound of the floorboards groaning under the weight of someone made her heart race more than it should. In the dim light that bled through the thin space between the door and the floor, Natalie could see a pair of feet. They hovered nervously, shuffling around without any real intention of coming in.

Natalie learned at a young age to tiptoe and glide around without making a sound. It was better to make herself invisible than to risk the wrath of her father who more often than not was in some drunken stupor. Whoever is behind the door doesn’t scuttle away as she approaches until Natalie tears the door open and a shrill gasp fills the otherwise silent cabin. 

It’s you.

Your lips settle into an apologetic smile, backlit by the warm glow of the dwindling fire you look angelic. The comforting blend of oranges and yellow that danced across your skin could have made Natalie forget how terrified she was when you looked at her like a starved lion gazes upon a gazelle.

Ten months ago you and Natalie were best friends. In definition and in the eyes of the team. Natalie never had a best friend, Kevyn was the closest she’d ever come but it was different than when she was with you. Now, Natalie wasn’t sure. 

That was in the before. 

Before the crash, before they feasted upon human flesh, before they had become grievous creatures who ceaselessly craved.

Natalie whispers your name, her neck craning to peer over your shoulder. The group rests well. Their chests rise and fall evenly from beneath their fur pelts and moth-bitten blankets. Lottie manages a peaceful expression despite the bruises and scabs that still mar her skin.

“Is something wrong?” Natalie asks, her frostbitten hands wringing together nervously.

You avoid her inquisitive eyes, your chin bashfully pressing against your chest, “Can I come in?” You question, the tip of your worn sneakers dig into the floor as you nervously twist your foot back and forth.

She wordlessly steps back, her arm extending outward to usher you forward. The muscles in her legs ache the longer she stands and her chest still hurts but it doesn’t take all of her energy to move like it did the day before. You follow her timidly, the door clicking shut behind you.

The sparse amount of moonlight let in by the tiny window obscures your face from Natalie but she can see you holding something out to her.

“I thought you might be cold,” you whisper, it’s a blanket, the one you had brought with you from home, “Since the door was closed and there’s no fire pit in here.”

Your sincerity was startling. Natalie’s chest clenched and another round of tears threatened to spill past her eyes. She was never one to cry and never this often but she hated how small she felt. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Daring to step closer, you press your blanket against Natalie’s chest, silently willing her to take it from you. She stands numb before you, her hands hung limply by her sides, “Won’t you be cold?” Her voice comes out louder than she intends for it to and she cringes at the sound.

You wordlessly shrug your shoulders. The clothing you packed wasn’t made for the Canadian winter but for the Seattle spring. The thin leggings you wore beneath your soccer shorts weren’t enough to stave off the chill, neither were the leg warmers you made out of Jackie’s shirt. You’d get sick if you went to sleep with nothing but the others body heat and hearth to keep you warm.

“I’ll be fine, I have others,” you say as you go to grab one of her hands.

Your touch burns but it’s not unpleasant. It’s the sort of simmering heat she wishes she felt when Travis took her hand in his earlier than night but, Natalie would chalk it up to being too buzzed on adrenaline to feel anything other than her heart rattling her rib cage. She expects you to shove the blanket into her outstretched fingers and scurry back to bed. You don’t leave, instead, you thread your fingers into hers. The gesture is tender, ten months ago she might have scoffed and asked if you were starting to get soft on her. Now Natalie just stared haplessly at you, torn between running away and tugging you closer. 

It’d be nice to be held, sleep wasn’t coming to her. None of this felt real, her new position or their fealty towards her. Would she not be cast aside just as Lottie had should one of the others rise up as she had? When rations ran out like they always did they’d hunt again, she could just as easily become the prey once more. Her heart raced erratically at the thought but she couldn’t seek the comfort she craved from Travis, not when it was her fault that Javi was flayed to be feasted upon.

“Nat?”

Natalie blinks blankly, her focus snapping back to you, “Sorry,” she quickly muttered, grabbing the spare blanket from your hands, “Uhm, thanks for this.”

“Are you okay, Nat?”

It is a stupid question and you know it. You were not so far removed from societal convention to be deluded that placing a crown atop Natalie’s head soothed the pain that made a home in the soft spaces between her bones. No one had asked her how she felt, if she was unharmed, they were too ravenous to think of anything other than the desperate gnawing that twisted their stomachs inside out. She couldn’t blame them, the prospect of flesh ground beneath her molars had Natalie salivating.

Shrugging her shoulders, Natalie turned to her bed. It was rather small and lumpy, one of the springs poked through the surface of the mattress but it was big enough that the two of you could lay down together comfortably.

“I’m fine,” she croaks, brushing a few strands of her brittle hair away from her face, “But, do you think you could lay down with me? It’s too quiet in here, I can’t sleep.”

This was not a moment of weakness, Natalie never needed anyone before and she never would. It was simply a test, one to see just how devout Lottie’s acolytes would be to their new queen. That was how Natalie rationalized the unwanted tug of loneliness that pulled her toward you.

You appeared surprised, but you quickly masked your shock with a quick nod of your head, “Of course I can,” you smiled warmly at her like this was some sort of sleepover and not a death sentence, “Honestly I never understood how Tai and Shauna could sleep in the attic, being alone like that is … unnerving.”

Swinging her arm toward the bed, Natalie wordlessly gestures for you to slide between the sheets before she can change her mind and cast you from her space. You lay on your side with your back pressed against the wall. It’s an oddly familiar scene one that made her belly churn. If Natalie closed her eyes she could pretend that the two of you were sharing a bed at an overnight game like you had a dozen times before. 

Your arm loops loosely over her stomach when she sinks into the mattress beside you, the willowy curve of her hips fits snuggly into your pelvis. She can feel your chest softly rise and fall and soon her own falls in time with it. The intimacy of it all makes her skin itch 

“Travis doesn’t deserve you,” the words are whispered just as Natalie’s eyes had grown heavy with sleep, the syllables are formed against the curve of her ear. “He never has.”

Your confession is filled with irony and is beyond laughable. He had been the one to blindside the group in the hopes of giving Natalie a chance to survive while you had held the knife. First to Travis’ throat and then to hers as you joined the others in the hunt across the glacial hellscape that was the Wilderness. If there was undeserving of having her in their presence, it was you, so deceiving in your docile demeanour and soft-spoken words, ever so eager to appease whomever was in charge to cover your hide in times of stress with false loyalties.

Natalie remains silent, pretending to be lost in the throes of slumber as you continue on, “If was unfair of him to grow so angry with you for trying to spear his feelings after Javi disappeared,” you grumbled, “There is no way he should have survived for so long out there in the cold, all on his own.”

Bile lined the length of her throat, her stomach churning. 

“You were only trying to help and what does he do? Turn to Lottie … I even heard him saying her name in his sleep.”

A spattering of goosebumps rises on Natalie’s skin when you nuzzle the frigid tip of your nose into her neck, your arms tightening around her middle.

Misplaced blame continued to fracture and splinter any semblance of trust that bound the group to one another. Natalie should not have felt the hot, shameful burn of envy ripple through her at her words, Travis was grieving as he continued to lose piece after piece of his soul but she did. Jealously stewed in her gut and bled out her pores.

She and Travis were tied together by the shared pain of lousy fathers. useless mothers, and circumstance. What was stopping him from moving on to Lottie, she played no part in his brother's death. He’d done it once before at doomcoming with Jackie when sex with bullies over a lifetime ago was the biggest betrayal he’d ever experienced.

“You might be right,” Natalie said with a morose laugh, “But, there aren’t many options in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

 It felt good to speak of him as if he were only a warm body that kept her well satisfied in the dark of night, a quick dig to hit him where it hurt while he was sound asleep in the other room, defenceless. Turning to lay on the flat of her back, Natalie squinted to read the pensive expression you wore.

“There are far more than you think.”

“Who, you?” She joked, nervously swallowing.

You looked as serious as you did when you were studying for the SATs, biting the team's head off every time they tried to get you to take a break. Granted, Taissa was annoyed you were distracted during games and Jackie was trying to keep the peace but still, Natalie had never seen you more serious until now.

Natalie forced out a laugh as if that would diffuse the growing tension that turned the air sticky. Your gaze remained trained on her visage, your lips pressed into a thin line, “Why not,” you whisper, your tongue darting out to wet your lips, “I could treat you better than Travis could.”

Her mouth grows dry, and too many buried feelings threaten to unearth themselves at the prospect of entertaining what you are suggesting. Back home, there were rumours like in any high school that surrounded the girl's soccer team. It’s why Jackie kept getting back together with Jeff even after she swore she was finished with him. Natalie tried to suppress it, she didn’t need to give the Wiskayok high any further ammunition to torment her with but it lingered there like a dark-figured to taunt her during sleepovers with the team or when they got drunk and decided to play kissing games because it meant nothing.

Natalie never partook. She flipped them off and staggered off for a smoke in the hopes of quelling the strange feeling that compressed her chest. You always looked a bit disappointed when she refused to have “fun” with the group.

“Yeah, right,” Natalie said, her voice strained, “Your longest relationship was back in middle school and you guys lasted a week.”

“You’re being mean,” you whisper with a pout.

Natalie always knew where to hit you where it hurt most.

“And you’re being stupid.”

She tried not to look at your lips, they were inviting. Though you hadn’t said anything else, she could feel some telepathic pull toward you. She could do it, kiss you that is. They were going to die out there, any lingering tendrils of hope had long since been extinguished. There was no reason why Natalie couldn’t kiss you just this once to satiate her curiosity before you both eventually met your demise.

However, it would not have been as lovely as it would have been if Natalie let you kiss her last winter at Lottie’s eighteenth birthday party. You had been hanging off her side most of the evening after pounding back one too many shots with the birthday girl. Natalie didn’t mind babysitting you, she hadn’t been in the mood to party that night and you could at least hold your liquor well enough that she wouldn’t have to hold your hair back with you spewed chunks all over the Matthews' pristine rose printed carpet like Akilah did at the last rager. 

You asked Natalie to kiss you on the back porch between puffs of the cigarette you bummed off her. She might have done it too had Laura Lee not ushered the two of you back inside, rattling on and on about how you were bound to get sick before the next game if you didn’t warm up. Natalie thought about that night a lot before burying it away lest she become haunted by it. You smelt of strawberries like you always did and she wondered if you’d taste like them too.

“What’s so stupid about having feelings for another person?” You asked as if you weren’t encroaching into dangerous territory, like Travis was nothing but a distant memory, “Or wanting to act on them so we can die with no regrets.”

There was something refreshing in knowing Natalie wasn’t alone in her line of thinking but that must have been why the two of you bonded all the way back in freshmen year.

“We’re gonna die out here and I’ve made my peace with that but I don’t want to die a virgin like some loser when I know you don’t love Travis.”

The conviction in your voice makes Natalie shrink beneath the blankets. Maybe she didn’t love Travis and maybe she had never known what love truly felt like but that didn’t mean anything. High school sweethearts were destined to crash and burn like their plane had. Natalie could only imagine what would transpire between her and Travis the longer they wrapped their veins together– nothing good, nothing good ever blossomed where Natalie was concerned.

Placing your hand on Natalie’s cheek, you turned her face toward yours, “So don’t settle because you’re afraid,” you whispered as you leaned closer, “There’s nothing out here to stop us from indulging in everything we couldn’t have out there.”

The Wilderness chose Natalie, it chose her as the next leader and now it presented you, ripe on a silver platter with skin so juicy you’d burst if she took a bite. It’d but rude to deny it now, wouldn’t it?

Your touch was gentle and surprisingly warm. It felt far better than anything she had previously experienced. Natalie felt herself being drawn closer to you, her lips just barely grazing against yours. Her breath fans across your mouth for a short second before she captures your lips in a kiss. It wasn’t anything spectacular or radically different from all the other times she had kissed someone but Natalie didn’t feel this odd twinge of shame after it was over like she usually did.

Her hazel eyes studied you for a moment afterward, trailing over the rounded curve your mouth sat in and the crinkle that grew between your furrowed brows. She wondered if it was disappointing, the kiss you’d spent a year waiting for. But, she wasn’t able to ruminate for too long before you were rolling on top of Natalie and cupping her face between your frost-bitten hands. The chapped, crackled skin of her lips splintered open when you nipped at her bottom lip. The heady, metallic taste of blood dabbled upon your tongue stirred a pleasured moan that travelled up your throat to spill against Natalie’s mouth. Natalie burned with mortification as she swallowed up the wanton sounds that leaked from your lips. When you licked your tongue into her mouth, she could taste it too and she liked it. 

It satiated the relentless hunger that gnawed at her insides most days. Regrettably, she still felt it even after their feast hours earlier but the longer you pushed the taste of her ichor around with fevered kisses the less starved she was. Natalie knotted her hands into your hair, further tangling the dulled and dried strands as she fervently chased that pleasantly full feeling she’d never felt before. Her thighs slipped open to allow your hips to slot between them.

“I’m so fucking hungry,” you rasped into her mouth, your nose pressing against her jugular, “You’ll let me eat you, won’t you?”

The innuendo isn’t lost on Natalie and tomorrow she might have laughed, once the head-splitting need for flesh subsided. Your canines sunk into the thin skin of her throat, a dangerous gesture that sent a rush of adrenaline through her. Natalie let out a raspy moan, roughly tugging on your hair as you laved your tongue over the hot, pulsing teeth mark you left. 

Shaking her head at your suggestion, Natalie muttered a quick, “No.”

Your disappointed whine was stifled by her bringing your mouth up to hers. There was something else that rattled around Natalie’s mind, the image had been seared into her head for months before she was able to banish it from the forefront. She’d seen it once whilst coming down from her high with Kevyn. One of his friends queued up some cheesy porno from the ‘80s that was just so outrageous he had to show everyone so they could all point and laugh. Natalie didn’t, she left after twenty minutes when her limbs had begun to work once more, the image of two women’s limbs tangled together replaying over and over again as she walked all the way across town to the trailer park where she lived.

Neither of you should have been stripping down but Natalie tugs off your pants to placate your impatience, intent on replicating that scene. The frigid winter air that seeps into the cabin nips at your bare skin and you shiver in her embrace. Natalie strips you until you’re left in your frayed panties and thin, long-sleeved sleep shirt. You tear her clothing off in return, carelessly throwing them aside as if body heat was enough to fend off the eternal frost the forest had been plunged into.

“Take them off,” Natalie gruffly instructs, nodding her head at you,  “And  then come here, I wanna try something.”

You take her instructions well and she bitterly wishes it hadn’t taken you so long to trust her instead of drinking Lottie’s Kool-aid. The mattress dips under your weight as you kneel, the palm of your hand laying flat against your navel, just itching to inch lower. Natalie’s eyes travel past your belly button to the thatch of curls that sits just below your pelvis. Biting her lip, she swallows thickly. 

Her stomach roars with hunger. 

Slowly dragging her underwear down her legs, Natalie rests against the headboard, her legs spread. Your eyes widen at the sight of her bare pussy, her lips slick with arousal. Looping her hands around your waist, she tugs you to straddle her lap. The position was a bit uncomfortable at first, the lingering burn and fatigue from sprinting for the first time in months making your legs heavy like lead.

A full-body shudder wracked through you as Natalie’s warm, wet cunt pressed against yours, “Like this?” You moan, experimentally rolling your hips, “This feel good?”

You asked her in earnest, peering down at her wide eyes like a puppy waiting for its owner to praise them. Mari often looked to Lottie like that, it was oddly thrilling to see it directed at her. 

“Yeah, just like that,” Natalie groaned, your name ground beneath her teeth like a slab of meat, “You could even…”

Natalie’s fingers tremble when she reaches between your bodies to spread your lips apart to expose your throbbing clit. The swampy pit of heat that swirls in her gut seeps through her body, your expression is utterly debauched and dripping with lust. She moans before you do, revelling in the obscene, squelchy sound of your cunt sliding against hers. Your pebbled nipples poke painfully through your shirt and press flush to Natalie’s as you bury your face into her shoulder. 

Cursing under your breath, you keen into her skin, “You can touch me more,” you pant between laboured breaths, it's laughable how easily years of condition eroded within a measly few months, “I need you to, Nat, please.”

She obliges you with teeth and tongue mashed along the column of your throat, sucking a matching bruise into your skin. You taste of salt and soot and something earthy like pine. The layer of grime that clings to your skin shouldn’t have been as intoxicating as it was but Natalie found herself feasting on the taste of you, raw and unmasked from soaps and perfumes, she suckles down until she feels the throbbing pulse of blood that fills your carotid artery. 

That pleasant, warm feeling Natalie could only ever achieve on her own crept up on her. Its unbidden presence filled her with disappointment, it’d all end too soon but she couldn’t stop the wave of pleasure that washed over her. The sharp edge and press of your nails into the skin of her biceps only fuel the tumbling cascade of her orgasm as you desperately rut your cunt against hers, both of your clits bumping into each other. 

Natalie’s teeth pierce the skin of your shoulder as she cums, the taste of your blood filling her senses. She grows drunk on it, mindlessly rolling her hips into your pliant body until you cry out her name, the syllables broken by yowl-like moans. Your bodies, sticky with sweat and arousal meld into one another when the familiarity of exhaustion whips through you, the kind that leaves you lying listlessly on the cabin floor for hours on end until Mari boils water and pine needles and serves it up. 

Wordlessly nuzzling your face against hers, you plant a gentle peck against Natalie's hallowed cheekbone, “Natalie I-” whatever sappy sentiment that dripped off your tongue was smothered by a more pressing question, “Do you smell smoke?”

Beneath the thick layer of sex that hung in the air was the scent of burning embers. It was far heavier than the curling puff of smoke that typically permeated the stagnant cabin air. Natalie wanted nothing more than the turn over and curl up with you, to soak in the fleeting tendrils of reverie that girls like her were never affording but something itched at the back of her mind.

It was hot, suffocatingly so even with the ever-burning hearth.

The best way to kill a yellowjacket was to scorch its home, Natalie should have known it was too good to be true. The Wilderness was revoking its blessings, smoking out the vicious wasp nest that fed on its milk and honey for far too long without thanks. 

Shauna’s panicked voice carried down from the attic and feet shuffled as they awoke from their full-bellied slumbered but neither of you moved. You lay half naked and needled with shock, peering at one another in the darkness when the reminder of your situation becomes glaringly obvious.

The cushy daydream of indulging your appetites where nothing but just that, a daydream. You had to run now because it was better to be starved and alive than nothing more ashes blowing in the wind.

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.  

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio smut #wlw smut #x reader

[phyrestartr]

Simple Things [3] - Miguel O'hara x Male!Reader

# Mild NSFW, fluff, comfort, flirting, light angst, male!reader, dad!reader, spider!reader, implied depression, mentions of trauma, mentions of past relationships, mentions of manipulation, old men just doing their best, miguel is a sweetheart and a nerd, multi-part drabble collection

[ 1 ] Smoke Break | [ 2 ] We Change Like the Seasons | [ 3 ] Meet the Kids

Notes: Covid is still kicking my ass but I wanted to finish this part off so I can make the reader and Miguel fuck in the next part wahoo \o/

-- Meet The Kids --

A girl walked into the lab. Miguel thought maybe Gwen or another spider had come to ask something of him or to steal one of the cookies from his desk console (wouldn't be the first time), but the lazy scuff of shoes on polished floors sounded too clumsy to be one of his agents. She wasn't wearing a suit either, Miguel realized after sparing a glance over his shoulder; she did, however, sport a day pass on a small wrist. 

"And you are?" Miguel asked before turning back to his screens. He wasn't really in the mood for conversation while he tracked the next anomaly, but he couldn't say he wanted some random kid to be touching his stuff in his lab. 

"I dunno. Who're you?" Ugh. 

The clattering of something hitting the floor made Miguel's eye twitch. He took a breath. "I'm the guy running the show here." He closed screens with gruesome scenes of destruction, hiding them from the prying eyes of the innocent in the room with him. "And I'm the one who's about to call your guardian." 

She scoffed. "My guardian?" 

"Whichever spider dragged you into HQ and let you off your leash with a day pass." Miguel spied her out of the corner of his eye, but didn't have the decency to face her. "Lyla. Scan her." 

"You got it, buddy." 

"Woah, wait–!" The girl gasped as a warm orange light washed over her, flickering across her entirety before vanishing. "Dude." Despite the attitude, her voice trembled faintly. Miguel almost felt bad. But she touched his stuff. Not his fault. 

Lyla whistled and adjusted her sunnies as she leaned into a tiny screen of her own. "Oooh, you're gonna love this, Miguel–" 

"Miguel?" The girl repeated. "Like…the guy Dad talks about?" 

A clairvoyant feeling overwhelmed the spider, probably the same way spidey senses hit the normal spider-people around him. Somehow, he knew who she was, who her dad was before Lyla even said it. 

"Yep, that's (Name)'s kiddo," Lyla chirped. 

Miguel looked at the girl. He really looked at her this time, feeling some sort of stupid with how much she looked like you; her hair was fluffy and unkempt in the same shade yours was, the shape of her nose was like a smaller, cuter version of yours, too. Then there were her eyes. That same hazy hue of uncut gems, a colour of protective dullness that hid something brilliant and effervescent from the outside world. 

"(Name)'s kid," Miguel repeated. Your name felt comfortable on his tongue these days. "Kid, I–what're you doing here? Where's your dad, huh?" 

The girl, very clearly looking around the room to try and spot the elusive Lyla, shrugged. "I 'unno." 

Colour Miguel unimpressed. "Oh, you don't know. Good. Great." He tutted before running a hand through his hair. "Lyla, call the kid's dad–" 

"He's sleeping!" She blurted. "You can't just, like, wake him up; Dad never gets to sleep." Her arms crossed tightly over her chest as her cheeks puffed. "And my name's Isabella, y'know." 

Miguel's dark brow raised in question. "Isabella." Said with a Latin accent. Interesting. Miguel's chest felt tighter. "If your dad's asleep then he probably left you with someone." He looked at her expectantly. 

Isa shrugged again and scuffed her worn soles against the floor. "Mr.Parker didn't notice. He's watching Natalie and Nico and May 'n whatever. So. Yeah." 

Mr.Parker? Oh. "Hm. He babysit you a lot?" God, Miguel should stop asking questions, but curiosity and that damn attention deficit had him by the throat. He turned around and folded his arms over one another, too, before leaning back against the stage console to speak with Isabella properly. 

"Ugh, why are old people so–so freaking annoying? I'm not a baby, I don't need anyone to watch me." Ah. Of course. 

"Oh, wow, ah-huh, yeah. Sure. I'm sure your dad agrees." Her amateur glare wrought a smirk out of him. Would he have argued with Gabi like this? 

Miguel cleared his throat and turned back to the console, reaching for another cookie absent-mindedly. "Look, you can stay here until your father comes to get you, but you have to stop touching things. Got it?" But Isa only grumbled and scuffed her feet again. "Isabella." 

"Uuugh. Fiiine." The girl plopped down into an old rolling chair. Miguel tried not to twitch. He would not snap at a child for breaking his chair, he would not do that. Absolutely not. 

Not even one minute of silence passed before the kid rolled closer to the centre stage Miguel stood at. "Sooo you're, like, my dad's boss or something?" 

"Guess that's the easiest way to put it." Miguel peered at the girl from the corner of his eye. 

"Okay, but what's the hardest way to put it?" Isabella wiggled and sat backwards on the chair, hugging the backrest as she scooted around the lab. "Are yooou…friends?"

Miguel shrugged. "I'd say so." 

"Hmmmm. Are you more than friends?" 

His eye twitched again. "Do you interrogate every adult like this?" 

Isabella huffed. "Uh, he made you cookies. It's sooo not weird to ask if you're, like, a thing." 

"A thing." 

"Like boyfriends–" 

"Santa Muerte, I know what you mean, kid." 

"Okay." Silence fell for all of ten seconds. "I'm just saying–" 

Miguel groaned. "Can you stop talking for five minutes–" 

"--you'd be waaay cooler to have for a step dad than all the people Dad's been dating." 

"Yeah, well, I'm hard to beat." Oh, wow, did he just say that about himself? Christ. Miguel took a deep breath and tried to relax his shoulders with all his might. "That came out wrong. I–look, you need to just–he's dating?" Miguel cringed. It's not that he was interested in you like that, just…he was nosy, that's all. But he was incredibly aware of how that must have sounded to an equally nosy tween. 

Isabella perked up. "Uh, yeah. But everyone he dates ends up being suuuper crazy and weird. Like, it's reaaally bad." 

He shouldn't pry. He really shouldn't. "...Bad how?" Ay, Miguel. 

"Like, they're always super clingy or don't like kids or something. And, like, Nico and Nat had moms who had dads who super hated dad, so they gave him money to make him go away." Isabella nodded matter of factly. "That's what Dad said. He's super sure he's cursed or something. Granny was a bruja y'know." 

Miguel shouldn't be listening to this. He shouldn't be prying into your life through the conduit of a chatty kid. Asking you would be the better option, but this way was so much easier. It felt like he could finally get a grasp of what you'd been through, and maybe catch a glimpse of who you were behind the scenes. 

"Then what about your mom?" Miguel asked, crossing his arms and flicking his gaze back to the monitors. "That didn't happen with her?" 

An offended gasp burst from the young lady. "No! My mom was so not like that. She was Dad's girl!" 

"No kidding." Miguel hummed. He wasn't about to ask what happened to her. Spiderman never had an easy romance, never had an easy life. 

"Yeah! They fought in the war together, and her name's–" 

"Isabella." Your voice cut through the air like winter rain. Miguel almost got chills, and Isa squeaked before hopping off her chair and scrambling on the stage to hide behind Miguel. 

"Oh, look at that. Someone's in trouble," Miguel mumbled, mean smirk quirking the corner of his mouth. 

Isa glared up at Miguel. "Jerk."

"Isabella, quit bothering the boss," You groaned tiredly. Miguel's ears perked as the coo of a little one fluttered through the air. He turned and found you holding the littlest baby in one arm, and a toddler in the other, both incredibly K.Oed.

"M'not bothering him!" She protested. "I'm just hanging out!" 

"Cut the crap, you're probably complaining about school or about my love life or how I wouldn't get you a new phone or some shit." Miguel had to fight back a laugh. He'd never heard you so exasperated nor animated before. "And why the hell did you run off, huh? You had Pete freaking the fuck out." 

"I got bored! I just wanted to go look around!" Isabella pleaded with a puppy-level whine.

"Isa, this place, it's–it's not meant for people without powers. You could get hurt, alright?" You adjusted your grip on the two little ones in your arms. "And the lab is a whole 'nother story, Christ–" 

"It's fine, (Name)," Miguel cut in, turning to you. "She was fine." 

But the worry lines creasing your forehead didn't smooth quite as much as he wanted. "'Ppreciate it, Boss. But, I…" you trailed off, sighing softly. "Yeah. Just. Thanks. I'll, ah, get her out of your hair. Bet you've got work to do." 

Mija, let's go is what Miguel swore he heard come out of your mouth before Isa pouted and ran after you.

Mija. That word brought a world of hurt and comfort to his chest–the coincidence of Spanish on your tongue felt too…perfect, like you'd learned it just to shove it in his face. But Miguel knew better. 

Isabella. 

Mija. 

Your girl, Isa's mother, must have taught you. He liked that, for some reason. The idea of learning something new for a partner. What would you teach him if you were– 

Woah, woah, stop, Miguel. Stop. His ears turned hot. He worried at his bottom lip with fidgety hands before shaking his head free from such dangerous thoughts. 

Focus, he chanted to himself, you've got work to do. 

--

You decided you were sick that day. No, you weren’t really, but the headache chipping away at your skull suggested that, hey, maybe staying home for a day wouldn’t be a bad thing. You could use a break from dragging yourself around New York, searching for the next big scoop, the next tragedy to document and earn a living off of, too. 

So, there you were, in bed, with the tv in the front room playing some sort of movie that you’d heard a thousand times but never learned the name of, while your littlest, newest addition to the family starfished in a laze, his tiny tummy pressed to your broad chest. Your fingers lazily rubbed circles against his little back as he snoozed and drooled on your shirt. Somehow, the giggling and chattering of his sisters didn’t wake him up. Maybe the drumming of your heart, or the safety of a warmth he hadn’t known until now, drowned all of it out. 

He didn’t even stir when his sisters screeched.

You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. God, please just let it be a spider, please just let it be a spider. You sat up, holding your baby to your chest as you plucked a gun from the side table. You carefully set Nico down into the warmth of where you were laying before stalking to the door and whipping it open, gun poised and ready for–oh. A big spider.

“What the fuck, Miguel,” you hissed, beyond exasperated as you lowered the gun. “Why the–what–I could’ve shot you.” 

Miguel looked beyond bewildered, though some would say entirely bamboozled. He had his hands up like the police had them in his sights, his face was a combination of embarrassed, shocked and annoyed, and his claws had popped out in his flustered panic. His spiderman suit was still on, but he had that white hoodie thrown on top like it’d hide the fact he was spiderman. Hopefully it did. 

“I–” Miguel started.

“Ah-ah.” You cut him off like a dog misbehaving. “Girls?” Their heads popped up from behind the couch and you sighed in relief. “It’s alright, he’s a friend. From work.”

One of your daughters gasped. “It’s the weirdo that’s suuuper into dad!” Isabella cried, jumping out from behind the couch and pointing an accusatory finger at a very unamused-looking Miguel. 

“For the last time, I’m not–”

“You so are!”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are!”

“Yeah!” Natalie joined in, hopping up and down by her sister excitedly and pointing at the man they deemed guilty. “You are, you are!”

Miguel, probably halfway to an early grave, looked to you for help. But you flashed him a tight-lipped smile that said more than words could offer: perish. 

You let the girls hound him while you turned on your heel, heading back into the bedroom to sooth your stirring little boy. The gun found itself back in the drawer, safety on, magazine removed, before you scooped the tiny being into your arms and smooshed up against your chest. Your son quieted and clung to you. You left a kiss on the top of his head to welcome him.

"So," you started as you came back to the scene of the crime, "the hell're you here for, Boss?" You asked, completely unfazed by how the girls had corralled him onto the couch and had his hands in their own, their curious fingers pushing on his tendons and making his claws pop in and out. Honestly, you were pretty tempted to do the same. 

Miguel pursed his lips and ignored the gremlins on him as he looked at you again, something distant softening his features. 

"I, uh. I heard you were sick," he confessed with a small shrug. "Just thought…y’know." 

You hummed as you rubbed your son's back. "Huh. How'd you find that out?" 

"Peter mentioned it." 

"Pete doesn't know I'm sick." 

"Must've been Jess, then." 

"Jessie doesn't know either." 

Miguel was caught. His ears grew red before his cheeks did, and you smirked. Cute. Way too cute. 

"Lyla told me," Miguel grumbled, finally. 

"Ah. There it is. Not so hard to tell the truth now is it, Miggs?" You said with a Cheshire smile and a wink. "Good to know you've got your confidant spying on me." 

Miguel freed himself from the children and stood up quickly. "It's not--I'm not spying on you, I–you–" Miguel pursed his lips. "I don't need to explain myself." 

That made you laugh. "Relax, tough guy. I don't mind ya swinging by. Or, hm, guess I don't mind ya portal-ing in." Miguel didn't seem to think you were that funny, but thankfully Nico, in his haze of dreams, giggled at the right moment. "Nicky thinks I'm funny. You should take notes."

It didn't take much convincing to get Miguel to stay for dinner. You made him take a shower, though, and leant him some clothes to lounge in while you cooked everything from scratch. From scratch. Miguel couldn't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal. 

"Yeah? That's sad as shit," you remarked nonchalantly as you diced vegetables. "Tell ya what, you make it a habit of coming around, and I'll make sure I make extra for you, yeah? It's important to have that home cooked goodness for your soul 'n what not." 

Miguel felt his chest fill with something fluffy and warm. "Good point." But it wasn't, really. "Guess I'll have to make it a habit." He leaned back against the counter as he watched you prep everything. "Wouldn't want you putting in all that extra effort for nothing."

You twitched a bit of a smile and nodded. "My thoughts exactly." 

You spared a glance at Miguel. He looked calm, at ease, like the threat of the dimensions collapsing wasn't at the forefront of his mind for once. You thought, maybe, this might be the first time in a long time that he had his mind off work. Maybe he was doing that whole human thing and enjoying the present for a change. Jumping to conclusions wasn't really your style, though. 

Crimson eyes flickered, then, gazing towards the crib settled in your bedroom. He must've heard your little man stir. He must've wanted to do something about it, if his sudden shiftiness told you anything. 

"You mind checking on him?" You asked softly, knowing that, maybe, this was a big ask for a man who only had a phantom to tuck in at night. "He's fussy. Likes to be held." 

"You're sure?" The other man asked, brows furrowed in concern. 

"You kidding? If there's any guy I'd trust with my kid, it's you." You fiddled with the wrapper of the packaged chicken meat before ultimately stabbing it with a knife. "Go on. Before he starts crying." 

And Miguel wandered off to the little one. His voice had that sound to it when he spotted him, that kind of gentleness a man unlocked when he felt what it meant to be a father, a protector of a smaller soul. You listened hard for Miguel's smile, and felt your heart throb when you heard, "Hey, mijo. ¿Estas bien?" leave his lips. Your little boy cooed, and Miguel made a noise that sounded so frightfully domestic and dad-like, you thought you might perish on the spot, or fall in love in a second. 

Get it together, get it together. A deep breath steadied your blitzing nerves when Miguel came back to the kitchen, Nico in his arms, smooshed up against his chest. You stole a glance, smiling to yourself when you caught Miguel mooning over the lazy bundle of joy. 

You worked fast, feeling a weird, undeniable desire to talk after you had your army of children fed and sent to bed. Miguel didn’t leave your side, nor did he deign to put Nico down, not through soup and sandwiches, not through 20 questions hosted by Isabella and Natalie, and not through the moments alone where you herded the young ladies off to wash up before getting them to bed for the night. 

“Y’know, you’re gonna spoil that kid,” you said with a smile when you came back to find Miguel on the couch with your son. You sat down by him with a dad-like sigh and peered at the little one snoozing away. “He’s gonna demand you hold him every time you come around.”

Miguel huffed a laugh. “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

“Hey, with arms ‘n pecs like that?” You pat one of Miguel’s impressive biceps to prove a point. “I get where he’s coming from. Lots of free real estate with good foundations.”

“Oh? You want me to hold you too?” Miguel offered, some sort of impish lilt lifting his voice as he looked over at you.

You fought back the urge to swallow. “Sure. If you’re offering.” But Miguel looked a little caught again, a little unsure of how much to tease and how hard to press, so you let him off the hook with a laugh. 

“Man, you really remind me of her.” You rested your head against the couch, maybe a little bit on Miguel’s shoulder, as you watched your boy sleep. “Liliana,” you amended, “Isabella’s mom.” 

Scarlet eyes flickered to you. Seems you caught his attention. “Liliana,” Miguel tested the name on his tongue slowly, thoughtfully. “Isabella’s mom.” And after another pause, he asked, “I guess she’s gone?”

“Gone. Yeah.” You blinked slowly, and let the words rotting in your lungs breach the surface: “I killed her.” Ah, maybe you said that with too much nonchalance, you worried, but Miguel’s low hum seemed to suggest otherwise. 

It felt good. You couldn't stop yourself from talking. “It was an accident, I guess. She was a scientist. Geneticist, I think. Made me into, well, whatever I am now.” You flexed your hand and looked it over, like the blueprints of your design were still hidden under tired skin. “‘Cause, y’know, I was a soldier, she said I was gonna be the next Captain America, but… that doesn’t matter. Anyway, side effects were bad, really bad. I freaked out, then--then, y'know.” You took a breath. “Killed my little girl’s mom.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you stared at nothing, sucked back into a daze and a trance you’d long forgotten about. But you remembered the blood, the screaming, the way you and those webs ignited and how the white lab coats all howled and screamed and popped. The scent of roasted flesh should have disgusted you, it should have knocked some sense into you and dragged you out of whatever episode you were having, but instead–

Your stomach growled, and you cleared your throat. 

“Yeah. That was a bad day.” 

“I get it,” Miguel said, and sounded like he meant it. “Guess something like that happened to me.” 

You peered up at him, glimpsing his conflicted, troubled look. 

“Yeah?” Thought Spiderman had a boring, normal story. Because, in totality, you were something more demented than just Spiderman, so your story was more fucked up than the rest. Maybe you were wrong.

“Yeah. I was–my research killed someone when I was trying to make them into, well, Spiderman.” Miguel sighed and shook his head, admonishing himself from the past. “I didn’t want to. I got pressured into it. Drugged when I wanted to quit. It was a mess.

“Tried to rewrite my DNA, and then a colleague shocked that up for me, and I ended up with the claws, the fangs, the–the everything. Slashed his throat by accident, got some other people killed when they tried to help me, killed some baddies when I didn’t mean to.” 

Miguel’s gaze turned to you. “So don’t think you’re alone.” 

“Huh,” you said astutely. “Guess you really meant it when you called us ‘miserable bastards.’”

“Takes one to know one, I guess.” Miguel’s shoulder shifted slightly, easing down so your head could rest more comfortably against him. Your chest swirled with errant embers, but you tried not to think too hard about it. 

“You said I reminded you of her. Of Liliana?” Miguel asked, quiet and tentative. 

You hummed. “Yeah. The good parts.” You smiled (when had that gotten so easy?) and reached over to brush some dark hair from Nico’s tiny forehead. “She was smokin’ hot.” 

“...Huh.”

“Way too smart for her own good,” you continued. “It's always the smart ones that get me, y'know? Anyway, she was sly 'n funny in a mean way, but hey, I like that shit. Maybe I'm a masochist." 

"So," Miguel started, shifting slightly to face you more, "let me get this straight. You think I'm 'smoking hot,' 'too smart for my own good,' and 'funny in a mean way'?" The grin on his face was too much for you to handle. Why did you feel so hot suddenly? Why was he so close suddenly?

"I think that sums it up." 

"Huh. Anyone ever tell you you're an asshole?" 

"Ouch. Okay, what if I throw in 'she was born to be a bangin' mom','' you offered, feeling a long-forgotten rush of excitement as you sat up and leaned in close, so close, your hand coming up to cup the side of his strong neck as you kept talking, "and that she made me feel somethin' for the first time in a long time?" 

You could feel Miguel's breath hitch in his throat as he measured the gap between you two, his eyes flicking down to your lips and back to your eyes in debate. You wanted to close it. With every inch of your being you wanted to take the plunge and crash your lips against his. 

But, with every fibre of your soul, you didn't want to fuck this up. You didn't have words for what this even was, but you cherished it. Sauntering down this line of friendship, of companionship, was better than taking the dive back into that world of icy yearning and wilting roses–this type of love, the platonic sort shared between brothers and men, was meaningful in and of itself. It was good enough.

Wasn't it?

You looked over his face, in disbelief with yourself. "Who am I kidding?" You whispered, letting your hand fall from his neck like a glacier shearing away from its home. 

A small, tired laugh crawled from your chest, and you rubbed your face. "I, uh, think I oughta call it a night. I'm gonna–I gotta tuck Nicky into his crib." And carefully, gently, you scooped up your monkey and whispered quiet thanks into his hair–your little man was the perfect scapegoat. 

What're you thinking? Careful hands pulled up the banana-patterned blanket over Nico's tiny form after you'd set him down in the cozy crib that he loathed so much. You thought it was nice and comfy. Hell, if you could fit, you'd probably snooze in there all day. 

"Good work today, Nicky. I think you made the big guy relax a little, y'know?" Your son cooed sweetly in his sleep, and your spirit lifted just slightly. It almost gave you the strength to go face Miguel after coming onto him so hard. 

Finding the last bit of courage yourself, you gave your boy one last kiss on the noggin and quietly snuck out, closing the door with utmost caution behind you, only to be pressed up against it a moment later, and smothered with a kiss. 

A bolt of lightning kicked your pulse into triple time as you kissed Miguel back. His hands caught you by your hips, and your arms hooked around his shoulders and pulled him in closer. The simple thing was exhilarating. He was exhilarating. The embodiment of strength and resilience, of power and intelligence, was crushing you up against a door and taking the air from your lungs with such ease. 

"Fuck," you gasped when you parted with a wet noise that sounded far too Hollywood. "You're not half bad." 

"You've got a talent for ruining the mood." Miguel scoffed and tilted your chin up. His half-lidded eyes drank you in as soft breaths left his parted lips. You wanted nothing more than to be eaten whole by him (was that weird?). 

"I got a few other talents, too," you purred, voice swirling with velvety dark chocolate. "But that might be too much for an old man like–" 

Your squawked indignantly when he scooped you up and hoisted you over his shoulder like you were nothing but a petulant child. Your hands scrabbled against his back, and a shocked bout of laughter bubbled up from your core as he slapped you on the ass hard. Was this real? Were you seriously getting manhandled and spanked by Miguel O'hara? 

Miguel almost threw you onto the couch, but you guessed the children snoozing in the next room over hampered that decision. 

"If there's one thing I'm never too old for," Miguel murmured lightly, almost condescendingly as he set you down on the couch and got on top of you, "it's sex." 

Your eager hands flitted across his taut muscles, too excited and undecided as to where to land first. "Thought you were too old to sleep around?" 

"I don't sleep around," Miguel corrected, letting you fill in the blanks. 

That helped you relax a little. "Yeah?" 

He looked so conflicted, a little embarrassed, too. But that was becoming more and more common these days, thanks to you. "Yeah." 

You nodded and reached a hand up to his cheek, and he leaned in graciously as a needy cat might. "Okay. Then I don't either." 

Miguel hummed, and turned to mark your palm with a little kiss. "Alright." 

"And maybe…we don't fuck tonight." His sleepy gaze found you again with one dark brow raised, surprised. "I'm, uh, I think I'm down pretty bad for you, Boss. I don't wanna fuck this up." 

And, truth be told, you wanted to give him some respite. Maybe you wanted to give some to yourself, too; Liliana and Dahlia danced through your mind so much these days, no thanks to the burgeoning fondness growing for Miguel. He reminded you of both of them, of Winter and Summer, of snow and flowers. But it wasn't fair, not to you or him, to compare him to the epitome of cold and the apex of warmth. You needed time, too. Time to learn how to compare him to no one.

Miguel smiled, small and sincere. You admired the fine lines crinkling the corners of his eyes. He looked so handsome when he smiled. You wanted him to do it more. Were you enough to make him smile more?

"Yeah. I don't want you to shock this up either," he said, and your brows raised, incredulous. 

"This is what I get for trying to be mature ‘n romantic, huh?” Your fingers drummed against the arms caging you in. You thought about chancing a finger-taser to his ribs, but with those damn claws of his, you were a little too worried about your couch cushions getting demolished.

His handsome smile turned into a punchable smirk. “What? I’m agreeing with you.” 

“Ah-huh, ah-huh, that’s all, hey?” You leaned up and kissed Miguel again, slower and tamer this time, but still burning with want. Ugh. Why did you have to try to be all mature and romantic? “You’re just being a good boy?”

Miguel’s hips twitched at that, and it was your turn to smirk. Oh, how the tables turn. 

“Lay down,” you ordered, sitting up to get out from under him. “Come on.”

“I–what?” He grumbled, looking a little befuddled and frustrated. Cute, cute cute. “Thought we agreed on–”

“Heavy petting’s not off the table, right?” You cut him off. Miguel perked a little bit at the suggestion and did as he was ordered, his hands finding your hips again as you took your turn straddling him. “Luckily for you, I’m an expert at the clothes-on experience.” You winked and Miguel sucked in a breath. 

“Show me.” He ordered, voice deep and gravelly.

And you did.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv imagine #atsv reader insert #male reader insert #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x male reader #miguel x male reader #male!reader #atsv male!reader insert #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #phyrestartr

[before-it-felt-like-a-sin]

Ok, how about Natalie X reader, the scene where they find the lake, but reader is too self conscious to strip down in front of everyone and go for a swim?

Pretty Girls

Anon this is a lovely request but imma be so Fr I can't remember the exact dialogue so enjoy my bullshit <3

Warnings: insecure reader, mentions of body image issues, no smut but a bit of a heated make out, not proofread and also written on my phone <3

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

"I found a lake," Taissa announced as she returned from her hike,"It's about four miles from here. We should hike it."

"We aren't leaving. What if the rescue team comes?" Jackie responded, clearly annoyed.

"I hate to break it to you, but it's been three days. They aren't coming, and we're running out of water. We need to head to the lake." Taissa's voice was firm.

Secretly, you agreed with Tai, but you weren't going to get in the middle of this argument. The last thing you needed was Jackie pissed at you. There was enough division as it was.

"We should put it to a vote," Jackie announced. So much for no more division, "All for staying here, raise your hands."

Three people agreed. Jackie, Lottie, and Laura Lee all raised their hands.

"Okay, all for heading to the lake?" Taissa asked now, and nearly all of the group put up their hands. Even Shauna, which was shocking. Who knew she'd go against Jackie like that.

"Looks like we're heading to the lake. Get your shit." Wit that, everyone began packing up any belongings not already in their suitcases.

About twenty minutes later, you all were ready to start your hike. You fell into step beside Lottie as you walked.

"Hey. I know you didn't want to do this," you said.

"Honestly, I was more worried about Jackie's reaction than actually leaving the plane." Lottie smiled at you. You laughed lightly in response.

The two of you walked in silence for a while, listening to everyone chatter on and on. A few girls had started complaining, and you heard Jackie say something about how Tai must have been wrong about the distance from the crash site.

That's when Van saw the lake.

"Hell yeah bitches!" She exclaimed, jumping up and down. Soon, everyone was racing down to the water, stripping off tee shirts and shorts. You hung back, not entirely wanting everyone to see your bare stomach.

"You don't want to swim?" Natalie spoke softly into your ear. You jumped at the unexpected closeness. The two of you hadn't really had time to spend together since the crash.

Your relationship to Natalie was a complicated one. You had began hanging out with her because Van and Tai had started spending more time with each other, leaving the two of you with each other. You'd had a crush on Natalie for a while, and you enjoyed spending time with her. Recently, though, she'd begun to flirt with you. Nothing major, just jokes about how pretty you were, or messing with your hair, or good-natured teasing about your interests. You weren't entirely clear on where you stood.

"Just not totally sure how I feel about stripping in front of everyone." You laughed as you spoke, as if trying to convince both Natalie and yourself that it really was a joke. Even if you knew it wasn't.

"You afraid they'll stare?" She teased.

"Yeah, actually. Just not for the reason you think." You giggled again, but it was harder to be convincing this time.

"Hey, if you're set on not swimming, that's fine. But no one is going to judge you for the way you look. I think we've moved past that point."

"Yeah, well, the rest of you have been changing in front of each other for ages. This kind of thing is new to me."

"Whatever you say, gorgeous. I'm swimming. You should too. I know I wouldn't judge you." She smirked at you in a way that made heat rise to your cheeks.

"Mm. And you've also never seen me naked, so I don't think you can say that yet."

"Okay, y/n." With that, she walked to the edge of the lake, stripping her shirt and pants as she walked across the pebbles.

You didn't stare. You in fact made a point not to stare. But it seemed that as soon as you looked up at her, she moved her head to catch you looking. She smiled at you, and nodded her head toward the lake.

As you looked back at her, you rolled your eyes and shook your head. There was no way you were getting in that water. The whole team didn't need to see your stomach and stretch marks.

Well... maybe you'd take off your shirt. You had a sports bra on. That was full coverage enough, right? Plus, your jeans had a high waist on them. Not much would be on display.

Cautiously, you peeled off your t-shirt, hoping no one would notice. Or care. As you shook your hair free from the confines of the fabric, you felt eyes on you.

In the middle of the lake, you caught Natalie staring at you this time. When she saw that you caught her, she averted her eyes. But something about her eyes on you made you feel good.

Not good enough to take your pants off, but you'd take what you could get.

You balled up your shirt and put it down on the rocky beach so you'd be able to lie down. If nothing else, you were going to enjoy the sun. Maybe not in the same way as everyone else, but you were going to enjoy it.

You lay in the sun for a bit, letting it warm you and only worrying a little bit about the sun damage that was occurring to you. You survived a damn place crash. Cancer seemed so irrelevant now.

It was nice, you thought, that even after what had happened, you were all able to have fun like this.

"Y/n! Get your ass in here!" Van called.

"No!" You yelled back, laughing.

"Lame ass," she responded.

"That's me." With that, you went back to your sunbathing and daydreaming. The only thing that would make this better would be-

"What the fuck!" You exclaimed, dripping water. Somehow, someone had managed to dump a whole bucket of water on you.

You looked up to see it was Van and Taissa. You'd expected Van, but Tai was a low blow. Although, best friends would do that kind of shit to you.

"Taissa Turner I swear to god. I could kill you right now." Your hair was soaked, your mascara was running, and your pants... well, wet jeans aren't ever the move.

"Now you have to swim," Van said, clearly not sensing your anger.

"No, now I have to fucking change out of one of the few pieces of clothing that's actually clean. Thanks for that."

"Whoa, sorry. We didn't think you'd be upset about it. We just wanted you to have fun." Taissa looked at you apologetically. You found yourself forgiving them almost immediately. They were just trying to get you to have fun. There hadn't been much of that lately.

"Still a little pissed at you. But it's fine. I'll just change." You started getting up to find your suitcase.

"Or... hear us out... you come swim with us. It'll be fun." Van looked at you expectantly, hoping you'd say yes.

Maybe...

No. You couldn't. What if they stared at you. What if Natalie stared at you. What if she saw you in your underwear and decided she was done flirting with you.

"Y/n, come on. We all know each other here. No need to be a prude," Van teased.

"Oh, well in that case." You rolled your eyes.

"You know you want to." Taissa poked your shoulder. And she was right. You did want to swim. You just didn't want to swim in front of everyone.

But it would feel so nice. And you'd be able to wash away some of the dirt and sweat from the last few days. Maybe you'd feel less... disgusting.

"Fine." You began to peel off your wet jeans.

Deep breaths, you thought, as the warm spring air hit your thighs. No one was looking at you. Right? Well, except Taissa and Van. But they'd seen you change before. You surveyed the rest of the team. No one was looking at you. Except-

Natalie.

Goddammit.

She just kept staring as you stripped down to your underwear. Luckily for you, you were wearing something full coverage.

The way she was looking at you was almost hungry, like she was drinking in your entire body. Nothing would take her eyes off you.

This was it. This was when she decided all the flirting was over. She didn't like the way you looked under the sweaters and baggy pants. She-

Was walking towards you. Out of the water. Away from everyone else.

"Tai-" you started, before you realized that she and Van had walked away. Shit. Shit shit shit.

Without thinking, you started walking towards the lake. The sooner you were submerged, the better. And you really didn't want to talk to Natalie when you were this exposed.

As you passed Natalie, you wrapped your hand around her wrist and drug her along with you.

"Come on. We're swimming. You can't get out as soon as I decide to get in." She doesn't resist as you pull her behind you, back into the lake.

"Whatever you say. I'm glad you decided to get in."

"Well, Taissa thought it was a good idea to dump water all over me. I would've had to change in front of everyone anyways. Might as well suck it up and get into the water while I'm at it."

"I told you no one would stare." She smirked and pushed the water toward you, splashing you a bit.

"Mm. Someone was staring," you responded, trying to get her to tell you why she had looked at you the way she did.

"Who?" She asked. You couldn't tell if she really didn't know who you were talking about, or if she was feigning innocence.

"Um. You?" You replied, looking at her with a quizzical look on your face.

"That was because I wanted to see if you were really going to swim. Not to judge you."

"Oh, yeah, sure. Whatever you say."

"Did you want me to be judging you? Because I wouldn't do that. To anyone. But especially you. You're like, really pretty or whatever."

"Really pretty or whatever? Such a romantic, Scatorccio." With as much force as you can, you splash her.

After she recovers from the shock of the water being splashed in her face, she looks at you with a challenge.

"No Nat please I didn't-"

Before you could finish your sentence, finish apologizing, she shoved you under the surface of the lake. You didn't have time to do much, except inhale right before she pushed you down.

When you resurfaced, the first thing you heard was her laughter.

"Wow. That was a bit excessive," you said, once you had caught your breath. She was still giggling.

"Had to retaliate somehow." She shrugged, but she did look slightly apologetic.

"Asshole."

"It's how I show my love."

"Awww, you love me?" You mocked.

"Oh, fuck off."

You just laughed at her.

She was doing it again. Staring at you. Subconsciously, you tried to cover yourself up with your arms. It didn't really have the desired effect.

"You're gorgeous," she said, eyes still on you.

"You don't have to say that." You tried to be nonchalant, but you felt your cheeks heating up.

"I'm not just saying that." She moved closer to you. When she reached you, she gently moved your arms out of the way of your body, leaving you more exposed than you'd like.

She looked at you straight in the eyes. Something about it made your knees weak. There was so much love in her face. She was looking at you like you were the only girl in the world.

"I want to kiss you so bad," she whispered in your ear. You shivered at the closeness.

"Maybe not in front of everyone," you whispered back.

"Embarrassed of me?" She joked.

"No," you laughed, "I just hate PDA"

"I have an idea then." She beckoned for you to follow her out of the lake.

You walked behind her as she led you across the beach. The only person that seemed to notice you was Taissa, and she just smiled as you passed.

Natalie continued to lead you to the edge of the woods, in a place just secluded enough. You could still hear everyone, but they wouldn't be able to see you.

Before you knew it, you were pressed up against a tree, the bark scratching your bare back.

"Can I kiss you?" Natalie asked, brushing your hair out of your eyes.

You nodded, and as soon as she got your consent, her mouth was on yours. Her lips were slightly chapped, and you appreciated the roughness of them. But her movements were soft.

Her hands rested on your hips, and her fingers were cold. Her lips felt too good on yours for you to care. You tangled your fingers into her damp hair, pulling her closer.

She pulled away for a moment to whisper to you.

"Do you believe me about you being gorgeous now?" She asked, looking at you with her pupils blown out and lips puffy from kissing.

You laughed, "I guess."

Seemingly satisfied with your response, she went back to kissing you. But now, she was kissing any inch of skin available to her. Your forehead. Your jawline. Your ear. Your neck. She didn't go any lower than that, which you appreciated. You weren't sure how ready you were for anything more. Especially in the woods.

"Y/n? Natalie?" You heard Tai's voice from a distance. "Lottie saw something. We're going to go see what it is. Come back, please."

With that, Natalie looked at you again, eyes full of hunger and want.

"Do this again later?"

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets showtime #yellowjackets season 1 #natalie scatorccio #natalie yellowjackets #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x curvy! reader #natalie scatorccio x fem reader #natalie scatorccio x you #natalie scatorccio x y/n #natalie scatorccio headcanons #teen natalie scatorccio #teen natalie #natalie Scatorccio x insecure reader

[fruitcoops]

You have some awesome friendship fics when Remus and Lily do manis and go shopping. Have you thought of one where Remus is there when Lily gets her wedding dress or she is there to get him fitted for his suit for his own wedding. Or the same with James/Sirius although I’m not sure how that would work with Reg.

Fic O'Ween Day 2: Candle Wax to continue the excellent friendship vibes from yesterday. Big fest thanks to @noots-fic-fests and character credit goes to @lumosinlove.

TW brief mention of alcohol

“Give it a spin.”

“…I don’t want to.”

“Then put it back.”

“What if it’s the one?”

Remus’ entire face scrunched with a frown in the mirror behind her. “Lily,” he began, with as much concern as if she had just told him the sky was actually emerald green. “Why would you buy a wedding dress you don’t want to spin in?”

“He’s right,” Natalie chimed in, swirling her rosé with a critical glance over Lily’s skirt. “You deserve better.”

“What if—”

“Literally your one requirement was to be able to spin, babygirl.”

Lily studied herself in the mirror again. The dress was pretty and creamy and light around her legs. The bow at the back wasn’t bad, perhaps a little oversized, but that could be fixed. It was already five o’clock, anyway. Two hours should be more than enough time to find a wedding dress.

“You don’t like it,” Remus said gently.

“No,” she sighed. “Not that much.”

“Then try a different one.”

Natalie brightened. “Yeah, what about that off-the-shoulder number? With the sweetheart neckline?”

Lily tipped her head back and forth. “My tits were falling out.”

“Exactly.”

“You do love when James makes a fool of himself,” Remus added.

The fabric slid in a smooth cascade beneath her palms. Probably damp palms. Was it alright for her to touch this fabric when she was nervous? Why was she nervous, anyway? It was her wedding. Her James. Natalie was right—she deserved the dress of her dreams. Lily knew her dreams better than anyone else and always had, through Petunia, through her Master’s, through a whole-ass baby. A dress should be the easiest thing in the world to choose.

“You liked the flowers, right?” Remus suggested, picking at the edge of his phone case. “On the…what was it, the third one?”

“The fourth.” Natalie nodded. “That’s the one with the sweetheart neckline.”

It was a nice dress. And she did like the florals. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Never mind.”

“What?”

“You’re not getting a ‘yeah, I guess’ dress,” Natalie said firmly. “Fuck that. You’re getting an ‘oh my god, I love this, I’m going to make every single guest cream their pants when they see me’ dress.”

“I—”

“What did you like about them?” Remus asked. “The other dresses.”

“I…” Lily trailed off. Her raw inner lip pinched when she nibbled at it. Jesus, her palms really did feel fucking soaked. “I don’t like this fabric. Or the bow. I liked the flowers from the other dress, but I want them smaller. The buttons on the bodice were nice.”

“Remind me what the bodice is?” she heard Remus whisper.

“The top,” Natalie whispered back before raising her voice again. “How about you take that thing off and we look together, hon? Three pairs of eyes are better than one.”

The surge of relief in her belly was a surprise, but not unwelcome. Lily examined the way it lay against her thighs for a moment longer before pursing her lips. “I don’t know, you guys have better things to—”

Immediate protests—far too loud for the pristine establishment—burst from both. “I’m not listening to that,” Remus warned. “Nuh-uh. This is a Lily day and I have the calendar invite to prove it.”

Natalie watched her in the mirror with a dangerous arch to her eyebrow. “You gave me rosé, my hot bestie, and pretty clothes to look at. Don’t take this from me. Now, tell us where to go and we will be your little wedding minions for as long as your heart desires.”

Lily loved her. Dearly. She glanced back once more and caught Remus’ eye, and his encouraging smile. “Calendar invite?”

“Midnight to midnight, Evans.”

“Florals, buttons, and something I can sweat in. Oh, and spin.” She shook her head. “Why did I pick a July wedding?”

Natalie stood and placed her hands on Lily’s shoulders, leaving them nearly eye-to-eye with the help of the pedestal beneath her. Her palms were pleasantly cool on Lily’s overheated skin. “Because you can’t fucking wait to marry James Potter, you utter legend.”

--

Two hours.

Fourteen more dresses.

Lily rolled a fine satin petal between her fingertips, dragged her palms up her waist, down over her belly, across the swell of her thighs. The pale green chiffon faded to blush and back in loose waves over the solid ivory beneath. She rested her weight on her other side and followed the tender shimmer where the light caught each movement. The straps were broad, yet elegant—fawn-colored buttons tracked from the valley of her chest to the top of the skirt, where small flowers had been stitched in rows that dripped through the folds like warm candle wax.

“She looks so fucking gorgeous, I’m gonna cry.”

“I know. Jesus. That’s gotta be it.”

“Did you find that one?”

“Mhmm.”

“Nice, Lupin. Hook it up.” A soft high-five interrupted their muttering. “Can you pick out my wedding dress?”

“Propose to Bliz first. Then we can talk.”

“What do you think?” Lily called over her shoulder. She didn’t bother looking away from the mirror; she looked too good for that.

“Stellar as always, Lils,” Remus answered with a firm thumbs-up.

“Creaming myself as we speak,” Natalie chimed in. “Honestly, babe, you’re beautiful beyond belief. The dress just makes it even clearer.”

She gave a little sway to watch it ripple around her ankles—Remus’ sharp whistle made her jump, though it soon turned to laughter. He drummed his hands on either side of the armchair. “Come on, come on, do the spin—oh, there she goes!”

Natalie whooped. “Throw that ass in a circle, baby! You and me are getting down at that reception.”

A blush heated Lily’s face and neck as she laughed, still spinning, but it looked—fuck, it looked so pretty when Lily caught herself in the mirror again. The dappled colors of the dress warmed her away from fire-engine red, highlighting the pinks of her skin and auburn of her hair where it fell over her shoulder. I want pictures of this, she thought. I want a photo album of pictures where I’m in this dress, and I want James Potter to cry when he sees me in it. “I look so hot right now.”

“You so do,” Remus agreed. They were both leaning forward in their chairs, hands clasped. Lily briefly imagined asking them to find her another dress, just to watch them goggle at her.

But she wasn’t sure she’d take this one off for a million dollars.

“Is it…” Natalie pressed her lips together, eyes gleaming. “Lily?”

She was nodding before the words even began to come out. “This is my wedding dress.”

“Yes!”

“This is my fucking Stanley Cup, oh my god.” Natalie held both hands to her cheeks and turned to Remus, bouncing on her toes. “Oh my god, oh my god, wedding dress—”

“Wedding, wedding, wedding, Lily don’t you dare make us celebrate without you—”

Lily laughed and gathered the skirt up off the floor; it was only a short step to the ground before they were on her with all the force of an ecstatic hurricane. Natalie’s arms were a vice around her waist while Remus held them both and pressed a smacking kiss to the top of her head. She hoped this bodice had proper boning, because her chest was simply going to explode with the light radiating inside her.

“I’m so happy for you,” Remus mumbled against the side of her head. “And I’m so excited, and you look so pretty, and I’m so proud of you.”

Natalie was there in half a second to brush her thumbs over Lily’s cheekbones and ease the lump in her throat. “Look at you,” she whispered, beaming. “Look at you!”

“I know.” She laughed again and it came out a bit choked. Natalie made a small, sympathetic sound as Remus pulled a pack of tissues from his back pocket, but Lily waved them off with a few fast blinks. “God, it’s—happy tears, I promise. I’m so happy. Can I get married tonight?”

“Yes,” they chorused.

Remus nodded, still offering the tissues. “Say the word, I’ll call James right now. I think he wanted to get married the night of the Cup.”

“Only took him eight years to ask,” Lily grumbled.

Their burst of laughter made several people across the store glance over, reducing them to hushed giggling in the best huddle Lily had ever been part of.

--

Soft, pastel thread bumped beneath James’ thumb as he ran it along the cuff on his suit. The pockets and lapels held much of the same—microscopic flowers, leaves, and patterns stitched into matte black fabric under Lily’s incredibly cryptic guidance.

“Looks damn good.”

“Ahblahablah!”

James tilted his shoulders this way and that. There had to be some square inch he was missing. Nothing in the world could possibly be this right. Then again, he was marrying Lily Evans, and that was pretty damn perfect. “D’you think her dress matches the suit?”

Sirius’ eyes flickered to the ground for a half-second. “…probably.”

“You’ve seen it?”

“Maybe.”

Something in James’ stomach gave a funny swoop. A Lily swoop. “How did she look?”

Sirius’ laugh made Harry squeal around the fistful of t-shirt (definitely Remus’) he had shoved in his mouth. “Dude,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “You’re going to lose your mind.”

#lily evans #lily potter #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #natalie darcy #coops #jily #baby harry #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #fic o’ween 2023 #fluff #wedding shopping

[rootbeersturniolo]

part 1 here

the second part of this series.

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: two weeks had passed after the death of their bestfriend, and it still remained a mystery yet to be solved. it wouldn't take long before more secrets began to unravel, and there was only one question left to ask; would you love somebody enough to die for them?

warnings: mentions of murder and death, murder in detail, grief, blood, weapons (knives and guns), anxiety, smut, suggestive, homophobia, being laced, attempted assault

-

It's been two weeks.

Not that it feels real yet.

Two weeks of starring off into space, watching detectives scope out our dorm room. Natalie’s entire side of the room has been demolished. Pictures and memories deemed as evidence in her case.

They’ve been going at it for a while now, but there were still no updates. The corner kept quiet, they said legally they couldn’t say anything else. My parents told me they were actually just stumped on who could’ve pulled off such a crime.

She was found the morning after the party. Which meant we were the last to have ever seen her. Her blonde hair flowing through the air as she closed the door in Jackson’s face, subconsciously saying goodbye to us all even if she had no idea what would come next.

Her body was covered in her crimson blood. Her clothes, hair, and skin were stained permanent in her own defeat. They counted fourteen wounds throughout her body.

Absolutely none were self defense.

It wasn’t a surprise. She was drunk. She was drunk and weak, incapable of protecting herself as she walked back to campus.

I should’ve been there with her. I should’ve walked back with her. If I did there was still a chance she would be alive. Or there was a chance I would be dead too. Which wouldn’t necessarily be the worst thing. Not anymore.

Her smile is engrained in my head and I’ve been so scared that one day it's going to go away, I don't want to ever forget it.

When she was alive I was so focused on myself. So focused on Matt, school, and the annoying rumors that she spread.

But now she's gone and I want her back more than anything.

I want more sleepovers on her trampoline where we told each other our deepest secrets. I want to be sitting on the hot pavement, doodling onto the sidewalk with cheap chalk while we mindlessly talk about middle school drama. I want her back for everything that made her good.

How can somebody become a memory? She was laying in bed next to me, talking about her and Jackson two weeks ago, and now all I have left is the impact she left behind. How is that fair to her?

How is it fair to be known by what you put into the earth in a mere nineteen years?

The funeral was terrible. Her family became my family, and seeing them so broken only filled me with more guilt.

"You're just getting ridiculous."

I was so mad at her, so fuelled with anger that I couldn't think about anything else, and now I’d witnessed her parents, sobbing onto the coffin while her older brother stays strong for them.

“Do you have anything better to do?”

My last words to her.

On repeat every time I visit her.

She did so much good, and I was too focused on the bad to see that.

Although grief shows up differently for everyone, we’ve all been taking it hard. Nick took the most time to process, he was unable to fathom a world without her in it, and I held him as he cried in my arms after the funeral.

That’s the only thing that made her death feel real. Not the news reports, or the empty dorm I came home to. Instead seeing her lifeless body, covered in makeup she wouldn't have applied herself. Somehow still looking beautiful as ever.

Jackson became overly distant. It seemed unlike him to say so little about someone he loved so much. None of us wanted to push him though. His relationship with Natalie wasn’t one I wanted for myself, but they relied on each other to get by, and now he feels utterly alone.

The whole city feels different. Remnants of her everywhere I look. I just can’t escape as much as I try. As much as I try and pretend everything’s still ok. The truth is nothing will ever be truly ok again.

At least not for me.

-

“I'll just get an order of fries and a vanilla milkshake please.” | smiled at the waitress, the maroon apron resting on her waist while she takes my order. She nods as she turns her head away from me.

“And for you?” She asked, referring to Matt who sat across from me, a knit sweater resting on his body. The body that I knew like the back of my hand.

Matt and I haven’t been out since Natalie died. Date nights had always been a common thing for us, but it’s taken me awhile to bring myself to leave the house.

Natalie was murdered. Stabbed and killed by another human being. Another soul, yet no remorse filled their bones.

I couldn’t bear the overwhelming amount of evidence that she was in fact dead. I moved into Matt’s dorm for the time being. His roommate left for break, which meant I could easily sneak in for days on end. His arms wrapped around mine while fresh tears coated the dry.

Instead of rotting in the once shared dorm, I laid inside of Matt’s room. My mind never letting me forget what happened to Natalie. My dreams, my thoughts, everytime I closed my eyes.

For once though, I’m more focused on the cute smile on Matt’s face while he orders than I am about the tragic events that took place. The way his fingers toy with one another as he speaks, picking at his skin to get him through having to order himself.

We decided on a vintage diner that's been open in our town since forever. The same place he took me on our first date. I smile slightly as I reminisce the innocence of it all, how awkward he had been asking me out, how he went above and beyond with fresh flowers and a kiss goodnight.

“What’s got you all smiley?” He asked as the waitress left to give our order to the chef. His hands overtook my own on the surface of the table, his silver rings brushing against my gold.

“I just love you at lot.” I replied, feeling my cheeks tensing up slightly at the grin that exhausts the muscles in my face. The skin heating up as a light pink scattered across it.

“That's really the only reason?” He asks as he furrows his eyebrows. His gaze glued onto mine, like he could almost look through me. I sighed, relaxing my shoulders completely.

“Remember our first date? I was just thinking about the car ride to this diner, and how scared you were to hold my hand as you drove.” I giggled lightly. He cringed in embarrassment, placing his hands over his face to cover his now red cheeks. I took his hands back, bringing them to my own and forcing his gaze towards me. "It was cute."

“I can’t even think of myself two years ago. I was so—” He began to speak again before the sound of my voice cut him off. “So what? So thoughtful, so caring, so attractive…” I listed off, causing him to roll his eyes.

“I fell in love with you two years ago. The same way I’m in love with you now.”

“Wow, you are so corny.” He jokes, shaking his head with a soft chuckle.

“Ok, ok. I’ll stop. I’m just really happy to have you here for me. I couldn’t go through this alone.” I smiled at him. He cleared his throat with a soft nod, his eyes focusing on the waitress bringing us our food.

We leaned out, our hands now lifting from one another's as she places my milkshake and fries in front of me, Matt getting the exact same thing. "Thank you.” I smile at the girl, her footsteps now echoing as she left behind a small smile.

Matt brings a fry to his mouth.

"Is there a reason you get the same thing as me everytime?" I laughed softly, taking a sip of my vanilla milkshake. The cold liquid refreshing my body from the so called tragedy of the hot sun beaming outside.

"Will you make fun of me?" He asked, causing me to shake my head, my mouth still surrounding the colored straw. “I got the same thing as you on our first date, because I didn’t know what to do and I figured you’d have good taste.” He spoke again.

I laughed with a slow nod as I replied. “Did you at least like it?”

“Course’ I do. I was right when I said you have good taste.” He smiled.

The date continued on how they normally do. I finished my food way quicker than Matt, leaving me with more time to talk while he caught up on eating his food.

He had always been my favorite listener. Never judging and always playing sole attention to whatever nonsense left my mouth. He never made me feel alone. He never made me feel small.

When I was with Matt I felt just right.

-

After our date ended we arrived back at his dorm, my body heading straight for his bed, the place I’ve been rotting in for two weeks. My parents are too busy trying to find the person who killed Natalie to be home, comforting their own daughter.

It wasn’t anything new, and I wasn’t surprised in the slightest. That’s how it had always been in the Parker household.

Work came first, family came last.

When I was younger it bothered me more. All I wanted was for my parents to be there for me more. All I wanted was the slightest amount of attention from them.

In the third grade I got caught up on trying to break my arm, seeing as how Natalie did too. Her parents showered her with gifts, love, and attention. Something I had wanted more than anything, and had only received it from Matt.

“Can we please just watch Perks of Being a Wallflower? I haven't watched it in so long." I asked, cuddled up against Matt with my arm hanging over his stomach.

“Isn’t that the really sad one?” He raised his eyebrow, his chin resting on the top of my head as his hand rubbed small lines on my back. One of his shirts placed over my body. It smelt like his cologne and whiskey. My favorite scent in the entire universe.

The room is dark, the TV illuminating the space just enough for me to focus on his hand on the remote, the way his rings fit perfectly around the curves of his fingers.

“It’s not that sad—just the ending, but sad endings are ok if the rest of the story is good.” I finally replied, my eyes meeting his.

“Fine.” He sighed in defeat, his fingers on the remote control spelling out the letters of my favorite movie. The movie I haven’t watched in so long, because I’ve been caught up with everything else.

I hoped it would bring me back a sense of comfort. The comfort that I badly needed after my life turned into such a mess.

But that was selfish of me to say.

Because after all, I still had a life.

The movie started playing, the volume filling the room as Matt’s soft breaths blew against my hair my wind. For whatever reason, my brain couldn’t focus on the film in front of me.

All I could think about was Natalie.

Her last words, the fear she must have felt, how much she wanted to live and wasn’t given the opportunity.

There was a possibility she was too drunk to even comprehend was happening, but there was also a possibility that she understood everything. Maybe she wanted to fight back.

My breathing started to quicken uncontrollably, thoughts of her death overtaking my human need to receive oxygen.

Matt noticed almost instantly, like he always did. He placed his hand on my heart and paused the movie, his arms tighter against my body as he paused his movements against my back.

“Shh, it’s ok. You’re ok. You’re safe with me here.” He whispered, my eyes trying to stay focused on him as he scanned my face, concern and confusion covering his expression.

It wasn’t fair.

What happened to Natalie wasn’t fair, and if I wasn’t too concerned in saving my own ass and protecting myself against the rumors, I could’ve saved her instead.

But I didn’t.

Instead I watched as she walked through the party door. I didn’t say anything as she looked at me for help with what to say to Jackson. I didn’t offer to walk her back to our room.

I just let her leave.

I didn’t know she wouldn’t come back. I didn’t know any of this would happen. If I did I sure as hell wouldn’t have even let her leave that night. Maybe then I could’ve protected her. Just like friends are supposed to.

But Natalie and I were never just friends. We were sisters, and we fought like we were.

“No, I wanted the pink skirt.” Natalie spoke, frustration plastered on her face as she ripped the mauve laced fabric from my small hands. I sighed in annoyance, reaching out for the skirt once more.

“You didn’t say that.” I replied, holding it against my chest as she glared at me. If her eyes were really lasers, I’d be long gone by the way her gaze was glued against me. Her hands empty as I held what she wanted in mine.

We only had two skirts. One pink and one blue, obviously neither of us wanting to wear the dark blue one compared to the glitter filled pink.

It was too late for her parents to go back to the store, the time approaching nearly nine at night. Instead, we had to use what we had; one pink and one blue skirt.

“Just give it back.” She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. I shook my head, holding the skirt closer to my body. She rolled her eyes at my words.

Natalie’s mom pushed through the double doors, spotting us bickering in the living room. Our stance clearly telling her that something was wrong, if not our words.

“She can have the skirt Nat, she’s our guest.” Her mom sighed, picking up the blue skirt and handing it to Natalie who shook her head in response. Now I was the one rolling my eyes, watching as Natalie walked from the room, leaving both skirts behind and finding her way to her bedroom.

“You two fight like sisters.” Her mom mumbled, smiling gently as she followed Natalie through the double doors.

Soon enough my breathing slowed, the memory easing my mind. His hand cupped my jaw as his thumb left soft strokes on my cheek, almost as if he was wiping away everything bad.

“I know it’s hard baby, but she’s better now. It’s your turn to get better now too, yeah?” He spoke, his eyes finding mine again. “No more rumors, no more lies.” He hummed.

“I just wish it wasn’t this hard.” I sighed, not a single tear running down my cheek. It wasn’t because I hadn’t been sad. It’s because I’ve ran out of tears entirely.

Endless nights spent without a dry face. My eyes burning from how much I rubbed them as the tip of my nose turned red. It didn’t matter where I was or what I was doing, because everywhere reminded me of her.

“I’m sorry.” He breathed out, carefully bringing my head back to his chest. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this. I wish I could take all your pain away. I promise I would.” He hummed, placing his hand over my head as he ran it against my hair, his other laced around my waist.

We sat in silence for a few moments, the distant sound of the air conditioning filling the room along with kisses placed on my head.

My mind slowed down again, only one remaining thought in my head while Matt moved his hands from my back to my side, only to reassure me, but I couldn’t help but to have already decided on what I had wanted.

“Matt.” I spoke up again, lifting my head from his chest one more. His eyes were already on mine as he hummed in response, furrowing his eyebrows gently as he awaited my words.

“Can you just—” I breathed out, pausing as my lip got caught between my teeth. He nodded slowly, gesturing for me to continue. “Can you distract me please?” I whispered.

He gave me a soft smile before picking up the remote once more. I let out a soft breath as I shook my head, placing his hand down. He was so clearly confused now.

I hesitated before pushing my body from his, my legs wrapping around his waist as I straddled him. I pushed my hair behind my shoulders, my pleading eyes finding his again.

“Oh.” He whispered, his cheeks flushing pink as he placed his hands on my waist, his touch was gentle. Too gentle, like he thought I would break.

“Please, just distract me.” I mumbled, leaning down as I placed my lips against his. We both breathed into the kiss, his hands placing a gentle pressure on my sides, a touch so delicate it causes goosebumps to form on my arms at the familiar contact.

This kiss isn’t like most we’ve shared in our two years of being together. Instead of slow and sensual, it’s desperate, hungry.

Maybe it was the fact we hadn’t had sex since the night of the party. Maybe it was all of our emotions unfolding together.

Either way, I couldn’t stop kissing him.

Our lips moved together in a unison that was comfortable while our tongues had a chance to explore each others mouth, like many other times.

Matt always knew what I was in need of. Most of the time he knew before I knew it myself, and right now, I knew I needed him.

My own hands traveled to his hair while he shifted to position himself above me, the familiar horse necklace dangling and grazing my neck.

Right then, it was as if I needed to be as close to Matt as possible, like I was craving his touch desperately, and it’s all I can think about. He pulled away, the small amount of light in the room outlining his jaw while he spoke.

“Are you sure you want this?”

I thought for a second, my body wanted it so badly, and as much as my brain had been occupied recently, I didn’t think a distraction would hurt.

I nodded, maybe a little too eagerly based on the loose laugh that he breaths out. “You’ve been so stressed.” He leaned into my neck, placing soft, plush kisses to my neck. “Just relax, yeah?”

I just nodded again, attempting to stay still as his gentle kisses leave me restless below him. His hands on my side trail up, grazing over my chest. He removed his lips from my neck, bringing them back against mine.

The feeling of his nose brushing up against my own could’ve put me into a trance, along with the way he bit my bottom lip gently as he pulled out of the kiss, his hands now pulling up my shirt— well, his shirt.

I held up my arms, allowing the fabric to move over my head, leaving me exposed underneath him. He looked at me for a moment, his eyes trailing up and down as I shifted uncomfortably, waiting for him to do something.

“Matt, please. I need you.” I whined. I was more desperate than ever for any form of relief. Matt leaned back in, kissing directly below my ear before whispering.

“Shh— I’ve got you. You’re good.”

Something about Matt is how much he cherished me at all times. Whether it was something as simple as walking on the side of the sidewalk that’s closest to the road, or something more intimate like right now.

He treated me like I was the best thing to ever grace the earth, and it felt like a title I was unfit to hold sometimes.

His hands roamed my chest momentarily. His fingers placing gentle pressure on every single sensitive section of my body. The only thing I can focus on is the way the pads of his fingers trace over my nipples, and the way he’s practically unable to remove his lips from one.

His hand slid down the center line of my stomach, placing a pressure on my clothed core before leaning out of the kiss.

“You deserve the world, you know that?”

I rolled my eyes playfully in response, pushing down a smile as I looked to him with urgency in my gaze. If anyone was going to be a complete cornball right before sex, it’s Matt.

He shifted down the bed, aligning his face with my lower half and immediately plants a kiss right above where I need him. I began to slide my blue shorts off, clearly eager to get started, but Matt just grabbed my hands and looked at me.

“So impatient, Char. I just want to take my time with you.” He cooed, placing my hands back onto my own stomach as his nose made contact with my clit through two layers of clothing.

My stomach filled with even more butterflies due to his words mixed with his actions. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes momentary as I tried to maintain the aching sensation.

I tried my best to stay still under his affectionate touch, but it was nearly impossible when he began to finally slide off the layers of fabric that are keeping me from him.

I pushed my hips up to help him, still incredibly desperate for any relief he can provide me. He knew exactly how to get me worked up, and I was definitely there.

He removed my shorts along with my underwear off of my ankles before re aligning his face with my aching core. His hands made contact with my legs, lifting them up over his shoulders before his tongue finally got put to use.

It began gentle, just the tip of his tongue starting to explore everywhere expect where I wanted. My hips pushed down against the mattress.

“Matt if you don’t do it for me, I’m going to do it myself.” I groaned through a sigh, getting less patient by the minute. Usually I could take his teasing, but again, I’m not usually this needy.

He just smiled before placing an open mouthed kiss directly into my clit, causing me to arch into the touch. The feeling sending shivers through my entire body.

His movements were soft, but the pressure of his tongue was enough to have me moaning out spewed sentences as he lapped around my clit. My hands immediately make their way to his slightly curled brunette hair, playing with his strands as his hands traveled back up to play with my chest.

The combination of his fast moving tongue over my sensitive clit, and his large hands toying with my hardened nipples had me throwing my head back into the pillow I laid against.

It’s safe to say I was distracted.

Matt picked up the pace now, eager to get me to crumble underneath his touch the way I always did. His hands left my chest, instead being brought down toward my entrance, and asking for my permission without words.

“Please.” I whined, crossing my ankles over his upper back as he detached his mouth from me momentarily. I quickly nodded.

He placed a kiss to my lower stomach as two of his fingers lid into me, curling up slowly as my hips bucked up into his hands subconsciously. His long fingers were definitely a blessing, because they reached my sweet spot without him even having to try.

“Am I making you feel good, pretty girl?” He asked, his voice low but just loud enough for me to hear. Pain mixed with pleasure as he continued to move his hand inside of me.

I nodded instantly, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip as his fingers sped up at a pace that had my mouth watering.

“Tell me what you’re feeling, come on baby.” He said before placing his lips back around my clit, sucking softly as I was expected to speak.

I breathed out, trying my best to muster up my words, because I know Matt well enough to know he’ll stop if I don’t speak. “You—mmph, fuck!” I moaned out, his tongue working at a faster pace that has me squirming around him. His spare hand against my hip to hold me in place.

“You’re so good at making me feel good— you’re the only one who can get me like this.” I replied, bringing my bottom lip in between my teeth to suppress the moans trying to escape.

The initial shock of pure pleasure subsided and my body relaxed into his touch, the only thing I can think about is him and how good he makes me feel. “Just like that.” I moaned, pulling on his hair slightly as his fingers continued curling up into me. “Please Matt.”

He continued without a break, relentlessly flicking his tongue on my clit all while his fingers worked tirelessly to graze my g-spot over and over again.

It didn’t take long before my legs began to close over his head as the pressure building in the pit of my stomach becomes too overwhelming to ignore. “Matt I’m—”

My body acts before I can bear to get the words out, my stomach tensing at the newfound pleasure as his tongue remains ever moving on me until it became too much. “Ok.” I breathed out.

He knew that I was done, and although I could usually go for longer, I’m mentally and physically exhausted, and it’s taken a toll on me in every aspect of my life— apparently including sex.

“I love you so much baby.” Matt reiterated as he shifted up to place a kiss on my neck before helping me slide my shirts back on.

Something about the intimacy in that moment meant more to me than any of the events that took place minutes prior. It’s raw, loving, and it only confirms the love I have for that boy.

“I love you more.” I replied, smiling as he laid beside me on his bed.

I lean into him, his arm reaching over my head, allowing my face to find comfort in the crook of his neck while my leg wrapped around his hips.

His hand made its way to my bare back, stroking small patterns while he scoffed slightly. “I think you forget it’s impossible to love you as much as I do.” He replied quietly.

The words of affirmation never failed to have me flustered, and I truly don’t believe I’ll ever get sick of them. “I am pretty amazing, yeah?” I replied as I pulled myself closer to his body, my bare chest against his clothed.

He just placed a kiss to the top of my head at my words. “Don’t get too cocky now, pretty girl.”

-

We laid in bed for what felt like hours, but was really a mere ten minutes wrapped against his body. His arms around my waist, rubbing gentle circles against my bare sides.

It was so peaceful. I could’ve fallen asleep, and I almost did until the sound of his phone made me shift again him.

“Who’s calling you?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows as the ring of Matt’s phone echoed throughout the room. He shrugged, shaking his head as he denied the call, wrapping his arms around me once more.

We laid in silence, his fingers tracing shapes on my bare back while our legs stayed intertwined with each others.

After a few moments the familiar ring filled the room again. I pushed my head from his chest, sighing gently as he took his phone in his hands, answering a panicked Chris on the other line. He turned the one on speaker, raising it so we could both hear the other line.

“Matt—” Chris breathed out, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. “Matt, Jackson got arrested. They think he killed Natalie.” He spoke quickly. My heart dropped at his words, my eyes widening as they met Matt’s.

Jackson?

Killing Natalie?

“What?” I asked, cutting Matt off as he was about to speak. “Jackson killed Natalie?” I spoke again, my tone weary and filled with dread. There wasn’t a chance, he wouldn’t do something like that. Especailly not to Natalie.

Right?

“Charlotte, I didn’t know you were—” Chris paused with a sigh, not knowing I had been listening to the conversation. “Yeah, they think so.” He breathed out.

I swallowed the undeniable nerves, nodding to myself as my mind raced. Just like it had been for two weeks.

“Well do they have proof?” I replied, now I was completely sat up next to Matt, his blanket covering my body as our vision remained on each other. Chris sighed on the other line.

“Yeah, some old text messages apparently.”

My heart dropped again. This time resting in my stomach as I brought my lip in between my teeth. Jackson couldn’t have possibly done something so horrible. He doesn’t even seem capable of doing anything like murder.

Then it hit me.

Jackson left the party after Natalie did. After they got into their fight, after she slammed the door in front of his face, telling him they were over for the fifth time this month.

But would he take something so unserious as a need to commit murder? To kill her? He was most definitely drunk, even then it didn’t make sense. I’ve known Jackson almost my entire life.

And I knew that he loved Natalie.

At least that’s what I thought.

-

The drive to the police station was uncomfortable to say the least. My leg constantly bouncing up and down while my fingers found comfort between my teeth.

Matt had tried to play music to ease the silence but I shut it down insanely fast. I needed to focus on everything going on.

None of this made sense, Jackson’s not a bad person. An asshole maybe, but not a murderer. What he had with Natalie would’ve never ended with such an extreme, a petty argument at most.

There’s many moments in life where for whatever reason it doesn’t feel real. A lot of the time it happens to people on a fascinating vacation or on something loving like their wedding day.

Mine was today.

“Mom.” I breathed out as soon as I stepped into the building, the familiar woman standing beside the registry desk, paperwork in her hands.

If there was even a chance to find out if Jackson was innocent, I wasn’t going to miss it.

She just rushed me into a smaller office without a word. “Mom what’s going on?” I asked. I had a pretty long list of questions rushing through my head but I tried to focus on the present.

My mom is usually good at hiding her emotions, not letting them appear easily on her face. Tonight I could read her like a book, and I knew instantly I wouldn’t like the ending.

“Where were you after the party?” My mom spoke, referring to Matt as he stop beside me. Matt didn’t hesitate before responding. “With your daughter.” He answered, his unfamiliar glare meeting hers.

I furrowed my eyebrows almost instantly at his lie. He wasn’t with me, I was alone that night. I was completely alone considering the fact Natalie hadn’t made it home.

“Charlotte, Is this true? Is Matt telling the truth?” She asked, staring at me with a sense of urgency shooting through her pupils.

I attempt to answer her as quickly as I can in the moment. Although, it’s not easy to ignore the guilt that’s already building up in my stomach.

“Yes mom, he’s telling the truth. He walked me to my dorm and we ended up falling asleep while we were watching a movie together.”

Lying didn’t feel good in the slightest. I constantly remind myself that I’m doing nothing wrong since Matt did nothing wrong. He probably just wanted to avoid looking suspicious because he went to his dorm alone last night.

It’s completely understandable, and besides, I’d do anything for him.

My mom must’ve believed my words because she just nodded slowly, placing her hands against the curves of her hips. “I don’t know Char. It’s not looking good for Jackson.”

I scoffed immediately. She’s working on my bestfriends case, and acting like she knows everything about them.

In reality she was at work so much she barely even met them.

“Jackson’s not a murderer. You guys are wrong about him. He didn’t kill her.” I spoke again as I shook my head with a pleading expression. She barely even registered my words before the door opened again, another officer stepping inside.

My mom’s eyes met mine before I sighed. Just like always, duty calls. It didn’t matter that my bestfriend just died, what mattered was that she was satisfied with her work.

How could I ever forget?

“He’s innocent.” I scoffed again before turning on my heel, brushing past Matt as we left down the familiar hallway. Once we reached a quiet area he stopped me, placing his hands on my shoulders and making me look his way.

“He didn’t do it, Matt. I know he didn’t— He loved Natalie.” I spoke up, searching his eyes for some trace of hope that he believed me. I could’ve been wrong, and I knew that. There was a chance that Jackson really did kill her, but I didn’t see the proof, and I didn’t see him do it.

There’s no chance the killer had been in front of me the entire time.

He only sighed before letting his gaze trace away from mine. He shrugged lightly. “They say there’s a good chance he did.” He spoke quietly. I rolled my eyes at his words. Nobody had his back but me. Absolutely nobody.

“Just try to stay calm, ok? Your parents know what they’re doing. They’re not going to let an innocent teenager go to jail.”

I hesitantly nodded at his words as he placed a soft kiss against my forehead. He was right, he would be in custody until he was truly proven guilty. Not just suspected.

“Besides, there’s no more rumors, no more lies.” He repeated his words from earlier, giving me a reassuring smile as he placed his arm on my arm. The two of us walking back through the doors, the sun hitting our skin instantly.

This time I thought on what he said.

-

matts pov

The sun set and rose again. The entire night spent with Charlotte’s nearly two hundred new possibilities on who could’ve killed Natalie, if it wasn’t Jackson who did it.

I have to say, I had to give her credit for thinking so much about something she had no control over. But I knew she just wanted justice for her best friend, everyone did.

The past two weeks had been spent with her being a complete mess. Mentally. She’s went through the five stages of grief nearly ten times around, and the denial continues to linger once someone now mentions Jackson’s name.

Endless nights spent with her in my arms, words of reassurance and comfort leaving my lips. I hated seeing her so upset.

Not nearly as upset as she was when Natalie started those rumors about her.

“Alright, you needed help on what section of our studies?” Professor Collin’s asked, shooting me a bright smile as he logged into the computer. The forced yet returned smile covered my face.

My eyes traced to the clock behind him. I had to be quick, class would start in an hour, and we had so much to do before then.

“Just section four.” I replied, sliding him my notes. He nodded, looking through what I wrote.

It’s clear he’s not impressed with the work I’ve placed in front of him by the way his mouth forms a tight lipped smile as he reads through. “It’s a good thing you came for help, I’m worried about you getting behind your classmates.” He advises, continuing to judge everything I’ve laid out for him.

Maybe if he wasn’t flirting with my girlfriend the entire two hour lecture, I would be able to get more work done. Instead I was too worried on making sure he didn’t pull her into the broom closet between her studies.

Natalie was lying about the fact that the two of them were having sex. They never hooked up, and I know that for a fact.

She would never do that to me. Especially not with him.

On the other hand, it was painfully obvious how badly he wanted to. Between his eyes locked on hers, dilated pupils, and folders covering his crouch while he stood in front of the class.

It never felt right knowing he imagined her in all of the positions that I have full access to every night. Hell, I’m sure he gets off reminiscing on their innocent conversations in class.

I wasn’t an idiot, and I hated him for how he thought of her. She was mine, and she certainly wasn’t a piece of eye candy. Especailly not for her own professor.

Someone had to teach him a lesson.

“Do you like fucking your students?” I spoke up again, my gaze dropping from my paper to the man sitting in the desk below me.

His eyes quickly widened as he furrowed his eyebrows, looking at me with disbelief. Like he had no idea what I was saying.

“Excuse me?” He breathed out, shaking his head with a nervous laugh. I rolled my eyes so hard they ached. “Did you not hear me?” I asked as I took a step closer to him.

“I said do you like fucking your students.” I had repeated my previous question, this time louder. Thankfully for him the door was shut, leaving us alone in the dingy classroom.

His expression was panicked, but it was also clear how hardly he tried to remain a straight face. He was a pervert. Just a disgusting piece of shit, and everyone was going to know it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He finally replied as he turned away from me.

I scoffed as I took a step closer to him, reaching into my bag. I was going to finally end this. Right here, right now. Nobody else would say another nasty comment about my girl.

“You must think about it at the very least. Are you only imagining Charlotte when you’re sitting in your desk? Or do you think about her laying in bed next to your wife too?” I tease, drawing out my actions as the fear lingers within him.

“Matt?” Professor Collin’s speaks quietly, his eyes widened as I held the metal knife in my hand. He looked at me with guilt, fear, and confusion. The sight I loved more than anything.

The words I loved to hear before disaster. My own name being called out, like they were genuinely confused. Like they didn’t know they deserved this, that it was coming for them.

That I was coming for them.

“Matt?” Natalie slurred, raising her eyebrow as she looked at me. She was complete wasted, I had been watching her stumble on the way back to her dorm, but she hadn’t even been going the right way.

I stepped closer to him as he pushed his chair back, ultimately hitting the wall behind him. He had no where to go, he was completely trapped. And I had the weapon. We were playing a game of mouse. He was the mouse, I was the cat. He was my prey as of this moment, just like he had been preying on my girlfriend for months.

In a swift action I pulled him by his collar, his head hitting his wooden desk as his hands dropped to his side. Small winces escaping his lips as the knife went through his back.

I watched it with eager.

Again.

And again.

The knife going through his back.

Again.

And again.

The light of moon reflected on the silver knife going through her skin, her warm blood seeping out against my hand, against the pavement below us before she fell over.

There was a sudden moment of strength within her. Maybe adrenaline, maybe just pure will to live. Either way she spoke. “I just” She coughed, blood dripping down her chin as tears welled in her eyes. “I wanted someone to pay attention to me.” She sniffles pathetically as she weeps. “Why does no one notice me?”

Her body fell flat against the floor, her head scraped against his ground. I pulled the knife back, her blood pooling on the pavement around us as I wiped it between my gloves.

“No more rumors, no more lies.” I spoke under my breath, taking a final glance at the girl below me. Taking a final glance at the nonsense she’s caused over the past months.

It didn’t take long before his body became still underneath my touch. He was restless, no trace of life left. Just how I liked it. I pulled the knife back, wiping the blood off between my hands.

I took ahold of his hair, pulling his lifeless face up before running two slits on his bottom lip, dots of blood pooling around them.

“She’s mine.” I hissed through my teeth, picking up a lose piece of chalk from the end of his desk before leaving one final message on the board.

Yesterdays problem.

-

My heart raced as I pushed myself through the dimly lit hallways. One foot in front of the other the entire way. I could feel the warm blood seeping into my skin.

The blood I drew.

There was a dead man in that classroom. I was the one that killed him. Guilt mixed with power as I approached the nearest place with a sink, the boys locker room.

As soon as I walked into the room, I rushed to the nearest sink and turned on the water. I watched as all of the evidence went down the drain, but if anyone were to walk into that classroom they would see the truth.

“Matt?” A voice spoke from behind me. Panic flooded my body as I quickly turned around, my eyes meeting Bryce’s. He held his water jug in his hand, his jersey loosely hanging off of his body.

Fuck.

My eyes met his as I moved myself closer to the sink, trying to cover the mess in front of me. The water spraying the mixed blood around the white counter, an undeniable sight.

At my reaction he pushed himself closer, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked down at the sink, the water still running as my hands remained soaked.

“Is that blood?” He finally asked.

My first response was to shake my head, tell him he was wrong. Maybe even gaslight him, make him belief he was the one going crazy.

But it was going to be hard to convince someone that something else was going on. Especially someone like Bryce.

On different circumstances, I would’ve been able to take care of this myself. Make sure everything was clean, and hidden before I ran into anyone. He didn’t give me much of a chance.

It’s unfair if you think about it. I’m only doing what other people are too scared to, and now i’m facing unjust consequences.

“I— I fell.” I spoke out, my eyes locked on his while his was glued to the blood running down my hands. That was until he noticed the knife sticking out of my pocket.

“Don’t fucking tell anyone.” I ordered, trying to remain persuasive or powerful to him, but I knew how much panic was laced through my voice.

He was frozen in fear, like he was the one who was supposed to be scared when I could be getting sent to prison for the rest of my life.

Maybe if he didn’t walk in on me it wouldn’t have been his fault. Unfortunately for him, his curiosity simply got the better of him.

“Bryce.” I spoke again, harshly as I placed my stained hands against his shoulders. His eyes widening as he finally looked up at me. “You gonna fucking tell?” I asked.

He didn’t respond. My heart rate only picked up. He was going to tell. Anyone would. I didn’t blame them, but I couldn’t let that happen. Nineteen years old, spending the rest of my life behind bars for simply giving others justice.

I really couldn’t let that happen.

Before another thought ran through my mind, his head was pressed against the mirror. The glass shattering around us, while the rest became stained with his blood.

His water jug dropped from his limp hand, the liquid leaking around the floor before he dropped down as well, landing against his back with a thump.

I took a deep breath, blood now coating the mirror, sink, and floor.

“It was too risky.” I mumbled to him, well, really only myself as I pulled the knife from my pocket again, three slits placed on his bottom lip, only drawing more blood from his face.

Kill count, three.

-

I'm not a bad person.

At least I don't think I am.

My intentions aren't flawed. I have someone who understands me and sometimes the world treats her unfairly, is it wrong to want to help?

I never meant for it to get this far, but since Natalie it's like an urge. Like if someone looks at Charlotte the wrong way I have an animalistic urge to end it, to end them.

It’s not like I wanted to hurt Natalie, at least not at first, but she was the one who hurt Charlotte. She had been hurting her for months, and I wasn’t going to let it happen any longer.

I’d known Natalie since middle school. I knew almost everything about her. It’s not like I had been fantasizing about killing her for years.

It just happened.

Though, the professor had it coming. Nobody can deny that he deserved what I did to him. Making those nasty, perverted remarks at Charlotte.

What kind of man would I be to allow that?

Bryce was a mistake. He didn’t do anything wrong. I was actually quite fond of him. I had been since he started dating Nick a few months ago. He was one of the better people on this sick earth.

Wrong person, wrong place.

I don't think it's psychotic what I'm doing. When you hear about killers you assume one of two things.

Either they have a bad home life, like Richard Ramirez who was abused as a child. Except I wasn't abused, sure I had my own mundane problems, but nothing in comparison and nothing that caused shit to hit the fan.

Or they are just clinically insane. Like Albert Fish.

I'm not insane, I don't hear voices or see things. I just want to protect the one person who gives me the time of day.

Maybe by protecting her I'm also protecting myself, but I don't think it's selfish. Charlotte is amazing in ways I struggle to understand. She's thoughtful and charismatic, she listens but she also always knows how to make me laugh.

Charlotte’s a good person.

And I'd like to think that by protecting her l'm a good person too.

-

“Matt, what is that?” Charlottes voice spoke up from beside me. My body against hers as my papers were sprawled out in front of me. My eyebrows furrowed at her question.

“What do you mean?”

Fear covered her face as her eyes traced down. They stopped just above my arm, focusing directly on my wrist.

I quickly looked down, my eyes widening as well as I noticed my silver bracelet stained with red liquid. I sucked in a sharp breath, pursing my lips before pulling my sleeve down.

She wasn’t supposed to see that.

Her face remained in a panic liked state as her eyes met mine. Her expression sinking into confusion as she took hold of my wrist, pulling against my sleeve.

“Is that blood— are you bleeding?” She asked, her eyebrows furrowed as she scanned the stained the material. I wanted to nod, maybe even put on a bandaid and keep her from asking anymore questions, but she wasn’t stupid.

Charlotte was many things, but she wasn’t stupid. She could point out a lie from a mile away, a small difference in someone’s tone. It was impressive that she hadn’t caught me yet.

I took my arm back, pulling my sleeve down one more. “It’s nothing.” I spoke cautiously. I didn’t want to necessarily lie, but I couldn’t exactly spit out the truth. Not yet at least.

My intentions were good, at least for her, but that doesn’t mean she’d forgive me for what I did.

“Matt that was blood.” She replied, barely audible but I heard her as tears started to brim her eyes. Her perfect fucking eyes. I hated when she cried. Seeing her upset made me upset. If she wasn’t happy than neither was I.

“It wasn’t.” I mumbled in response. She scoffed, shaking her head as she pushed herself off of my bed. I sighed, following her as I reached my arm out for hers. She quickly pulled back, wrapping her arms around her body.

I sighed as I took a step closer to her, letting my hands drop to my sides. Giving her a respectful amount of space.

She looked lost in thought, her eyes remaining on my covered wrist. The blood was dried, it was from hours ago.

There were police swarming our campus. Both bodies found in the span of five minutes. Collins first, Bryce second. Everyone was sent back to their rooms, doors locked as they suspected an active killer.

Although, nothing was released to the public yet. Nobody knew who was killed, except the first kids that walked in for their morning class.

“Can I see?” She spoke again, a soft breath from her lips as she looked up at me. I hesitated before pulling my sleeve again, the silver bracelet in her vision as the lines of dried blood coated the material.

“Please tell me that’s your blood.”

“Matt.”

“Charlotte.” I finally replied through a sigh. I didn’t want to lie to her. I just didn’t want her to know the extended truth. It wasn’t my blood, honestly I wasn’t sure whose it was. “It’s not mine.” I spoke again. She furrowed her eyebrows.

“Then whose is it?” She asked, letting go of my arm as she looked up at me. I hesitated. This could ruin everything. “Matt— if it’s not your blood, then why is someone else’s on you during a fucking campus lockdown, it makes you seem like you—” She cut herself off as her eyes widened.

“No.” She spoke again, her eyes finding mine again, practically begging for an answer. “You didn’t— you wouldn’t.” She laughed in denial, shaking her head. Once she noticed the lack of my reaction, her expression dropped again.

Silence.

“Charlotte.” I spoke after a few seconds, taking another step toward her. “Listen to me, alright? Just for a minute.” She shook her head again, her body language was so unfamiliar.

Distant, confused, and hurt but all directed at me.

“No, you’re supposed to listen to me. Just answer the goddamn question, why the fuck is your bracelet covered in someone’s blood?”

I pursed my lips as my heartbeat picked up in my chest. If I waited long enough maybe she’d forget. Or maybe she’d just figure out what really happen. That I killed her best friend. I killed her professor, and I killed my brothers boyfriend. But

But everything I did was for her.

She needed to understand that.

“Answer me, Matt!”

“Charlotte.” I snapped, placing my hands on her shoulders, a soft gasp leaving her lips. “Listen to me first.” I breathed out. “I did what I had to do. For us, for you—”

Her expression dropped once more, her face practically white at a those as she pushed my hands off of her. “You killed them?” She mumbled, taking a step back.

“Is that what you’re saying?” She asked. “Thats not your blood, because— whatever happened on campus today, it was you, wasn’t it?” She was speaking so fast, I wouldn’t doubt that she would pass out if she kept going.

I didn’t respond.

“Did you hurt someone- did you— did you- you killed someone, Matt?” She breathed out, her arms pressed tightly against her self. “We’ve been dealing with Natalie’s death, and you go and ruin someone else’s life?”

I looked at my feet, silence overtaking us for a few moments. My heart was racing, my breath short, she knew, and she wasn’t happy. Although, my silence wasn’t the answer, because it gave her more than she needed.

“You killed her.” She finally spoke.

My eyes met hers, as I pursed my lips again. I couldn’t respond, I couldn’t. She looked so hurt, so betrayed, when all I wanted to do was help her.

“You don’t care— you never cared about Natalie! All those stupid words you told me, that you missed her— you’re a liar!” She practically screamed at me, her eyes watering.

“I did it for you!” I replied, matching her tone as I took her wrists in my hand. She quickly shook her head, a look of disbelief on her face as she stepped back, bumping into the doorway.

My heart broke at the way she looked at me. Like she was scared of me, and I couldn’t blame her, but I hated it. I wanted her to look at me how she always did.

With love.

“Charlotte, please.” I begged, looking down at her with pleading eyes. She shook her head with a soft scoff, opening the door before slamming it in the matter of seconds. I wanted to run after her, bring her back into my room and tell her all night that everything was fine. That we were fine, but she had already made that decision.

I wasn’t sure how I expected her to react, but I never expected her to even find out. It was supposed to be a secret, but then again trying to keep a secret from someone like her is nearly impossible.

She could be going to run to her parents for all I knew. Going to hide from me, and tell someone what I did. I might be going to jail after all.

And I might lose her after all.

-

charlottes pov

The last place I needed to be right now was yet another college party. But despite my sour mood, I had friends expecting me and I wasn’t going to let them down.

I spent the past hours stuck in my room, my phone in my hand as I contemplated calling the police, telling them what Matt did, but as much as I wanted to I couldn’t.

It felt like my mind was on overdrive. Maybe he didn’t it, but it was obvious. He never exactly confirmed that he touched Natalie, but the aching pit in my stomach told me.

How could I have been so blind?

So blind to see that it was him all along. Every tear he wiped, word he said, all of it was a lie. He cried at the funeral, hugged her parents, and all along he was the one who shoved the knife through—

I took a deep breath.

Matt was back at his dorm, it didn’t matter. I mean it did, but it couldn’t. I love Matt more than anything, and I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to him. Even if he deserved it.

So for the sake of not completely falling apart again, I was going to pretend today never happened, and that everything was ok.

I hadn’t been to an outing like this since Natalie’s death, and it felt very real, very fast as I walk up to the front lawn. Red solo cups sprawled unevenly throughout the yard, with people already throwing up in the trimmed bushes.

The campus was still closed off, so with the help of a few friends, someone decided to throw a party just off campus and nearly everyone was there.

I walked in reluctantly, imperially being sucked in by loud rap music. The bass practically beating through my body as I looked around the thick crowds of people.

The sudden grasp on my waist caused me to turn around at lighting speed, panic rushing straight to my heart as I make sense of the face.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Nick laughed slightly, pulling me by the hand to a more quiet area in the living space. “I’m happy you’re here! I’ve missed you.”

I smiled. If anyones going to make my presence feel special it’s Nick. “It just feels weird being here now since… yeah.”

A frustrated breath left my lips after my words. Of course I immediately made the mood sad, it’s all I’ve been doing for the past two weeks.

“Hey, she’d be happy you’re here right now. If anyone’s going to take over her role as the obsessive party-goer it’s you.” Nick joked, taking a moment to look around at all the familiar faces.

“Have you seen Bryce anywhere?” He asked. I furrowed my eyebrows. “He hasn’t been texting me back, but his parents could’ve taken his phone away again so.”

I thought about every recent interaction I’ve had with Bryce, but I hadn’t spoken to him since he had helped me with a history assignment a few days ago. “I haven’t heard from him, I’m sure he’s fine though his parents are dicks.”

Nick just nodded slowly in response, it’s clear he was a bit worried, and I couldn’t really blame him. After Natalie’s death and Jackson going to jail for it everyone at this college is on edge.

My heart dropped at the thought.

Jackson.

He was still in jail, and he was innocent.

“Let’s get ourselves a drink yeah?” I asked as I placed my hand on his shoulder, guiding i’m to the kitchen. I just needed to forget, more than anything.

Forget about Natalie.

Forget about Jackson.

Forget about Matt.

It didn’t take long until we’re surrounded by wood cupboards, and large bottles of cheap liquor. I poured us both a cup of vodka mixed with cranberry juice before Chris called Nick to assist him with whatever drinking game he’d started.

I couldn’t really be bothered to take part, so I used this as my opportunity to explore the house.

Weirdly enough walking around all these random drunk students felt almost like an out of body experience. Like I was a spectator simply people watching as I sipped on my poorly rationed drink.

After a small amount of walking I find myself in some sort of man cave. Deer heads are mounted on the wall alongside numerous patriotic posters.

Definitely tacky.

For whatever reason the alcohol hit me like a brick, I was just unsure if it’s because of the sheer amount of vodka poured in or the combination of the antidepressants I was just started on.

Either way my head immediately begins to feel heavy and I opt to sit on the carpeted flooring, leaning my back against the wall.

I put the empty red cup down, I didn’t even realize I had finished it until it tipped over on the floor, and not a single drop of liquid poured out.

“What are you doing in here by yourself?” The vaguely familiar voice she spoke, entering the room before closing the door behind himself.

I squinted my eyes to get a better look at the figure that approaches me.

“Chris is that you?” I asked, my head still weighed down in between my bent knees. He just laughed from a distance as I was still unable to figure out who it is.

That was until he sat next to me, his face now illuminated by the ceiling lights. “Josh.” I gawked, rolling my eyes.

“Atta girl.” He smiled, handing me a cup of God knows what. “I got you a drink, figured you’d need to loosen up after the whole… situation.”

I nodded slowly, taking the cup from him and bringing the rim to my lips before wiping my mouth and replying. “Yeah it’s weird being here. Hard to be happy when I know she’d rather be here than me.” I confessed, the alcohol in my system acting like a truth serum.

Clearly making me oblivious as well.

“Not even happy that gay kids dead?” Josh spoke as he looked down at me, raising his eyebrow while mine furrowed.

I’m wasn’t entirely sure what takes over me but my breathing increased rapidly, vision altered and suddenly my hands feel numb. “What the fuck are you talking about J-Josh?”

Speaking was harder too, the words in my head are struggling to leave my mouth.

“It doesn’t matter pretty girl, he got what he deserved.” He replied, pushing himself closer to me and pushing a strand of hair from my ear. I furrowed my eyebrows. “What— no— he didn’t.” I shook my head, squinting my eyes as I looked at Josh. Everything becoming blurred.

He let out a soft sigh. “Just relax, please?” He asked. I shook my head, trying to push myself to my feet, but he pulled me back onto the ground. I landed against my knees. His hands coming in contact with my hips.

“Charlotte.” He groaned at my action, holding my hips tighter. I shook my head again once his hands came in contact with the waistband of my shorts. There was something in the drink, and he put it there.

Fuck.

My breathing picked up as his hands came closer to me again. I was going to pass out soon enough, and he was stronger than me. There won’t be anything I could do. My vision turned into a gun rack just in front of me, the door halfway open.

I pushed myself toward the door, his hands not leaving my sides as he tugged at the fabric again, clearly eager.

“Where are you going—”

He began to speak, but was ultimately cut off by the sound of a gunshot firing through the air. My eyes widened as I watched him fall back, hitting the table before falling flat against the floor.

The gun in my hand.

I covered my mouth with my hands, quickly dropping the gun to the floor before looking down at him again, blood pooling quickly around him.

In a second without thought I ripped my jacket from my body, pressing it against the ground in hopes to clean it to the best of my ability.

“Charlotte?” Matt’s voice rang. I quickly turned my head around, my eyes meeting his as I stood from my bruised knees, momentarily pausing my movements of cleaning up the mess in front of me. The same mess I created.

“Matt, there’s blood—” I breathed out, my hands shaking by my side as his body laid under my feet. His lifeless body. That I caused. His blood spread around the carpet, soaking into the material as it approached my shoes.

I took a step back, stumbling slightly at my own action. My hands came in contact with the table behind me, keeping me steady and upright.

It was hard to think about how upset with him I was. Considering the fact that now I had done the same thing; take another life.

“There is.” He nodded, looking down at the floor before looking back toward me. “It’s ok.” Matt assured, stepping closer to me before placing his hands on my shoulders.

My gaze went to his, panicked breaths leaving my lips as my hands continued to shake. I couldn’t tell if it was the fear, or the poisoned drink running through my veins.

Either way I was screwed.

“I killed him.” I spoke again, my breath shaken as I closed my eyes in my own defeat. The sound of my own heartbeat filling my ears.

Matt rubbed my arms gently before he shook his head. “No you didn’t.” He replied, scanning my face. I furrowed my eyebrows, fighting the urge to give in to the weakness overcoming my body.

“I did.” He spoke again. I shook my head, moving my hands onto his hips, keeping myself upright. I didn’t understand what he was saying, what he was trying to do. “Matt, I shot Josh, because he tried to—”

Because his eyebrows as I cut myself off, closing my eyes as I fell against his chest. His arms instantly coming around my waist.

“Hey, woah.” He breathed out, rubbing my back to try and keep me apart. “What did he try to do?” He asked. I didn’t respond, my mouth not opening.

He let out a heavy sigh, quickly moving me so I was leaning against the wall in front of him. My hands falling to my side. He placed his against my jaw, moving me so I was looking at him.

“Listen. You don’t go anywhere. Stay here, let me get something to clean this. Just stay here, please.” He spoke.

I nodded slowly, closing my eyes again as I pulled my knees to my chest, suddenly oblivious to the blood pooling around me.

“I love you.” I breathed out as I realized how fast my heart was racing. Whatever was in that drink was strong, and it was hitting me fast.

He furrowed his eyebrows before shaking his head. “I- I love you too, but you’re going to be fine. Just stay here.” He spoke, before pushing himself from the ground and leaving the room.

My eyes opened again to trace his body. I watched him walk out the room, my eyes remaining on his blue sweater, silver jewelry, and the shoes that I loved.

The sight of him eased my mind from the fear coursing through my veins. That was until he left my sight, now an empty hallway filling my vision. My eyes turned from the door to the floor in front of me, the rifle on the floor.

“Fuck.” I mumbled, pushing myself forward and grabbing the gun. I slowly pulled myself to my feet, the gun in my hand as I looked down at Josh. The boy I had killed.

I went to put the gun back into the case, but before I could my body froze. A sudden ringing in my ears as I involuntary stumbled backward. Fast breaths leaving my lips before all of the sound in the world came back.

“Take the gun.” An unfamiliar voice spoke harshly, the gun being taken out of my hands while a pain radiated through my stomach. My hands were placed over the area, before my eyes widened.

Blood.

My blood.

I swear I could feel my heart drop down to my feet, my chest heating up as I looked down again. My eyes were met with my stomach, more blood seeping through my shirt.

When my eyes drifted up again they were met with three officers, one of them holding their gun directly at me. A faint line of smoke leaving the end.

He shot me.

Before I could think again I was back into the floor, my head coming in contact with the ground sharply. My body felt like it was on fire, my vision ten times worse than it had been.

If I wasn’t dying before, I certainly was now.

My stomach was burning, and I knew there was nothing I could do. It was like I was looking through the world with a kaleidoscope. Just like when I was a kid. The colors and shapes collided into an array of one.

For some reason, once the pain in my body subsided, all I could feel was peace.

I was simply numb. Physically and mentally numb. Nothing could hurt me, no one could hurt me. I was safe, I was happy. As much as I could be for nothing my fate.

The last thing I saw was the familiar blue sweater making its appearance at the doorway, the same sweater that I refused to take off for months. The sweater that smelt like Matt’s cologne. The boy I loved more than anything.

The boy that I’d die for.

“Matt—” I breathed out, barely forming the world before finally, my mind had been cut off for one last time.

Finally, the world had went black.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n: sincerely, sienna and grace

taglist: @greatooglymooglyyy @fake-sturniolos @raysmayhem-72 @luv4kozume @junnniiieee07 @sturniolosbxtch @wurlibydominicfike @bernardsbendystraws @txssvx @thecynthh @biimpanicking @stazsi @mazzystar111 @gnxosblog @imwetforyourmom @stonermattsgf @paibey @creamoncreamoncream2 @sturnioloslife @bitchydragonparadise @anlqq @y0urm4m @bernardenjoyer @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @cherrypostsposts @thenickgirl @patscorner @freshsturns @annamcdonalds67 @lilyloveschris @sstvrnioloo @chrattstromboli

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #the sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff

[chefkids]

Natalie does not want to be the one that fucks it up for Carmy

For someone who has spent so much of her energy on Carmy's emotional wellbeing, she seemed very indifferent to his love life, especially considering this is his first girlfriend.

She's known Claire for a long time and she is very friendly with her when she sees her yet the most she can say about it to Sydney is that it seems moderately healthy.

Weirdly enough the only time she ever talks about his relationship is with Sydney. Not because she is looking out for Carmy's feelings, but because she's looking out for Sydney's.

If she hadn't mentioned Claire at that moment, Sydney would've ended up finding out in person when he brought her to the restaurant. Which would've probably been very jarring and hurtful. Otherwise she probably would have found out through someone else like Fak or Richie who would just tell her about how cool and hot and perfect Claire is.

She gives Richie a dirty look when he tells Carmy that Claire and Sydney meeting is "interesting", cause she knows he's going to get overly involved in Carmy's situationship.

I don't think Natalie is silent on Carmy's weird friendship with Sydney because she's oblivious to their feelings, but because she knows it would bother him if she got involved or tried to push either one of them to do something they weren't ready for yet.

Earlier that day she saw them have this weird interaction where he insists on going to drop of the permit when Sydney had asked him to go over details for the restaurant, then he tells her he's unsure about the menu and he'll get back to her later. Two seemingly more urgent things than mailing off a letter.

Natalie questions why he's going to leave right now to drop it off, but instead of saying anything about if he's avoiding Sydney she asks if it's cause she's pregnant. Which is kind of random because if anything driving would probably be easier for her than the mess at the construction zone?

Meanwhile Sydney is visibly frustrated right next to them. Natalie wanted him to hesitate leaving to drop off the permit, but she didn't want to say why. She's letting Carmy figure out his feelings on his own while very subtly looking out for Sydney's.

#the bear #sydcarmy #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #carmy x sydney #chefs kiss #platonic and messy #the bear fx #natalie berzatto #the bear meta

[nayziiz]

No Way | LN4

Summary: Lando Norris, an F1 driver for McLaren Racing, faces persistent attention on his single status. In an attempt to appease fans and quell rumours, his management suggests a fake relationship with a popular Portuguese model. However, Lando's PR manager, Natalie, disagrees, believing fans would see through the ploy. As an alternative, Lando's management notices the genuine bond between him and Natalie and proposes they feign a relationship for authenticity. Initially hesitant, they agree, given their existing friendship and professional connection. The fake relationship takes an unexpected turn as Lando and Natalie grapple with burgeoning real feelings, attempting unsuccessfully to conceal their growing emotions.

Pairing: Lando Norris x Original Character (Natalie)

Warnings: Mentions of physical and emotional abuse; SA; fluff; crash

Masterlist

CHAPTER 9

As Lando prepares for his first race back in the car since the accident, the atmosphere is charged with anticipation and excitement. The British Grand Prix, his home race, adds an extra layer of significance to the occasion. The energy in the air is palpable as the fans, eager to witness their local hero back on the track, fill the grandstands with cheers and banners.

Lando's determination is a beacon, shining brighter than ever. The challenges and uncertainties that followed the accident have only fueled his resilience. The sight of his McLaren gleaming on the grid ignites a fire within him, a renewed sense of purpose that transcends the ordinary pursuit of victory.

The moments before the race are a flurry of activity. The team works meticulously to ensure the car is in optimal condition, every detail scrutinised to maximise performance. Lando, surrounded by the familiar faces of his dedicated crew, shares nods and words of encouragement. The camaraderie is evident as everyone rallies behind their driver, each person in the McLaren garage contributing to the collective aspiration of victory.

“Welcome back, Lando. You gave us quite the scare back in Monaco, but we’re pleased to see you back and smiling. How are you doing?”The interviewer asks.

“I’m feeling great. My body’s healed up nicely. I’m very thankful to everyone who played a part in my recovery, it’s not every day that something like that happens, but everyone did their best and I appreciate that.” Lando comments, his gratitude evident in his voice and smile.

“What’s your headspace like heading into your home race this weekend?” The interviewer continues.

“It’s a positive headspace. I kind of try to forget about the last few weeks, it was beyond anyone’s control, so heading into this week, it’s pretty much back to normal. I love racing on this track, and it’s home, so that helps.” Lando concludes before returning to the McLaren garage.

Upon Lando's return to the garage, a sense of normalcy returns as he seamlessly transitions into the routine of a race weekend. Without missing a beat, he joins Natalie, and together they delve into the intricacies of his race weekend schedule. The professional camaraderie takes precedence, temporarily overshadowing the nuances of their romantic relationship within the confines of the work environment.

In the controlled chaos of the garage, surrounded by the hum of machinery and the focused energy of the McLaren team, Lando and Natalie synchronise their efforts. Their interactions are marked by efficiency, communication, and a shared commitment to the tasks at hand. The dynamics between them shift seamlessly from the personal to the professional, a testament to their ability to compartmentalise and navigate the complexities of their dual roles.

“Lando.” Adam's voice rings out from behind him and Natalie as they sieve through his social media content for the race weekend. “I need to chat with you.”

Lando, sensing the urgency in his father's tone, follows him to his driver's room. As they enter, Adam shuts the door, creating a private space where their conversation can unfold without the prying ears of the bustling garage.

“What's wrong?” Lando immediately asks, sensing the gravity in his father's tone.

“We've finally found him.” Adam informs his son, the weight of the revelation evident in his expression.

“Who? What are you talking about?” Lando questions, his confusion etched across his face. In response, Adam pulls out his phone, showing Lando a photo of a man in a club.

"Is this him?" Lando asks, scrutinising the image on the phone.

The air in the room becomes charged with anticipation as the pieces of an undisclosed puzzle start to fall into place. The photograph holds a significance that raises more questions than answers, setting the stage for a revelation that could potentially reshape the course of their conversation.

“It seems like the barman spiked her soda at the club that night. She had one drink from what I could tell, and he was the one who handed it to her. She kept her drink covered the entire time, so the only time someone had access to spiking it was before she received it.” Adam explains, referencing the night in Shanghai when Natalie was drugged and assaulted.

The room tightens with tension as the implications of Adam's discovery sink in.

“But, why? He doesn't know her, does he?” Lando continues to prod, seeking to understand the motive behind such a malicious act.

“I had a friend of a friend go by the club and speak to him. And, you'll never believe what we found.” Adam explains, swiping to reveal a photo of Lucas, Natalie's ex-boyfriend.

“No way," Lando seethes, his disbelief and anger evident.

The revelation hits close to home, and the betrayal is twofold—first by the barman, and now by someone Natalie once trusted intimately. The shock and frustration emanating from Lando reflect the emotional turmoil of discovering that someone from Natalie's past could be involved in such a reprehensible act.

“He came in the day before, apparently he knew where she would be going, paid the barman a hefty amount to spike her drink. We suspect he has some hidden app on her phone so he can see exactly what she’s doing, when, and with whom. I’ll need to get her phone cleaned. Lando, Lucas was there that night in the club. I also got a different camera angle from the opposite side of the club and it clearly shows him watching her, approaching her, and then dancing up behind her. She spins around and immediately hurries away, likely to the bathroom where she called you from. There weren’t any cameras there for us to see if he followed her again, but he just disappeared.” Adam details.

The revelation unfolds with a chilling precision, exposing the orchestrated cruelty behind Natalie's assault. The calculated actions of Lucas, manipulating the situation and exploiting intimate knowledge of Natalie's whereabouts, paint a disturbing picture of betrayal and malice.

“He's insane. He's literally insane. He claimed to love her. Who does that to someone they supposedly love?” Lando argues, his anger palpable, a storm brewing within him that his father has never witnessed before.

“Son, it gets worse.” Adam adds gravely. “He has a paddock pass this weekend.”

“No fucking way.” Lando grunts, the shock and disbelief evident in his voice.

The sanctuary of the racing world, meant for competition, suddenly feels tainted by the presence of an ominous figure from Natalie's past.

“We'll do what we can to protect her, but she's bound to run into him at some point.” Adam replies, acknowledging the imminent threat that hovers over Natalie's safety.

“Please, Dad, don't tell her. I don't want her stressing about this, with everything the last few weeks, she's had enough to deal with as is.” Lando urges his father, his concern for Natalie's well-being overriding any desire for immediate confrontation.

“Of course.” Adam agrees. “But, we'll have to think of a way to keep her safe. If he can drug her that easily, who knows what he can do here. She's by herself most of the time.”

“I'll think of something.” Lando mumbles before a knock on the door interrupts them, signalling an intrusion into the private space where they grapple with the unsettling reality that has unfolded.

The impending challenge of ensuring Natalie's safety in the paddock adds a layer of complexity to an already emotionally charged race weekend.

"Sorry, I hate to bother. Lando, we need to finalise your content, please," Natalie sheepishly explains her intrusion as she pops her head into the room.

The transition from the weighty conversation to the demands of the race weekend is abrupt, but Natalie's professional demeanour glosses over any traces of the private matters being discussed behind closed doors. The racing world, with its relentless pace, demands a swift return to the immediate tasks at hand, and Natalie, aware of the intricacies involved, seamlessly switches gears. Lando, while grappling with the recent revelations, acknowledges the necessity to refocus on the upcoming race.

“Of course, let me be out of your hair.” Adam quickly excuses himself, sensing the need for privacy between Lando and Natalie.

“Everything OK?” She asks Lando, her concern evident in her gaze.

“Yeah, all good.” Lando lies, attempting to shield her from the weight of the recent revelations. However, the internal conflict is palpable, and he hesitates before admitting, “Actually, no.”

“What do you mean?” She asks, her confusion deepening as she senses a shift in the atmosphere of the room. The veneer of normalcy cracks, revealing a layer of unspoken tension that lingers between them. Natalie, attuned to Lando's emotions, waits for him to unravel the truth.

“I may or may not have tracked down the guy who drugged and assaulted you in China, with my Dad’s help, of course.” Lando admits.

“You did what?” Natalie exclaims, her surprise and shock evident. “Why would you do that?”

“I needed to know who it was, Nattie. He could have really hurt you.” Lando explains, his concern for Natalie evident in his words.

“So, who is he?” Natalie quickly asks, seeking an answer. The urgency in her voice reflects the immediate need to understand the identity of the person responsible for the traumatic incident in Shanghai.

“I don’t have a name.” He lies. “I just know that he’s been spotted in the UK in the last few days.”

“This is actually crazy right now.” She breathes, her heart racing.

The revelation adds another layer of complexity to the situation, leaving Natalie in a state of uncertainty and unease. The lack of a definitive name amplifies the mystery surrounding the person who orchestrated the assault, and the proximity of the threat raises the stakes for both of them.

“Please, Nattie, I’m asking you nicely, please do not do anything by yourself this weekend, even in the paddock.” Lando begs her.

“You don’t think he’ll be in the paddock.” She shakes her head in denial.

“I don’t know, but I cannot risk you getting hurt.” Lando tells her as he pulls her closer to him. “Please promise me you’ll have someone from the team with you at all times, just for this weekend while we figure out what to do about him.”

“Why did you do this?” She quips, her brain digesting the fact that he had purposely sought her assailant.

“I can’t let someone get away with hurting you.” He half explains.

“Yeah, sure, but that’s a lot of effort.” She shyly responds.

“I told you I can’t lose you. Hand-in-hand with that goes a promise to protect you, to the best of my ability. Let me do that. Let me protect you and keep you safe.” He finally admits. “No matter the amount of effort, or the time, or the distance - I will do what I can to keep you safe.”

The vulnerability in Lando's plea cuts through the complex emotions of the moment. The admission of his commitment to her safety, despite the challenges and uncertainties, unveils a depth of care that transcends the boundaries of their public personas. In this intimate moment, their connection strengthens, grounded in a shared understanding of the need for protection and support.

The weight of his words hangs in the air, a testament to the sincerity and depth of Lando's feelings. The realisation that he went to such lengths, confronting a potentially dangerous individual, solely to ensure her safety, leaves Natalie with a mix of emotions—gratitude, awe, and a growing awareness of the depth of their connection.

In the midst of the chaos surrounding them, Lando's unwavering commitment to her well-being becomes a beacon of support. The paddock, usually filled with the noise of race preparations, momentarily fades into the background as the significance of their shared moment takes centre stage.

“I feel like I should write that down.” He jokes.

“Why, so I can read it when I don’t believe you?” Natalie jokes back.

“No, so I can use it in my vows one day.” He responds, causing her to smack his arm.

The banter lightens the atmosphere, injecting a moment of humour into the seriousness of their conversation

“Please, just have someone with you this weekend, especially when I’m not by your side.” He reiterates.

“I promise.” She finally agrees as she hugs him tightly.

In the midst of the racing world's intensity, their love story unfolds, marked by the unconventional backdrop of pit stops, podiums, and paddocks. Lando, with his passion for speed and the vibrant papaya colours associated with McLaren, becomes the unexpected protagonist in the romance she never saw coming. His gestures of care, protection, and understanding create a narrative that transcends the confines of a typical love story.

As the engines roar on the racetrack, so too does the beating of her heart for the man who not only races with fervour but also loves with a depth that surpasses the confines of the fast-paced world they inhabit.

- LATER THAT DAY DURING THE RACE -

A missed call from her mom causes panic to hit Natalie in the middle of the race. She knows her mom wouldn't call her at work unless it was an absolute emergency. She rushes out of the garage, leaving behind the sounds of roaring engines and the intensity of the race. The paddock, filled with people moving up and down past the garages, becomes a maze of anxious anticipation as she presses the phone to her ear.

“Hi, Mamma. You were looking for me?” Natalie speaks into her phone, a sigh of relief escaping her lips.

“Sorry, my love, it was an accident. I wanted to message you and ended up calling you instead.” Her mom sweetly explains.

“That’s OK. I just thought-” Her sentence is cut short when she spots a familiar face further down the paddock.

“Honey, are you there?” Her mom asks.

“I’m here. I have to go, though. I’ll call you after the race, OK?” Natalie quickly speaks before hanging up.

With all the people around, she had drifted a distance away from the entrance to the McLaren paddock. The paddock, a buzzing hive of activity with team members, journalists, and fans, proved to be a labyrinth of twists and turns. In the midst of the race excitement, Natalie had momentarily strayed from the familiar path, drawn by the urgency of the call from her mom.

As she hangs up the phone and takes a quick scan of her surroundings, a sense of disorientation kicks in. Racing against time to retrace her steps, she turns to see where Lucas might be but couldn't spot him amid the crowd. Panic sets in, and her steps quicken as she rushes back towards the garage. The familiar sights and sounds of the paddock become a blur as she navigates the human maze, desperate to reach the safety of the familiar McLaren territory.

Frantic and without anyone by her side, as Lando had pleaded with her, Natalie finds herself caught in a moment of vulnerability. The realisation dawns upon her—Lando knew it had been Lucas and deliberately withheld the information. The protective instinct in Lando's actions becomes clear. He chose not to disclose the identity of the person who had caused her distress, perhaps to shield her from the heightened anxiety that such knowledge might induce.

In the midst of the racing world's chaos, Natalie grapples with the conflicting emotions of gratitude for Lando's protective gesture and the realisation that there are elements of her past that still hold the power to disrupt her present. As she hurries back to the garage, the intensity of the race is momentarily eclipsed by the personal turmoil unravelling in the paddock.

- AFTER THE RACE -

“Where’s Natalie?” Lando yells as he celebrates with his team on a P2 finish in the British GP.

“No idea.” Zak yells back as the crowd keeps growing louder.

The jubilation of the race result echoes through the paddock, but Lando's elation is tinged with concern for Natalie's whereabouts. Amidst the cheers and the team's celebratory atmosphere, her absence becomes a noticeable void.

The thrill of the podium finish momentarily takes a back seat to Lando's growing unease. The question about Natalie's location hangs in the air, creating a pause in the celebratory chaos.

Lando breaks free from the crew as he rushes into the garage.

“Where’s she?” He asks his father, but doesn’t wait for a response, he just keeps running. “Nattie!”

His voice echoes through the garage, filled with urgency and worry. The celebration around him fades into the background as he searches for the one person who matters most to him. The pit lane becomes a blur as Lando races towards a truth he needs to uncover, his mind echoing with the possibility that something might have gone wrong.

Natalie is locked in Lando's driver's room, hidden beneath the massage table, when she hears Lando's voice screaming her name. The sound reverberates through the room, heightening the tension in the air. As his calls pierce through the silence, the door rattles from his attempts to gain access, his hands banging on the door, urgently pleading for her to open it.

In the confined space beneath the massage table, Natalie can feel her heartbeat syncing with the frantic rhythm of Lando's cries. The fear of being discovered intensifies with each passing second. The room becomes a sanctuary of isolation, echoing with the outside world's chaos and the desperate plea of someone searching for her.

Unable to endure the mounting pressure, Natalie decides to end the charade. She gets up, her hands trembling as she unlocks the door. The door swings open, revealing a breathless Lando on the other side. His eyes scan the room, settling on her panicked expression and shaky hands. The relief on his face is palpable as he steps inside, shutting the door behind him, creating a momentary bubble of privacy in the midst of the paddock's tumult.

“It's Lucas... isn't it?” She manages to speak, her voice laden with fear and vulnerability. “He was in the paddock earlier, and then he was just gone. Please tell me it isn't Lucas.”

The revelation of Lucas's presence and the implications weigh heavily on the air. Natalie's tears stream down her face, dampening the fabric of Lando's fireproof suite as she seeks solace in his arms.

“I'm sorry, love.” Lando breathes as he pulls her against him, offering a comforting embrace. 

“Why would he do something like that?” She cries into his chest, the pain and confusion evident in her voice.

The question lingers, an unspoken plea for answers to a situation that strikes at the heart of trust and security. The weight of the revelation, the emotions swirling in the air, leaves him momentarily speechless. Sometimes, there are no words that can adequately capture the complexity of the situation, especially when faced with the shocking reappearance of someone from Natalie's past.

In the silence that follows, Lando tightens his embrace, offering a silent reassurance that transcends verbal communication. His presence, a steadying force in the midst of turmoil, becomes a tangible anchor for Natalie as they navigate the uncertainty together. Sometimes, the absence of words speaks volumes, acknowledging the depth of the emotional turmoil and the unspoken commitment to face whatever challenges lie ahead, hand in hand.

After calming Natalie down, Lando continues to debrief with the media and the team, leaving her in the care of his father. As they get ready to leave the paddock, Lando wraps his arm around Natalie, keeping her tight against him. The physical closeness serves as both a shield and a source of comfort, a silent affirmation of their connection and Lando's commitment to providing her with a sense of security.

Strolling down the paddock in silence, the night has settled, and the once-bustling atmosphere has dwindled. Very few people still wander around, allowing the couple a moment of respite amid the shadows of the paddock. Adam, Lando's father, had departed earlier to arrange additional security for both Lando and Natalie. He had pulled some strings to ensure a heightened police presence outside the track premises, further fortifying their protection.

In the quiet of the night, with the paddock lights casting a gentle glow, Lando and Natalie navigate the aftermath of the unsettling revelation, finding solace in each other's presence and the unspoken assurance of shared strength. The night air carries a mixture of tension and determination as they make their way through the paddock.

“I always thought you two would make a good-looking couple.” Lucas' voice echoes as he emerges from the shadows, stopping Lando and Natalie in their tracks. The sudden appearance sends a shiver down their spines, the past converging with the present in an unexpected and unsettling confrontation.

Lando instinctively tightens his grip around Natalie, a protective stance against the intrusion. The paddock, once a place of celebration and victory, transforms into an eerie backdrop for a confrontation that neither of them anticipated. The ambient glow of the paddock lights casts long shadows, accentuating the tension in the air.

Natalie's gaze narrows, a mixture of fear and defiance in her eyes as she confronts the figure from her past.

“There’s no use in hiding her. She’s always been a scared little girl.” Lucas continues, his words slicing through the air with a cruel edge. The tension in the paddock becomes palpable as he attempts to exert control through intimidation.

“You don’t want to do this, mate.” Lando warns him, a firmness in his tone. The protective instinct in Lando intensifies, his posture reflecting a readiness to shield Natalie from any harm.

“Oh, but I do. Because I vividly remember you staring at her, pining after her, pretty much frothing at the mouth when she was around you. Now you have her, but is she really as great as you hoped she would be?” Lucas asks. “Have you not realised that there’s nothing special about her?”

Lucas' words are laced with bitterness and resentment. His attempt to undermine their relationship becomes evident, a calculated effort to sow doubt and discord. Lando's jaw clenches, and his gaze narrows as he absorbs the verbal assault. He remains steadfast, standing beside Natalie with an unwavering determination to protect her from the venomous words.

“I think you need to leave.” Lando continues to warn him, his voice firm and resolute.

The air becomes charged with tension as Lucas takes a step closer to the couple, his actions pushing the boundaries of confrontation. Natalie, feeling the threat escalate, clutches Lando's arm, attempting to pull him back from the brewing conflict.

“And, you. You naughty little whore. Did you really think I was stupid? You got so turned on whenever he smiled at you. I should have known when you suddenly started wearing shorter skirts when you knew he’d be around.” Lucas continues, his words cutting through the air with a venomous tone.

The accusatory remarks aim to demean and shame, further escalating the tension in the paddock. Natalie, stung by the degrading comments, feels a surge of anger and humiliation. She tightens her grip on Lando's arm, seeking solace and strength from his unwavering presence.

“That’s enough. You do not get to speak to her.” Lando barks, his voice carrying a stern and protective edge.

The line has been crossed, and Lando, unwilling to tolerate any further disrespect towards Natalie, asserts himself in the face of Lucas's venomous words.

“Did she tell you she packed all her shit and disappeared in the middle of the night? That she didn’t even have the audacity to leave me in person, she left a note on the kitchen counter.” Lucas adds, his bitterness evident in every word. “She left me without any warning.”

Natalie, caught off guard by the airing of their past, feels a mixture of emotions. Lando, however, remains resolute, refusing to let the past dictate the present. He wraps a protective arm around Natalie, silently conveying his support and determination to shield her from the ghosts of her past relationship.

“I don’t blame her.” Lando counters. “You drugged her and assaulted her, and we have proof.”

The revelation of Lucas's heinous actions shifts the power dynamics of the confrontation. Lando, steadfast in his defence of Natalie, draws a line in the sand, exposing Lucas's true nature.

“I did not assault her.” Lucas argues. “She was drunk and having a good time. Who would have thought she’d be grinding her ass up against me that night and not you?”

His attempt to twist the narrative adds a layer of manipulation to the already charged atmosphere. Lando's jaw clenches once more, his grip on Natalie tightening as he struggles to contain his anger.

“Mate, take one more step and it’s over for you. Did you honestly think you could come into this paddock after what you did in Shanghai and intimidate us? I have people all over this paddock watching us right now. I have video evidence being sent to the police where you’re paying a barman to drug a girl’s drink with the intention of physically harming her. You do not get to scare her any more. You do not get to look her in the face and cause her any more trauma. Do you understand me? You’re going to walk out of here and never look back.” Lando barks with a resolute authority, his words cutting through the tension-laden air. “Leave. Now.”

Lucas, realising the gravity of the situation, begins to retreat hastily. The collective eyes of the paddock, now aware of the unfolding drama, follow his every step. The atmosphere is charged with a mix of tension and anticipation as security guards shadow Lucas's exit.

“Get the fuck out of here.” Lando repeats, his voice cutting through the commotion.

The authority in his tone demands compliance, and Lucas, with a resentful glance back, continues his retreat, disappearing into the shadows of the paddock. As the tension gradually dissipates, Natalie looks up at Lando, a mixture of relief and gratitude in her eyes.

The distant wailing of police sirens grows louder, signalling the swift response to the emergency call. Within moments, uniformed officers arrive on the scene, taking control of the situation. Adam provides the evidence they gathered, including footage of Lucas orchestrating the drugging at the club in Shanghai.

Lucas, now surrounded by law enforcement, is met with stern faces and handcuffs. The seriousness of his actions sinks in as the officers read him his rights. The arrest is swift, and the atmosphere in the paddock shifts from tension to a sense of justice being served.

Natalie watches from a distance, her eyes fixed on the unfolding scene. Lando stands by her side, a protective arm around her shoulders. The weight of the recent events slowly begins to lift as they witness Lucas being led away by the police.

Lando, having fulfilled his promise to protect Natalie, looks down at her with a reassuring smile. The wheels of justice are in motion, and the dark chapter of Lucas's actions is now transitioning to a resolution that ensures accountability.

As they drive back to the hotel, the quietness inside the car is a comfortable one, devoid of tension and anxiety. The events in the paddock have left an emotional residue, but the shared silence between Natalie and Lando carries a sense of mutual understanding. The soft hum of the engine and the gentle rhythm of the road serve as a backdrop to their contemplative thoughts.

Lando occasionally glances at Natalie, his expression a mix of concern and relief. He reaches over and gently takes her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Natalie, still processing the recent confrontation with Lucas, appreciates the warmth of his touch.

The city lights illuminate the night, creating a calming ambiance within the car. The journey, though marked by the unexpected encounter, becomes a moment of reflection for both of them. The emotional rollercoaster they've been on seems to slow down, allowing them to catch their breaths.

In the dimly lit hotel room, the soft glow of the bathroom light spills into the space. Natalie takes a moment to compose herself, the echoes of the recent encounter with Lucas still lingering in her thoughts. As she emerges from the bathroom, she finds Lando sorting through their luggage.

Feeling a mixture of emotions, Natalie decides to embrace the solace of Lando's presence. Without saying a word, she walks over to him and wraps her arms around him. Lando, attuned to her unspoken feelings, reciprocates by folding his arms around her waist. In the quiet intimacy, he rests his head against her neck, offering silent support.

A moment of stillness hangs in the air before Natalie, moved by the comfort Lando provides, retracts slightly. Without a word, she pulls him closer and seals the moment with a sweet and reassuring kiss. The exchange speaks volumes, conveying a shared understanding and a connection that transcends words.

“What was that for?” Lando whispers once she pulls aways from the kiss.

“It was a thank you. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for what you did.” She murmurs, her words carrying the weight of deep appreciation.

Lando, understanding the sentiment behind her actions, tightens his embrace and responds with another tender kiss.

“And, I’ll do it again. No questions asked.” His commitment to her safety is unwavering. “You know I love you, right?”

Natalie's heart skips a beat at Lando's unexpected confession of love. The shock registers on her face as she gazes into his eyes, trying to comprehend the depth of his feelings. The weight of his words hangs in the air, and a mix of emotions swirl within her.

In that moment, the room seems to hold its breath, enveloping them in a cocoon of shared vulnerability. Natalie, caught off guard, searches Lando's eyes for sincerity and finds a sincerity that resonates deeply with her own emotions.

“You do?” She asks shyly.

“Of course, I do.” He informs her, his voice soft and low as he caresses her cheek. “How could I not?”

She presses her lips to him once more as they shuffle towards the bed. She pulls him down on top of her, her legs instinctively wrapping around him as they continue to kiss. In the intimate embrace, their lips meet in a dance of shared emotions and newfound revelations. The room, once filled with tension, transforms into a haven where unspoken feelings find expression. Lando responds to her kiss with a gentle passion, savouring the warmth of the moment.

As they continue to kiss, a sense of comfort envelops them, transcending the events of the day. The weight of recent challenges begins to lift, replaced by the tender connection they've discovered. In each other's arms, they find solace, understanding, and the promise of something deeper than the complexities of their fake relationship.

The journey from pretending to love to acknowledging true feelings has unfolded in unexpected ways, leading them to this intimate intersection. The room becomes a sanctuary for their unspoken emotions, and time seems to slow down, allowing them to savour the sweetness of the moment.

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

Taglist: @noneofyourfbusinessworld @scopeiguess @tbsloneely @secretgal66

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #mclaren #mclaren f1 #lando norris x oc

[creepy-friday]

Creepypasta Mansion Headcanons

Warnings: misogyny,suggestive themes,violence,mental illness and drugs mentions

Slenderman

I see Slenderman as an entity who uses his power to control more and more of the human world,but at the same time I can still see some sort of "humanity"

He took in Sally because he felt pity for her and treated her as his daughter after all,so I believe there are still some feelings underneath all of this darkness

Using and desposing residents is no strange occurrence to him,yet he is able to form bonds with them and see them as more than possessions and valuable minions

Because of this,there are definitely exceptions on who he decides to kill and who he decides to punish and to what degree.The others have an idea who is more favoured than the other

Cody

he's fresh meat,new to the proxy team,yet he's already pissing the living hell out of Masky

Cody's skills sure can be a threat to the power hierarchy among the proxies,altough he would selfishly want more he won't get promoted solely because you're already all the team needs Slendy's words,not mine

He has a special sibling-like relationship with Toby,at first he looked up to him as a mentor but now he became a little cheeky shit and wants to overpower him,kinda like how smaller siblings would want to do

He's also in the lab 80% of his working time,so no one really sees him that often which means he has time to do and clean up the messes he does with his chemicals

Cody is no longer the loser everyone in his life assumed him to be.He has power and became mentally and physically way stronger,it's only normal for him to want to be seen as the bigger/stronger person,the one who can finally protect what he loves do what you want with this information

Toby

Mister insecurity himself.He was bullied outside of the mansion and now he's bullied by slightly more deranged and dangerous motherfuckers.I feel bad for him to be honest

I believe the residents choose to keep their memories or not(or they are punished to lose them and have to work to get them back)from before they were abducted in the mansion,but Toby choose to lose a part of them and now he feels bad for it,especially because he cannot truly remember his sister's face

He believes he was a coward because of this and now he does everything in his power to prove to himself otherwise,but the constant toxic environment doesn't really let him to

Even if he is allowed to go to town he might lose his control and that isn't really good for him and his "work".He cannot be with people and cannot be alone,except some emo moments from him

Yeah,he was fucked by Natalie a couple of times when he was sort of new in the mansion,but nothing too serious happened between them.Now he resents and slut shames her but never to her face,he's kinda afraid of her lol

Clockwork

she has no shame whatsoever,would talk the dirtiest pornographic/goriest content over breakfast like it's the morning news

I headcanon her as a chaotic bisexual

There are reasons why she's here,so she's not all sweets and roses.She slept with Toby and made his mommy issues worse.After she got bored of her boy toy she ditched him and now they have this "bad blood" with each other

She was lonely but Toby had too many issues and she really needed someone to improve her,that's why they are now not in the greatest terms

She doesn't like Nina because Jane doesn't like her,it's kinda like how your best friend has beef with someone and now you have it too

I see her,Jane and Liu being mostly seen together because they tend to get along really well.She's definitely the glue that keeps the group together

Jane

strong woman.Definetly uses way too much perfume so her presence is always known,it's her assassination signature

Altough Clockwork puts on a strong and confident demeanor,Masky would avoid Jane the most she gives him the creeps

The reason she doesn't like Nina it's because of her past involving Jeff,she would never forgive her bad decisions.She surprisingly gets along with Liu because of his cool demeanour and his ability to calm her down

In terms of Sully,she actually is the one to mellow him down

She observes a lot and doesn't talk much,I see her listening to goth music in her room while she reminisces over her past life

Jane either ignores or gets extremely violent with Jeff,but all of the aggression is MOSTLY started by Jeff

Liu

he's a sweet guy.He's the calm after the storm while Sully is most like the actual storm

I see Liu having trust issues and would need a while to get intimate with someone,he labels himself demisexual, much to Sully's disapproval since he puts his dick into anything that has a hole

He's the only friendly face you would see when you need one

Liu has strong opinions and moral codes despite his work,I headcanon him as a feminist tbh

You will know when Sully takes over,even tough he likes to pretend he's still Liu for personal reasons, the eyes never lie ("the eyes chico,they never lie")

Jeff

he definitely has issues but he loves himself

don't let this ass fool you,if you go trough all the layers you will witness mister insecurity 2.0

uses his looks to his advantage.Jumpscares people,tries to overpower them,eats only gym shit and he's blasting metal everytime he works out

this guy loves when women fight,finds it especially amusing whenever Clockwork starts to fuck up Zero smh

his trauma doesn't justify his actions tough.Everytime he gets bored he goes out and tortures his victims for hours,rapes them,photograph and humiliate them just because he feels like it.

Jeffrey has his moment of question about his morals but he will simply get high and try to puff puff pass these thoughts away

The only person who stands him is Ben,and even if Jeff won't admit it,he's secretly grateful he has someone.Sure,Liu cares about his brother and even if they act as if nothing has happened between them sometimes,he knows that everyone gave up on him.

The tought terrifies and soothes him.He wants to be free and to fuck up even more but at the same time he wants one more chance

sadomasochist

Hold him accountable for his actions.As much as he needs someone to untie his strings he needs someone to further pressure him to do better.

Masky

the amount of times Natalie smacked the table with her palm and made him jump inside is galactic

before you came he definitely TRIED to bang at least one woman in the mansion,all to Jane's utter disgust towards him

I'm sorry your mother didn't tell you she loved you Tim,you don't have to seek approval to every feminine presence you come in contact with

He gets high with Jeff,but do they get along outside of this?Not really,but they are okaish with each other.I would say they are buddies,not really friends

Jane gives him the creeps,it's something about her presence that doesn't allow him to insult her,that's why he decided to avoid her as much as possible

Secretly respects Natalie's strength,wishes to train with her or have a friendly battle but outside the fact that he doesn't really has the chance to,he would be too ashamed if he would lose to a woman lmao

He could overpower her but he's more impulsive while Clockwork can think before she blows a hit

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