#best part of the whole series! these ladies are everything

[samkerrworshipper]

all yours | leah williamson x reader x lia wälti

when r finds out that their two bestfriends (and secret crushes) have gotten together on a trip they go into a meltdown of feeling left out and unloved - lw2 sort them out and show them just how loved they are by the two of them

just fluff, angst, confessions of love, lack of taking care of themselves and zero editing or proof reading because it’s 1am rn and i have to be at school at 8 ☠️

Lia and Leah. The indomitable couple, that had very quickly become the talk of the soccer community. They were a power couple, the swiss and english captain surprising the whole women's football community when announcing their relationship. You were happy for them, the two women were your best friends in the whole world, so when the photos from their recent trip during a international break to Ibiza had popped up you should have been ecstatic, but for some reason you couldn’t help but feel a pang of something else.

The two women were your best friends in the entire world, but you also harboured feelings for both of the women, and now that they were romantically involved you couldn’t help but feel a little bit gutted at the idea that when they returned to Arsenal for the season it would be the two of them together as a couple, and not the three of you as best friends. You were obviously happy for them, sending them a flurry of congratulations and expressions of your happiness about them getting together, but you couldn’t help the feeling in your gut that was almost making you jealous of what the two women had.

You spent the few days left of the break confined to your flat, in too much of a slump to go any further from your bed then to your home gym that was in your spare bedroom.

When the break ended you forced yourself to gather up the guts to return to the Arsenal training ground, pulling together every part of you just to make it to training. When you walked into the change rooms they were already full of your teammates, all of them in various states of undress and engaging in a series of activities. Leah and Lia were the first people to recognise your presence, calling out for you to come and sit with them over near Leah’s cubby, but you ignored them, walking straight towards your own. You didn’t even make it to the locker though before Katie was sliding down on the bench directly in front of you, stopping you from slinging your kit bag into your cubby.

“What’s got you down today, y/l/n?”

Her voice was so playful, everything that you normally loved about the woman, but today you had no tolerance. You’d hardly slept, you’d been too tired to make your morning coffee or breakfast so you were an uncaffeinated grump.

You shoved Katie out of the way, with a quick push, moving her far enough out of your way that you were able to slide your bag into the cubby and begin to strip off your tracksuit and hoodie so you could throw on your training gear.

“Wow, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, or was it somebody else's bed?”

It was in Katie’s nature to be annoying, she was one of your best friends, an older sister to you in a lot of ways and normally you had quite a lot of tolerance for her prodding, but today your sleep deprived form wasn’t having any of it.

“Fuck off Katie.”

Your voice was cutthroat, as you tugged your Arsenal hoodie over your head and replaced it with your training kit. You then followed with toeing off the runners you had on and sliding your track pants down your legs, letting them pool at your ankle before stepping out of them and throwing them into your cubby.

“Ooh, she’s fiery today, you can tell me darl, who’s the lucky lady or lass?”

You rolled your eyes, biting down on your tongue to stop you from saying anything seriously offensive to the older woman, for your own safety.

You pulled your training shorts up and then sat down on the bench, pulling your socks and cleats out of your bag.

“Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but nobody, so go fuck with somebody else because you are getting jack out of me this morning, fuck off.”

It was a lot of expletives, something unusual for you. You didn’t like to swear, in fact off the pitch you rarely swore, but today you felt so on edge, so out of place. There were tears brimming behind your eyes, tears that would never fall but burned your eyes all the same. Katie looked like she was going to say something else but Kim became your saving grace, getting in between the two of you and tugging Katie over to her own cubby, leaving you on your own.

You made quick work of your socks and cleats, slipping them easily over your feet, the part you struggled with was your laces, your hands shaking too badly to even get a grip on the fine pieces of polyester. It was embarrassingly humbling, your brain very quickly becoming aggravated at your inability to complete the one basic task. You glared down at your laces, ready to curse them out as well when your hands were grabbed by someone else's. You froze immediately, looking up to locate the source of the hands that were binding your hands from continuing to fail at the task they had.

You frowned a little bit at Viv. Aware, that the older woman probably wasn’t exactly happy with your treatment of your teammate. She didn’t say anything though, didn’t reprimand you, just pushed your hands up to rest on the bench and began the task of tying up your laces.

“What’s up?”

Viv’s words were hushed, so nobody else in the locker room could hear them beside you. Her words were soft, genuine, caring.

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

Viv rolled her eyes, finishing your left foot and then moving onto tying up your right one.

“You aren’t very good at lying, jochie.”

Your jaw locked at Viv’s words, watching her finish your left boot, as soon as her hands had left your feet you shot up off the bench, pushing her away as well and marching to the change room door, making your way out towards the training ground before Viv had the opportunity to ask you about your feelings again.

You trained like shit. Your sleep deprivation and lack of energy clear in your actions, you were sloppy, inaccurate and overall just poor in performance. You were approached multiple times by both Leah and Lia, as well as Kim and Jonas, who all seemed a little bit shocked by the shell of a player you were on the field. Before the break you’d been on top of your game, you were unstoppable on the pitch, scoring goals and assists. Your training session hardly reflected that though, on the pitch you looked like a rookie, you were playing like a rookie. You avoided them all as much as you could, especially the couple.

By the end of training you were rushing off the pitch, getting changed as quickly as possible and then getting to your car in record time, avoiding anybody who got in your way.

The couple were extremely shocked by your behaviour, the two of them sharing glances throughout the whole of training and in the change rooms afterwards, the both of them equally perplexed by your behaviour. On the drive home they shared similar thoughts, the both of them were equally worried about you and equally confused about your behaviour.

The next few days only got worse for you. Your lack of sleep and nutrition were affecting you even more and none of the girls came anywhere near you in the locker rooms, having observed Katie, Viv and Beth all be on the flip side of your outbursts when the three of them tried to push you. It wasn’t pretty and you knew that you were getting very close to getting a proper dressing down from Kim, your days were becoming numbered and you knew that if you didn’t pick up your act you were going to get a serious sit down.

You just couldn’t find it in you to care, all you could think about was the two women that had a few weeks ago been your best friends in the entire world. They were everywhere, at training, at team dinner, at team movie night. Everywhere you went they were there, so you found solace in your house which was the only space you had to yourself. The two women had been texting you, calling you, even daring to show up to the door of your flat, spending ten minutes knocking on the door. It had been ten agonising minutes in which you’d buried yourself in your bedsheets, patiently awaiting the two women to lead. Your avoidance had been going reasonably well, you weren’t in their gym group so they didn’t really have an excuse to approach you then, your cubby was on the other side of the locker room and you actively avoided them in training sessions.

It was going as fine as fine could go, you totally weren’t crying yourself to sleep every night thinking of the two women, or scrolling through both of their feeds everyday and looking at the old pictures of you three from merely a few weeks ago. It was all going fine until they cornered you in the locker rooms after a particularly rough training session.

It shouldn’t have been a rough session, Katie had been put on you and she was a rough defender but you were faster and more agile, but not with your sleep deprivation and malnutrition. Every time you got the ball she came at you, laying tackles that you would normally walk off easily, but today it had all hurt more, all been so much rougher. The third tackle had you woozy and unable to walk in a straight line, so you’d been accompanied off the field onto the sidelines where you’d resided for the rest of training.

When training had finished you’d disappeared into the change rooms, hoping that you would be able to slip out before everybody else as you’d done for the last week of training.

Instead though, when you were just finishing getting changed you were cornered by the couple, Leah pinning you down to the bench with her hands so you were unable to get up.

“You’ve been avoiding us.”

You kept your eyes on your feet, unable to look at the soft eyes of the two women.

“I’ve just been busy.”

It was a white lie, one you were sure that the two women saw right through.

“No you haven’t, you’ve been avoiding us and neither of us can figure out why.”

Leah’s words felt like a hot iron against your brain, the words branding into your skull.

Lia’s hand fell to your chin, pulling it up from your feet so you were forced to look at the couple.

“I haven’t been avoiding you.”

Leah rolled her eyes at you, the blonde woman not even acknowledging your blatant lie.

“Yes you have, and now you're avoiding it, you haven’t talked to us since before the break and you’ve clearly not been looking after yourself, so what’s up, y/n/n?”

You bit your lip, trying your hardest to pull your eyes from Leah but her hold on your chin making it hard.

“Fuck off will you?”

It was the same aggression you’d been hiding behind all week, the same aggression you’d been using to push everyone else out. It was malicious, cut throat, everything the two women knew you weren’t. You were hiding behind it as a coping mechanism, and they knew it. So whilst it worked at pushing the rest of your teammates out, it did nothing but make them more concerned about you, their hearts clenching at the way your muscles tensed against Leah’s hand and the way your face thrashed against her grip, she didn’t let go though, to scared that if she let go they’d never be able to get you back again.

“You know that I won’t sweet, we care about you too much, so what’s up, tell me, you know you can trust me.”

You shook your head against her hand, burning tears pooling in the corners of your eyes, tears that you refused to let fall, you were on emotional lock down, too scared to let a single one fall, because you knew that if you did it would just end up worse.

“Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off.”

Your words were murmured like a ritual, like a reminder to your brain that you needed to push them out, you needed to push them out so they could stay pushed out of your brain.

“Pushing us out isn’t going to work, bunny.”

Lia’s voice was softer in comparison to Leah’s, attempting to coax you into some kind of comfortable submission that would ice out the anger leaking from your body. She was the water to Leah’s fire.

“I’m fine.”

Leah rolled her eyes.

“I find that hard to believe,” Leah frowned at the little tinge of something roll across your face and her confrontation, “The bags under your eyes tell me that you haven’t slept properly in at least the last week, you’ve lost weight and you were so dizzy early that you looked like you hadn’t drunk water in a month, so you aren’t fine and your hiding it, which means your even less fine, so I’ll ask you once again what’s up?”

You finally managed to free your chin of Leah’s grip, standing up quickly from the bench and almost managed to slip past the two women but one of Lia’s muscular arms managed to catch you around the waist, securely bringing you to her side, holding you down against it.

“Not so fast liebling, Lee asked you a question and you are going to answer it.”

“Nothing’s up.”

It was clear that neither of the women believed you.

“Rightyo then, you’re coming home with us, Jonas’ orders.”

You frowned deeply again.

“No, I don’t have to go home with you, I have my own home, I am a fucking adult I don’t need you two babysitting me.”

You watched as Leah frowned steadily at you, picking up your bag and her own before nodding at Lia who began to tug you along behind them.

“If you want to play this weekend then you will come home with us, you’ve clearly not been taking care of your own health and until you do, you need supervision, call it babysitting if you’d like, I’d call it hanging out with your best friends but whatever works for you.”

You cowered slightly at the passive aggressive tone that Leah used towards you, her voice cutting deeply into your brain, leaving a deep enough impression for you to get the message that this decision had been made for you and you didn’t have a say in what was happening. So you let them lead you to Leah’s car, let Lia buckle you into the backseat and then slide in beside you and didn’t object as Leah started to drive you back towards her house.

Most of your nights and weekends had been spent at Leah’s house, a few weeks ago you two had been inseparable, you’d grown up together, the two of you inseparable Milton Keynes girls. When you’d moved away from home you’d been each other's first roommates, you’d always wanted more but you’d been too afraid to compromise your friendship. Then somewhere along your careers Lia had entered your friendship and the three of you had very quickly become inseparable. There had always been tension between the three of you, drunken kisses shared between all of you, handsy exchanges that you’d always pawned off on the two other women just being touchy. Apparently though they had been more than just touchy for each other, and you couldn’t help but feel a little bit left out, like they were experiencing a whole other level of your relationship that only the two of them would feel.

When you’d pulled up to Leah’s flat you’d felt a part of your stomach drop, the anxiety of having to be in a house with the two women setting in and making you feel sick. Lia’s hand had found it’s way to your knee cap, squeezing it slightly. When Leah parked her car the two of them exited the vehicle, Lia apparently being tasked with carrying all of your bags and Leah being tasked with getting you inside.

She’d walked around to your side of the car, unstrapping your seatbelt and pulling you up out of your seat by pulling you up by your armpits. You went limp against her, all of the emotions, all of the angry shields, all of the fakeness and disregard for your general health making you well and truly spent, your body had identified you were no longer in danger, no longer in a space where you had to put up shields and it had come to the conclusion that you now no longer had to do that. So you let Leah man handle you up the stairs, let her tug your shoes off at the door and drag you across her floorboards, until she managed to get to her couch and sit the both of you down on it.

She sat herself down first, getting herself situated on the lounge before laying you down in between her legs, so your head was resting steadily against her chest. Your body still in its mellowed out state, your brain floating in a sort of haze that you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Eventually Lia rejoined the two of you, freshly showered and dressed. She came bearing three cups of hot cocoa and slotted herself in between Leah’s legs and my own, criss crossing on top of my feet. The pressure felt good, relaxing, and calming. Lia passed me one of the ups and I took a tentative sip, the feeling of the warm chocolate slipping down my throat, nothing besides complete divinity.

“So, what’s really up, hm?”

Lia’s voice was as soft as silk, gliding through the room and falling gently upon your ears.

“Nothing’s up.”

Your voice was gruff in comparison, nothing close to anything that was happening in this room, your tone felt out of place, just like you felt in between the two. Like you were an unfit jigsaw piece.

“Honey, I don’t know why you feel like you need to lie to us, but you don’t, whatever it is we can sort it out, you know that we’d never judge you right?”

Lia’s words were so soft, so smooth, so calming and yet they did absolutely nothing to calm the feelings inside your soul, the feelings of complete yearning for the two women that now seemed completely forbidden.

“It’s stupid.”

You felt Leah’s head lean over your own, looking down at you from her place from above you, one of her eyebrows raised in questioning.

“Nothing you feel is stupid, bunny.”

The nickname bunny came from when you and Leah were kids. You’d been a fluff ball as a kid, a fluffy ball of blonde hair that had somehow ended up with Leah nicknaming you bunny. It had somehow stuck throughout your teenage years and your years at Arsenal, as much as it riled you up.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

You felt like a kid, with the two women looking down at you as if you were their child.

“Too bad, we are. Whatever it is has clearly taken a massive toll on your health and wellbeing and we can’t have that. It helps to talk, so talk to us, talk to us like you did a few weeks ago.”

You pushed yourself out of Leah’s arms, standing up in her living room and beginning to pace in front of the two women, your heels digging into the material of the carpet.

“You want to know what’s up? You two go to Ibiza for a week, a trip I would have gone on if I didn’t have family commitments. You come back and the two of you are fucking dating, you didn’t tell my anything, I didn’t even get a fucking phone call to say, guess what your two bestfriends have gotten together. It’s messing with my head, because we were all touchy and handsy, we all made out with eachother and I pawned it off as the three of us just being close, but turns out it wa just the two of you and I’m a fucking third wheel and now I just feel like you’re tugging me along because you feel bad for me, not because you actually give two shits about our friendship.”

Leah’s arms stopped you from pacing, making you realise that tears were now slowly dipping down your face at a steady rate. Leah tugged you back down into her arms, wrapping them both around you to secure you to her chest.

“Bunny, bunny, take deep breaths for me, it’s okay.”

You shook your head against her body, thrashing and pushing against her grip but she refused to let you go, not when she now knew how much she’d hurt you now.

“It’s not fine, it’s not fine, you two love each other and I love you both but you don’t love me, you don’t want me, not how I want either of you, not how I feel for either of you.”

You felt Leah take a deep breath from behind you, her own tears nor brimming in the back of her eyes, now beginning to feel the true depth of her and Lia’s actions.

“Bunny, we both love you so much, more than you would ever know and I’m so sorry you’ve felt this way, I’m so sorry that we never communicated anything with you. Me and Lia, we love you, we’ve always loved you, hell I’ve loved you since we were 5. The last few years, we’ve been trying so fucking hard to get you to realise, to get you to understand the magnitude of how much we love you. But you never did, the drunken kisses, the secret glances and touches, we thought it was all platonic for you and after a while, the two of us began to think that we were waiting for nothing, so in Ibiza we bit the bullet, we decided that we couldn’t wait around for a person who didn’t reciprocate our feelings. I am so sorry we never saw it, I’m so sorry that neither of us were confident enough to just ask you the question, but we’re going to work it out now, we’re going to make it all work out, I promise you.”

Your body relaxed fully against Leah’s, all the fight disappearing as Leah’s words sunk into your skin, stretching across your skin like a layer of silk.

Lia clambered her way up the sofa, squishing you between Leah and herself and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Liebling, it’s going to be okay, we’re going to sort this out, and Leah and I, we are going to spend every day making it up to you, everyday proving just how loved you are, ich verspreche.”

Everything fell into place for you, maybe everything wasn’t perfect right now, maybe there was still a lot of things the three of you had to work out, but you didn’t feel out of place anymore between the two women, you felt perfectly in place, like your jigsaw piece had finally feel into place.

#woso #woso community #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #lionesses #marry me rn #lia walti #leah williamson is mother #leah williamson is mom #leah williamson is boyf #golden retriever leah vibes #i love leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader x lia wälti #lia wälti #lia wälti imagine #lia wälti x reader

[dreamlandcreations]

Chapter 1 • Faded dreams

Feyd x Atreides!Reader

Summary: You risk your life to find out what your dreams mean...

Warnings: space drugs (🙈), near death experience, mention of blood and death and war, no dialogue, no Feyd yet (well...), this is basically a prologue

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Your dreams were getting worse and it was getting more difficult to wake up each time. They seemed so real, yet they fade away each time within seconds as you finally jolt awake from the nightmares. All that remains is fear and a knowing that you are seeing the end.

You tried to ask your mother for help, well, more like tried to ask for information without telling her what's going on. Paul's own dreams were a good excuse to justify your curiosity but it also limited your options of inquiring about your specifically maddening problem. Because, of course your brother gets to dream about a pretty girl while you drown in a bloody nightmare every night. If only you could see more clearly, the not knowing of what these hazy images mean is almost worse than the death you witness each time.

You can't tell your mother though, or even Paul. They would try to stop you from making this utterly stupid decision that will probably result in your death. They wouldn't be able to understand that that possibility cannot be worse than this slowly driving you into insanity.

It was not as difficult as you thought, tricking a mentat, a doctor and a Bene Gesserit to give you little doses of spice to try. According to your careful research, with what you were gifted by Lady Fenring on her last visit, it should be enough to induce the process.

You waited until nighttime, until you knew everyone went to sleep. It was an unnecessary precaution as it turns out because Paul in the next room startled awake as soon as you took the spice.

With your last coherent thought you were thinking that getting hit by lightning must feel something like this. Only the energy didn't just hit you once, it was trapped inside your body, wreaking havoc in the very essence of your being. It was tearing you apart, and the pain was unbearable.

For a long while there was nothing but the pain, you did not really feel or sense anything. Then the first thing you were aware of was screaming, it took you a moment to realise it was your own, just before you had another wave of power rushing through you and you lost every bit of control over your body. The screaming stopped and you faintly heard your mother for a few seconds before the dreams drew you in.

No, not dreams, visions. You see everything all at once, and at first none of it made sense then you felt... time, in a way it couldn't be explained in words. The connections, the possibilities, the what ifs... like the branches of a tree... too many variants for even a mentat to handle and you were only half-trained at best. Yet, you understood, no, you felt, you sensed, you became a part of each version a little, living in a million moments at once, spread apart and yet still whole beneath that... like the branches of a tree...

The tree, your ancestry, you have to get to the other memory to finish the trial. You try to look within yourself, slightly distracted by regaining some of your physical sense and weakly trying to fight off the poison of the spice.

At the end of the spiral you see a figure, a source of all the death and misery that haunts you. A familiar, yet strange face that seemed to look into your soul. There is that rage and madness you started to see in your own reflection, only this gaze, this unnatural blue scared you more than your own demons.

Well, she is your demon in a way.

With that thought the spice floods your mind again, taking you where you wanted to go, forcing you down on the line of your ancestors, their knowledge and experience becoming a part of your consciousness but you know something is terribly wrong when your mind takes a path that no Bene Gesserit has before. You see your father and his entire line, both female and male members of your extended family tree on his part. And it comes surprisingly easy to you, too easy.

Your mother's line stops with her, there's something horrible beyond that which your mind cannot deal with and it almost shatters you.

On the inside you struggle to get out of the darkness that pulls you in. On the outside your body crashes, your heart stops, and so does your breathing.

You hear Paul's yell to the doctor to do something, followed by your mother's command, using the Voice to order you to breathe. With your last bit of strength leaving you, it feels like what you would call your soul starts to leave your body. It is quite peaceful actually, there's no more pain or worry, only a calm nothingness but unlike the previous cold and twisted darkness that came from within this feels right and you almost slip away from existence when you feel something, someone catch you and practically drag you back.

There's a voice, a command of a simple "No!" comes with the force that knocks you down and holds you in this world. The tone is unfamiliar, the raspy voice with the obvious rage laced into it sounds more like a growl than anything else and it is followed by a similarly angry, yet so much louder order, "FIGHT!"

The presence is gone as soon as it came but you are tethered to your body again, feeling how it shuts down sparks a sudden defiance in you. Not really knowing what you're doing, you will your heart's muscles to move, to pump the remaining spice through your body and your cells absorb it, sparkling to new life, then you slowly and now consciously start to sort of reboot your system with this new strange energy.

When you are done you just rest, unable to truly sleep but too tired to move too, you think. Going through the visions again and again, you start to see a pattern. As soon as you understand the reasons behind the events, it all comes together, all the previously possible paths become clear until a certain point.

Hours go by as you lie there, practically trapped in your own body but there's no fear in you anymore, you are too busy planning your next move. And the next, and the next.

You might have failed getting through the Spice Agony and it's a miracle you are alive but it doesn't matter, it wasn't an unnecessary risk after all, you know the truth now. There is only one person who's decisions changed the end game, all the others who you thought had enough power to be key persons could only influence the path, not the outcome. So you know, your mother can never set foot on Arrakis and if you have to take her place in the story, so be it.

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#feyd #feyd rautha #feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x you #my stuff #my fics

[chrollohearttags]

“…let me take you out”

・❥・them + their favorite types of dates ・❥・ft. eren, armin, jean, connie (I may do a part two)

content + themes: fluff, cuteness and crack, black reader, mentions of weed, mentions of smut, kissing/makeout

📝: I’m starting a lil series I’m calling Soft Life Sundays, where I give y’all some sweet, tooth rotting fluff because I love it. These are all my personal ideas, but you may disagree and that’s okay. I don’t need to hear about it. This is all in good fun 🥰

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚

ღ eren loves fun, non conventional dates. He doesn’t mind the dressing up and fancy dinners from time to time but he much rather scoop you up with a bouquet of flowers, a little gift bag filled with snacks and something he picked out because he heard you talking about it on a random Tuesday one time. Your fits, I could see him in some Dunks, a hoodie and sweats (or shorts and a baseball jersey) and you in a sundress..looking all cute. He’d want to do something like a little carnival where they serve all these fair foods that are incredibly unhealthy but soooo good and he’d be eating it all and he can show off by winning you a giant stuffed animal he totally doesn’t brag about the whole night. “I’m the best, baby. I told you.” 🙄 he’d love to do go kart racing, mini golf or even an arcade or roller skating. He’s competitive so he might get a lil carried away but it’s all love! Y’all would have the best time and he’d constantly check to make sure you’re having a good time because he can’t stop smiling. Of course, spending the day with you is enough to keep him happy for weeks. Might end the night with a little smoke session + a movie (and maybe a lil sum else if you’re up for it. (mainly him eating you out until you fall asleep 😩)

ღ armin is obviously the inquisitive and intelligent type so he’d want your date to be as educational as it is fun. Of course, you love it all the same because you guys pick each other’s brains on things all the time. He’d take you to a museum, where they have all of these cool exhibits, explaining everything to you like a little personal tour guide. and a gift shop full of trinkets that he wants to buy for you. He sees you ogling the crystal and rock display while asking him all of these questions so now you’ve got two hundred dollars worth of malachite and amethyst keychains, displays and whatever else you wanted! “These are so beautiful! Thank you, Armie!” “It nearly as gorgeous as you but I’m happy you like them.” (bonus: I could see him taking you to a play/amphitheater as well) you guys would visit your favorite ramen + boba shop, just laughing and talking..enjoying each other’s company. You’d probably where coordinating outfits..something with an earthy green tone and super cute! You’d end the night back at his place where you guys would probably listen to music and just chill (maybe a little making out + spooning depending on the mood) and you’d fall asleep in each other’s arms.

ღ jean is all about the flare and spoiling his lady. He’s a gentleman, a romantic through and through. He doesn’t do anything halfway and spares no expense for his lady for a special night out. I think he’s the type of man to take the reigns and plan everything (not in a controlling way but you like when he shows that dominance) including your outfit, surprising you with a dress and heels you couldn’t stop eyeing at the mall so he had it delivered to your house, along with a box of eternal roses with a sweet little card and some adorable note that’s like “just like these flowers, may our love last forever.” And you’re about to sob! But you have to finish getting ready because he’ll be there at eight on the dot so you guys can make those reservations at that new five star French restaurant that just opened. Of course, he pulls up in some expensive two seater and the outfit to match. A really nice suit and my God, does he look good. But his eyes are all on you. “You look stunning, my love.” Opening your door and everything. He loves holding your hand while driving, stealing glances of you the whole night. When you guys get to dinner, he’s helping you order things, speaking French to the waiter (so attractive 😩) and EVERYTHING is delicious. Including the escargot, which you had reservations on. “Not bad, right?” “It’s so good!” He would also rent you guys a fancy hotel room across town, where he’d have rose petals scattered about the room, strawberries, chocolate and champagne waiting for you guys and he’d spend the night sweet talking you whilst you guys drank and ate. You’d end the night in the warm bubble bath, cuddled up and touching all over each other. (And getting a lil freaky after that liquor gets in your system) Just a nice, romantic evening.

ღ connie is gonna bring the party wherever he is! Mans just loves a good time. I feel like he too won’t be much into the whole fancy dinners and flare but he would plan something super unique and fun. You’ll be chilling and he’ll be like ‘hey, there’s a Paint and Sip not too far from here. You wanna go?!” All excited and of course, you’d be more than happy to.” He’d be the main one in there dancing and singing, just bringing allll the energy! Like it’s never a dull moment with Constance! Afterwards, he’d take you to a food truck or a really niche spot in the heart of downtown that he grew up on (I see him as Dominican/Afro Latina obvs). And he just wants to share it with you! “Here, mama. Try this..I think you’ll like it.” And don’t let them be playing some Latin music, he’d have you in the middle of the restaurant or the sidewalk, doing Bachata. He would be the best! I could also see you guys having a fun night in, consisting of you guys cooking your favorite dishes, getting a bunch of nail polishes and painting each others nails or him letting you dye his hair.

#cherry’s drabbles 🍒🌷 #aot x black reader #black fem reader #aot drabbles #aot imagines #aot headcanons #black reader #connie springer #eren jaeger #armin artlert #jean kirschtien #eren x black fem!reader #connie x black reader #armin x black reader #jean x black reader #aot fluff #fluff drabble #black reader fluff #aot au #aot x reader #attack on titan x black reader #attack on titan x reader #black fanfiction #cw alcohol #cw smut #attack on titan #aot hcs #eren hcs #jean headcanons #armin headcanons

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Sword gays showdown, final round of bracket three

Propaganda:

For Gideon:

she's incredibly good w/ her two hander and less good with her rapier but she's still pretty good!! she is a horny lesbian who's taste in women seems to exclusively be "girls who have tried or are going to try to kill her". she's a redhead. i love her

Gideon’s a HUGE Butch lesbian and literally always wanted to use a broad sword. Specifically a broad sword. She said fuck rapiers. Uhhh literally dies to save the girl she cares for and the sword she uses then becomes like an altar for said girl. Gideon Nav Supremacy <3

oh she is the most badass swordswoman lesbian in media. she’s her gf’s cavalier, defends her in battle, she’s incredibly butch and buff

C'mon shes THE sword lesbian like... canonically 

Loves her broadsword more than anything on her home planet and practices whenever she can. Spoiler it’s possessed by her mom. Gave everything so her best enemy could eat her soul and become the new saint. The character of all time child of two separate threesomes, child of the god emperor, she’s dead, she’s butch, she’s a dork, she’s doomed by the narrative. She’s my favorite.

girlie is literally the swordswoman supreme. she’s the cavalier primary to her necromancer. she has a fuckoff huge longsword. she gets absorbed into another person SPECIFICALLY to swordfight for them. in a gay way too.

While everyone else was developing common sense, she studied the blade. This dyke's main weapon and true love is the long sword, but she's also passable with a rapier. The sword is, in her own estimation, pretty much all she's good for. That and her smoking hot bod and terribly charming sense of humor. 

"While we were developing common sense, she studied the blade." (Direct quote from the book). She's the most useless lesbian to ever exist, and she's obsessed with an absolute wet cat of a woman. Learned longsword mostly on her own and is such a genius with the sword she learned rapier in a few months (by personal experience, it's really really hard)

Most badass broadsword wielding lesbian easily slaying bone monsters and evil space wasps

The cavalier to her necromancer. very gay. in a complicated codependant lovehate relationship with the only other person her age she knew growing up.

For Adora:

Finding the sword kicks off the whole show. She transforms into a giant magic lady and is now in charge of saving everyone from the  big bag guys (which she used to be a part of). A bunch of stuff happens, but eventually her identity is now tied to having the sword. She is fully convinced that w/o the sword (and therefore She-Ra) she’s worthless. This culminates in having to destroy the sword or the world ends. She’s super depressed bc her whole self worth was tied to the sword and being she-ra. On the way to save her gf, she turns into way cooler she-ra (her own version of it that is not controlled by the sword which was made by her colonialist ancestors). Her sword is now part of her identity instead of her identity revolving around the sword. 

lesbian chosen one who was given a sword that activated her powers and made her into a living weapon, but she destroyed the sword to save her planet - and then made her own sword with her magic and saved the entire universe

#sword gays showdown #gideon nav #adora #she ra #spop #gideon the ninth #the locked tomb #she ra and the princesses of power #tlt

[spider-stark]

A DARK AGE pt.2

previous part -

series summary - it's been nine months since you watched your best friend, Gwen Stacy, plummet to her death; an event that ultimately caused new york's hero to abandon the city entirely. now that he's finally returned you find yourself being forced to confront the ugly truth you've been running from.

chapter summary - desperate to get Harry Osborn out of your head, you find yourself following a lead that sends you straight to Peter Parker.

series warnings - 18+, minors DNI, series will contain depictions of violence, sexual content, dark themes, and more. please read at your own risk.

word count - 12.8k

// a dark tasm!fan fiction // masterlist // send me your thoughts // newspaper headline //

YOU HAD been worried that the ice-cold stare of Harry Osborn would remain stuck in your brain for the entire cab ride back to New York City.  

Fortunately, by the time you’d made it to Yonkers, about thirty minutes out from Ravencroft’s facility, the distressing imagery in your head faded as your ears were suddenly blasted with a series of rushed ding-s from your cell phone.  

You welcomed the noisy distraction, even if it only further agitated the throbbing headache you felt coming on.  

All the messages were from Betty Brant and likely could’ve been summed up in one long message rather than a dozen short ones. And, for the most part, all the texts did were confirm your fears: her search for Peter’s whereabouts had been a fruitless effort.  

Well, almost fruitless.   

You couldn’t quite give Brant credit for the one lead she’d received given the fact that it had essentially just fallen in her lap, but you still typed back a simple—good job, nonetheless.  

While you were off pointlessly torturing yourself behind Ravencroft’s iron gates, a woman had called the Bugle and had the misfortune of being answered by Jameson himself.  

According to Brant, the lady asked for you by name, and when Jameson told her you were busy and she’d need to call back later, she turned frantic. He said she sounded as if she were on the verge of tears, begging him to get a message to you ASAP.  

Please tell her to stop by my house! Tomorrow afternoon! She knows the address already, I promise! Tell her it’s May Parker, okay? M-A-Y P-A-R-K-E-R!  

Of course Jameson knew who the crackpot (his words) was once she said her last name, having spoken to her once or twice during Peter’s limited time at the Bugle.  

What he hadn’t told Brant was that it took everything in him to bite his tongue, to not tell the woman every horrible opinion he held in regard to her nephew. Jameson knew that it would do no good. He also knew that it wasn’t her fault that Peter hadn’t shown up to the hospital that night.   

Still, he couldn’t help but find himself seething with rage, speaking through gritted teeth until he could finally hang up the phone. He had absolutely no interest in finding Peter Parker, even if he was the only one to ever get a clear shot of Spider-Man.  

Good riddance had become his motto when it came to both Peter and Harry. You were one of the few things in this world that mattered more to Jameson than a good lead, which was exactly the reason why he had no interest in Peter’s whereabouts when he first went awol and left the Bugle without notice—he didn’t care. Even if Peter had come back to work, he would’ve just been fired anyway. Jameson had no interest in keeping him around, regardless of the quality of his work. 

But despite his hatred for the boy, he knew you were looking for him. While Jameson was unaware of Peter’s secret identity, he knew for certain that Peter had connections to Spider-Man, given that it was the whole reason he had employed him in the first place. You figured there was likely no one in this world that Jameson wanted to keep you from more than Spider-Man. But in what was surely not an easy choice to make, he begrudgingly passed the message from May along to Brant, messily scrawled onto a Doughnuttery napkin that had been stained with chocolate frosting.   

He refused to withhold a lead from you.  

Of course, when first deciding to track Peter down, you had considered going to his aunt, but she was always meant to be a last-ditch choice. After all, rumor had it that Peter had abandoned her too, moving out shortly after Gwen’s death. You didn’t see a need to add to her grief unless it felt necessary, yet it seemed she wanted you to.  

A part of you hoped that the mystery surrounding why May was so adamant about speaking to you would serve as a distraction for the night. You didn’t want to think any more about Ravencroft, and certainly not about the boy they kept locked behind those iron gates.  

Deep down, though, you knew that wasn’t possible. Try as you might, there was nothing in this world capable of distracting you from the thoughts of Harry Osborn.  

He was a plague, one that you had been fighting off ever since that night; and seeing him in person seemed to have only granted him the opportunity to further sink his claws into you.  

You often found yourself reliving the moment you first saw him—the Green Goblin. A monster composed of distended veins and spindly bones, appearing so completely and utterly inhuman—so unlike the boy you knew that you didn’t even recognize him at first. At first, there had just been fear, a sense of pure unbridled terror.  

But then, once he spoke, you knew. You knew what he had done, recognized him in spite of the monster the serum had transformed him into. Bile instantly stung at your throat, threatening to spill past your lips and onto the asphalt beneath your feet. You couldn’t stop thinking of how much it had burned, swallowing it down over and over again, as many times as it took before your body finally stopped trying.  

You fought so hard against that visceral reaction, the sensible part of you that had seen this new form he’d taken on and screamed at you to run. You wouldn’t let yourself do that. You couldn’t bear the thought of turning your back on your friend, even after seeing what he’d turned himself into.  

But then he grabbed Gwen and once she was in his arms you realized that he wasn’t the same anymore. Then once he’d finally let her go, once you’d watched her take her very last breath, you swore you’d always hate him. Harry Osborn was not your friend; it was a simple fact that you still stood behind.  

But trauma was a peculiar thing.  

Usually when Harry haunted your thoughts, the Green Goblin was always the focal point. Flashes of Gwen’s lifeless body dangling from Spider-Man's web, the sounds of squelching flesh and cracking bones. You would remember the metallic taste that filled your mouth as you looked over at him that last time, just before everything went black.  

Tonight, though, you’d found yourself thinking not of the Goblin, but of your friend. The friend that had once been good as dead to you. Memories that had once been shoved aside in favor of sinking into the tragedy you’d experienced, only to be brought back to light after seeing his face today.  

You tossed and turned in your bed, your head pounding as thoughts of posh charity events, late-night talks, and inside jokes fought to keep you awake. It wasn’t until the next day when you’d finally arrived at Aunt May’s house that you received a much-needed break from him. 

The thick plastic covering on the couch crinkled loudly beneath your weight as you sat down. You used every ounce of effort in your body to try and appear calm as she moved past the coffee table, sitting across from you in a sage green armchair.  

It was new.  

“I’m so glad you came, y/n.” May offered you her sweetest smile, the gesture accentuating the thin lines around her eyes. She looked older somehow, even though it hadn’t even been a year since you last saw her. “I was worried that bitter man at the newspaper wouldn’t tell you I called.”  

You barely stifled your laughter, then immediately wondered if she could tell that even that sliver of emotion was fake. It was second nature to put on an act, especially when it came to work matters. To appear excessively friendly, using it as a tool to quickly build some sort of rapport with someone, hoping it would get them to spill whatever information they might have.  

It didn't seem necessary to put up an act around May, but you found it difficult to turn it off.  

“Jameson can be a little… testy, at times.”  

She immediately snorted at your words, believing them to be a drastic understatement.  

“But I’ve gotta say,” you continued, trying to steer the conversation, “I was a bit surprised when he said you called.”  

Guilt settled over her soft features, dusty pink lips settling into a thin line as she stared down at her lap, watching the steam rise from her cup. “I know. I meant to call sooner, more often, but I just...” she sucked in a breath, lifting the cup to the edge of her lips, “I didn’t want to make a big fuss of things.”  

She was drinking chamomile tea. You knew this because you were offered some as soon as she opened the front door, cheerfully telling you that she’d just boiled a fresh pot of water. While you didn’t consider yourself an expert on May Parker, you couldn’t help but make note of the fact that you’d never seen her enjoy herbal drinks before.  

You leaned forward a touch, your elbows resting just above your knees as you did so. “What would you make a fuss over?”  

This meeting was different than Ravencroft.  

At Ravencroft you were a sheep grazing among lions. Showing weakness would gain you nothing, save for failure and potential death. But in a place like Aunt May’s home, the roles immediately reversed.  

Here, you were the lion. And, to gain the trust of sheep, you needed to come off as if you were entirely transparent. Wear your heart on your sleeve, bare every emotion you had, and express as much concern as possible, fooling them into believing that you were truly on their side.  

But this time was different, you tried to remind yourself, working diligently to ensure your emotions didn’t come off as fake or exaggerated. You could be genuine. You really were on her side, right?  

“Peter’s been...” She hesitated as her wedding ring clinked against the porcelain cup in her hands as she nervously tapped her fingers. She never took it off, even after Ben died. “different.”  

Your chest tightened, elbows digging further into your thighs. “What do you mean?”  

“He changed after what happened to Gwendolyne.” she began to explain, though she remained hesitant. “It started off small. Quitting the newspaper, refusing to finish his college applications. And maybe that’s when I should’ve stepped in, tried to snap him out of it or something. But after what he’d gone through... what he had lost...”  

There was a knowing look in her eyes, a sense of understanding. It was then that it fully clicked for you, realizing that May had been through something similar to what Peter went through. She knew what it was like to have your entire world change in the blink of an eye. “I just hoped that with time it would pass.”  

“And it didn’t, did it?” You guessed, painfully aware of the answer.  

If it had changed, if he had gotten better, then you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.  

May shook her head. “No.” She uttered, her hooded gaze still avoiding yours, remaining fixed on her cup. “It got worse.”  

There was something in the way she spoke, the solemn tone you’d never heard her take before, that sent chills running down your spine.  

“How so?”  

"Little ways, at first.” Her voice broke, clearing her throat before taking another sip of tea. “He started acting out. Getting mean. Rageful.”  

Your heart ached for the woman, fighting the urge to reach out and hug her as you watched her hazel eyes turn glossy.  

“He was almost never home anymore, and then one day he just... didn’t come back.”  

She wiped away the unshed tears, lightly shaking her head and muttering an apology.  

“Where is he?” You asked her, instinctively looking towards the old staircase that led to his bedroom.  

Years had been wasted in there, sitting cross-legged on his worn-out rug and exchanging complaints about Flash Thompson or Miss. Ritter. On good days, the two of you would build Lego sets and eat your fill of junk food. On bad days you’d both tuck yourselves away in his bed, hidden underneath a stack of blankets as old movies played from his laptop.  

It had been a while since you’d let yourself think of those memories, and you hadn’t quite expected it to hurt as much as it did to acknowledge that those days were gone. 

“Columbia.” She spoke.  

Your eyes widened as your head cocked to the side. “University?”  

Warmth spread across your cheeks as embarrassment settled in, feeling a bit silly for speaking the thought aloud. Of course she had meant Columbia University. Still, it shocked you a little when she nodded, confirming your thoughts. Given the way she spoke of Peter’s decline, you hadn’t expected him to be attending college.  

“So, you still talk to him?” You quickly followed up with another question, this one less painstakingly dumb than the last.  

May scoffed, the loose hair framing her face swaying about as she shook her head. “I don’t know if I’d call it talking. But he checks in on occasion, just often enough to keep me from having a heart attack.”  

You glanced down at her cup of tea, willing to reason that maybe Peter had been the reason for her sudden interest in herbal drinks. After all, they were known to reduce stress, and Peter seemed to be causing a great deal of it.  

There was another sound of disapproval, a click of her tongue as her voice went low again. “You raise a boy for over ten years,” she started, the smallest spark of anger burning within her, “only to end up getting a postcard in the mail every month.”  

“A postcard?” You wondered aloud, likely looking as puzzled as you felt. “You don’t have his phone number?”  

She snorted. “I don’t know if he even has a phone anymore.”  

For a moment neither of you spoke, and you found yourself studying her features, looking for any sign that she might be lying. You knew that there was no point in it, that May had no reason to lie to you. There would be nothing for her to gain, plus she had reached out to you for help. Still, it was second nature for you to remain apprehensive.  

It was hard to believe that Peter had all but completely cut ties with his aunt. May had raised him, practically given her entire life just to ensure that he had everything he could ever need, only to up and abandon her out of the blue—just as he had done to you.  

Nothing about it made any sense to you, and the thought alone was enough to fill you with not only rage, but also fear. Was Peter that far gone?  

You didn’t want to think about that right now, instead focusing on the sharp pain sneaking up your left side from sitting hunched over for so long. Forcibly relaxing your muscles, you leaned back against the couch cushions, listening to the way the plastic squelched as you shifted.  

“Is that why you called?” You finally asked, pressing a hand to your ribs and rubbing over the sore area. “To see if I could help Peter?”  

May took another long and thoughtful sip of her tea. Then, once she was finished, she leaned forwards and placed it on the coffee table that stood between you both. “No.” She stated firmly, only for her eyes to narrow and then go back on the declaration, “Not entirely, at least.” 

You frowned at her, confused.  

“I wanted to call because I realized that you needed someone, too.” You froze instantly, suddenly feeling as if the air had been knocked from your lungs. “I’ve been so caught up with Peter and trying to find a way to help him that I nearly forgot he wasn’t the only one who lost someone.”  

May glanced up for perhaps the first time in this whole conversation. You couldn’t help but feel as if the roles had changed, sinking further into the cushion behind you. She took note of everything, your stiff posture, the subtle bouncing of your leg, the timid look in your eye. You had become the sheep, being carefully discerned by the lion.  

“I never got a chance to tell you how sorry I was—still am, for your loss, y/n. You didn’t just lose Gwen that night, you lost all three of them.”  

Her heedful words landed the final blow, feeling like a piercing knife against your throat.  

Suck it up, you kept repeating to yourself, change the subject.  

Scrambling to compose yourself, nearly choking on your own tongue, you tried to ignore the look of concern she gave you. You didn’t need sympathy. “I’m managing.” You told her roughly, only able to conjure a barely believable smile. “It could be worse.”  

“Sure,” May tentatively agreed, “but it could also be better.”  

You decided it was best to not acknowledge her words.  

“You said not entirely.” You reminded her, working hard to ensure that your voice didn’t shake. You weren’t sure why it was shaking in the first place, torn between naming anxiety or anger as the culprit. “When I asked if you wanted me to help Peter, that’s what you said. What makes you think I can help him?” 

May’s face screwed up, staring at you as if it were obvious. “Because no one else can. The three of you—you, Harry, and Gwen—were the only ones that could ever get through to him.” She paused, considering her next words. “And you’re the only one left.”  

There was a weight that settled on your shoulders, shoving you further into the couch. You didn’t like the way that it sounded, for more reasons than one. There was too much responsibility that came with it.   

“Columbia’s campus is big.” You told her, void of any emotion. “Do you know where he’s staying? Anything that might help me find him?”  

This time it was May’s turn to sink back into her seat, shoulders slouching forward as she turned apologetic. “I know he’s living on campus, but I don’t know which building. Whenever he writes he always keeps the details to a minimum.”  

As much as you appreciated any information she offered, it wouldn’t help you much. You had been right in your earlier statement; Columbia was a big school with at least two dozen residence halls. Finding Peter amongst those students was comparable to finding a needle in a haystack.  

You knew that you could enlist Betty Brant’s help, but even then, it could take days before one of you happened to find him.  

Finally, a bit exasperated, you dared to ask. “Anything else?”  

May smiled, weary and filled with regret. “Just be careful, y/n. I’m not sure what Peter had gotten himself into, but I’ve seen the news.” Her hands trembled as she spoke. “I know what they think he did. What Spider-Man might have done.”  

She spoke the vigilante’s name like a forbidden word, as if it were one she had sworn she’d never speak aloud, and your eyes grew wide as you just barely breathed out, “You know?”  

May’s smile remained despite the somber gleam in her eyes as she told you simply, “No one washes the flag.”  

You found the students at Columbia University nauseating.  

Most of them were pretentious assholes that stunk of cigarette smoke, not because they actually smoked them, but instead because letting them lazily hang from their fingers matched their desired aesthetic.  

They were all desperate to give off the same vibe as a fifteen-year-olds dark academia Pinterest board, leaning against a wall with a copy of Allan Ginsberg’s Howl tucked beneath their arm. You wondered if any of them had ever read it, snorting to yourself when you thought of how they’d likely dogeared a few pages to make the book look worn.  

“This place is huge.” Betty Brant marveled from beside you, spinning in a circle as she took in its vastness. When she was done making herself dizzy, she looked at you. “This is gonna be impossible.”  

You smiled at her inept observation, challenging her. “Why?”  

Her brows snapped together, a single hand incredulously waving around the two of you. “Have you looked around?” She quipped. “There are literally thousands of people here! If we find him today, then it’ll just be dumb luck.”  

You didn’t judge her for her innate pessimism. After all, you felt just as overwhelmed as Betty Brant did currently when sitting on Aunt May’s couch, listening as she told you that she had essentially nothing to offer in terms of helping to find Peter. It was easy to assume the worst in a field where you’re so often dealt the shittiest of hands—but Jameson and the other seasoned reporters at the Bugle had taught you well. There was always a way to turn things around.  

“Know your target, Brant.” You lightly chastised, a teasing smile that Brant felt looked out of place on you. While she still didn’t know you well, she’d seen you around the office a lot, and she struggled to remember a time when you didn’t have a permanent grimace etched on your face.  

Your fingers delved into your bag and reached for a few papers that you’d printed off at the Bugle, just moments before you’d snagged Brant up by her arm without warning and forced her to come with you to Columbia University. You held one of the papers out to her, which she swiftly took and began reading.  

"There are only two programs offered at Columbia that Peter would care about: photography or biochemistry.” You explained to her. “I went on their website and got an idea of a mock schedule for both and copied down the names of the buildings they’re in. It’s still not a sure shot-”  

“But it gives us somewhere to start.” Brant finished your sentence, her big eyes flickering back up to yours as she lowered the page you’d given her.  

You grinned. “Exactly.”  

“So, we’re splitting up?”  

She was nervous about that idea, clear by the way she started to tug at the edge of her royal blue cardigan. If it were someone other than Brant you might be concerned, but Brant always came off a little antsy, making it easy to brush it off; although it did leave you wondering why the girl stayed so high strung. One day you’d ask her about it, you thought, but not right now.  

"It’s better that way. We'll cover more ground.” You told her, your pitiless statement doing little to quell her nerves as she gave another sharp tug to her garment, anxiously looking around at the swarm of students passing around you both.  

You did your best to look sympathetic, “Just call me if you need me, alright?” Brant stared back at you, resembling a small child whose mother was dropping them off on their first day of school. It was pitiful, and you nearly groaned as you forced yourself to say, “If you call, I’ll answer. Promise.”  

Brant hesitated for a second before nodding, still uneasy but far more willing now to leave your side. As you turned away from her you reminded yourself to never have children, desperately hoping and praying to any God who might listen that Brant would not call you.  

As you started to meld into the crowd, falling into step with a group of girls around your age, the thoughts of Brant and her child-like anxiety were replaced with something far more juvenile. You had just barely glanced at the girls walking next to you, at first only giving them a quick glance. Soon, though, as you continued towards your destination, you found yourself fixating on them.  

They smelled like cloves and bergamot, probably the scent of some over-priced perfume you’d never even dream of taking off the shelf and their clothes were nicer than anything hanging up in your closet. One had a Tiffany’s necklace dangling around her throat like a collar and another had pin straight platinum hair. In short, they looked expensive. But, at the same time, they looked incredibly beautiful.  

It made you hyper aware of yourself, of how different you looked in comparison. You weren’t wearing any nice jewelry, and your hair was messily tied back, making you feel as if you were the opposite of both the girls that had caught your attention. Realizing this, you looked around at the other girls surrounding you, noticing that all of them looked that way. Posh, put-together, and completely and utterly gorgeous.  

A strange feeling crept up your spine, one you hadn’t felt since you were in high school. Self-loathing.    

There was a time when you prioritized your appearance, or at least more than you do now. You could still remember what it was like to stroll into an Oscorp charity event, dozens of eyes glued to you. Men would watch with bated breath as you passed them, silently dreaming of a day where you’d actually notice them.  

That would never happen, of course.  

You always went to those events with either Harry or Peter, and they often left you with little reason to acknowledge anyone else in attendance. Even so, you remembered the power you held. Remembered what it was like to feel desired by someone, even if it wasn’t by who you wanted.  

After the accident, though, you’d stopped caring about how you looked. It felt so trivial to put any more effort than necessary into your looks, often throwing on the same outfit several days in a row to save time in the mornings. But in this moment, you found yourself feeling differently, insecurity slipping into your mind. Had you let yourself go? Surely not...  

It didn’t matter! You suddenly shouted at yourself, fists balling up at your sides as you tried to silence the thoughts that were fueled by foolish insecurity. Despite believing every word of the statement, it didn’t help to make you feel any less self-conscious.  

Passing by the mirrored windows of the mess hall, you found yourself slowing down, falling behind the group of girls as you hesitantly turned to catch a glimpse of yourself. You cursed yourself for looking, hating that you even cared about this sort of thing right now. But once you looked into the reflection you froze, realizing that it wasn’t yourself that you saw in the reflection. It was Gwen.  

“It’s not that bad!” She would lie to you, her voice jumping several octaves as she did. A hand would reach out, sage green fingernails combing through the frizzy mess that framed your face, trying to flatten it. “It just needs a little...” her head cocked to the side, teeth exposed as she sucked in a breath, “work.”  

Gwen was always a terrible liar. She wasn’t like you; she never had been. She was completely incapable of hiding her hand, always living with her cards exposed for the world to see—for them to take advantage of. It was what you’d always admired most about her, her willingness to trust in everyone, to see the good in anyone. It was also what you despised the most about her, and you tried not to dwell on the complexity of that.  

“You know what? It doesn’t even matter!” Gwen’s shoulders lifted exponentially, a mess of blonde curls violently swaying as she shook her head about. “You still look hotter than half the girls here, alright?” She grinned at you, the same sweet smile that you missed more than anything. “I promise!”  

And she meant it every word of it, but rather than offering you any comfort, the words just filled you with envy. You envied Gwen far more than you liked to admit. You wanted to be like her, even now, to be able to see the good in every situation, to be even half as lovely as she was.  

You tried to swallow your guilt, though it only made your stomach hurt. You had promised yourself that you were done envying Gwen.  

But you weren’t done missing her.  

Still entranced by her doe eyed stare, you felt your phone begin to buzz in your pocket, distracting you enough that you turned your gaze to your bag, instinctively going to dig for the device. By the time you thought to look back up, the vision of her was gone and you were looking at only a reflection of yourself.  

You wasted no time in looking away.  

When you sobered up enough to read the caller ID, you groaned loud enough to turn a few heads of students passing by. Now, in an interesting turn of events, you wished that Brant was the one calling you, staring down at Director Samson’s name flashing across the screen. You silenced it.  

Not today. You started walking again, effectively trading your thoughts of Gwen for ones of Ravencroft and Harry Osborn. Or ever again.  

Dodge Hall was the first stop on your list.  

You were willing to bet that of the two programs you listed to Brant that Peter likely picked photography, which was precisely why you had delegated the biochemistry labs to Brant.  

There was a chance that you were wrong and that he’d decided to major in biochemistry, maybe in some desperate attempt to be like the father he swore he hated, but you held out hope anyway. You wanted to believe that even in whatever odd stage of life Peter was in he was working to forge his own path, rather than following the one he’d once considered his birthright.  

Stopping in front of the building that housed most of the University’s photography classes, you grimaced. It significantly lacked character, offering nothing more than a bunch of lifeless bricks with boring cement pillars on either side. You had yet to see anything about this school that made it seem worth the astronomical tuition students paid to attend.  

“I know that look-” a high-pitched voice filled the air, the grating sound intensifying your already sour expression, “Dodge might not have the most intricate architecture on campus, but for what it lacks in appearance it makes up for in its rich and extraordinary history!” 

You didn't want to turn around, fully recognizing the chirpy she-devil by diction alone. Still, you forced yourself to do it anyway, realizing that there was no possible escape route. “Mary Jane!” The vile taste of her name in your mouth left you feeling queasy, “what’re you doing here?”  

No, seriously, what the fuck was she doing here?  

A perfectly manicured hand flew to her overly plump lips, packed full of filler and overlined with a red lip pencil. An exaggerated gasp somehow managed to slip past them. “Oh my gosh!” The copper-haired beauty squealed, sounding as if she had inhaled at least a few liters of helium. You forgot how much you hated her voice. “y/n! I didn’t even recognize you!”  

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” You droned, likely appearing just as displeased as you sounded. It was difficult for you to sound pleasant around Mary Jane.  

Mary Jane had always been a thorn in your side. For the most part she was entirely harmless, but her ever-so-perky attitude always left a bad taste in both your mouth and Gwen’s. On top of that, she lacked morals, made clear by the last time you’d seen her.  

It was immediately after Gwen’s funeral, and you’d just happened to find Mary Jane and a few other reporters from the Daily Globe swarming the Stacy family, pining for an interview. It was disgusting, and if you’d been in better shape, you swore that you would’ve knocked her square in the face that day.  

Mary Jane reached out and touched your forearm, giving it a firm squeeze. “You look so good!”  

You didn’t even bother thanking her, instead deciding to brace yourself for what might be coming next. You had known her long enough to know that all her compliments were a double-edged sword, an insult waiting just around the corner.  

“After Genna’s funeral you looked so thin and sickly,” her button nose scrunched up as she looked you up and down, “it’s so nice to see you look far more...” a slight tilt of her head, accompanied by a sickeningly sweet smile as she squeezed your arm again, “plump!”  

The smile you gave in return was far less pleasurable than hers, bearing a closer resemblance to a snarl. “Gwen.” You pointedly corrected, choosing to ignore her weak attempt at insulting you. “Her name is Gwen.”  

She only waved her hand, dismissing your correction. The simple act made your blood boil, teeth grinding together as you fought to stay silent. You didn’t have time to start a fight with her.  

“Ugh, silly me! I’m so bad with names!” She pretended to laugh it off, playing it as an innocent slip of the tongue. You could see the malice behind it, though, her emerald eyes glistening with spite. Mary Jane was a journalist, which meant that remembering facts was quite literally her job. Pretending to forget Gwen’s name was just another idle attempt at getting under your skin.  

It worked.  

“Did you check out the Globe yesterday?” She started right back up, trapping you in another conversation and preventing you from finding an excuse to slip into Dodge Hall and start your search for Peter. “Who am I kidding! Of course you did!” Mary Jane twirled a strand of red hair around her finger, her egotism on full display as she beamed. “Dozens of newsstands sold out within the hour! Amazing, right? To sell out physical copies in this digital age!”  

You only hummed in response, aware that she only wanted to hear herself talk. But God, you hated the way she spoke. Her constant need to enunciate every other word, her squeaky voice filled with false sincerity, always searching for validation in every conversation.  

”Bushkin agreed that we only sold out because of my story on the front page! He said my talent for writing could be enough to revive print entirely!” Her chest swelled with pride; hands clasped over her heart as nonsense continued to spew from her.  

Barney Bushkin was the publisher for the Globe, which made him Mary Jane’s boss. He also had a reputation for being a sick old pervert with an affinity for girls that were far too young for him. His opinion meant nothing to you since you knew that he would say absolutely anything if he thought it would increase his odds of getting a quick look up one of Mary Jane’s too-short skirts.  

”I’m not surprised you sold so many copies,” you egged her on, taking immense pleasure in the way her smug smile grew at what she mistook for praise, “fear mongering has always been a useful tactic for sales.”  

For a moment you could’ve sworn you saw her eyes turn as red as her hair, fiery rage coursing through her veins at your comment. But it was gone nearly as soon as it had appeared.  

”Well,” she cleared her throat, smoothing the wrinkles out of her white blouse, “I’d hardly call my article fear mongering. I just presented the facts.”  

You couldn’t deny that Mary Jane was a pro at composing herself, remaining collected even when you knew she wanted to explode. Image was important to her, meaning she couldn’t ever afford to let her nice girl act falter.  

”You called Spider-Man a murderer.”  

You didn’t always share her skillset, willing to let yourself come off as brash and plain-spoken.  

”And last I checked there’s an active warrant for his arrest.” Mary Jane retorted sharply, the only sign she was willing to give that you were annoying her. “So, like I said, I presented the facts.”  

You sucked in a breath, holding back your argument. You wanted to tell her that her facts were skewed, that she was reporting with only one source and effectively trying to demonize a man who had saved the city countless times. But you didn’t. Fighting with her would be a waste of time, and you had better things to do.  

"Yeah, well, I should really get going.” You gave a curt smile, nodding in the direction of Dodge Hall. “Always good to see you, MJ.” You took care to place extra emphasis on the nickname, fully aware of just how much she hated it.  

Still, she barely let it get to her, hiding her own scowl as you started to edge towards the building. You noticed the way her left eye twitched, though, showing that she was nearing a breaking point. If you had more time, you’d likely try and push her over the edge.  

“Why are you here?” Mary Jane suddenly mimicked the question you had first asked her, the one she had never actually gave an answer to.  

You paused, only having made it less than a few feet away from her. “Visiting a friend.”  

If all went to plan, that wouldn’t technically be a lie.  

“Peter?” She blurted his name out in a way that left you feeling strange. There was a hesitant look on her face, almost as if she were afraid that you’d say yes. You didn’t like it.  

“Yeah, actually.” You frowned, watching her face drop at the confirmation. “Why?”  

She refused to meet your stare, staring past your shoulder at the entrance of the Hall. “He’s not in there.”  

In all the years you’d known Mary Jane, you’d never heard her sound so uncharacteristically dispirited. Her perky persona seemed to vanish in thin air, leaving behind someone that was entirely unfamiliar to you.  

It was incredibly uncomfortable.  

“Wait, do you know where he is?” You asked.  

“Of course I do.” She quickly answered, cutting her eyes at you. “But if you’re the one meeting him then shouldn’t you know where he is?”  

Jealousy settled in. Why did she know where Peter was? Mary Jane and Peter had never been particularly close, likely due to the lifelong rivalry that you and Gwen had held with her. The idea of him even interacting with Mary Jane left you feeling unsettled.  

“Well, we were supposed to meet here.” You lied, turning a tad defensive as you shrugged a shoulder in the direction of the building. “But it’s been a busy morning. He might’ve forgot.”  

You paused, debating whether you wanted to continue. There was a good chance that you didn’t want to hear the answer to the question resting on the tip of your tongue, and yet you made yourself ask it anyway. “Were you just with him?”  

Please say no-  

“Yes.” Her answer came quickly. “We had plans to get dinner but-um,” she suddenly became extremely focused on her own feet, awkwardly kicking at the sidewalk, “he had to... cancel. Said he was gonna be too busy developing photos all night.”  

Her too-perfect face screwed up in an unsightly sort of way. You almost thought that you should feel guilty for accidentally making it seem as if Peter had ditched her for you. But you didn’t. Instead, you felt sickly satisfied, taking pleasure in her sorrow. You reveled in it, finding it easier to focus on that than the idea of why she and Peter were going to get dinner together in the first place.  

”Mm, that sucks.” You let out a disinterested hum, taking a page from her book as you continued without waiting for a reply, “Is that what he’s doing now? Developing photos?”  

Mary Jane gave a stiff nod.  

”Great.”  

Despite how painful it had been to sit through what felt like a never-ending conversation with her, Mary Jane had ended up being of vital importance. If Peter was developing images today, then that meant he had to be in the darkrooms. And, thanks to your Google research, you knew exactly where they were—Watson Hall, just a brief walk from where you were now.  

You wasted no time with stepping around Mary Jane, having no intention of even wasting a goodbye on her as you started towards your destination. But, as you moved around her body, she reached for you, her thin fingers once again wrapping around your forearm. She squeezed harder than last time, your head snapping in her direction, eyes narrowing in a threatening stare as she held you there.  

Surprisingly, she gave you a threatening look of her own.  

“Before you go,” you found it eerie the way her voice remained syrupy sweet, a sharp contrast to the menacing expression she wore, “I just wanted to tell you how much I adored that little sympathy piece you wrote for your friend in the looney bin.” 

You pulled your arm from her grip, your body going tense at the mention of the article you’d written to try and sway the public during Harry’s trial. Jameson hadn’t allowed it to go to print, reminding you that your judgment was still clouded by grief. He didn’t understand why you were so desperate to keep Harry out of Ryker’s Island, but he had hoped that by letting you at least post the article on the Bugle’s website that it would offer you some sort of closure.  

It hadn’t. It was shortly after publishing the piece that you had went straight to Harry’s lawyers, giving them all the information they would need to plead insanity.  

Mary Jane stepped closer, ignoring your effort to create distance from her. She was close enough that you could nearly feel the heat radiating off her body. You didn’t like it, but you refused to let yourself back away from her.  

“I can’t say that Peter agreed.” Her lips curled into a cynical smirk. “I mean, honestly, after the reaction he had to it I’m shocked that he can even stand to be in the same room as you!” The sound of her laughter infuriated you. “I suppose it’s true what they say about time, yeah? That it heals all wounds—even a knife in the back.”  

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink, couldn’t think.  

All you could do was stare at the devilish woman in front of you, seething with a type of hatred that you were certain could eat you alive. Your nails sunk into the heel of your palm, an effort to refrain yourself from using them to claw that nasty complacent look right off her face.  

Mary Jane noticed this and decided to take your silence as a sign of her victory.  

“It really was great seeing you, y/n.” She gushed, the false tender statement only fueling your anger. As she turned to walk away, she glanced over her shoulder, winking at you. “Don’t be a stranger.”  

One day, you swore to yourself with a particularly loud huff, spinning on your heel and stomping in the direction of the darkrooms, you would kick Mary Jane’s ass.  

When you posted the article—the one you hoped would sway the public’s opinion of Harry—you knew Peter would see it. More than that, you knew that he would be adamantly against it. 

Unlike you, Harry hadn’t given Peter a reason to care whether he lived or died.  

If anything, he had done nothing but give Peter motive to kill Harry himself. You hated that thought. While you didn’t believe that Peter had murdered Sytsevich, you worried that if given the chance he would have killed Harry that night. You wanted to believe that he wouldn’t have been capable of following through with it, though. Just as you weren’t capable of sitting idly by as Harry was sentenced to Ryker’s Island, knowing that he would be as good as dead in there.  

Maybe you’d been stupid not to consider that the article was one of the reasons why Peter had never bothered to reach out to you, even once things had settled down. Maybe it was your own fault that he’d abandoned you, that the article had been the final nail in the coffin of your friendship.  

Your stomach ached, your mind still reeling as you shoved open the large doors of Watson Hall. A rush of frigid air washed over you, goosebumps erupting against your skin.  

Was it possible that Peter hated you as much as he hated Harry?  

No. It couldn’t be. What Harry had done was beyond abominable, something that could never be forgiven. You hadn’t done anything nearly as bad as him.  

Yet, on the other hand… is the one who comes to a monster's defense just as bad as the monster? You weren’t sure of the answer to that question, though you started to rationalize it to yourself anyway—you weren’t defending him, you just didn’t want to watch him die if there was something you could do to stop it! 

But why not? Gwen wasn’t a monster, yet you still watched her die, standing on the sidelines and doing nothing to try and stop it.  

There was nothing I could’ve done! Your mind screamed in defense of itself as you approached the staircase leading to the second floor, roughly gripping the rail as you started climbing up.  

Why had Peter talked to Mary Jane about the article in the first place? That question was easier to think about than the others, infuriating but still less emotionally taxing, so you let yourself fixate on it. As far as you knew, Peter hadn’t liked Mary Jane any more than you and Gwen did, always keeping his distance from the she-devil.  

When did that change?  

At the top of the stairs, nestled in a corner of the left, there was a single door with a large black sign hanging off of it. The words DARKROOM IN USE were written in bold letters. You stared at it for a moment, your mind finally going blank as you did.  

Peter was behind that door—your best friend, Peter.  

Your palms started to sweat as memories started flooding back. Instantly, you bit your cheek, trying to ignore them. Now wasn’t the time for a trip down memory lane, especially not when you could still recall the bloody way that road ends.  

A knock echoed through the somewhat barren Hall as your first collided with the door, your nerves growing with every passing millisecond. All you could do was focus on the different feelings fighting to consume you, the thudding of your heart, the slickness of your hands, the churning of your stomach.  

“Peter?”  

Saying his name felt wrong, but you said it anyway as you knocked again, a bit harder this time. “It’s y/n,” you told him, as if it were even possible for him to forget the sound of your voice, “can I come in?”  

Once again you were met with silence.  

You considered turning around. Maybe Jameson had been right in thinking that you shouldn’t chase this story. After all, it wasn’t your job to prove Spider-Man's innocence, and if Peter wanted your help, then he knew how to find you. You could call Brant right now and tell her that today was a bust, or even lie and say that Peter didn’t want to help with the story. You could walk away.  

But you didn’t let yourself do that, once again feeling that weight of responsibility that May had unintentionally placed on your shoulders. There was no one left in Peter’s corner, no one that would be willing to dig him out of whatever dark hole he’d landed himself in.  

You had fought to save Harry’s life, and so it only felt right that you tried to do the same for Peter.  

Without bothering to knock again, you reached for the knob and twisted, hastily slipping inside the room, trying to limit the amount of light the leaked in behind you. You didn’t know a lot about developing photos, but you’d never forgotten the way Peter would groan whenever you’d come in unannounced, accidentally letting the light ruin his work.  

The door clicked shut behind you as you looked around. It wasn’t a big room, just large enough for two or three people to comfortably fit inside. Any more than that, though, and they’d likely be bumping elbows the entire time. There was a table in the center of it, lined with tubs holding various chemicals that you’d never learned the names of. A clothesline hung around the perimeter of the room, a few newly developed photos lazily dangling from it. On the far wall there were two desks, various images and tools scattered across them.  

Everything in the room looked sinister, courtesy of the red tinted light that hung overhead.  

”Fucking creepy.” You muttered to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest as a chill inched down your back. This room felt significantly colder than the rest of Watson Hall, only adding to its unsettling vibe.  

The darkroom was empty, despite the sign on the door saying it was in use. The realization nearly made you breathe a sigh of relief, a part of you finding comfort in the thought that you wouldn’t actually have to confront Peter right now. But as you stepped further into the room and towards the twin desks, all your newfound relief dissipated.  

Resting against the leg of the desk was a fluorescent yellow bookbag, decorated with a variety of cheap pins ranging from local bands to images of outdated memes. You remembered the first time you ever saw that bag, lying on the floor of Peter’s bedroom just a week or so before the start of Junior year. He threw a fit when Aunt May had come in, tossing the ugly bag on his bed and raving about how she had gotten it on sale just in time for back-to-school.  

You made fun of him for months, always making note of the way its vibrancy clashed with his darker style. Secretly you had loved that bag, silently appreciative for how easy it made it to find Peter in the crowded halls of Midtown High. He would always beg Aunt May to get a different bag, but she refused, saying that they shouldn’t buy another until he had worn the yellow one out.  

Looking at it now, it seemed that he had finally achieved that goal. The yellow fabric was a touch duller now, though not by much, and there was a noticeable tear in the seam of the front pocket. Kneeling beside it, you traced your finger over a trail of blue thread, having been carefully used to stitch the fabric back together.  

You wondered why he had decided to fix it instead of just replacing it like he had always wanted.  

Straightening back up, you scanned over the rest of the desk. There was a black reusable water bottle perched on the edge, a set of keys attached to a Deftones lanyard lying beside it. A bit of sweat trickled down the edge of the bottle, collecting on the surface of the desk. You reached for it, shifting it just enough to hear ice knocking against the metal walls. It had barely melted, meaning that it hadn’t been long since Peter had gotten here. Still, you had no clue where he was now.  

Closer to the center of the desk was a neat stack of already developed photos. A girl graced the top of the stack—pale skin with bleach blonde hair, neatly pushed back by a black headband. You reached for it without hesitation, a single digit tracing along her grinning face.  

Peter took pictures of a lot of people, you included, but it was undeniable that Gwen had always been his favorite subject. Looking at this photo, you couldn’t help but understand why. She was effortlessly beautiful, capable of taking your breath away without even trying.  

You could never blame Peter for always trying to capture that beauty, fully aware that if you were him, she would’ve been your favorite too.  

Without much thought you decided to slip the image into your bag. Peter had dozens of pictures of Gwen, while you only had a measly few. He could spare one.  

The other images were far more recent than the first, with only one or two others featuring Gwen. There were snapshots of random Columbia students, a few cityscapes, and even one of the devil herself—Mary Jane, posed in front of the same mess hall that had ensnared you earlier. In the reflection you could see Peter, smiling from behind his camera.  

You gritted your teeth and rolled your eyes at the image. Were they really friends? The picture seemed to serve as enough of an answer, but you still couldn’t help but hope that you were wrong. Had Peter truly traded you in for Mary-fucking-Jane?  

You roughly shoved that photo to the back of the stack, doing your best not to think about it as you continued to snoop through the rest of them. None were particularly interesting, save for the last two. Their dark composition offered a stark difference from the rest, while simultaneously making it difficult to tell what Peter was even photographing.  

Taking one in each hand, your eyes darted back and forth between them, squinting as you tried to make out the subject, a task that was made all the more difficult by the rooms dim red lighting. You brought one closer to your face, making out a few trivial details. At the far edge, there seemed to be a street sign's corner, and in the middle a few streaks of dim light reflecting off a rain puddle.  

Moving it away from yourself, you shifted your focus to the other one, thinking it appeared to be just a close-up of the first image. Then, slowly, you realized your mistake. It hadn’t been just a zoomed-in shot, as the reflection in the puddle made it something else entirely—a self-portrait.  

But it wasn’t the warmth of Peter’s familiar brown eyes being reflected in the hazy liquid. Rather there was an outline of the two lifeless white lenses that belonged to his other self, the version of him you sometimes wished to forget.  

The sight made you feel sick, sweat starting to form along your neck as you hastily flipped the photo over, desperate to avoid his sickening stare. However, what you saw on the back of the image was almost as bad as being forced to stare at Spider-Man's reflection. Scrawled in Peter’s barely legible handwriting was the date APRIL 2ND.  

A new panic quickly trickled into your veins, fully replacing the one that had been born from the lifeless gaze of his mask. You read yesterday’s date over and over again, as if it would suddenly change. It never did, and a sizable knot formed in your throat as you slowly began to look up, shifting your focus to the forgotten photos pinned to the clothesline.  

Your jaw fell slack, the photos in your hands following suit and landing on the desk below them. When you first entered the darkroom, you hadn’t paid much mind to the photographs hanging up, assuming they weren’t of much importance. Now, though, you recognized them for what they truly were—the sister images of the ones you’d been holding. Flashes of 102nd Avenue, Aleksei Sytsevich lying lifeless on the ground, milky white shards of bone peeking through his flesh. And there were photos of his mask, and those goddamn white lenses, spattered with Aleksei’s blood.  

Peter hadn’t just been at the crime scene; he had documented it.  

Your palm pressed roughly to your mouth, fingers digging into your cheek as you made yourself swallow the vomit fighting its way up your throat. Your own trauma fought desperately to rear its head as you analyzed the gory images, but you refused to let it take hold, scrambling to keep control as you forced yourself to snap into action.  

After grabbing your phone, you wasted no time snapping pictures of the photographs hanging from the line, of the ones sprawled on the desk, of everything you could find. You didn’t know yet what you would do with them, but you refused to leave this room without collecting every bit of evidence you could find.  

Once you were certain you had gotten it all, you worked to straighten the stack of pictures you’d gone through, adjusting them so they appeared as if they’d never been touched in the first place. Then, with your heart hammering inside your chest, you darted for the door without a second thought, paying absolutely no mind to the strange looks given to you by passing students as you rushed for the stairs.  

You couldn’t stop moving, only slowing your frantic pace once you’d nearly made it to the exit doors. You rounded the corner as you tried to pull up Brant’s contact with shaky hands, wanting nothing more than to call her and get the fuck away from this campus. But, as soon as you went to press her name, your phone went flying from your hand and slid across the linoleum, your body pressing smack against another.  

Sugary notes of vanilla flooded your senses, making your thoughts turn hazy. Your palms were flush against the soft cotton of someone’s shirt, and you could feel their fingers wrapping firmly around your shoulders, trying to steady you enough that you wouldn’t stumble back from the impact.  

”Oh-shit!, sorry! I didn’t even see you-”  

Their voice wasn’t the first thing you recognized, instead you found yourself caught up in the material beneath your hands. They were wearing a black Ramones t-shirt, a barely noticeable tear on the edge of the collar. But you noticed the tear instantly because you were the one who had bought the shirt. You got it at the record store on 6th Avenue—Rough Trade, was the name of it—and the man behind the counter gave it to you for half off all because of that tear.  

You only ever got to wear it once before Peter nabbed it off your bedroom floor, never to return it. 

”y/n?”  

Your body betrayed you, immediately melting as the familiar sound of your name falling from his lips rang through your ears. Your heart had still been pounding in your chest this entire time, yet as your eyes met his for the first time in months, it fell still.  

Peter didn’t fully share in your reaction. Instead of appearing as if he were lost in the same nostalgic haze you were caught in, he looked as if he had seen a ghost. His skin blanched, eyes growing unnaturally wide. For a moment you thought he was going to say something else, his lips parting, yet nothing came out.  

In your lifetime, you had only known of a few things that could render Peter Parker speechless. You had now become one of them.  

”Hi.” You squeaked out, a single hand lifting from his chest and offering an awkward wave that filled you with humility.  

This wasn’t easy.  

You weren’t sure how to act around him, how to behave. For nine months you had envisioned this moment, conjuring up countless things to say to him, all the insults you wanted to hurl his way. But now that it was happening, you found yourself torn between wanting to hug and choke him.  

It seemed best to do neither.  

”Um, hi?” Peter’s grip on your shoulders tightened, just for a second, as if he were trying to prove to himself that you were really standing in front of him. Once he seemed satisfied with your physicality, he stepped back and released his grip on you entirely, subsequently making your other hand fall from his chest.  

”You’re not-I mean-you don’t go here.” He rasped, laughing awkwardly as he ran a hand through his hair, trying to ground himself.  

”You’re right, I don’t go here!” You pointlessly confirmed, voice raising several octaves as anxiety took over. “Very observant.”  

You cringed at the statement. Very observant?-you thought to yourself, biting down on the edge of your tongue as you watched Peter’s brows knit together-could've said anything, and that’s what you picked?  

He didn’t even acknowledge the useless comment, only letting it hang in the air between you as he continued to wait for a true answer.  

“I came to see you.” You choked out an honest answer, starting to shrink beneath his heavy gaze. You tried to step back, instinctively wanting to create distance between the two of you, but all you achieved was pressing yourself against the wall.  

There was no escaping him.  

He was quick to respond, making it clear just how high-strung he was. ”How did you find me?”  

”I’m a reporter.” You reminded him, offering it up as a vague answer to his question. He’d likely expected the response, given the way his eyes narrowed in frustration. “Finding people is part of my job description.”  

Peter always said that getting an answer out of you was like playing a game of charades, one that others very rarely won. You were a pro at dancing around the facts, only ever revealing them when they served to benefit you.

It was one of the many reasons you were so good at your job. 

“Is that why you’re here?” His question carried a sharp edge, his irritation growing stronger now as his jaw tightened. “For the Bugle?”  

Your body became tense, your shoulders squaring off as anxiety once again tried to shove to the surface. As you thought of the images you’d seen, the ones that were hanging just upstairs, your blood ran cold. You did your best not to let it show, instead trying to hide your fear behind a look of confusion. “Why would I be here for the Bugle?”  

At first, he only stared at you, his brows raising in an incredulous manner. You forced yourself to stare back despite the discomfort it brought you. Then, finally, he answered. “You wanna talk about Spider-Man, right?”  

Your heart sank into your stomach, lips turning dry as they parted. There was nothing good about the way the vigilante’s name rolled off his tongue, and you didn’t like it one bit. The semi-hushed tone he’d spoken in, laced with an essence of bitterness that one wouldn’t expect from the person that donned the mask.  

Hesitantly running your tongue along your now chapped lips, you responded in a shaky voice. “Why would I wanna talk about Spider-Man?”  

Harry’s advice rang through your mind—the same advice that had been mirrored by Aunt May, to remain wary of Peter—and you suddenly felt lightheaded. There was no way he could know that you found out about his identity that night, right?  

No, of course not. It was impossible. 

Peter appeared far more relaxed than you, his shoulders lazily lifting into a shrug. He didn’t seem to notice the sweat forming along your brow, making you think that you were doing an alright job at hiding your emotions. “Jameson wants new pictures of him, doesn’t he?” He threw out a guess.  

Your shoulders instantly sagged with relief, your lungs aching as you lightly blew out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Given what you’d seen upstairs, you decided it would be best to stick to Harry and May’s advice. Peter didn’t need to know that you were aware of who wore Spider-Man's mask. Not right now, at least.  

“I'm right, aren’t I?” Peter insisted impatiently, interrupting your racing thoughts and snapping you back into reality.  

“Do you have new pictures of him?” You hastily snapped back.  

“No. I don’t.” He lied straight through his teeth, once again running a hand through his already messy hair as he squeezed his eyes shut. It was obvious that he wasn’t planning to share any details of Spidey’s newly developed photoshoot hanging in the darkroom, and it would be against your best interest to press further, so you stayed quiet. When he opened his eyes again, he stared directly into yours. “And I don’t plan on taking any, so if that’s why you’re here then you’re wasting your time.”  

You couldn’t recall ever hearing Peter sound so exhausted before. His recent lack of sleep was made painfully evident by the varying shades of purple painting the skin around his eyes. How long had he looked this way? Has it been since Gwen? In some sick way you hoped that you were right, knowing that grief being the cause was better than the alternative—the idea that his lack of sleep related to his involvement with Aleksei.  

A part of you still refused to consider the images you’d seen as damning evidence that Peter had been the one to kill Aleksei Sytsevich. You couldn’t let yourself think that, refusing to believe that Peter Parker was anything even close to a murderer. It wasn’t possible.  

But, as much as you hated to admit it, they proved that he was in some way involved. An accessory, at least. For some reason, hopefully a good one, he hadn’t stopped Aleksei’s murder from happening.  

That came with its own dangerous implications.  

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, trying to decide what direction you wanted to steer the conversation in, which angle would serve you best. With a deep breath, you made your choice. “Well, it’s good that that’s not why I’m here then.”  

He looked surprised. “Wait,” he laughed awkwardly, “you’re not writing a piece on him?”  

There was a thin line creasing the space between his brows, a strange expression on his face. His reaction wasn’t entirely unexpected, especially because you were known for your articles on Spider-Man. But this wasn’t a look that showed he was shocked to hear you were passing up on a story, it was a look of pure offense.  

You fought the urge to ask him why he cared so much, curious to find out if he had been expecting you to rush to Spider-Man's defense in the media. The only reason you held yourself back was the fear that maybe you were wrong, that maybe he hadn’t wanted you to defend him at all; perhaps he just wanted more press for his potential crimes.  

”Seems like the Globe has it covered.” You told him, trying to sound disinterested. You hoped that he would buy your act. “No need to waste anymore ink on a story that’s already been told, right?”  

Peter knew you well enough to know that there was more to it than that. Fortunately, he was willing to reason that your potential avoidance of Spider-Man related to that night, the last night all of you were together, and the events that neither of you wanted to talk about. Besides, even if he did want to mention it, he couldn’t do so without exposing his identity to you, an identity he wasn’t aware you already knew about.  

So, as much as he didn’t want to let it go, he had no other choice.  

”O-kay.” He stretched the word out, shaking his head lightly as he worked to regain his bearings in the conversation. As he did so, a few strands of hair fell against his forehead. He was quick to push them back. “Well, if that’s not it, then why are you here?”  

There was only a second of hesitation, air hissing between your teeth as you sucked in a breath, crossing your fingers behind your back. You hoped Gwen would forgive you for the lie you were about to tell.  

”Helen Stacy.”  

The first emotion to wash over Peter was pain. It was obvious, showing in the way his shoulders slumped forwards and his bottom lip trembled, wincing as the surname of his dead lover echoed through his ears. It was the second emotion that was harder to detect, having been more cleverly concealed than the first. Anger.  

You could see it in his eyes, his pupils dilating as he started to see red. Your own gaze flickered to his sides, stopping on his clenched fists, knuckles turning a pale shade of white. It made you feel uncomfortable, especially since you were the one on the receiving end of that look. You nervously cleared your throat, starting to fiddle with the strap of your bag.  

“She called the other day and asked about running a memorial piece for Gwen’s anniversary. Obviously, she thought it would be best if Gwen’s friends put it together—you know, do it how we used to for the school paper. I’ll do the writing; you take care of the pictures.”  

It was hard to sound confident as you elaborated upon the fabricated situation, too busy trying to focus on anything other than his heavy gaze. You focused on the floor, mostly, staring over at where your phone still laid on the ground. Still, even without looking at him, you could feel the weight of his attention. The air around you began to grow thin, every breath turning into a battle. You felt like you were being slowly suffocated by his fury, your lungs burning within your chest.  

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea-”  

“You can’t say no, Pete.” You cut him off, forcibly lowering the walls surrounding your own trauma, using it to manipulate him. You didn’t feel bad about it, either. “We both lost our best friend that night, and that sucked. But Helen lost her kid. This is the least we can do for her.”  

As the last word fell from your mouth, you forcefully pried your gaze off the ground and begrudgingly met his once again. Terror slid into your veins as you did, your body already preparing itself for that seething look of his—but it vanished. There was no trace of anger on his face. All that remained was the slightest glimmer of remorse.  

His fists unclenched, mindlessly cracking his knuckles. Then he sighed, followed by a reluctant nod. “You’re right. She’s been through a lot, and if this will help bring her some sort of... I don’t know-” he waved his hands slightly, looking troubled by his own choice of words, “closure, then I’ll do what I can to help.”  

Your mouth curved into a smile.  

It seemed like a good sign, you figured, that he was willing to help. It reignited whatever hope you had left that despite whatever mess he had gotten into as Spider-Man, that he was still the same selfless Peter Parker you’d always known. He could still be saved. And, fortunately, you had now crafted the excuse you needed to get closer to him and figure out how to save him.  

”Great!” You spoke a little too loud, your excitement coming off a touch too strong. You tried to lessen it, though the uncharacteristic reaction certainly hadn’t gone unnoticed by Peter. “Meet me at Sylvia’s tomorrow at six, okay? We can start going over everything and make a rough outline for the memorial!”  

Peter immediately went still when he heard the name of the restaurant the four of you used to frequent. He hadn’t set foot in Sylvia’s since Gwen’s death, too afraid to face the memories hiding within its walls. He tried to speak, tried to tell you no, but he didn’t have the chance as you interrupted him again.  

“Here,” You pulled a business card from your bag, thrusting it towards him with a pointed look, “in case you forgot my number.”  

You didn’t hide the animosity behind the statement, using it as another tool to play on whatever guilt he might harbor for what he’d done to you. It seemed to work, given the fact that he promptly shut his mouth and chose not to argue. Instead, he cautiously reached out, plucking the cards from your fingers.  

“Try not to ghost me for another nine months.” You playfully added on, the words joined by a smile that resembled something of a threat as you reminded him, “After all, I know where to find you now.”  

Peter just returned the smile, tight lipped and far less ferocious than the one you’d given him. He knew that eventually you’d want an answer as to why he’d been avoiding you, but not right now. Now wasn’t the time for it.  

So, he stuffed the card in his pocket as you skillfully skirted around him, going to grab your phone off the floor. Once you had it in your hand, you started towards the exit, already starting to dial Brant’s number. “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n.” Peter called after you, watching as you pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold.  

There was an eerie sense of familiarity accompanying his goodbye, one that left your heart swelling as the words sought to soothe any of the still-bleeding wounds that remained from that night. The comforting feeling was almost enough to make you forget about the images you’d seen in the darkroom, the ones that now also lived within the camera roll on your phone.  

Almost—but not quite.  

Brant answered on the first ring, seemingly overjoyed as another lie easily fell from your lips, confirming with her that Peter agreed to help take photos of Spider-Man so you could try and plead his case to the public—the reason she thought the two of you were searching for Peter. She was just as eager as you were to leave Columbia’s posh campus, swiftly agreeing when you asked her to meet you outside of the mess hall so the two of you could head back to the Bugle.  

Now, waiting alone in front of the mirrored windows, you stared silently at the reflection in front of you. A girl with platinum hair, neatly tucked back by a black headband, stared back at you with her familiar bright green eyes. They were filled with enough dismay to make your chest ache, ridding you of any comfort that Peter’s familiarity had given you.  

”You’re gonna have to see him again.” The somber tone she used was unbefitting of someone that you could only think to describe as sunshine personified; everything you ever wished you could be. “You’ll need his help.” Gwen told you. “You know that don’t you?”  

You knew she wasn’t talking about Peter.  

When you didn’t reply, she decided she needed to convince you further, tailoring her approach so it had the best chance of swaying you. She reached a handout, and you knew that if you had closed your eyes, you would be able to feel her fingertips brush against your palm as she squeezed your hand.  

God, you missed that feeling. You missed her.  

And it was because you missed her that you refused to close your eyes. Refused to let your brain mimic something that was no longer real.  

Gwen’s doe eyes turned glossy, her rosy lips puckering into a pout that could make even the most unyielding man fold. ”He’s gonna need your help, too, y/n.” 

You bit your cheek, thinking of the bottle of pills laying in the bottom of your bag, the ones you hadn’t had to take in so long now. You were getting better.  

"You can’t save one without saving the other.” Gwen tried to tell you, although it only served to make you angry at her, unable to figure out why she would feel that way. She shouldn’t want you to save Harry, not when he was the reason she wasn’t here right now!  

If she were here, really here, then maybe you would tell her that. Remind her of how well her altruistic lifestyle had ended.  

But she wasn’t. So, you didn’t.  

Instead, you turned on your heel, forcing yourself to turn away from the reflection. You immediately saw a flash of royal blue in the sea of students as Brant forced her way through the crowd. Fine—you thought to yourself, offering Gwen a silent answer as you started to make your way towards Brant.  

”This place is a goddamn maze!” You heard Brant huff noisily once you were in earshot of each other, her bobbed hair swaying manically. She clearly hadn’t had a good time, but you weren’t really interested in hearing about it, either. Instead, you found yourself distracted by her appearance. Her neatly styled hairstyle, sharp winged liner, and stylish outfit. It made you think of the girls from earlier, the ones who had made you so self-conscious, and it gave you an idea.  

If you were going to do this—follow Gwen’s advice and save both of your boys—then you needed to try and save yourself, too. And, luckily, you and Brant seemed to be about the same size.  

“Do you wanna go shopping?” You asked bluntly, watching as Brant doubled-back, clearly not expecting your question.  

She blinked, thinking it over before hesitantly replying, “Um, sure?”  

Ravencroft could wait until tomorrow morning. 

tag list - @pompeygirl89 @pockyandme

a/n - hi anyone who's bothering to read this! i'm super excited about this chapter for a variety of reasons and i hope that you enjoyed it! feel free to leave any comments or tips, i always appreciate them and can't wait to write more harry & dark!peter content in the next part <3

#peter parker imagine #harry osborn imagine #tasm imagine #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman imagine #dark spiderman #dark peter parker #yandere spiderman #yandere peter parker #gwen stacy imagine #gwen stacy #tasm fanfiction #tasm fic #tasm spiderman #peter parker fic #peter parker #peter parker x reader #harry osborn x reader #spiderman fanfiction #mcu imagine #harry osborn #mary jane watson #mj watson #webbverse #dark mcu #peter parker x y/n #a dark age

[sisterofsomeone]

Till Death Do Us Part

Chapter 1/?

Summary: On a wedding day in Baldur’s Gate, a marriage is sealed with a sanctified bond. A powerful magic that allows your minds to meld and cannot ever be undone. It is also required to share your darkest secret for the bond to be bestowed. There is a common myth passed around that once, a very long time ago, a woman was tricked into marriage by a demon of sorts and only found out when they wed. Every wedding at that moment the room falls silent, waiting for another scream, another myth making secret to be revealed. You just never thought you would be witness to it.

Series Warnings: Wonwoo x fem!reader, slight Seokmin x fem!reader (because I can't help myself), established relationship/situationship, angst, fluff, swearing, drinking, smoking, there are references to end game BG3 and spoilers for the whole game so please proceed with caution! smut MDNI 18+, unprotected sex, pet names (baby girl, pretty girl, princess), oral sex (male and female receiving), breeding kink, slight daddy kink, size kink, reader has a vagina that gets described as a pussy/cunt, slight dub-con for a second then clear consent, (more will be added as the series goes on!)

Word count: 3.5K

Author's note: Hello again! I was originally going to write this as a oneshot, but I just kept writing and writing and felt that I really wanted to try and flesh this world out. So, it's becoming a series! I cannot promise regular updates as I am in my final year of university, and start back up at my graduate job in september, but I am really enjoying writing this so I'm aiming for at least once a month, but maybe more. I do also have another series in the works which I want to post soon as well, so keep on the lookout for that one! I’ve never written anything like this before so bear with me if it’s not very good! Please enjoy, I really do hope this is entertaining for you, and have a wonderful day/afternoon/evening! Lots of love, Caitlin <3

This is a work of fiction and in no way is meant to represent the actions, ideals, or attitude of the idol Jeon Wonwoo.

Baldur’s Gate. The jewel of the Sword Coast. Granted, you never knew there was supposedly a dragon sleeping under the city before the invasion, but still. A wonderful place to live. Life here was easier for someone like you, the eldest daughter of the Apothecary Merchant. Father had spent most of the money he made to dress you in the finest of clothes, hire chefs to teach you to make the finest of meals, and ensure you were surrounded by the best trained ladies in waiting possible. Status meant everything to him, and you knew you had to marry up to please him. Being the eldest of three girls, you were schooled in house making, cooking, mathematics, business, politics- anything and everything that would endear you to one of the knowledgeable and wealthy bachelors your father was hoping to wed you to. Your younger sisters however were afforded the luxury to follow their throws of passion and learn dance, music, or geography to teach and travel. You didn’t much care for home making, your fascination with the foul words in other languages usually left your tutor giggling after you begged her to teach you them. You were smart, quick with numbers and well versed in politics and business. It was something your father loved about you. The daughter that would lift them even higher in status. You were his political pawn.

You were with your mathematics tutor when she burst through the door. Your mother, her face flushed, chest rising and falling rapidly with her heavy breaths.

“The- The King wants you to attend the ball.” She spoke. “The ball for the princes to choose their brides. He has called for you specifically.”

“Oh?” You didn’t so much as look away from your work, still toying away with the problems in front of you.

“Yes! Oh Gods girl, what are we to do with you?” Your tutor excused himself as your mother swanned towards the large windows. She was as dramatic a woman as you had ever met, and you loved her for it. Turning to face you, her dress billowed, and it struck you yet again how beautiful she was. You knew she used to be the catch; the young daughter of a cattle farmer swept into the Sword Coast by her wild fancies and taking Baldur’s Gate by storm. She married your father in a rather quickly arranged match, both being only 21 and your bump already starting to show through her clothes. She had always held a special place in your life, and the closeness in age only solidified your bond.

“You’re to help me avoid it. You know I want nothing to do with the royal family.” You raised an eyebrow, smirk playing on your lips as you turned another page in your book.

“It’s such a shame. You should go, if not for yourself but for me. It says and family and you know how much your sisters and I would love it!” Her fingers danced across the edge of the paper, twirling the red silk ribbon that used to hold the envelope closed as she read and reread the words.

“You know, there must be a specific reason they invited you. I heard only four girls and their families were invited specifically by name.” He voiced wavered, tone light, eyes meeting yours with that twinkle you knew meant trouble. Sometimes it felt like you were the parent in this.

“Will I need a new dress?” With that she squealed and swept you into her arms.

“Oh darling! You are going to love this!” Untangling her arms from around you she ran from the room and to the staircase.

“Girls! Darling! Come downstairs, your sister has an announcement!”

It was dark outside when you were finally allowed to rest. Your mother had dragged you and your sisters around every tailor in the city, eventually settling on a beautiful, glittered gown from the Facemaker’s that made it look like you were dripping in starlight. Your sisters marvelled at you, them seemingly more excited for your prospects than you were. As you stood before the full-length mirror, watching the way light danced across the dress you caught your own breath. You stood tall, the shimmering fabric laying against your body as if made solely for you. Your face now seemingly had the allure you always attributed to your mother, the colour of your eyes mirroring her own beautiful hue. It was the first time you felt a fraction as beautiful as her. That’s why you let your mother buy the dress, but you’d never tell her that.

The evening was warm as you took a book from the library and made your way to the balcony. Lighting the lamp on the table you slipped yourself onto the velvet covered seat and pulled the small blanket around your legs, hiking them up to your chest. It was here you sat, absorbed in the words of scholars until a small cough caught your attention. This was routine at this point, so you put your book down and pulled yourself from the seat, dangling a hand over the railing in front of you before leaning your head over. The man clasped your hand and smiled up at you.

It had all been an accident, you meeting Seokmin and Wonwoo. You weren’t supposed to be walking unescorted to Sorcerers’ Sundries, well technically you weren’t supposed to be walking there at all, but what Father didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. You had stopped but for a moment to watch the magic show at the front entrance when you felt a hand dip into your pockets. You grasped their wrist and turned, only to be met with a small child.

“I’m-I’m so sorry miss, please let me go.” The tiny tiefling looked terrified, eyes wide and lower lip trembling. Immediately you dropped your guard, gaze softening and grip on their arm loosening.

“Child, no need to be scared I won’t call the Fists. But let’s not go picking anymore pockets hm?” They nodded, thanking you as they scurried away. Thats when you heard the laughter. Two tall men, eyes dark and trained directly on you and the scurrying child.

“What are you two laughing at huh?” The slightly broader one cocked an eyebrow at you, and the other pointed behind you. There you saw the scared tiefling, not so scared anymore as them and their friend – who you hadn’t noticed until now – were poking their tongues out at you as they waved a purse above their heads.

“That’s mine!” You shouted as they hurried off, tails wagging and giggles filling the dark streets.

“You fell for that hook line and sinker.” One of the hooded men let a plume of smoke escape his lips and curled them into a smile. “Are you new here or something?”

“No, no. Look at her, she’s a sheltered little princess I bet.” The other said, closing the distance between you and him. You finally got a good look at him. Dark eyes, golden tanned skin, a smile spread across his face that lit a fire in your stomach. He leaned down, face now only inches from yours. “Such a sheltered little princess, aren’t you?” There was an earthiness to him, a woody smell that danced under a zesty citrus. This was no commoner’s perfume.

“Who are you?”

Wonwoo’s eyes shone from below you on the balcony, that same smile lighting that spark deep in your soul. He was intelligent, worldly, but most of all, he was kind. He climbed up the balcony as usual, pulling you into his embrace and kissing you. It was hot, fiery and passionate. It always felt like he was swallowing you whole, devouring every part of you. He pushed you backwards, lowering you into the plush of the loveseat as his body covered your own. His mouth never left yours, tongue playing against your bottom lip as you gave him entrance. He moaned, fingers running through your hair and pulling, revealing the length of your neck to him. He kissed down it, careful not to leave any marks as he did so.

“My beautiful girl, my pretty girl.” His lips left a searing trail down to your chest, his hands trailing down your sides, bunching up your dress to reach your core.

“Wonwoo, baby, we can’t. Not tonight.” It was almost useless, his lips never stopped working against your neck, teeth nipping at your pulse point. “Wonwoo, baby.” A whine left him that had a throb course through your body and set that flame burning.

“Don’t tell me to stop baby please.” He kissed you again, hands never stopping their assault on you. “Please don’t tell me I can’t play with my pretty girl’s pretty pussy.” His eyes darkened, teeth bit down harder, and you could almost feel the punctures from his canines.

“This pretty pussy has been invited to the King’s ball. This pretty pussy might have just been sold off by her ever-scheming father.” He stalled at this, hands stopping their assault and mouth leaving your skin.

“What?” His eyes were trained on yours as you swallowed thickly.

“We got the invitation today. Gods know how he did it. But he did.” Wonwoo moved off you, settling into the space beside you.

“Are you happy? With the idea I mean?” You let out a short laugh, cold and harsh.

“Happy? Why would I be happy? No one has ever seen them, been allowed near them, and what? I’m supposed to marry one of them. Be used as breeding stock. Finally put all this stupid training to use.” He laughed softly from beside you.

“You think this is funny? My life being sold off to the highest bidder and you laugh?”

“No! No, it’s not like that I promise.” His arms were around you again, pulling you into his chest. “I think there’s more to this than you know. Go to the party. You might be pleasantly surprised that’s all.” His lips were on yours again. “And no matter what happens, I’ll never let anyone else touch you the way I do.”

The morning broke through your curtains and the man beside you stirred. His chest was warm beneath your cheek as you kissed the arm draped around you.

“Darling, you must go before we get caught. Again.” He groaned, rolling the pair of you over, trapping you beneath him. That smile was back, softly lit by the warm glow of the sun pouring in through the windows. “Wonwoo, baby please.” His lips were soft against yours, pouring love into you like there was no tomorrow. His fingertips danced across your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. He rolled his hips into you, want evident at the broken gasp that left his lips. “Wonwoo baby.” You moaned out, fingers moving to his shoulder blades. He rolled his hips again, the slickness of your cunt allowing for him to rock smoothly and bump his cockhead into your clit. “Wonwoo, we can’t.” But your body gives you away, the roll of your hips as you shake beneath him has him lining up instantly.

“Princess, say no right now and I won’t do it. But say yes and I’ll give you a baby. I’ll fuck you so full it has no option but to stick. You’ll be mine.” Your lips chased his as you nodded frantically against him.

“Yes Wonwoo, yes yes yes.” He pushed in, cock stretching you as you raked your nails down his back. His thrusts were deep, angling his hips to hit that spot inside of you.

“My princess wants a baby yeah? Wants me to fuck her full?” He growled into your ear, hips smashing into yours.

“Please, wanna make you a daddy.” You purred back. His hand snaked between your bodies, fingers rubbing circle after circle into your swollen clit as you arched up into him. He never stopped kissing you, never stopped whispering praise into your mouth as you came around him.

“Please Wonwoo, want you to fill me up. Please.” You dug your nails into his skin, drawing a hiss from him. He’s panting, sweat lining his forehead as he thrust into you again and again, bringing you to orgasm over and over until you couldn't take it anymore. He pushes you over the edge again and again, having you crying his name into his mouth over and over as you beg for him to finish in you, mark you as his.

But he doesn’t. He pulls out as he always does and finishes onto your thigh. It’s over then, the light shifting to a cold blue as the sun shifts behind a cloud. He moves away from you, gathering his clothes and dressing.

“When will I see you again?” He pauses, eyes meeting your own.

“You won’t see me like this for a while. At least, not this version of me.” You don’t know what that means, but he doesn’t give you any time to ask as he kisses you again so softly. His hand caresses your face, thumb rubbing your cheek as a tear falls from his face and onto yours. “But you will see me again, I promise.” As he pulls away, he places a final kiss on your forehead before stepping back towards your balcony. You let him go like you always do, but not without that horrible hole ripping through your chest.

The night of the ball drew closer, and there was no sign of Wonwoo or his brother. You were alone. The lessons ramped up, your father wanting there to be no chance of failure. You were his pawn, and he was so ready to make that final check. Your mother tried to get through the walls you put up, your sisters gushed every day about how lucky you were, how you were going to have the life of your dreams. But you weren’t. You wouldn’t be with Wonwoo. Wouldn’t be able to kiss him again, wouldn’t be able to hold him. You’d never be able to make him a dad.

“Your invitation madam?” Your mother was positively glowing with excitement, your sisters each hanging off one of your arms, you suspect to stop you from running. Your mother presents the invitation, and the guard cocks an eyebrow. “Please, this way for special guests.” You were escorted towards a separate entrance, a large pair of white wooden doors beset by giant boars on each side. The doors were parted for you, and the entrance was the most beautiful you’d ever seen. You were ushered inside, your sisters gasping and pointing at the artwork lining the walls. But your eyes were drawn to the three other girls.

“They’re your competition child.” Your father pulled you aside from your sisters and scanned you from head to toe. “But you’ve got a brain to best all of them. Be smart, be strong. Be the girl I raised you to be.” You glanced back over to them. Each one you knew to be a member of one of the aristocracies, as you were. You vaguely remember having a run in with the half-elf, but if she remembered you, she gave nothing away in the cold gaze she returned.

“If everyone is now here?” A voice sounded from the stairs above you. Your eyes followed where it was coming from, and the woman you saw standing there was the most beautiful you had ever seen. Dark eyes, with even darker hair cascading down her back that held soft curls that bounced as she began to walk towards you all. You had never seen this woman before, but something pulled at you from your stomach as if you recognised her.

“You are all chosen specifically by the princes themselves. My sister's sons wouldn’t allow for our intervention, so feel very lucky. Some of you would never have made it this far.” Her eyes fell on you at this, and your father bristled beside you. “Now, if you’ll follow me.” She sauntered towards the large doors across the marbled floors. You moved to follow the queen's sister, silently cursing yourself for not recognising her as your legs pulled you along before your brain could think of a reason to turn and run. She demanded that the girls line up, manhandling you all into a line with you left on the end. Your families were to follow along behind, and not say a word.

There was a commotion behind the doors, music filled whatever room you were about to be ushered into and laughter and conversations could barely be heard through these giant doors. You tried to smooth out the non-existent wrinkles of your dress, hands moving on their own as you chewed on your bottom lip.

There was a moment of silence before the doors swung open, and an even longer moment of silence when all the eyes in the ballroom fell upon you. Your gaze flitted from person to person, not a single face you couldn’t put a name to. Families with daughters much better suited for this match burned holes into your skull from jealousy. You were standing there, with the whole world at your fingertips and their daughter wasn’t.

You were ushered down the steps before you, the sea of people parting as the four of you made your ways forward. Your eyes were on the floor as you had been instructed to do so, never for a second daring to look upon the men sitting at the other end of the ballroom.

“This is the half-elf Carmae of the Boat Merchant.” You were right about recognising her then.

“This is the high elf Dauphine of the Gold Merchant.” You heard her light steps, the small “Hello sirs.” that sounded so beautiful falling from her lips as she greeted the men.

“This is the wood elf Avalynne of the Cloth Merchant.” You were next.

“This is the human Y/n of the Apothecary Merchant.” You stepped forward, curtseying as you were taught, eyes moving up to acknowledge the men before you.

“Hello sirs-“ Those eyes. That smile. Wonwoo sat before you, hand rested on his chin as he surveyed you. You felt a churning in your stomach as you let your eyes fall upon Seokmin beside him. His soft curls sat upon his head as he smiled ever so softly at you.

“We can now begin.” The music started up again as the crowd of people swallowed you up. Your sisters beamed at you as people swarmed you. They wanted to know where you got your dress “The Facemaker.” You politely replied. Who did your hair? “My mother wanted to.” You smiled at them. You were pulled from conversation to conversation. Every family wanted a piece of you. But your mind was back on Wonwoo. Your heart calling out to him across the floor.

His eyes followed you, dark and cold like you’d never seen them before.

“Wonwoo, calm down. She’s yours I’m not going to take her.” Seokmin leant over to his older brother, giggling slightly at the older man’s demeanour.

“I know you’re not. But they might.” He followed his brother’s gaze to the men being introduced to you by their fathers. “It seems like being the prince’s chosen gives a girl a certain…” His eyes scanned the crowd of men now surrounding you. Your father ever so keen to get you introduced to as many of them as possible. You were trying to be amicable, that soft smile on your face hiding the discomfort you felt. The burn of jealousy coursed through his veins as he watched you laugh and smile at these fools. If only they knew what he’d done to you, the noises he could pull from you with just his tongue or fingers. The way you beg him to cum in you, the tears in your eyes as he fucks you through another orgasm. You’d be too much for those idiots, they couldn’t make you feel how he did. Couldn’t make your body react the way he did.

“The princes will now have their first dance with each of the chosen.” Wonwoo and Seokmin stood, and the floor was cleared again. You finally found yourself walking back towards the man who held your heart in his hands and smiled. Wonwoo noticed that it finally reached your eyes.

“It is lovely to meet you Y/n.” He placed a soft kiss against the back of your hand.

“It is my honour sir.” You smiled even wider this time as he drew you closer as the music began.

“I hope you’re a good dancer.” He flashed you that dazzling smile once more as the music began up again.

“I hope you are too sir.” You felt the flush creep up your cheeks as the two of you started to dance. Your eyes glued to his as he led you across the floor, his never once leaving yours. You finally got what he meant that morning. While this was a surprise, you’d help him play the part for as long as it took to get your Wonwoo back.

#seventeen #svt #seventeen wonwoo #svt wonwoo #seventeen wonu #svt wonu #wonwoo #wonu #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonu #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x y/n #seventeen royalty au #svt royalty au

[stem-sister-scuffle]

STEM SISTER SCUFFLE: ROUND 1 MASHUP 9

Mercymorn The First (The Locked Tomb) vs GLaDOS (Portal)

Mercymorn The First is a Cryogenics Scientist and Anatomist!

GLaDOS is a Quantum Physicist and Behavioural Psychologist!

Why you should vote for each contestant:

Mercymorn The First:

"Scientist working on human cryogenics/necromancy. She's a genius in a codependent toxic polycule with God."

"Fits the criteria for STEM (science, tech, engineering, math (specifically science)), and also Quirky STEM (stabbing, tearing, eating, maiming). She was a scientist trying to save humanity from global warming, before one of her science buddies became a necromancer and killed the entire world. Now she’s the meanest lady ever and had a threesome with god. Also she got ultra exploded (also by god)"

"She was trying very, very hard to save humanity! She was aiming to preserve people for an interstellar voyage, so that humans could survive the end of the world. It didn't work out and the project got shut down, but after the world ended she pioneered the field of necromantic healing and was known as the foremost anatomical expert among God's Lyctors. She says ick! bleh! out loud when she's disgusted. Also she's much, much more ethical than most people in the series."

"She was a doctor that joined several of her friends, most of whom were other STEM people and a few who weren't, in trying to convince the governments of the world to make an active plan to save the world from climate change. This ended up with one of them destroying the solar system and everything in it, resurrecting it all, and becoming God. She was resurrected as one of his Saints, and continued to use her medical knowledge to become an anatomy specialist and as a key part of a plan between her and another of their friends to take down God for being a tyrant. She might have been an OBGYN but I can't remember if that's actually canon. Also, she has naturally "apricot-colored" (so, pink) hair."

"She was a Regular Doctor working to save humanity from climate change but got resurrected by her friend after he ended the world and became a powerful goddess-like figure. She uses her knowledge of human anatomy to do crazy flesh magic including making her hair naturally pink just for funsies (iconic). She doesn't put up with any bullshit from anyone, including the universe's ostensible god. I love her"

"It's not specifically described but she was the medical support in a cryosleep project, and she knows enough later to have artificially created a baby without either of the biological parents knowing about it

She's the worst and I love her. Here's a description of her in Harrow the Ninth:

You could press your hand to Ianthe’s chest, if you wanted—which you didn’t, naturally—and the blood-warm sternum beneath would gradually unfold for you. But it would take effort, and close contact, and you would need to know the sternum.

Mercymorn the First knew the sternum. Mercymorn the First knew the pericardial fat, the soft-tissue secrets of the mediastinum, the false-heart shape of the thymus. You might have to press your whole palm to Ianthe’s breastbone—doubtless—and take valuable seconds to search out the bone, and the things behind the bone, their characters, their locations. Mercymorn could pinpoint your pineal gland with the merest touch to the skull. This was not due to some Lyctoral power that she alone possessed, no honed necromantic theorem; as God had told you, she had simply memorised the body, by rote, over the course of ten thousand years. She had studied the measurements and their range of differences, and on the rare occasions when she needed to assume where something was or how it worked, her assumptions had the accuracy of ten thousand years’ experience. What Mercy didn’t know about the body wasn’t just not worth knowing, said the Emperor; if she didn’t know it, it hadn’t existed previously.

Over the dinner table you asked Augustine why, if it was simply a matter of memory, he hadn’t done the same thing. Ianthe choked discreetly on a forkful of boiled flour-paste shapes in red sauce. “Lord! I can barely remember what I had for lunch last week,” he said. “Besides, anatomy has too narrow an application.” Mercymorn opened her mouth, hurricane eyes promising a coastal lashing, and said, “Application!” but Augustine said, languidly— “One would only really need it to kill Lyctors, Harrowhark, and the rest of us never evinced any interest in that.”

That broke up the dinner somewhat.

This is her and I love her dearly

https://youtu.be/pvJOuUJNcx8"

GLaDOS:

"i’m not sure how to explain this one. she’s an evil computer who makes a woman do fucked up tasks that all involve a portal gun in some way. evil computer woman i love you :3"

"She's witty, fun, they had to restrain her intelligence and it didn't work-"

"She should be able to kill everyone forever. Anyways she runs aperture she loves science so much it transcended lives and identity. It’s just what she does"

"she kills people 👍 shes cool and i like her"

"…. I mean she’s categorically not but it would be funny to include her. Again, it would be Very Funny"

"mad scientist robot representation with a complex emotional arc through multiple video games"

"She might not know what the point of her tests are, but she sure is good at making them. Bonus points for being hot"

"Managed a massive and highly advanced scientific facility in which she ran tests and experiments long after the fall of human civilization. Chell/GLaDOS <3"

"She’s GLaDOS"

#stem sister scuffle #round 1 #mercymorn the first #the locked tomb #glados #portal #portal 2

[rookiesbookies]

So Im on a minor Soap obsession (Gaz obsession starts when @shotmrmiller posts about him, check out their Needs series bc 🤤) and by minor I mean major bc he and Gaz are my favs.

So i was like… what is Sergeant MacTavish met Captain MecTavish and his wife. Like HOW WOULD THAT GO???

Well dont fret bc I have an answer.

Under the cut

Yall can ignore this part it in italics bc doesnt mean anything but this is just my hc ig? But they dont change anything for what I wrote:

I feel like this woman is the definition of slim thick. She has the nicest birthing hips, a decently small sized waist, busty chest, a nice ass, and the thickest thighs. She has nice calves and is the definition of all natural. There isn’t a fake piece to her. She’s like 5’4” to the Captain, who stands behind her like a giant scary shadow.

I feel like she’s American and they bonded over both “hating” the brits.

She definitely has a size kink. Like has to.

She’s fiery. Like “my husband said no pickle,” type. The Captain knows if his wife goes “you need to handle it,” there’s a problem because there isn’t anything she won't take on. So it’s probably some douches asking to talk to her husband about buying a car or some shit.

Only part that kinda sticks is that I feel like she worked in intelligence? Idk

The good stuff:

The Captain sees Simon and pulls him into the biggest bear hug you’ve ever seen. Simon’s eyes are wide at the size of his once more nimble companion. His wife standing to the side shaking her head. No one knows who this strange lady is yet.

Price shakes his hand. Gaz is gawking at the size of this man, stating something like, “he’s the lumberjack and the whole forest.”

Sergeant Soap, out of habit started flirting with his wife from the future. The woman leans back against the counter top, sipping a water as the young lad flirts with her mercilessly.

“I’m almost old enough to be your mom.”

“I’ll just call you mommy.”

You get the point. Soap is basically purring at this lady as the Captain walks back over to her and wraps his arm around her hips, giving her a peck on the lips and Soap’s mouth falls open for the second time in a row.

Not only was he now the definition of manliness but he has the hottest woman he’s ever seen for a wife.

“That’s our bonnie?”

“That’s our bhean.” Which is Scottish Gaelic for wife. It rolls off the Captain tongue with 0 effort as his wife giggles lightly and presses a kiss to his neck.

Soap about faints.

“Do I miss when you used to flirt with me like that,” his wife turned to her husband and asked. The Captain moved to put an arm on either side, caging her in against the counter and helping her easily move to sit on top of it.

“Oh, I think ya do. Its that charm that won ya over after all. Got ya to marry me, dinnit?”

“If charm is what we’re calling the monster between your legs, then yes. Yes, it was.” The Scottish Captain laughed with his wife, a hearty chuckle that makes her hum in amusement and leave a peck on his scratchy beard. Soap about fainted again.

“WE’RE MARRIED TO A SUPERMODEL?”

“I’m an American Central Intelligence Agent, actually. We met putting Graves behind bars. Told him if he didn’t shoot him when we got him in the heli, I’d return his advances because Graves has some info I needed. Rest was history.” Her voice sounded like the best music Soap had ever heard. She was EVERYTHING. He’d pray to the ground she walked on and lick the rim of any cup she sipped from just to get a taste of her. He had a big fat crush on this woman.

The Captain could see the look in Soap’s eyes and sighed to himself. He forgot how much of a simp he was for his wife. He forgets how much of a simp he still is for his wife. Wondering if he still makes that dorky expression.

Soap tapped the Captain and pulled him into a different room. He got on his knees in front of his Captain self and begged, “PLEASE TELL ME HOW YOU DID IT. I NEED TO MEET THIS WOMAN NOW.” His hands clasped together, on his KNEES.

Captain MacTavish just pats his little mohawk and says “with time,” which makes sweet little Soap about CRY. Gave him some other small light hearted advice about her favorite flowers and that he’ll know when he sees her.

The Captain just makes his way back into the room and over to his wife. He gently returns to her, still seated on the counter, as she plays on her phone, and sticks his face into her chest with a content sigh. Her free hand goes to run her fingers through his hair and his arms tighten slightly around her waist.

Soap waddles in and his FOMO is off the hook. Simon shuffles over to him and in his best serious voice he goes, “I’d offer to let ya put your face in my tits but I don’t think mine are the kind ya looking for.” Before cackling to himself.

He heard the Captain mumble something to her about retiring, her having perfect birthing hips, and chubby Scottish babies which made poor little Soap break down.

She hummed back at comment about her having the job that’s less dangerous and how she’d let him have a whole little futbol team once he stopped doing the dangerous stuff. She pulled his head up, planted a kiss to his lips, and let his head fall right back.

His future is AWESOME.

Sergeant John ‘Soap’ MacTavish is officially excited for his future.

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, don’t forget to leave me a comment or a request in my inbox to let me know what yall want to see!

Part 2 here

#cod x reader #call of duty #john soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish

[infipretty]

𝑭𝒕. 𝑻𝒂𝒆𝒉𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒆 <3

Hello everyone! Welcome to my First PAC, I hope y'all enjoy this! Let me know which pile did y'all pick 🍻

Choosing a Pile :

Take Deep breaths and relax for a while, Choose the pile to which you feel the most guided/connected to, you may feel connected to one pile or more through a certain number or a picture. If any pile revokes a memory in you, it's definitely the pile for you! It's Alright to feel connected to more than one pile, maybe you have more messages than one! Just trust your intuition! ♡

Disclaimer :

This reading is a general one, So everything might not be extremely accurate for everyone. Everything will resonate differently for everyone. Take what resonates with you and leave what doesn't. At the end of the day, you're accountable for your own actions. You create your own reality and fate <3 SO enjoyyy y'all🍺.

✧ 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟏 ✧

Very sweet person but won't show. Literally the type to know your Starbucks order by heart. A Wishful dreamer. Very balanced. A whole Different person when in love and on a personal level. Hardworking. A provider. Positive influence on people. Quick adapter. Very sensual. Go with the flow type. Rich and stable. Go getter. Wants to be in control at times. A young soul with a serious persona on the outside. Good with words and a diplomat. Protects you like anything. Might be old school. May like photography and capturing memories. Might have a bit of an ego. You might think of them as a dork at first. Has to be told that they are in the wrong. My way or highway type at times. Possessive and protective. Analytical. Spontaneous being!

Their love language : This person is big on gifts and Acts of service. Wish for something in front of them and they will literally hand it to you the next day. They love to give meaningful gifts, gifts that may signify an inside joke or some part of your relationship. They just want to see you happy and they will do whatever they can for your happiness!

✧ 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟐 ✧

Effortlessly Charming. Could be the 'IT person' amongst people. Probably a movie and tv series lover. Might know how to cook really well. Fair and truthful as a person. Easy on life. Tall and broad. Adventurous, calm and composed. Impulsive at times . Quite pleasing to the eyes . Definitely a creative and an artistic type of a person. Believes in equality for all. Respectful. Might be popular amongst peers, naturally alluring and attractive. The type to give you hand written letters. Might come across as cocky but isn't. Can get through anything in life. Passionate and energetic. Intuitive. In touch with their emotions. Extrovert. May like partying. May have a heavenly smile. Soft. Big on Honesty and quite straightforward!

Their love language : words of affirmation and quality time! They are the type to take you shopping and shop with you. They may plan random dates and take you to late night drives. The type to cook for you on special days and take up equal responsibilities as you. They will never let you talk badly about yourself and will always hype you up but will let you know when you're wrong about something!

✧ 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟑 ✧

Wise and broad minded. Might have a deep voice. Extremely knowledgeable about random stuff. May like to experiment with their looks. Quite Rich and self made. Dominant. Hot asf. Coffee person. Probably likes hanging out at cafes and bakeries. Loves to debate. Deep down quite emotional and also, emotionally intelligent. Would be obsessed with you. The jealous type but won't admit or show it. Cheesy and romantic. Very intuitive. Extremely chivalrous and kinda 'ladies person'. Might come across as a flirt. Lowkey a feminine person (even if they identify as a man). Will spoil you endlessly. Gracefully diplomatic. Jack of all trades. Balanced and steady. Would want to be your best friend first and then anything else!

Their love language: Physical touch and gifts. Seriously the type to steal glances. Would give you random gifts, sometimes for no reason. Would love to cuddle you a lot and just hold you in general. The type to never let go of your hand first when y'all are holding hands. Back hugs are their thing. Would give you Forehead kisses to calm you down!

✧ 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟒 ✧

Overachiever and introvert. Observes a lot. Can read people like a book. Self aware and generous. Lowkey a loner but likes it that way. Someone who has been through a lot mentally and have struggled their way to the top. Extremely humble and well educated. Well planned and ambitious. Loyal and dependable. Won't leave your side even if you push them away. A Night/Nocturnal person. Introspective and the type to talk to you about life on a rooftop. Knows all your habits and your icks. Would encourage you to go above and beyond. Lowkey may like sports. The type who falls too hard. May not like to gossip about people. Well established. Shy at first. Will always look out for you first and then anyone else!

Their love language: Acts of service and quality time! They will help you with everything and anything that they can. This person will always have your back. You call them at 2 AM for something and the next thing you know is that they're on your doorsteps. Will always uplift you and guide you towards betterment. The type to make inside jokes with you. Eye contacts is a THING here. Will put you first in every situation!

©infipretty

#pick a pile #pick a card #Pacs #Tarot #tarotblr #daily tarot #pick an image #tarot reading #tarot blog #tarot cards #FS #future spouse #pac love #love pac #astrology #intuition #psychic #intuitive

[lathalea]

Waiting

Relationships: Boromir x OC (possibly Reader) Rating: G Summary: Boromir embarks on a mission for Rivendell, leaving the lady of his heart behind. And so she waits for his return... A/N: This is my gift for @heilith. HUGS! 💙💙💙

Waiting

She kept on waiting. 

First, she counted the days until their next meeting, after the handsome Captain of Gondor appeared at her cottage at the edge of the forest for the first time. 

Then, he started visiting her more often—as often as he could—galloping on his horse to her, leaving the White City and his worries behind. Sometimes, they would spend an evening at the nearby brook, looking at the stars, sometimes she would invite him in for a light meal, and sometimes they would walk the woods in search of the best blackberry bushes, or to that little glade she liked so much. And they would talk—about everything and anything. Boromir’s hand would brush against hers, as if by accident, and when she would look up, her skin tingling, his warm gaze would rest on her face and then slowly slide down to her lips… And then words would die on his lips, and he would look away.

On the brink of the summer, she waited for the great feast on the King’s Day, and when the day finally came, she rode to Minas Tirith in her best gown, to take part in the festivities. There was music and song in the air, the wine was sweet, and Boromir made her heart flutter, cutting a strapping figure in his tunic adorned with the emblem of the White Tree. They danced the night away, and then he led her to the highest level of the city where the view took her breath away. The view—and the kiss that came shortly after, tender and gentle. Boromir held her in his arms until the first rays of the morning sun painted the white walls of the city pink. Since that night, his murmured words of devotion, of his feelings for her, rang in her ears every evening when she put her head on her pillow.

There were shadows under Boromir’s eyes when they saw each other for the last time that summer. He was to embark on a dangerous mission to Rivendell and ask the elves for their words of wisdom. Gondor’s future was at stake. His people’s future. He did not know when he would return, but in that forest glade he made a pledge: he would return—to her. 

The ring he slipped on her finger was cool against her skin, but his hands that held hers were warm and strong. And when he asked the only question she hoped for, she gave him the only reply she dreamed of giving.

I will wait for you, Boromir, and I will marry you when you return.

And so she waited. Hours turned into days, days turned into months, but there was no word of the brave Captain of Gondor nor of his whereabouts. The summer was long gone, the autumn made way for the winter that held the land in its frosty grip. The new year celebrations came and passed, and still she waited.

February was coming to an end when she once again visited their forest glade and looked into the nearby pond. Its cold waters rippled as she touched its surface, but as they stilled, a series of images formed in front of her eyes. People in boats. Boromir among them. A forest at the edge of an unknown river. Dark shapes between the trees. A chase. Boromir drawing his sword; protecting someone. Fighting. A monstrous creature drawing a bow. A black arrow cutting through the air… and hitting its target. Boromir swaying… And then a boat going down the river, towards the falls ahead. Was it empty…? She could not see. She closed her eyes. Her greatest consolation was the ring on her finger and the words of love she heard from Boromir on the day they parted. He made a pledge. He would return to her.

And so she waited.

Reluctantly, spring came into its rights, and with it, words of a great danger casting a shadow over the whole realm of Gondor. Then, a great army was seen marching on the White City. When the local villagers took their belongings and hid deep in the safety of the forest, she went together with them. Perhaps it was for the best that Boromir would not see if the walls of his home would crumble under the power of darkness.

Several weeks passed until they saw the sun again as the village elders decided it was time to return to their homes. A messenger brought word that the enemy was defeated and that the true king of Gondor returned, just like the old prophecies said. But he did not know what had befallen Boromir.

One day before the coronation of King Aragorn Elessar, the sound of hooves against the forest ground reached her ears. She took a look through the window and could not believe her eyes. It could not be.

“Boromir!” she exclaimed, running out of her cottage towards the familiar figure of a rider.

In a blink of an eye, he dismounted and took her in his arms.

“It is me, my spring flower,” he murmured, holding her close.

“You came back to me!” She searched his face greedily, taking joy in the noble features she knew so well.

“I told you I would,” he smiled and ran his hand through her hair.

“But… I had a dream… a vision… I saw a battle… an orc… an arrow…” her voice trembled. “And then the boat…”

“Hush, my love, I am well. An orc pack attacked us, that is correct. I was merely wounded. We were on a mission of great importance. I managed to keep my wits about me and together with lord Aragorn, our future king, we sent the little ones ahead, together with the ring. We stood our ground together and defeated the enemy,” Boromir replied.

“Lord Aragorn…? The little ones? And the ring? What ring?” Her eyes widened.

“It was only a meaningless trinket, and now it is destroyed. The only ring that filled my thoughts every day since the day we parted was the one I put on your finger,” he took her hand in his and placed a soft kiss over her knuckles. “I counted days until we would meet again.”

“So did I, my beloved,” she admitted as his fingers brushed against her cheek.

Their lips met in haste, but there was tenderness in their kiss that made her weak in the knees as she drank in his closeness.

The Captain of Gondor took her hands in his and looked deeply into her eyes, “Will you come with me now to my city? Will you marry me there?”

“There is nothing else I would rather do, Boromir,” she admitted, her words a whisper.

“I dreamed of hearing these words from you,” he placed another kiss on her lips. “Let us ride. We both have waited long enough.”

💚💚 💚  Read it? Like it? Spread the love and reblog it! 💚💚💚

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[uhdrienne]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

to be published: (estimated) february 2024!

🌼 feat: wonwoo x reader (smau, written)

🌼 summary: going back to the countryside where you grew up was at the bottom of your list. unexpectedly, your life changes course, and you eventually find your home in weekly village cleaning, the sound of the waves, and with the local jack-of-all-trades, jeon wonwoo.

🌼 content: fluff, mild angst, yn can be mean sometimes at the start (this is inspired by the kdrama hometown cha-cha-cha, so some parts of the plot and characters are similar), wonwoo is an overall sweetheart

🌼 a/n: there are many other villagers in the area! not all of them are named here, but they may make small appearances throughout the series. the ones named below are the villagers that appear the most!

*───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰──────✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ────*.｡

🌼character intros (a long one!)

wonwoo: a witty villager in his late twenties, and the most skilled man around. also the go-to person in the village for any and every problem. fixing your pipes? call wonwoo. helping the fishermen by the dock? wonwoo is your man! he's so kim seon-ho coded to me, i can't explain it. incredibly popular among the villagepeople. has a past of his own that no one knows of, but it doesn't hinder his kind and helpful nature.

yn: a pediatrician in the city. (physical appearance is up to you!). ambitious, hardworking and determined to come on top, your emotions have taken a backseat for much of your life, which is why you can be cold and calculating at times. your parents no longer around because of a freak accident, you can be emotionally sensitive, with a sharp tongue on the topic of family. deep down, you're kind and affectionate, you just show it a little differently.

chanyeol: yn’s close friend and old crush from university. now a famous tv producer and presenter, this gentle giant is constantly in search of a muse to kickstart his next project. stumbles into the idyllic town to film a program after going in the wrong direction, and fits in just perfectly before long. also ends up becoming wonwoo’s friendly rival (🥲)

delia: yn's best friend forever!! a pediatric nurse by profession, she's one of the only people who can tame yn down when she's being haughty/angry. moves to the town to work with yn, and sometimes acts as the neutral party between yn and the villagers. gets along very well with other people, she's a complete E. she's a little ditzy, but a lovely person.

miss kim: yn’s landlord. divorced with a child, she runs a small bookshop in the village. as the unspoken village head, she handles the village’s admin matters. her ex-husband, mr woo, lives in the village too and works in the village bank. she shares her son's custody with him.

grandma lee: affectionately called ‘grandma’ by everyone, she’s seen wonwoo through most of his life, his ups, downs, and everything in between, except for the three years when he left town. a clever, patient, and kindhearted woman, she often knows what everyone needs before they do.

miss hwang: the neighbourhood gossip. a loudmouthed person, she runs a small cafe near the coast, selling coffee and cake (which yn really doesn't enjoy), and once she knows something, the whole village will. she can jump to conclusions too quickly sometimes, but she’s a nice lady, honest!

seungkwan and joshua: wonwoo’s best friends in the village, who grew up with him. they are similar to him, in the sense that they help everyone out in the form of part-time jobs, but their expertise isn’t as wide as wonwoo’s. however, if you need someone to fix your chair or install a bulb, they’re pretty solid options. didn't stay in contact with wonwoo during the years he was away, but the trio became close again after he returned. they have a hunch that he had a hard time, so they've never brought it up with him.

#svt fluff #svt imagines #svt smau #svt x reader #svt #svt fic #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen #jeon wonu #jeon wonwoo x reader #this summer #character intro

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

TTD - First Meeting 2/4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 and end

Part 2, sequel of this. This Hero and Villain have now their own tag and masterlist.

*

Hero woke up and they didn’t like that very much.

The ground was hard under their head, and they winced. Their fingers unwillingly clenched and grasped some gravel.

Wait a minute. That meant they weren’t in a room. Not theirs, anyways. Come to think of it, where were they and what happened ? Their head hurt. They touched their forehead gently. There was no blood, and it looked like it was in its usual shape. Still, it hurt.

Maybe the next step was standing up, come to think of it. So they did. Stretching up, they clasped their tongue, trying to focus. It had been a while since they had felt this sluggish. They were in a little street. Okay. That was an important piece of information. So, they were going back from their last job (stopping a robbery, nothing serious) when – when – they forgot.

How could have they forgotten ?

They stayed still. Apart from them, there was no one in the street. Everything was quiet. And, possibly, very wrong. Something was missing. Hero was quite sure that it wasn’t a street before, but a dead end. What was blocking the way before was a two-storeyed building, full of people. Now it was... gone. It hadn’t been demolished or anything. There weren’t ruins or even rubble around. There just wasn’t a trace of it, as if it never existed. It was the right street though, and if they struggled very hard to remember, they were inside just before. There were just fragments of memories. A thief sulking in a corner, their hands tied up behind their back. A smile from an old lady. A warm cup of tea into their hands and the odor of the mint.

The next minutes were used to frantically search for the people who lived there, anyone. After a lot of swearing and some tears, they had to renounce. They sat on the ground, vaguely entertaining the idea of curling up and never getting up ever, when their phone rang.

“Are you okay ?” asked Other Hero. “There was an attack from Supervillain in your area.”

“Yes. Just where I was, in fact.”

“Oh shit ! How did you survive ?”

“I think my powers protected me. But a whole building is gone and I – I don’t understand what happened.”

“ It’s your first time with this guy, uh ? You’d better sit down, buddy, I’m gonna break it to you.”

Other Hero had that tone she always had when they passed their regular tests, just before obtaining the highest grades. Hero listened.

“His power is very simple, actually,” she declared. As you saw – or rather as you didn’t see - he can make things disappear. He only has to look at the zone, and everything is gone.”

“A whole building ? What about the people ?”

“I’m sorry, have I stuttered ? Gone.”

A drop of sweat slowly trickled down Hero’s forehead.

“I don’t see how I could fight that”, they finally said. Is there a way ? Has he got a weakness ?”

“Oh, you can’t. With your powers, that is. It’s best if you don’t try. At least you’re protected, but you haven’t got what it takes to bring him down.”

“You do.”

“Of course, but I’ve got my area to protect, you know. Tell you what though, I’ll call the agency and ask them if they can send you backup.”

“Thanks, but -”

They didn’t have the time to finish their sentence. Other Hero had hung up. Having backup was good, but with this kind of threat it couldn’t hurt to have a plan B.

The warehouse they had visited a couple of weeks ago was not far, and still standing. With a bit of luck, it was still Villain’s lair. Hero hadn’t come back since. It wasn’t as if this villain seemed like a serious threat anyway. Even the place itself wasn’t that threatening, past the first impression. So they opened the door without much thought, and because they were still dizzy, they walked on a button without noticing. They only had time to gasp and protect their head with their arms when a huge cage just fell right on them.

There was a series of clicks, and when they opened their eyes again, they were surrounded by heavy metal bars. Spotlights illuminated their trap one by one while a booming laugh resonated in the room:

“You’re mine now ! Miiiiine !”

A dark shape appeared at the end of the corridor. The spotlights were strong, but they couldn’t lighten it up. Light seemed to avoid the black silhouette.

“I knew you’ve come back to taunt me, nemesis, but that was your downfall ! See what I could do in your absence ! Tell me, prisoner, am I harmless now ?”

Hero didn’t answer. They were still staring at the darkness. Villain had to clear their throat to get their attention.

“I said ! Am ! I ! Harmless ?”

“Uh ? Oh, uh, yes. I mean, no – I mean – what was the question again ?”

A grunt of frustration came out of the silhouette:

“You are into my claws ! How can you not pay attention to every one of my words ? I am the master of your life – nay, the master of your very fate ! Be awed !”

“I kinda am.”

The shape stopped its walk:

“You – you are ?”

“Yes. Do you control shadows ?”

“Only mine, but as it is the best, I do not care what others could offer me.”

“ And yet you could darken this whole warehouse”, whispered Hero. “And all the buildings you go to. I suppose you can make it as big as you wish. That’s impressive.”

“Extremely. I’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses. Imprisonment quickly taught you some manners.”

“Actually, I didn’t come to fight you. I came for two things. A warning, first.”

“Ah, it is to laugh ! They’re nothing but a pitiful prisoner, a mere prey at my mercy, but still they try to rebel ! Such audacity.”

“Supervillain is here.”

“You have to be more precise.”

“The one who can make everything disappear.”

“...shit. I mean, curses !”

“And he’s here to stay if I don’t do anything to stop him.”

“So you want to beg for your freedom ? What if all of that was an outrageous lie to deceive me as a way to mock me once more? ”

“That’s the thing, Villain. Even if I were free, I couldn’t defeat him. I’m not powerful enough. That’s the second thing I wanted to tell you. I need your help.”

“ Excuse me ?”

“Supervillain needs to see to use his power. But if the whole area is in your shadow, he’ll be helpless.”

“A poor plan, if I might say so. I only need to cover his eyes to blind him.”

“If you succeed to find him first, that is.”

“That wouldn’t be a problem. If memory serves, he had an awfully tacky magenta suit, even flashier than your orange jacket. But wait ! Why should I listen to you ? Why should I expose myself to the cruel outside and the crueler sun ?”

“Your warehouse might be on his way. And that’s the kind of act that can grant you a pardon from the agency.”

The silhouette recoiled:

“I neither need nor want a pardon. I am a devious malevolent being of pure darkness and I intend to stay that way.”

Hero wiped his forehead. They were getting tired.

“Okay, fine. We’re running out of time. What do you want ?”

“For starters, I want you to kneel.”

Hero tilted their head, confused:

“Why ?”

“You know. To acknowledge my superiority and your defeat, all of that good stuff.”

“Oh. Okay, if you want.”

Hero politely obeyed while the laugh resonated once more:

“Yes...yes ! Muahaha I am the unflinching and unbowed victor of our perilous fight !”

“Uh-uh, sure. If there something else ? I think that we’re running out of time here.”

“Pledge your allegiance to me.”

“What ? But I’m a hero. I can’t.”

“Then I won’t help.”

Hero actually felt a twinge of remorse. That was a promise they were going to break, but then again, it was going to be made under duress.

“What would you make me do ?”

A moment of silence ensued.

“I don’t actually know”, admitted Villain. “It would be my first time someone would submit to me, I don’t go outside much. The very thought of another soul touching my tools and my creations makes even my dark soul shudder.”

“I could go shopping for you. This way you won’t have to scare citizens.”

“Using your own money to trade for the goods I decide you to get to sustain my mortal body ?” asked the voice which was suddenly a lot more cheerful.

“You really don’t like to go outside, uh ?”

“Hush, prisoner. It is decided, then. I shall fight this obnoxious magenta menace who…!”

Despite the heavy doors, a piercing scream from outside made them both start. Hero jumped on their feet.

“...And the sooner, the better.”

*

Sequel here

Back to These Two Dorks masterlist.

Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.

#villain and hero #hero villain community #writeblr #writers on tumblr #original fiction #my writing #writing snippet #writing drabble #writing dialogue #these two dorks #not in a writing mood folks sorry #probably full of typos didn't check #hero and villain #heroes and villains #hero x villain

[strawbeerossi]

Daydreaming || 3/3 ||

Part one || Part two

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Aaron Hotchner

Description: Jack and Finn get to celebrate their victory after months of hard work as their parents navigate their new relationship together. What better way to celebrate than the small family having a halloween party with the whole team in attendance.

Content Warnings: Blended family dynamics, the two boys are a dynamic duo, there is some suggestive dialogue, the boys plan a Halloween party and have their parents do everything but still claim it as theirs. Just fluff and a good ending to this mini series.

Word Count: 1.7K

Navigation || Masterlist || Join My Taglist || Request

It’s been long awaited but here it is, the end of Daydreaming!

There were many causes of celebration; Halloween, Y/N and Finn moving in the Hotchner house, and the two being able to meet the team that Aaron was lucky enough to call his family. If he were honest, he felt like the team made a bigger deal of this than he did.

“It’s been nearly a year! It’s not fair for you to gatekeep her from us. She just moved in!” Penelope began, following the unit chief across the bullpen, a small crowd of the other BAU members following behind. 

“I agree with Garcia. It’s about time we met the lucky lady who has the bossman head over heels.” Derek pressed on, making the older male chuckle while heading to his office door. “Well, I’ll consider it. I need to ask her first anyway. Can’t surprise her with the team when she least expects it.” He’d learned early on that Y/N wasn’t fond of surprises – or wearing pants around the house during the day when it was just her. 

“She will appreciate it. Xafniasmaphobia, or the fear of surprises, is actually a lot more common than you may think! It’s fascinating what the human mind is capable of fearing when you-” The smile on Spencer’s face was falling as he had all eyes on him, most looking disinterested. “Sorry.” He smiled awkwardly as his hand rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’ll arrange something. Now, you all have much better things to do than sit here and ask me questions.” Despite his curt tone, there was the smallest hint of a smile. 

It wasn’t like he wanted to keep his girlfriend a secret in some capacity, he just wasn’t prepared for the chaos of introducing her and her son to the team. That meant things were serious, more serious than the seriousness of the mother and son moving in. 

Later that night, Aaron and Y/N were laying together in their shared bed, his arms wrapped securely around his partner as she was squeezed against his chest. “My team wants to meet you.” His words were soft, lips brushing over the warm flesh of her neck while Y/N was humming tiredly. “Do you want me to meet them?” 

It wasn’t an attitude, instead wanting to make sure Aaron was truly ready for that aspect. She knew that they were more than just colleagues. He loved them, they were his family. She took this just as seriously as she would meeting a parent. “I do, yeah.” The male admitted, his head lifting from the crook of her neck, the woman’s neck craning so they could look at one another. 

“Then I’m more than happy to meet them! Finn is going to be so excited, Jack has been telling him all sorts of stories.” She offered a smile, leaning over to press her lips against her boyfriend’s. “Besides, I gotta get on well with the family, right?” She mused with a smile. 

A wide smile graced Aaron’s features, the man unable to help the soft chuckle leaving his lips. “Fair enough. They are gonna love you, I know that for sure.” 

The couple were originally planning a nice dinner at their shared home, inviting the team as well as their families in order to have a formal greeting. Finn and Jack had other plans though.

“We want to have a party. Dinners are boring.” Jack spoke, his nose wrinkling at the idea of having to get dressed in nice clothes and being made to look his very best just to listen to adults talk. No thank you. “Yeah! We want a party.” Finn pressed on, sitting on his knees in his dining chair while focusing his gaze back down on the coloring page he’d been focused on.

“A party? Jack-” Aaron was cut off by Y/N, who’s eyes glistened with amusement at the idea. “What kind of party boys?” She asked, an eyebrow raising. This was a change for the boys too, even if it was positive, they deserved to at least put in ideas to announce this big change.

“Well, at school we have holiday parties, remember?” Jack began as he was looking up at the two adults across the table before turning to Finn to urge him to continue. They had to have practiced this pitch before they brought it up. “I think we should do that. It’s almost Halloween and I think that’ll be fun. Then we can show everyone that we are a big, happy family.” The blonde finished while offering a wide smile, his arms being held out to emphasize the “big” part. 

“And it is our party so we are gonna make sure it’s perfect.” One child assured while the other was smiling brightly. “We will do a very good job doing this all by ourselves.”

Yeah, that turned out to be a bold-faced lie. 

It was about a week after the initial discussion when the parents of the household being the ones to decorate with the boys ordering them where to put everything, they continued to bark their little orders as the parent’s put the party together. “Good job!” Finn gushed, his gaze looking around the living room area that had quite a bit of decorations from the attic laid out everywhere.

It was definitely in the hands of children when it came to where things were placed and what was put out. Aaron had to drag out a broken Santa decoration and the boys came up with ‘Zombie Santa’ just to add onto the reason the Christmas figure was sitting in the living room. “Spooky!” Finn complimented, both of the children high fiving one another. 

“I wish we just had a simple dinner.” Aaron leaned over to whisper to Y/N, who couldn’t help but giggle. “Oh shush, enjoy them wanting to do something like this. Besides, who could tell those sweet faces no?” She asked. 

Later that evening, the members of the team as well as their families were eventually making their appearance. Spencer and Penelope were probably the most animated ones, due to the holiday being one of their favorites. Besides, they were probably the best with kids despite having none of their own. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” David spoke up, causing Y/N to look over at the older man with a smile while they were in the doorway that separated the kitchen and the living room. “The pleasure is all mine. Dave, I assume?” She spoke, a hand being held out with a smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you, it's hard to mistake you for anyone else. I’m Y/N. The little blonde with orange icing all over his face is Finn.” She giggled fondly.

Aaron had to admit that this was a lot better than he could’ve ever expected. All the children were playing around with some of the safer decorations to play with while the adults were all fully getting to know the woman who fully captivated their boss. Much better than a boring dinner.

“So, how have you and Finn been settling in?” JJ was asking, both Y/N and JJ being acquainted due to her past status of media liaison, both women being in contact for the more local cases when they needed the paper’s cooperation. “Really well, actually! It’s much better than us having to pack little bags for sleepovers.” She laughed.

For a while, it was pretty easy to do that. However, things got more complicated when the two would stay much longer than they packed for. Maybe that was what prompted the move in, them being far too comfortable at the other household rather than their separate apartment.

“It’s been a lot better since they’ve moved in, even if I’ve lost a huge chunk of my closet space.” Aaron laughed as he was approaching the group, his arms wrapping securely around his girlfriend’s waist. “Yeah, we could tell.” Derek spoke up, him and Emily sniggering as they looked at one another. 

“Don’t act like we haven’t seen the sudden good moods, or notice when Hotch is running a few minutes late.” Emily began to tease, causing Y/N’s face to turn red as she was laughing.

“Can you blame me? Honestly? If you only knew what I do.” Y/N laughed as she was leaning against Aaron’s chest, his face in her shoulder as his own face as he couldn’t help but grin. 

The night continued on, Y/N happily talking amongst each member of the close knit team and managing to wiggle her way into their inner circle with each word she spoke. 

It was never hard to be accepted in their circle but this new woman didn’t even have to try. She could take jokes, dish them out, she even liked Spencer’s info-dumping sprees whenever he would hear or see anything he had extensive knowledge on.

It was later in the night whenever the team was all gathering their things to leave, hugging the newly blended family while the adults walked their guests to the door. “This has been really fun. We should do this again.” Aaron spoke, a hand on his girlfriend’s lower back while they were standing on the front porch.

“Y/N you are coming to the next girls night! I’ll come get you myself!” Penelope gushed while offering a wide smile, waving while Derek was opening her car door for her, basically nudging her to go considering her car was blocking his in the driveway. 

“Alright!” Y/N laughed, blowing a kiss to the bubbly blonde before looking up at her boyfriend as the cars began to pull out of the driveway. “I think I need a job at the BAU now.” She poke, making her boyfriend snort out a laugh. “Oh yeah?” He asked, an eyebrow raising.

“Yeah. I know the best way to get the job too. I don’t wanna brag but I’m kinda sleeping with the unit chief.” She said, as if she wasn’t talking to him. “I think that’ll be your best way to get the job. Let him know that I recommended you for the job.” Aaron was joking in return, his lips pressing a soft kiss to hers. 

“Let’s get the kids to bed so you can practice your pitch to join the team.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds thoughts #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotch hotchner #ssa hotchner #aaron hotchner fandom #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner series #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch fanfiction #hotch imagine #hotch fluff #aaron hotchner x reader

[thatlovinfeelin]

Where Do You Go? | six | Bradley Rooster Bradshaw

Your husband died in a training accident, unexpectedly. So what happens when you find yourself leaning on his best friend and wingman, Rooster Bradshaw?

This is it Ladies and Gents, the final Part of Where Do You Go? I can't say thank you enough for all of the love and support this series had received. There were a lot of moments where I was very unsure if I would be able to tell this story, but you lot where right here with so many messages of encouragement, even though you didn't know that I needed them. SO thank you thank you thank you.

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five

“Mommy?” You question as soon as she picks up the phone, “I did something and I’m not sure how to fix it.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s all going to be okay, just tell me what happened,” Her voice is so soft and steady it makes you cry even more. 

“I slept with someone, and I really liked it,” You admit, almost horrified that you’re saying it out loud. 

“Well…honey that’s a normal thing-”

“It was Rooster, Kurtis’ best friend,” You inform her, “And now he won’t return my texts or anything. I haven’t heard from him in two weeks. And I’m afraid I ruined everything.”

“Oh,” She said softly, “I see…well, maybe it isn’t as bad as you think.”

“Mommy, I think I started to have feelings for him,” You admit, feeling your stomach twist, “And I feel like I’m cheating on Kurtis because I have feelings for another man, his best friend nonetheless and I feel like it just makes me a horrible person.”

“Oh honey, you’re allowed to move on.Kurtis wouldn’t want you to be alone forever. Maybe he would be glad it’s Rooster, out of anyone else, because he’d know him well enough to know that he would take care of you.”

“He made Rooster promise to take care of me,” You informed her, “And I took advantage of how we were feeling, how vulnerable we both were. God, he’ll never forgive me.”

“Maybe he’s just as confused as you are, sweetheart,” She suggests, “Maybe he needs space to figure it out, just like you do.”

It was another week before you got the courage to try to call Rooster. It went right to voicemail, like he declined your call. It makes you cry, thinking that you lost him too. You beg for him to call you back in the voicemail and apologize for ruining everything.

He doesn’t answer your call, or your texts. You go as far as texting one of the other members of the squadron to make sure he’s okay, at the very least. You’re told that he’s fine, just busy with training and to let up on calling and texting all of the time.

You feel your heart drop a little. He really doesn’t want to talk to you, or even see you. One night ruined everything. You hated it, because it was an amazing night, you didn’t want to regret it. You were tried of regretting things. But if that one amazing night cost you Rooster, how could you not regret it?  

You try to go about your days as normal, working and coming home to an empty house. You even look at dogs, but none of them seem to speak to you. None of them felt right to you, like you didn’t have a connection with them. You feel broken again, like a giant piece of you is missing. 

In a way, a big part of you is missing. Because Rooster became a big part of your life, a very normal part. You got too used to him being around and being in your house. Too used to him always being there with you. Too used to him holding you at night. 

You’re back to having a mountain of pillows again to try to make the bed feel less empty. You went as far as ordering a weighted blanket to try to help. You were willing to try anything, as long as it meant you could sleep again. Because sleep was avoiding you once more. 

You’re in the middle of cleaning a week later when you realized your period was late. Well, even later than it had been in the last few months. Your stomach churned at the thought. There was a whole stockpile of pregnancy tests in the cabinet underneath your sink in the bathroom, but the thought of taking one now….you couldn’t.

You couldn’t possibly be pregnant from one single night with Rooster. The universe couldn’t be that cruel to you, surely. There had to be some other reason that you’re extra late, the stress maybe? The fact you haven’t been eating a lot? 

Your mind is spinning with possibilities. So many of them it makes you dizzy. Surely you aren’t pregnant though, it’s got to be a fluke, some sort of coincidence. 

Your front door opening makes you pause, your body shaking like a leaf. 

“Hey, it’s me,” Rooster calls from the entryway, “Can I come in?”

When you can’t bring yourself to respond you hear the sound of footsteps getting closer. Rooster takes in the way you look, white as a sheet, shaking in the middle of your living room. If he didn’t know any better, he would say that you’d seen a ghost. It worries him. 

He came here to apologize for being so distant and explain himself. He came here to put himself out here, lay everything out on the table. Strip himself bare and let you know how he really felt, but now all he can do is rush forward and wrap you in his arms.

Tears burst from your eyes before you can even catch up with what’s happening. He strokes your back, shushing you gently. You clutch onto him, needing him to keep you grounded. You’re terrified, absolutely terrified. How would he react to what you have to tell him? How would he react to knowing he could be a father?

“What’s wrong,” He whispers, kissing the top of your head, “Talk to me.”

“You left,” You sob, “My period is late.”

He tenses, “How late?”

“Late enough,” Is all you can manage in response.

He swallows thickly, “Have you taken a test?”

You shake your head. You couldn’t take one all alone. The thought of what the results could be….no way you could’ve handled that without anyone here with you. There wasn’t anyone you could call to sit with you either, there was only Rooster. And until this moment, he was awol. 

“Do you have any tests?” He questions, brows furrowed. 

You nod slowly. 

“Okay, c’mon, you need to take one. We can figure out what to do once we know,” He tells you softly, pulling you towards your bedroom. 

“I’m scared,” Your voice is so soft he almost doesn’t hear you, “Will you stay?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” He doesn’t know if you mean just for this moment, or forever, but either way, he didn’t want to leave you. 

His chest ached during the time he was away from you. He felt like he was missing a part of him. And the thought tore him up, because he felt like he was betraying his best friend. Kurtis made Rooster promise that he would look after you, not that he would fall in love with you. 

“How long do we have to wait?” He asks you softly, scared to speak any higher than a whisper. 

“A few minutes.”

He nods and grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly for a moment, “Whatever happens, it’s going to be okay.”

At some point he’s going to have to tell you that he received orders. That’s another reason why he stayed away, because he was going to leave and he didn’t know how to tell you. Just like he didn’t know how he was supposed to leave you behind. It wasn’t like he was staying close either, they were sending him all the way across the country. Back to Virginia Beach.

He wanted to ask you to come with him, and he would. If you were pregnant with his child, there was no way he would leave you behind. Even if the test was negative, he couldn’t stomach being so far away from you. It made him feel physically sick just to think about it. 

Your phone timer goes off a few minutes later. He holds you tightly as you flip over the test, brows knitted together as you struggle to read it. But there’s only one line, not two. Bradley almost lets out a sigh of relief, but your eyes are watering. 

“This is good,” You try to convince yourself, “We couldn’t- I-”

“It’s okay,” He assures you, kissing the top of your head. 

Because he feels the same way, both relieved and somehow disappointed. One day, maybe if you feel the same way, you could have a child together. He could imagine it, and for a moment he let’s himself see it. 

“I should be happy,” You try wiping at the tears, but more just keep coming, “Why aren’t I happy? Where have you been?”

“I needed time to think,” He admits, still holding you tightly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It feels right, having you here. It shouldn’t, but it does,” You tell him, turning in his arms so you can hug him back.

“I know it does, I feel the same way. Felt like I was walking around without a limb,” He laughs softly, “It’s wrong, but it feels so right to be with you.”

“Then stay,” You say simply, “Stay with me, Rooster.”

He swallows, “I got orders, I’m being restationed.”

“What?” Your heart drops, he’s leaving you, “Where?”

“Virginia Beach. I leave in two weeks,” He answers, “They actually gave a good heads up.”

“Oh.”

“Come with me.”

You look up at him, eyes still wet, “You want me to come with you? Are you just saying that because I thought I was pregnant?”

“Baby, I was going to ask you before that,” He promises, “I want you with me. We can start over out there.”

“My life is here,” You blink. 

“You hate your job, you’re always complaining about it. Your family is on the East Coast,” He explains, “What do you have to keep you here?”

You almost say Kurtis. But then you think about it. You’ve been to his grave only a few times since the funeral. You hate the idea of him being there, in the cold ground. You’ve never been the type to sit and talk to a big slab of stone. Because in your mind, he isn’t there, he’s just everywhere. He’s in the rays of sun that peek through the clouds, and in the cool sea breeze, he’s in the flowers. He’s everywhere, and yet he’s nowhere. 

“Okay,” You breathe out. 

“Yeah?” He questions, bending down so he can look straight in your eyes, “Are you sure?”

“Do you even know where you’re going to live?” You question, a laugh somehow finding its way out. 

“My folks had a house not far from base,” He explains, “I’ve kept it up and rented it out for a couple of years to other military families. The last tenants just got restationed too, so it’s wide open and ready.”

“Your parents' house? Like where you grew up?” You ask, looking up at him. 

“Yeah,” He nods, “I was going to pack up a u-haul and drive it down next week.”

“You really want me to come with you?” You question again, trying to wrap your head around everything that’s happening. 

You went from thinking you were pregnant to suddenly agreeing to move across the country with your husband's best friend. Only, he’s more than that now. Because he means more to you now. He’s someone you’re falling in love with, and someone you never expected to love. It snuck up on you, slowly and steadily, until suddenly it’s all you could think about. 

Until all you wanted was to be held by him all day every day, and to talk to him and to kiss him. All you wanted was to be around him. The thought of him being all the way across the country from you made your chest hurt. You couldn’t imagine being that far away from him. You couldn’t say that you loved him out loud, it still felt too soon for something like that. But you did feel it, like a blanket wrapping around your heart. 

“Baby, I can’t imagine you being anywhere else,” He replies honestly, “I want you with me, everyday.” 

You lean up to kiss him. Softly, slowly, like you have all the time in the world. Because now you really felt like you did. If you were going to go with him, you’d have every single day to do this, for as long as you had him. 

“Okay,” You say again. 

“Yeah?”

You nod and kiss him once more, “Yeah. I’ll come with you. I want to come.”

Two weeks later you climbed the lush green hill towards the spot where Kurtis was buried. You were dressed in comfortable shorts and an old t-shirt that Rooster left behind before driving to Virginia. You take a deep breath and sit down, hand skimming the top of the tombstone.

“I’m not good at saying goodbye,” You sigh, “But I think you already know everything I’m going to say. I like to think that you’ve been keeping an eye on both of us. Maybe you gave him the push he needed to come back to me. Or gave me the push to admit how I felt about him. Either way, I blame all of this on you, Kurt. Playing matchmaker from the beyond.”

You take a deep breath and set flowers down, “I know it hasn’t even been a year yet. But he isn’t replacing you. No one could ever do that. You were my soulmate, I firmly believe that. But I’m not the same person I was when we got married, losing you changed me. It changed him too, and I think it changed us so much that we fit together now. I love him, Kurtis, and I didn’t mean to. It just sort of happened.”

You wipe at a few stray tears. You never planned on saying goodbye to him twice. This time feels like closing the chapter on the two of you. A very final goodbye. Your chest felt tight, you wished Rooster was here with you, instead of waiting for you to make the drive across the country in his Bronco. You sold your car last week, with plans to buy something a little better once you got settled in Virginia. 

“I hope you’re happy wherever you are. I wish you were still here…I miss you every day. I’m not trying to replace you, because no one ever could. But I also can’t be alone forever, and I think you understand that. I certainly hope so. I leave for Virginia today. Rooster is letting me drive the Bronco, can you believe that? He didn’t even seem worried when he handed me the keys. I remember you used to joke that you’d know he really loved someone when he let them drive that thing….so, I guess that means he must love me too.”

You take a deep breath and stand up, “Thank you for being my first love, Kurt. I’m sorry you weren’t my last, I wish you could have been. You know I’ll never forget you, and I’ll always love you. But this isn’t home for me anymore, so I have to go.”

You lean down to kiss the tombstone, “Goodbye Kurt, I’ll love you forever.”

You’re in the Bronco, ready to start the vehicle when you pull out your phone and call Rooster. He picks up on the second ring, his voice putting you at ease almost instantly. You relax into the seat, smelling him all around you. 

“Are you on your way?” He questioned. 

“Leaving now,” You tell him, “I’ll call you at every stop, I promise.”

“I’ll be waiting here for you,” His voice sounds so happy, you can almost picture him smiling in the middle of the living room, “I can’t wait for you to get here.”

“Just a couple of days,” You remind him, “And then I’m all yours.”

“Do you have everything?” He asks again, for the millionth time today. 

“I triple checked,” You promise, “I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you,” He says quickly, without even thinking. 

The admission makes you smile. You said it for the first time before he left, unable to stop yourself. You were afraid something might happen to him on his drive and you needed him to know it, just in case. He smiled and kissed you so hard you swore your lips might bruise, then he told you he loved you a million times. 

“I love you,” You laugh, turning the keys in the ignition, “I’ll see you soon, Roos. Stay safe.”

“Drive safe, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see you again,” He sighs, “Been too long already.”

You laugh and pull away from the curb, “Soon,” You promise, “I gotta go. I’ll call you later tonight. Fly safe.”

“Always,” He promises, “Just come on home to me, baby. Come on home.”

#rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fanfic #rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw imagines #top gun #top gun imagine #top gun maverick

[gojoidyll]

Infinity

Yandere ! Gojo x Female ! Reader

Part 7 | not my wife

warnings | light smut, slight yandere!sukuna if you squint, yandere!gojo, sukuna calling y/n "sweetheart" and "lil lady", etc.

Notes | this fic will be using she/her pronouns for y/n. Also this is a reincarnation fic, so Gojo's name will not be "Satoru" in this part. And please let me know if you want to be in a taglist for this series !! ^-^

Summary | And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.

Infinity Masterlist

GOJO SEIJI felt bile rise in his throat when y/n got married to someone that wasn't him. Everything was falling apart again.

"Looks like we're going to have to start over again," he muttered mindlessly to himself, blue eyes boring into the perfect wedding scene before him as y/n batted her eyelashes, lips plump and full as she closed her eyes-head titled up as Sukuna leant down and kissed her.

"I'm sorry?"

He glanced to y/n's mother who was standing beside him, a smile etching across his face as he waved her off, "oh, sorry, I was just saying how I was going to have to look for a new maid was all."

Y/n's mother nodded with a smile, "I'm sure y/n would be happy to help you look for one!"

"Yeah..bet she would, wouldn't she?"

Sukuna's hand cupped and groped at y/n's breasts, his fingers pinching and rolling her pert nipples.

He didn't want to admit it, but he reveled in how that bastard Gojo looked during the reception. Especially when he got to kiss y/n too. He just looked so fucking pissed.

Sukuna could also imagine how angry the prodigy must be too. How angry he must be fully knowing that Sukuna is getting to enjoy his pretty wife thats laying under him right now. Her (color) skin tinted into the darkest shade of red as her breath was heavy and quick, her chest heaving as she gripped the bedsheets below her.

"Su- sukuna~"

"Aw, needy already? I haven't even touched you that much."

He chuckled darkly as his knees dug unto her thighs to keep her planted to the bed. His hands roaming her bare skin as his fingers grasped and plucked at the waistband of her underwear.

His head bending forward a bit as he placed his lips on her neck, his teeth biting and sucking on her skin as he worked a mark on her.

She whined and lifted her hands, her grasp fixating onto his forearms.

"Suku- na, can we please just- just...," her lip quivered. She was scared. She couldn't go all the way yet. Yes, she married her best friend who she loved very dearly, but she wasn't ready. Not yet.

Sukuna, on the other hand, could read her like an open book and he relented. His knees moving to either side of her hips, caging her down as he bent towards her. His lips placing gentle kisses on her stomach, up between the valley of her breasts, along her neck and jaw, both her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her forehead, and finally back down on her lips.

"Such a cute lil lady, huh? Not ready, i'm guessing?"

She nodded, her arms moving to cover her breasts, causing him to lick his lips.

Damn, he wanted to devour her. Ruin her completely, but ... he could wait. Gojo couldn't touch her. If he did, his whole clan would fall.

"I'm sorry, Sukuna- I know.. I know this night was supposed to be special-"

"Stop that. You think I married you to fuck you?"

She blushed intensely at his blunt words.

"N- no"

"Good. want to know the real reason I married you then?"

He brought his hand up to her face, his fingers tracing small, light circles causing her to lean into his touch.

"I married you because I wanted to walk into a bar or tavern, see someone hitting on you and loudly declare Hey! Thats my wife! and punch them square in the jaw, knocking them out."

She deadpanned.

"Oh, and love too, I guess."

"Sukuna!"

She slapped his arm and was already giggling.

"Oh? Hitting me now? How rude, we just got married and you're already abusing me!"

She hit him again, but this time on his shoulder.

"Two can play at that game, sweetheart!"

"Sukuna, no! Stop!"

Her struggles were futile as he attacked her with tickles. Her body shaking under his merciless assault.

"Sukuna- stop-" she gasped "I'm going to pee, if you keep tickling me!"

She wailed and tried to curl in on herself but he wasn't having it.

It was safe to say that the two slept peacefully after that.

Gojo, on the other hand, was still angry over everything, but he was atleast relieved that the two didn't go all the way.

"Tch."

He left his secluded hidden spot. His feet taking him back home even though his heart and mind and soul were telling him to just go in there and take care of everything now.

But first things first.

He had to make sure that y/n loves him in all lives from now on.

Infinity taglist | @whore-for-hawks @esthelily @huicitawrites @flaming-vulpix @zeniiis @rin1802 @mrowwww @kenstarsworld

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere satoru gojo #yandere gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk gojo

[yakuzacanons]

Yakuza Headcanons: Watching Spooky Movies

Oooooo it's the spooky season ain't it. Hello hello I rise from the grave to bring you some fresh headcanons for the season. For those with asks still in the inbox, I SEE em, just been busy with my horror movie marathon. Anyways, some headcanons below da cut to tide you over. Also welcome bouncing baby boy Ichiban to the gang!

Kiryu Kazuma

Isn't scared easily by much of anything so it's really easy to get him to watch horror movies. Mostly watches them because someone else is too scared to watch them alone. He's the person they can hide behind or who will tell them when a particularly horrifying scene is over.

Gore doesn't bother him as much as something or someone looking creepy or offputting will. Kiryu still won't get scared but he will get uncomfortable. Most of the time he just reacts by going "Ah... oh!"

Fond of the classics and will gravitate towards movies with a strong and likable protagonist. Likes The Evil Dead, Aliens, and Halloween. Directors don't matter much to him.

Majima Goro

He's a mixed bag. If a movie is well put together, then it can scare him pretty easily. He's most scared of ghost stories or paranormal things. Least afraid of slashers because he thinks he could just beat them all up.

Cannot stand jump scares. Sometimes he evens yells at his TV at home in irritation, saying things like "Oi, whaddya keep makin' loud noises for? Sheesh!"

Honestly, the weirder the movie the better. It might seem stereotypical for someone who looks and acts like Majima but he thinks the whole point of horror is to be interesting. Fond of Takashi Miike movies like Ichi the Killer, Audition, and Over Your Dead Body.

Akiyama Shun

Doesn't watch a lot of movies because he totally falls asleep during most of them. He'll at least give it a shot if you ask nicely though. Honestly more motivated by the fact you might cling to him during the scary parts than anything.

As much as Akiyama is a total ladies' man and romantic at heart, he always laughs whenever characters start being intimate during horror movies. He makes jokes out of it, saying things like "Babe, would you still love me if we were in a spooky movie?"

Movies with a good soundtrack actually help him stay awake. Jump scares annoy him though because if he falls asleep, the noise makes him panic. Fond of monster movies or movies about animals like Jaws, Shin Godzilla, and The Host.

Saejima Taiga

Genuinely not scared of a single darn thing. If you want to watch it, he's down to give it at least a try. He might nod off if he's tired or bored, but he tries his best not to. Horror comedy is okay with him too although he might not get all the jokes.

Most of the time he sits with his arms crossed, paying full attention. He's kind of funny in that he makes noises like "Heh" or "Hmph" when a character is caught off guard by something. Makes an occasionaly "Tsk" sound at jump scares. Otherwise he's not reactionary.

Particularly fond of slashers, probably because those usually have villains that are actually kind of his size. He enjoys the Friday the 13th series, particularly Jason X.

Tanimura Masayoshi

Type of guy to be like "Ooh let's watch this, I heard it's really scary" and then proceed to either get scared out of his wits or say something like "Wait, that's ALL?" at the end. Bases most of his movie choices off of other people's recommendations since he's usually too busy to randomly go see however many movies he wants to.

Doesn't really like horror that's super in your face. Gets more scared by the tension itself than anything. Always has movie snacks on hand.

Found footage is probably his most favorite type of horror. Likes The Blair Witch Project, Noroi, and REC. Fond of director Koji Shiraishi.

Ryuji Goda

Doesn't watch a lot of horror movies but like Saejima he's not scared of anything. He's also the type of guy to drop everything to spend time watching a movie with his partner. Gets a kick out of being a shield or protector during scary parts.

Likes movies with a lot of personality and campiness. Slow burns or psychological thrillers just put him to sleep. It doesn't matter if it's good or bad, as long as it's entertaining.

Didn't think he'd end up being much of a horror fan but he's quite partial to John Carpenter. Likes The Thing, They Live, and Christine.

Nishikiyama Akira

One of the bigger scaredy cats of the group. Won't suggest a horror movie but will totally act like he's not at all afraid if you ask to see one.

Honestly, the two of you end up just kind of holding onto each other during scary parts or pulling up the blanket almost over your eyes when a character is about to die. Violence doesn't necessarily bother him but excessive gore kind of annoys him.

Enjoys a good ghost story movie but only if you'll watch it with him. Anthologies are also good too since it offers so much at once. Likes Ju-On, Ringu, and Tales From The Crypt.

Mine Yoshitaka

Likes certain horror movies. Not scared of much but he does get noticably uncomfortable with torture movies like Saw or Hostel. He just finds it to be weird more than entertaining.

Fond of more classic monsters like vampires or werewolves. Mine's the type of guy to actually have a decent home theater setup, even if he doesn't get much time to use it, so he doesn't go to the movie theater much.

Has a soft spot for some of the really old classics in the 30's like Frankenstein or Nosferatu. His favorite horror movie is Interview With The Vampire.

Daigo Dojima

Probably the only one of the boys who actively enjoys slow burns and more psychological horror. He doesn't get opportunities to watch movies much but he does have an interest in the medium as a whole.

Particularly loves anything with spectacular cinematography. Good directing, lighting, or costumes really impress him. Kind of interested in some of the technical aspects as well. Also probably the only of the boys to ever look something up on IMDb.

Especially fond of movies by Kiyoshi Kurosawa. His favorite horror films are Kwaidan, Cure, and Pulse.

Tatsuo Shinada

The biggest scaredy cat of all of the boys. Will attempt to watch a spooky movie with you at least once just for the sake of trying but will honestly just close his eyes if he feels overwhelmed. You HAVE to hold his hand though.

Probably the only one of the boys who actually gets squeamish easily. Gore and blood make him uncomfortable, although he has SOME tolerance in general. He'd just rather watch something that's not super heavy on bloodshed.

Horror films with a particular visual style, especially super colorful ones, make it a lot easier for him as he can actually see what's happening and he feels less worried. Movies like House or Suspiria are good for him. Also likes super over the top movies like The Lost Boys or Killer Klowns From Outer Space as they're so hilarious to him that he forgets to be scared.

Kasuga Ichiban

Somewhat easily scared. He gets more shocked or surprised than scared, honestly. The movie HAS to be interesting to some degree or he will just conk out and there will be no waking him. Doesn't mind jump scares since they help keep him awake at least even if the movie's bad.

Having said that, he does enjoy taking the time to see a movie that's genuinely just really good and talking about it with you afterward. Movies with really good effects tend to impress him a lot. It's also more visually memorable.

Tends to like movies where the main character has special powers. Partial to zombie movies since a lot tends to happen and involves multiple characters. He likes 28 Days Later, The Dead Zone, and Carrie.

#yakuza #yakuza headcanons #yakuza imagines #ryu ga gotoku #ryu ga gotoku headcanons #ryu ga gotoku imagines #goro majima #majima goro #akiyama shun #kazuma kiryu #kiryu kazuma #nishikiyama akira #akira nishikiyama #ryuji goda #daigo dojima #mine yoshitaka #yoshitaka mine #ichiban kasuga #tatsuo shinada #masayoshi tanimura #saejima taiga