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#hes gotten better over the years but i worry he may be a wreck if he goes by himself
artzzyb00-27 · 1 month
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Car Safety; Worried Parents
You already know, let's just hop in.
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Harry getting his license was nerve-wracking. Not for him, for Athena. She'd seen many reckless teenagers lose control while driving. So when Harry got his permit, she had the excuse of still being the one driving, or at least being able to make sure he was safe. With the license, he would be alone.
Bobby was nervous too. Mainly because he didn't want to go on a call and see his kid(yes he saw Harry as his own) in the wrecked car. He and Michael were both trying to look for a car that wasn't over the top for Harry's first. May wasn't worried, she trusted Harry. She just made him promise she wouldn't receive a call while she was working about him.
"I know that will be me when Chris gets his license," Eddie said in the loft of the firehouse. Bobby had shared the news that Harry had gotten his license and decided to wait to get a car. Smart choice with how the market was right now.
"I'm worried that Denny will use it as an excuse to leave whenever we're in arguments. Driving while you are angry is the most dangerous." Hen said. Chimney was contemplating how old he would even let Jee-Yun get close to the driver's seat.
"Harry's a smart kid. He's Athena's. He'll be fine on the road when he gets his car."
"You better not give him your Jeep Buck," Bobby warned his surrogate son.
"Don't worry, saving that for Jee-Yun."
"Don't you dare Buckley. Besides why not give it to Chris?" Eddie raised an eyebrow and gave Buck an, 'Oh yeah?', look despite the comment being Chimney's.
"Cause then I'd end up sleeping in the car. Besides Chris already called dibs on the truck."
"Which he'll get when we get another one. So don't even think about it." Raising his hands in defense, he walked behind the counter to help Bobby with lunch. After eating peacefully, the alarm went off and they ran to the truck.
"Alright, we gotta car crash. A Jeep Wrangler and a Lambo." Ravi winced at imaging the ways it could've happened. No matter what, both people in the cars were probably okay. It was a rainy day so either of the cars could have lost control from the wet cement.
When they arrived at the scene, they saw Athena who looked scared. She walked up to the team and debriefed them.
"Teenager in the jeep. Seventeen, turning eighteen tomorrow. The father was in the copilot seat. Lambo was an older man. Had to handcuff him." She explained pointing at the 40-year-old-looking man. Who was cursing the kid across from him. The poor kid looked terrified.
"Already questioned him, I need you guys to get the parent out, he's knocked unconscious." Looking behind her, they were able to see the jeep tipped on its right side. Through the windshield, they could see the father's face. With blood dripping down slightly. Rushing into action they were able to pull him out and make sure he was alive.
When he felt that someone was holding him, he stirred a bit.
"Sir, we're gonna help you out. Can you tell me your name?"
"Mm, Patrick Mendieta. My son, where is he?" He slurred out trying to break free weakly while looking for his kid.
"He's safe sir don't worry."
"You don't understand, he had top surgery a few months ago. Stitches are closed completely but-,"
"In that case, we'll double-check. Right now we need to get you to the hospital to fix up that head of yours." Hen told him while Buck went to go check on the kid.
"Hey there, what's your name?"
"Oliver. I swear it wasn't my fault. We were just driving like normal and he came out of nowhere."
"Yeah right! You were going too fucking slow! Idiot children, don't have no respect-"
"Sir, calm down before I make you," Buck said, effectively making him shut up. Looking back at the kid, he saw the tears streaming down his face. Anger in his eyes.
"He wasn't watching the speed limit. And somehow it's my fault to be careful in the rain."
"I know kid, trust me he'll get reprimanded. Right now I need to make sure you're okay. Your door took the hit it seems." Oliver looked back to his car to realize that Buck was right.
The driver's side was dented, which made the fault immediately go to the other driver. With that he let Buck examine him. Few bruised ribs and a sprained wrist. Nothing serious but would have to go to the doctor to check his back.
After sending the kid away, they dealt with any more issues the rain had caused before heading back to the firehouse. Athena had gotten there early and was sitting at the dinner table eating the food she made for dinner.
"Athena?"
"Couldn't go back immediately. Not after that. Can't stop thinking about Harry." Massaging her shoulders, Bobby made sure she was relaxed before driving back out on patrol.
When the shift ended Eddie and Buck gave Chris an extra long hug. Hen gave Denny another pop quiz on how to handle driving in the rain, and Athena did not let Harry drive any car for a month after that. Not without initial protest. However, it turned to guilt after hearing about the accident from his classmate Oliver.
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holyfruitsnax · 2 years
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Comfort
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Summary: After May passed, Peter had it rough. It’s been a year now and you’re noticing some healing both mentally, and physically.
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Warnings: Depression/ eating disorder spoken about briefly, slightly self conscious Peter, fluff none the less, cursing of course
  You’d gone with Peter to May’s funeral and supported him as much as possible. He’d lost everyone but you, and at this point, you weren’t sure how much more the poor guy could take. Immediately after everything happened, Peter put his suit away, opting to just stay home and bury himself alive with sadness. The two of you talked about therapy, but Peter didn’t really want to. So, you gave him time. His weight had dropped drastically within the first few weeks of his mourning, which worried you to no end. He wasn’t really eating, leaving, or even showering. You figured if you didn’t live there too the apartment would be a wreck, but you stayed patient and made sure Peter knew you loved him.
  It was a good sign when Peter texted and asked if you wanted to go see a movie together while you were at work one day, things were finally getting better. It’s been a year since May passed, a year since Peter asked you to move in, and a year of progress. Today was the day you finally notice that physically. Opening the door to your apartment Led Zepplin blasted into the hall before you shut it behind yourself. Kicking off your shoes you smiled watching Peter dance around singing along with his music “Have a good day babe?” He called out looking in your direction, taking a bite of a sandwich he’d made himself, sauntering over to you. “It was alright yeah.” You sighed shrugging off your coat, Peter taking it into his hands to hang it on the rack. “Tough day?” Peter raised a brow, placing his chin atop your head. “Sort of, it’s alright though. Mostly just inconvenient.” You smiled feeling your boyfriends’ arms wrap around you as he pressed himself close to your back, forcing you to walk towards the sofa.
  That’s when you noticed. Instead of a firm six back, you felt a soft layer of love pressing against your spine. “They lost a file I need to finish up one of my tasks with another company, without it I’ll be behind.” You sighed turning around in his arms. “I’m sure it’ll all be fixed tomorrow. They’ll find the file.” Peter hummed turning so his back landed against the sofa taking you with him. Propping yourself up, you straddled Peter’s lap to get a good look at him. “What?” He smiled up at you slightly confused. “Nothing, I’m just checking you out~ Is that okay?” you smiled back making Peter laugh. “By all means.” He winked folding one of his arms behind his head/
  Peter wasn’t overly chubby, but he definitely had a little fluff to him. His chest and arms still held muscle, there was just a soft layer to them now. His cheeks seemed a bit puffier, but the biggest difference was his tummy. His soft pale skin peeking from under the bottom of his grey t-shirt ever so slightly, and oh so tempting to squish. “You’re so cute.” You cooed cupping Peter’s face in your hands pressing a sugary kiss to his lips. “What’s gotten into you.” Peter chuckled furrowing his brows, not minding the baby treatment though.
  You answered by lifting the hem of his shirt, letting your hand run across Peter’s soft abdomen. He froze. “Oh...You noticed that?” Peter’s cheeks suddenly tinged a shade deeper as he scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m kinda...” Peter sat up a little keeping you in his lap, using one hand to poke his own stomach. “Out of shape I guess.” He dropped his head a little, feeling embarrassed that he’d let himself get ‘sloppy’ in his mind. “I’ll have to find a gym or something nearby, to fix this.” Peter gestured over himself with a half laugh, falling back against the couch again slightly defeated. Oh Hell no.
 Noticing his change in demeanor you went into affection mode. Placing a kiss just above the waistband of Peter’s sweatpants you hummed, trailing up across his stomach making him gasp a little. “I don’t mind it baby. I think you’re incredibly sexy~” You reassured him with a purr, one hand pushing his shirt further out of the way so you could kiss up his chest as well. Peter settled hearing you say it was alright, “Are you sure?” His brows raised in surprise. “I mean I’ve never, you know. I’m usually.” He flexed his arm for emphasis, which still looked God like, making you roll your eyes and smile. “Yes Peter, I am one hundred percent content with the way you look...I’m relieved actually. You look good. Happy even.” You sat up letting his shirt fall back messily into place while he stared at you with half lidded eyes.
  “What?” You smiled back at him. “Nothing, nothing I just love you.” Peter pulled you up towards his face, one hand on your jaw the other on your lower back pressing your body flush with his own. “I love you too Petie.” You mumbled out before leaning into Peter’s lips, you could connect the dots on how your night was about to end.
I hope you enjoy Loves <3 -Snax
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busdriver-55 · 2 years
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Featuring Chronic Pain/Illness
Making this list/post was and is pretty personal for me tbh. In my last rec post I know I vaguely mentioned that I was going through something personal that was really intense and pretty scary, I still am tbh, which is why my posts are infrequent. For those who are following me for my recommendation posts - I'm sorry for being a disappointment, but I can explain. The title of this post "featuring chronic pain/illness" may seem morbid, but I needed to make a list for myself first and everyone else who was looking for relatable fics to read. Now we're about to get personal: I'm not well. I have been going through the diagnosis process for debilitating chronic pain. I'm not gonna say any more than that, but the fics on this list have really helped me feel less alone, and whilst I don't have every single illness/issue featured in every fic on the list, I do have some of them. But basically I just wanted to share these, especially as there isn't a lot of representation of chronic pain/illness in the media and books let alone fandom and these fics took a long time and a lot of effort to find. I really hope they can help anyone going through smthn similar to me. To everyone else, please enjoy the list - the fics on here are all really great. 🤕💖🏥🙏🏻
little sicks by violethoure666: Rey and Ben have a good thing going. They meet up once a week to have filthy, casual sex. Everything is totally fine, until Rey gets sick. As Rey's life falls apart, Ben's role in it begins to change; as her control over her situation slips away, her desire for the kind of rough, painful sex that she and Ben bonded over slips away with it. Without that, does she have anything left to offer? (undiagnosed chronic illness)
i will hide you when it gets too much by @dankobah: Rey and Ben are roommates. Somehow they have managed to live in the same apartment with very limited face to face interaction - seriously they communicate over text. One day when Ben wakes up in extreme pain due to his Fibro, he hears Rey puking her guts out in the bathroom, worried ge decides to go check on her and see if he can help. Neanwhile Rey who's has CFS since high school, is struggling with flareups of excruciating period pain. What follows is the two of them trying to take care of themselves and each other, as they realise that they don't have to fight this alone. (Fibromialgia, ME/CFS, Endometriosis)
Hanging by a Moment by @crossingwinter: There are many things that Ben could have tolerated about his parents’ divorce. That his mother had finally had it with his father’s borderline illegal—or rather, as he liked to put it, borderline legal—company, the shady activities it covered that would doubtlessly end her political career if a reporter got hold of them; that his father had finally had it with the way his mother nags, because sure, he’d thought it was hot twenty years ago, but he is in fact an adult who can actually keep his shit together—all that he would have gotten. He’d have been wrecked, but he’d have gotten it. His dad leaving his mom for a nineteen-year-old gold-digger though, and his mother not even putting up a fight—that had caught him by surprise. (MS - Multiple Sclerosis)
Jumping Into The Deep End by AnneAnna: She's his Sugar Baby at Night, his niece and nephews' Nanny by Day, his wife in name to get better Health Insurance. But Rey and Ben are positive this won't get messy. (Diabetes)
Meet Me at the Pier by @impossiblefangirl0632: A commuter meet cute where Ben and Rey are both narcoleptics. Ben was diagnosed years ago but Rey is struggling to accept she even has a problem. She’s a student, she’s just tired, everything’s fine. Until it’s not. (Narcolepsy)
Pressure Point by vuas: After taking a hit in the parking lot after a kickboxing competition, Rey suffers a severe neck injury. She is assigned Dr Ren, a chiropractor to help with her pain. (chronic neck pain) -> this one's also pretty smutty but the rep is there for me
honey sweet (lips zipped) by lachesisgrimm (olga_theodora): Rey had always been good at keeping secrets. Considering her childhood, a husband was a fairly small secret to keep. (Diabetes)
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Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (419): Wed 10th May 2023
Up early for a visit to the doctors this morning about an issue that has needed to be resolved for some time. In recent years I’ve found myself constantly worrying, overthinking, instantly picturing the worst possible outcome of every decision I make and unable to find the enthusiasm to even do things that I like. I also try to avoid other people like the plague and having to even exchange friendly banter with them makes my skin crawl. I think it’s pretty obvious to anyone reading this that my anxiety has really gotten out of control in recent years. The therapist I saw a while back tried her best to help treat my anxiety but it was to no avail (and to be fair she was trying the help me treat it while I was working in a call centre so she was fighting an uphill battle). When the therapy (specifically CBT) failed to ameliorate any of the issues associated with social anxiety disorder I realized that if I was ever going to get better it would have to be through medication. I thought that I was going to have to have a lengthy dialogue with the doctor because anxiety has become a bit of a buzzword these days and I wouldn’t be surprised if doctors are a bit suspicious that people have self diagnosed themselves with anxiety. I told the doctor about all the constant overthinking, the dark thoughts, the constant apprehension I have when it comes to venturing out of my comfort zone and having to interact with others and the lack of motivation to do even the things that I enjoy. I also mentioned that when I got diagnosed with BFS a few years ago the neurologist told me that it is typically triggered by anxiety. The doctor gave me a questionnaire to fill out in order to determine what level of anxiety I was at. The questionnaire had a possible high score of 30 and I scored 27. Five years ago I would have been shocked by this revelation but recently things have gotten so bad that my immediate reaction was that it sounded completely accurate. The doctor gave me a card for Mind the mental health charity and she’s given me some meds and told me to increase the dosage over the coming weeks. I’m glad that I’ve finally decided to stop burying these issues and hoping they resolve themselves. Hopefully I won’t be such a nervous wreck anymore and maybe it will also help treat the twitches in my calves too. I finally finished “reading” Cimarron Rose, the latest book in my quest to read all the winners of the Edgar Award for Beat Novel. Once again it’s an entry that is probably much more entertaining than k gave it credit for but I’m the kind of reader who needs to be gripped right from the start or else I’ll just be phoning it in for the remainder. The plot is about a cop defending a young black man who he suspects has been falsely accused of rape  (I know there will be some far-left people who don’t recognize the term “falsely accused of rape” but people do actually lie. It happens). There’s also a subplot about being haunted by the ghost of a Navajo he accidentally shot dead but the novel as a whole wasn’t enough to captivate me. Maybe if there was a third subplot about a demonic dog who shoots flaming turds out of its arse and is going around Edinburgh killing people. I don’t know how the author could have worked that into a story set in the American badlands but if he’s a good author he would have found a way. The two items on my bucket list I’m determined to cross off before this year are to get my weight down to twelve stone and to finish reading all the Edgar books. I’m going to plow through the remaining 24 books in the series so that I can finally move on to my next challenge. Luckily the next book in the series Mr White’s Confession by Robert Clark arrived today so I’m going to jump right into it tomorrow.
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boydepartment · 1 year
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WAHHHHHHHH Sorry for worrying you, I'm doing very well, I wrote this message in the afternoon and was about to edit and send it. No transitions today because my ideas are very scattered and chaotic.
Today's writing song is coming of age by mxmtoon. I listened to her and Beach Bunny's music before quarantine, so it always takes me back and you can listen while reading. =)
I hope you have had fun on your road trip. From your pictures of everything, it seems like quite a adventure. As a side note, the outfits on your skzoo are super cute, did you make them yourself?
I spent some time thinking about your advice. I wish I could say that I've completely gotten over it, but progress has been like 3 steps forward, 2 steps back, 20 steps left, 50 steps right, jump 20x, get lost, start to cry, 5 steps forward. Everytime I think I've peaked, there's a another layer to work through. It's been really frustrating, but also rewarding. It's a reminder that I have a lot more room to grow and that's okay. Also, it takes so much more energy to be upset with where I am. I think I need to be more conscious of my own achievements and be okay with my own progress.
I'd like to think I'm a pretty introspective person, but I think everyone needs reminders sometimes, so thanks for being that person. I wish I could eat everyone's compliments and have them be a part of me when I can't see the good in myself. I'm trying to be more grateful for the things I do have, so for the next paragraph, you better internalize my compliments and take my burning heart on a stick or else I'll get really mad. >=( (I'm joking of course)
I think your comment about me being a sunshine was one of the nicest things someone has ever said to me. I hope to make everyone's day just a little better through these messages, but I think a lot of people can say the same about you. Although you say that you wish to be a little more positive, your advice has been and is very helpful, nonjudgmental, and realistic. Thanks for being such a great listener/reader? I like how your responses are always so reflective and introspective. Also, I can tell that your fics are based on your personal experiences based on your word choice, so I want to say that even if I can't completely understand, I will try my best be a listening ear. I think if we actually met irl, I would be a little less of a nervous wreck, maybe. It's super special the kind of friendship/pen-pal ship? we have, considering that our paths wouldn't have intersected otherwise. I'm glad you exist. <3
Okay, that's enough cheese for one day. I'm already embarrassed to admit that I write anything as sheep anon, so I'm going to crawl under a rock until your response. New messages coming soon, may or may not be as mushy as this one, depends on how I'm feeling, have a nice day everyone and stay safe. <3
-🐑
p.s. If you had a fan club, what would you name your fans? I think we need a name at this point, maybe something related to flowers or buds?
It’s okay sheepie!!! It’s no worries I promise :) I just wanted to make sure you were well ❤️
I absolutely loved mxmtoon and beach bunny. Beach bunny opened up for a punk show I went to a few years ago and it was GENUINELY so fun. Mxmtoon will always have a special place in my heart
My road trip is really well!!! I got to see my boys again and it meant the world to me. I would do anything to see them again and again. And hopefully I’ll be able to!!! As for my little jiniret!!! The red lights outfit was hand made!! His little button up tho that was from Disneyland and the hoodie he came with :) my other Amazon bought SKZOOs do have handmade clothing though :)
Sheepie i promise you that going back and forth is totally normal. The fact that you recognize it and are trying to focus on the positives really show how much you’ve grown I can promise you that. You have accomplished a lot even if it doesn’t seem like it. I’m so immensely proud of you. I will remind you whenever I can of this
I really do wish to be more positive and I try to especially regarding what has happened to me in the past. I will always try to not be judgey because we never know what the other person is struggling with.
My fanfics are definitely based on my mental and own life experiences. Pizza Parlor was a way to heal how I wrote fanfics when I was 14. It was just fun for me and a way to let all my daydreams out
I’m sorry. I’m late. Was always meant to be way more grown up. Just like how I wrote the reader, I’ve always wanted to run away ever since I graduated highschool. Just like the reader she landed herself in a bad relationship with bad people surrounding her to the point of putting herself and anyone who lived with her in danger. Unfortunately writing that was me trying my absolute hardest to cope with that actually happening to me. The only way I felt safe alone at night was getting lost in daydreams where I did run away to a small town. Some JayJay lore here, small TW
I also wrote that fanfic in a way where the two main characters love was unconditional. Of course some things had to added for plot to keep it running and not boring. However, the beginnings of their relationship was always something I’ve wanted. Even after my sophomore year to senior year on and off romantic relationship I never got anything close to that. I DIDNT get that cute romance, I never got gifts that actually were meaningful. I was 16 and naive, I was mentally tortured and physically beat. I’m sorry, I’m late, means so much to me because I could actually write something that I’ve always wanted to experience. It helped me cope with the fact that I’ve never gotten that romantic unconditional love.
My past is what also ties me into who I bias, not to crowbar Hyunjin into here but I really started biasing him because of what’s happened to me in my past. The way he describes love and how it should be eternal and forever really gives me hope that I will get that fairytale ending for myself. It’s why I’ll still be kind to everyone I meet and wear my heart on my sleeve even after the fact.
I think me and you could totally have a nice chat over tea or coffee or whatever your preference is!!!! We could probably go on for hours!!! If you ever want to you know where to find my instagram if you’d ever want to call or anything :) as long as you’re comfortable!! I would never want to pressure you into anything!
I’m very happy our paths crossed sheepie!!! I look forward to your messages!! Stay safe until then sheepie 🤍
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I think if I had a fan base would be named doves!!! Even though I have a phobia of birds the dove represents the same thing as white roses. And I think the nickname dove is oh so sweet 🤍
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Ps sheepie
I’m in college rn and every advisor I’ve had has ignore my emails about my major change (I’m taking journalism classes but signed up as a theatre major) do you have any advice? I’m getting a tincy stressed
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onebrightflash · 4 years
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An old man who needs a vet visit
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omniscientwreck · 3 years
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Let me combine both of your favorite things! I would love a little thing about Caduceus (in his infinite wisdom and questionable intelligence) trying to give either Essek or Caleb relationship advice that may or may not be actually helpful. Those two wizards are probably too much in their own heads to see what's right in front of them and could use a little nudge. Just imagine both of them going to Caduceus for advice on how they're attracted to the other and Caduceus just sitting there trying to fight to urge to facepalm.
Hello! Thank you for combining my two favourite things into this fic that took way too long but I'm quite pleased with! I hope you enjoy!
In which Caduceus has three conversations with two wizards fighting against a force bigger than either of them.
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The first of these conversations Caduceus had was expected. Gardening alongside Essek, teaching him how to sow beauty where destruction had laid waste had been therapeutic for both of them. Caduceus had never given up on the war criminal. It’s difficult to feel no sympathy for someone whose story was written across their face in blank but pleasant stares and a mask of platitudes.
The state he’d been in when they met him at the outpost had filled Caduceus with determination. He’d been as close to a wreck as they’d ever seen him and now kneeling alongside him and looking over to see a small self-satisfied smile as he observed the work they’d done, it feels like they’ve done something right. This second chance had been well earned and he has faith that Essek will continue to earn it for the rest of his days.
This Essek is determined to right wrongs, and he’s started with the garden. He pays careful attention to the plants, always asking if he’s unsure about the compatibility of certain species, and making sure to put them exactly where they tell him. When they work past the point when the sun disappears behind emerald leaves he takes off the gloves Jester had made him and digs his hands into the ground. It seems to bring him peace, it’s good that he’s found any.
Most of the time when they work it’s silent, creases pressed into Essek’s forehead. He sweats through the layers that serve to keep him safe from the heat overhead and always has to be cajoled into taking breaks or drinking water. It reminds him a bit of Yasha.
On the third day, when he’d nearly gone faint Caduceus has to intervene, “You don’t need to hurt yourself to repent you know.”
Essek takes great care to swallow and not choke on the water he’d been sipping, bad timing. The mask comes up again, “I don’t know what you mean.” he states flatly. He knows that Caduceus is smarter than that and it shows.
“Hurting yourself doesn’t change anything. It’s the creation of beauty here that tips your scales, not the destruction of yourself.”
He nods slowly, indigo eyes downcast. “I suppose you’re correct. I have much to atone for Caduceus. There is much work to be done before I will deserve any of the kindness you foist upon me.”
“Hey now, I decide who deserves my kindness. We all do.”
Essek nods again, running a dirt stained hand through his silver hair. It leaves streaks of dirt, Caduceus says nothing.
“It’s difficult to be made aware of your stark moral failings, to learn what it means to truly care for someone again. It’s difficult to care more than you expect and to know what is enough, if anything is.”
His eyes flick behind Caduceus, where he can hear Caleb explaining something to Luc and he understands more than Essek probably wants him to. “You’ll find enough.” Essek looks at him, eyes full of a delicate hope, easily shattered, “He’ll tell you when it’s enough.”
His eyes widen just slightly and a deep blush spreads across his face alongside a smile so small it’s like he doesn’t want to let himself accept the barrage of feelings it holds back. “If.” His voice is small but the weight is heavy in the tone.
Caduceus reaches a hand to cover one of his, “When. Remember, I see things the rest of you don’t.”
Essek smiles wryly at that, voice full of mirth, “Of course Mr. Clay the ever observing.”
They go in for dinner and Essek speaks up a little more, he’s a little more alive. The change is small, but Caduceus notices.
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The second conversation is less expected, completely unexpected if he’s being honest. Caleb arrives at the doorstep of the grove one evening around 8 months after they’d last seen each other. “Hallo friend, I hope I am not intruding.”
His smile is easier now, though still restrained by sadness. “Not at all Mr. Caleb you are always welcome here. There should be left overs from dinner, fix yourself a plate.”
Caleb allows himself to be ushered in and fussed over. He tells a few stories of the trial but Caduceus tries to steer away from that particular vein of conversation. It’s raw and it doesn’t look like he’s fully healed. There’s still one catch somewhere that he needs to loose himself from before the smile will be easy and free, before he can walk away from his past and toward the future.
“I am going to Aeor next.”
Ah.
When Caduceus doesn’t say anything he continues, voice laced with trepidation, “I am going to ask Essek to join me.” he wants Caduceus to convince him of something.
“Well, two wizards is better than one.” He eyes Caleb knowingly and the wizard squirms a bit under his gaze.
“It is just, a little strange isn’t it? The directions we are led in.” He trails off again, maybe he’s hoping for wisdom. Caduceus decides he can probably dispense something.
“You’ve never seemed like someone who wanted much to be herded into decisions to me.”
“It’s been a journey.”
Caduceus clears his dish and sets down a teapot, “It’s a journey you’re still on. One that might not have a definite end. Is it worth it to deny yourself happiness because you’re worried about whether you deserve it?”
That caught him a little off guard, copper hair shook a bit as he’d clearly gone a little further than Caleb was expecting. He likes to talk in metaphors so that he can hide from truths later, or at least pretend everything can have multiple meanings. It’s time for Caduceus to stop letting him twist words around in that expansive brain of his until the original meaning is obscured by hypotheticals.
“I cannot tell you what’s right Caleb, but if you came here for a reasonable perspective listen to the one I’m giving you.” He pours the tea and offers honey, “You will never know if you don’t go and I know you better than you think. You don’t like loose ends, not as long as there’s something to learn.”
He nods, staring into tea, they’re so similar and so stubborn that Caduceus can feel the loving annoyance usually directed at his siblings creeping in. “Caleb, stop punishing yourself for something that wasn’t your fault in the first place.” Caleb nearly interrupts but Caduceus keeps barrelling through, “Self-flagellation won’t get you anywhere, you’ll just end up with regrets and what ifs. Go explore Aeor, forget everything else for a bit. Do that thing the two of you do where you’re finishing each other’s sentences and nobody knows why you’re bothering to speak out loud because it’s obvious you’re thinking the same things.”
Caleb’s smile is smaller now, but lighter. “Ja mein Freunde, I think you will. Thank you for tolerating questions I don’t know how to ask out loud.”
Caduceus smiles back, “I think this will be good. If you need anything while you’re there don’t hesitate to reach out. Stock up on healing, you’ll need it.”
Caleb laughs at that and spends the night, before heading to Zadash the next morning, undoubtedly to clear out Pumat’s stock of healing potions.
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The third time this conversation is had it’s his fault. He doesn’t mean to start it, but honestly the situation is getting ridiculous and the sibling feelings Caduceus has to both the wizards are firmly cemented.
They decide to get everyone together maybe a year after the last conversation. It’s his first time seeing any of them since then and as soon as they’re all in the same room it’s like no time has passed at all. Essek had come to get him while Caleb gathered the rest at Beau and Yasha’s home in Rexxentrum. Jester wraps him in a crushing and loving hug, Beau gives him a punch that’s soft for her but still stings, Yasha offers clippings of flowers immediately, and Fjord’s hug is warm. Veth’s family is here and she looks happier than he’s ever seen her. Caleb greets him with the warmth that’s always burned behind eyes that hold less and less sorrow every time he sees him. He hopes they’ll drop it all together one day.
When they pop back into existence from the way Caleb and Essek look at each other Caduceus expects something to happen. He doesn’t know what exactly but they hold each other’s eyes in a profound way. There’s gravity to them and everyone can feel it, he’s getting tired of watching them fight it.
It seems so simple even though he doesn’t feel that kind of pull, to see where this is going. It’s feels like the days before a big storm, when everyone knows what’s coming and it’s getting a little ridiculous that you’re still waiting for lightning to strike.
Everyone else drinks, they cook and eat and tell stories. Caleb and Essek sit apart but spend the entire time stealing glances across the table when they don’t think the other is looking. Nearly always they catch each other.
Yasha plays on the bone harp, she’s gotten very good and Jester swings Veth around into a dance. Kingsley, three sheets to the wind, grabs Beau and whips her into a reluctant dance and her initial protests eventually bubble into laughter. Caleb sits beside Caduceus and Jester has switched to twirling a flustered Essek across the floor of the livingroom. It often turns to dancing with these people and he loves that they love it so much.
“As I recall you’re an excellent dancer Mr. Caleb, go cut in.”
He shakes his head, “Ah- I couldn’t. Yasha is playing and I don’t think you’re much of a dancer.” He looks over with a quirk of a brow.
“I’m sure Jester won’t mind a break.”
He coughs at that, “I ah-”
Caduceus shakes his head, “No, talking is done, this is getting ridiculous.” He puts a hand square on his back and guides Caleb to stand, “You two will weave circles of metaphor around each other until one of you drops. Go Caleb, follow gravity.”
He seems to understand, seems to accept Cadcueus’ words and as soon as he stands to full height, Essek is watching over Jester’s shoulder. She, thankfully, understands the same way Caduceus does and even sends a wink as she loudly proclaims, “Oh my gosh Essek I’m so tired, I think Caleb needs someone to dance with, go to him.” She extends her arm, releasing him, and his levitation doesn’t allow him to stumble at the abrupt change in momentum.
Essek and Caleb meet and Essek steps to the ground gracefully as Caleb holds his hand out and pulls him in.
Nobody says anything for fear of spooking the delicate peace that settles over both of them as they gently turn, but Yasha slows the music she’s playing a bit and a quiet celebration is shared in the eyes of the rest of the Nein.
Caduceus breathes a sigh of relief and Jester sits herself beside him, bringing an overly sweet juice she’d found on her travels for him to try. She tells him stories into the night, and the wizards never let each other’s hands go.
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remuswriting · 3 years
Text
online friend; m. atsumu
Summary: Create a Twitter thread about Naruto and volleyball, and Miya Atsumu is now your best friend.
Pairing: Miya Atsumu x Male! Reader
Warnings: Slight angst, but it’s like incredibly faint
Word Count: 2,150 words
Notes: This was meant to be a short hc, but here we are at lots of words.  It’s not the best, but Miya Atsumu is the loml at the moment.
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Being online friends with Atsumu is different.
You guys met during your third years on Twitter when you made a thread of what positions Naruto characters would play in volleyball and immediately became friends once he messaged you.  He texts his accent and it makes you laugh every time you read it.  He says it’s so you can hear his accent, even though you beg for him to stop letting you ‘hear his accent.’
Neither of you know what the other looks like nor do you know each other’s names.  He told you to call him ‘Tsumu’ while he calls you ‘Captain’ since you’re the captain of your team.  He doesn’t believe you’re a guy until you send a video of you saying “Tsumu, shut the fuck up” (without your face in it) and he’s immediately asking if your high school is going to nationals.
You guys get close fast though and are talking to each other all the time.  Osamu tries to take Atsumu’s phone away from him all the time to get him to concentrate, and your friends do the same to you.  Atsumu has told Osamu about you, since he sucks at keeping secrets from him, but you haven’t told anyone about him.  You don’t think it’s any of their business.  He cries about it and you tell him to suck it up.
He’s the first person to learn about your school going to nationals.  It’s a bunch of incoherent all caps texts until one clear one that says, “GOING TO NATIONALS” and he starts freaking out with you.  Atsumu has no chill and immediately starts planning how you guys are going to meet.  He has meeting times and places while you’re just wanting him to calm down.  It’s just that he doesn’t know how to be calm when he’s so excited.
After a couple of days, you exchange phone numbers to make it easier for later.  Atsumu believes this is perfect because now you guys can call and know each other’s voices better.  You’ve never even heard his voice and he keeps wondering if you want to, because he wants to hear your voice again.  You tell him you don’t do phone calls and you’re not as active via text as you are Twitter DMs.  He gets sad, but you do explain it’ll be better to text at nationals because you’re not going to be getting on social media much.
Osamu doesn’t believe you exist.  He thinks Atsumu is texting himself from a burner phone or something, because who would actually want to be friends with his brother.  When he learns that you don’t know that Tsumu is actually Miya Atsumu, Osamu knows he has to watch you guys meet. (He was going to join anyways for safety reasons, but now it’s interesting.)
Somehow Atsumu finds out your prefecture before you find his and he’s already online looking for videos of Shirahama, Chiba Prefecture Qualifiers.  It’s easy to figure out who you are with that #1 on your jersey.  Your entire team is pretty solid, but you’re the best there.  You’re really good and it has Atsumu slightly worried, but he’d never say that.  You’re also really attractive and Atsumu will push away all these gay thoughts when you stop using the bottom of your jersey to wipe the sweat off your forehead.
He knows nothing about Chiba prefecture, so he starts googling all about it.  There’s a beach there, which also means there’s beach volleyball.  Atsumu had heard of people training on sand to get better on the court, but he didn’t believe in that shit.  You either get good on the court or you don’t at all.  If other people were right though, then maybe your team did a lot of beach volleyball?
You call him one night and sound like you’re on top of the world.  You just got your acceptance letter to the school of your dreams.  It’s overseas.  Atsumu can’t hear you anymore after you it’s overseas, in the United States.
It feels just like his brother all over again and he hasn’t even met you in person yet.
So, he hangs up and ignores your texts and calls.  He’s not sure if he can meet you now, because you’re going to leave eventually anyways.  Osamu finds out and hits him upside the head before telling him to stop being an overdramatic scrub and just talk to you.  Osamu lies and says it’s because Atsumu isn’t on top of his game and Osamu plans to win nationals, not lose because Atsumu is heartbroken for no reason.  Well, it’s not a big lie because that’s true but he also just cares about his brother.
In Atsumu fashion, he messages you “congrats” and then doesn’t answer your messages.  For some strange reason, he feels better, and Osamu takes it.
You don’t though.
You keep texting him and asking him what’s wrong with him.  Eventually you start calling and resort to calling him and Atsumu finally answers once you’ve blown up his phone.  You’re not normally like this, but you don’t tend to receive weird reactions like he had given you.
He tries to pretend you have the wrong number, and you think about murdering him when you guys meet.  You’ll definitely have the wrong number then.
“You don’t have to tell me why you’re upset with me, but you better tell me we’re still meeting at Nationals,” you said, and he makes a squeak on the other end. “You said you’ve been there before, so I expect a text about where and when we’re meeting the day before Nationals, which is in six days.”
“Okay,” Atsumu squeaked, and you laughed slightly.
“See you then Tsumu.”
You’re not really panicked about meeting him because it’s just Tsumu.  You guys have been talking for months and he just doesn’t freak you out.  Him randomly ghosting you was weird and concerned you more because you were worried about him.  You do have worries that maybe you’re not what he expects, but this may be more because you don’t have expectations outside of him being an absolute goof.
Atsumu on the other hand is freaking out.  He’s worried you’re going to hate him and think he’s ugly.  Osamu just watches, because there is no way to stop the train wreck of his brother’s anxiety.  When Atsumu is over practicing one day, clearly trying not to think about everything, Osamu doesn’t spike the next set.
“What’re ya doin’?” Atsumu yelled, and Osamu squinted at him.
“You’re in love with this guy aren’t ya?” Osamu asked, and Atsumu turned bright red.
“No!  Don’t be ridiculous ‘Samu!  Y/N is just a friend!” Atsumu yelled, and Osamu bit his lip.
“You know his real name, but he doesn’t know yours.” Osamu walks over to his water bottle. “You’re either in love with him or just really fuckin’ creepy to stalk him like that.��
Atsumu chucked the volleyball at Osamu, who easily dodged it.  The conversation ended with Osamu laughing and Atsumu panicking about another thing; was he in love with you?
He texts you to meet him during the lull in matches when everyone gets lunch.  It’s about a 30-minute break and he doubts Inarizaki will have a match after that time, and he hopes you don’t either.  He wants to eat and watch matches with you, so hopefully everything will work out for him.
Thankfully, they do.  You’ve gotten through the first round by then and so has he.  He even got to watch your team in action, and holy shit were you guys good.  You were a strong ass spiker, probably as strong as that guy from Karasuno last year with the bun.  Or maybe like Aran.  All Atsumu knew was that he wanted to block your spikes, his fingertips buzzing for it.
You show up at the spot he texted you about.  It’s outside and he thought it would be nice not to be surrounded by people.  There’s someone with you, but he can’t be mad because Osamu and Sun wouldn’t let him go by himself.
“Tsumu?” You asked, and your friend covered his mouth at the sight of Atsumu. “You’re Tsumu?”
Atsumu nervously laughed and nodded. “And yer captain.”
“Miya Atsumu is my online friend?” You asked, and your friend started laughing. “Are you kidding me?”
“Well, no,” Atsumu said, and he didn’t know what to say.
“Now it’s even creepier that you have all the magazine articles he’s been featured in,” your friend said between laughs, and you shoved him.
“Shut up, Akira,” you snapped, and your face turned red.
“Articles?” Atsumu asked, and now Osamu and Suna were laughing.
“Yeah, he’s obsessed with you,” Akira asked, and his laughing was finally starting to die down. “I can’t count the number of times he’s told Koichi to try to set like you do.”
“Akira, shut up,” you said, and you started trying to hide yourself in your jacket.
Atsumu smirked and immediately became cocky.  He was no longer panicked. “Is this true, Captain?”
“Maybe it is, Miya,” you said, and you looked over at him. “Or maybe it isn’t.”
Osamu howled laughing and Suna started recording, because everyone on Inarizaki needed to see this.
“No need to deny it.  Your friend already ratted ya out,” Atsumu said, and you rolled your eyes. “I know I’m irresistible.”
“I’ll admit, you’re good at volleyball, but whoever said you were irresistible?” You made your face visible now, but your face still felt hot. “I wouldn’t say that with that terrible bleach job you did to your hair.”
Atsumu started to deflate, but he held onto the face you said he was good at volleyball.  Maybe because he also thought you were good at volleyball.
“Well, if it’s so terrible, then why save articles with me in them?” Atsumu asked, and he felt like he stumped you.  He really showed you.
“Never said I didn’t like it,” you said, and he froze.  He could feel his face turning red and he didn’t expect you to be such a flirt.  Sure, sometimes you were kind of flirty, but he thought it was a friend thing.  Looking back, that mindset probably came from not having many friends.
“Well, yer hair isn’t bad either,” Atsumu retorted, and you chuckled.
“Thank you, I guess.  It’s pretty sweaty from that match earlier,” you said, and Atsumu remembered what you looked like when strong arms spiking volleyballs.  He suddenly felt hot all over. “I saw you guys play, and you’re good.  Hopefully that Karasuno team beats you again.  I want to go against Hinata Shoyo.”
“Yeah, he’s insane,” Akira said, and he stood up straight. “I’ve watched some of his matches from Miyagi, and he is something else on the court.”
“He’s crazier in person,” Osamu said, and Atsumu slowly felt like this wasn’t just you and him meeting, but everyone meeting everyone.
“Oh, I haven’t introduced myself yet.  I’m L/N Y/N and this is Nakaya Akira.  We’re from Shirahama in the Chiba Prefecture.”
Osamu nodded and pointed at Atsumu. “Yeah, the scrub figured it out already.”
You looked at Atsumu with a smirk. “Guess I’m not the only one who’s obsessed.” Your watch beeped and you looked down at it before sighing. “Sorry, coach said we had to be back at the front by 13:25.  We’re heading back to our hotel to eat.”
Atsumu felt panic rise up in his chest, because he didn’t want this to be the end.  He wanted to hang out just a little bit longer.
“Are ya goin’ to come back?” Atsumu asked, and you looked from Osamu to Atsumu.
“Are you going to miss me?” You asked, and Atsumu wasn’t going to answer that. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back to watch some matches and hopefully you and I can have some alone time.”
Gay panic.
This was what Atsumu had been experiencing and it finally clicked when you licked your lips before biting them.  His thoughts exploded with wanting to kiss you and maybe have you even do that to his lips.
“He’d love that,” Osamu said, and you nodded while Akira laughed.
“Alright, text me later, Miya,” you said, and Atsumu nodded while trying to hold back a scream.
Once you and Akira were gone, Osamu placed a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder.  Sun put up his phone and went to the other side of Atsumu.
“He’s pretty hot,” Suna said, and Osamu hummed in agreement. “I think I might try to get with him.”
“No!” Atsumu screamed, and Suna suppressed a laugh. “I saw him first!”
Osamu laughed and looked at Atsumu. “Good to know ya accepted yer in love with him.”
“How could anyone not be in love with him?” Atsumu asked, and he looked at Osamu with serious eyes. “Did ya not see how good he is at volleyball?”
Atsumu is still 100% a volleyball idiot. 
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Tag List: @chaoswrites​
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astaroth1357 · 4 years
Note
AYE requests briefly open you say? Then here ya go: MC (female or gn) turns into a child for a day courtsey of Solomon (maybe around 5) with the Brothers. I think it'd be adorable, what with finger painting on spell books and things, but there ya go!
The MC is Now Five Years Old, Thanks Solomon...
Oh boy…. A little kid in Hell sounds like a train wreck admittedly, but at least they'll have some pretty strong guardians right? I heard It'll Be Okay by SMLE & Helen Tess and decided that was JUST the feel this sort of request needed.
Intro:
Solomon really doesn't mess up spells often. He's been doing this for a while (at least as far as my headcanon is concerned) so he's gotten pretty damn good at magic over the years. It takes a looot to make him mess up. Like say, a natural disaster, an unexpected surprise… or a whole-ass MC getting knocked into what sigil he's using at just the wrong time. Yeah. That'll do it.
How in the world is he going to explain this to the brothers…?
Lucifer
His anger toward Solomon is quite severe… tempered only slightly by how utterly adorable kid!MC is. (Well all know he's got that soft spot for cute things 🤭) It reminds him so much of his brothers at that age…
The man basically reverts back to being Dad!Lucifer sooo fast.
He's the one tying their shoes, checking on them throughout the day, making sure they're not running with scissors… that sort of thing.
Weirdly enough he's not that bothered by it… In fact, his brothers find it a little unnerving just how at peace he seems when he's keeping track of kid!MC doing this or that… It's like he's just put on an old pair of gloves and found out they still fit.
Speaking of his brothers, Lucifer can't turn off "Parent Mode" so it starts spilling over to them too...
When he started telling Levi "It's bedtime" and used a napkin to wipe Beel's face for him in public, they decided to hold an informal intervention. They're grown demons now, damnit!! 😖
Mammon
The first thing kid!MC did when they saw Mammon was fling themselves at him while screaming "MAMMIE!!!" at the top of their lungs… Regardless of his confusion, the man could probably die happy now.
He only gripes a little bit about being saddled with babysitting duty… Because everybody knows he's not the babysitter now. He's the playmate.
"Mammie, I wanna play House!!" "I ain't playing House with ya, kid. How 'bout Tag?" "No way, you're too fast!"  "Hide'n Seek?" "Luci said we can't play that no more…" "Well don't hide in the oven again!" "You didn't find me!!" "That was the problem!!!"
Pretty much the Man-Child/Actual Child Duo. He's perfect for keeping up with them and they'll whine incessantly when they can't find him for too long...
Totally the brother to take them to the amusement park or really any of those super fun places kids love. He will be just as excited as they are to be there, too.
It's not uncommon to find Mammon passed out on a couch or something with an equally exhausted kid!MC sleeping on his back. The two can really wear each other out…
Leviathan
He's probably the least perturbed by this change. Sudden de-aging of characters is a pretty popular anime trope, after all...
He's not all that taken with kid!MC though to be honest… Largely because he's too worried about keeping his stuff out of their grubby mitts. 😖
"Levi, what's this?" "GAH! Don't touch that!! That's my limited edition Ultra☆Rainbow Witch figurine!!" "I wanna play with it, though!" "It's not a toy!!" "That's not fair! You have nothing but toys, Levi!! You need to share!!" "NO I DON'T!!!"
In those times where Lucifer forces him to share, Levi goes full neat-freak. He handles all the discs and games himself, everything gets practically sterilized, and kid!MC HAS to wash their hands before they touch ANYTHING (especially the game controllers). He ain't risking any random kid-gunk getting on his precious possessions… 😰
He does enjoy playing games with them well enough, at least. No one's going to pass up a game of Devil Kart after all!
Sometimes he'll let them win just to see how happy they get… Though, then they start getting a big head about it so he has to remind him who the actual gamer is with another string of losses... Sucks to suck, kid! 😌😏
Satan
… You know, five year-olds ask a lot of questions… A looot of questions…
"Satan, what's that?" "An umbrella. You use it so that rain doesn't get on you." "Where does rain come from?" "Evaporated water collects in the atmosphere and-" "Is rain like the sky peeing?" "...." "Satan? Does your face hurt?... Satan?"
Please Lord, they may not be on speaking terms, but someone has to have mercy on his patience...
In truth, Satan's kind of charmed by how curious kid!MC is, he just wished they'd listen more to his boring explanations…
"Satan? Why does everyone listen to Diavolo?" "Lord Diavolo is like a king to us demons." "Where's his crown?" "He doesn't wear a crown." "Oh… You don't wear a crown and people listen to you. Are you a king too?" "I mean, you're not wrong… 😏" "Satan, get back to work."
Eh, maybe having a little MC isn't all that bad. They don't lie, after all. 😌
Asmodeus
OMG he hasn't seen a child this cute since the twins were in diapers!!!!
If Mammon isn't around then Asmo takes over babysitting duties (like an actual babysitter) and he's more than happy to do it. It reminds of him of taking care of baby Belphie!
If kid!MC has any interest at all in makeup then he's happy to foster it. He won't give them the good stuff of course, but he'll show them how to do blush, eyes, lipstick, nail polish, whatever!
He also dabbles in a bit of facepaint so do they want to look like a kitty, panda, or dragon? He's got them covered.
Asmo just likes to let them be creative in all forms, really. He's going to be the one to break out the paint and markers and just the kid!MC go to town! (hopefully not on the walls…)
Takes pictures of whatever they draw, good or bad, and happily displays them to everyone. There's not a big enough fridge to hold all the art he's going to collect (and zealously protect).
Beelzebub
Playmate #2 right after Mammon, but he's the less excitable, more responsible one.
"Beel! Beel! Watch me jump off this slide!!" 😰 "Please don't… You could hurt yourself… You slide down slides. That's why they're called that." "*GASP*... That's right! You're a genius!!" *sits back down* "Not really, but thank you." 😊 *waits for them at the bottom*
If the MC is with Beel, they're doing one of two things. Either they're playing together or gorging themselves on junk food.
Beel actually likes "domestic" games like House and Tea Party because it's an excuse to raid the kitchen. He'll play "house-husband" all day as long as he gets to actually eat at every imaginary dinnertime.
He'll play active games too, of course. Especially action-oriented ones like "Cops and Robbers" or Superheros. No one's better at roughhousing than Beel! Though he'll go easy on them, cause they're small and all… 😅
Everyone can always tell when Beel's in charge of them because he carries them around on his shoulders. He's the tallest one of the family so it's like getting to be a giant!
Belphegor
Belphie was introduced to kid!MC when they started crying during one of his naps. They couldn't wake him and they thought he was dead… Followed directly by them declaring their tears were magic when they noticed his eyes opened.
He proceeded to close his eyes again and purposely play dead just to get them all worried again. It was the smile creeping up onto his face that eventually gave him away… 😏
He likes to play with kid!MC and Beel but he's not going to let it get in the way of his nap schedule or anything. When they play "Knights" he gets to take the role of the world's laziest dragon… Rawr.
Kid!MC will only settle down for naptime if Belphie joins too since he'll read them a book like he used to do with Lilith.
Satan's usually the go-to guy for storytime, but Belphie's a close second (largely because he just imitates what he remembers Lucifer doing for him, voices and all 🤭).
He deals with their myriad of questions by just making shit up and pretending he knows what he's talking about. It's around the time that he told them that little men live inside the freezer and shave ice cubes to keep things cold that Lucifer started getting on his case about it… Killjoy. 🙄
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teelagurl558 · 3 years
Text
Dad’s On A Hunting Trip
SONGFIC: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader (Platonic)
Other SPN Oneshots
word count: 5,326
Warnings: a n g s t, but comfort; Sam is a Little Big Shit; J*hn Winchester is discussed a lot
A/N: This is a oneshot/songfic with the Wonder Twins I’ve written before, where the reader is Dean’s twin sister. Here is the link to Jensen singing this gorgeous song. This is based on the Pilot ep. I actually considered writing more to explore the dynamic with Sammy through the end of that episode but I really wanted it to focus on Dean and it came out long as it is. Enjoy! Feedback much appreciated.
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Somewhere Outside Reno, Nevada--October 28th, 2005
“I’m telling you, he’s probably fine,” I counter for likely the hundredth time this week. While my brother rolled his eyes and held the trunk open for me, I clicked on the safety of both shotguns and tucked them in.
“And I’m telling you, I’ve got a gut feeling that something ain’t right.” Dean wasn’t budging this time, and I could feel it. But right now we had other things to think about and frankly, Dad was the last thing I wanted on my mind when we had hunts without him. “Y/n, I really think we should go after him. Somethin’s fishy.”
“Yeah,” I snorted, sliding into the Impala’s passenger side. “And it’s your gargantuan unshowered lady parts. Can we just focus on this case for a minute? I still don’t even know what we’re hunting and that’s the second stakeout we’ve tried.”
Dean grunted, but while the car pealed out of the farmland we’d been watching for the night, I could tell he wasn’t satisfied. Maybe it was my Wonder-Twin, spidey senses or something. Or maybe it was the signature scowl painted on his pretty face. Thoughts of Dad had been weighing on him heavier and heavier lately. With a shake of my head and a sigh, I sifted through the notes we’d made when we got into town, and directed him to take us to another witness we could interview. He agreed with a nod, and didn’t talk to me until we reached city limits again, the fields long disappeared. Finally, he forced out a few words to communicate it was breakfast time first, and I agreed in hopes a good plate of bacon would satiate my twin’s nerves.
Ramblers in the wilderness, we can’t find what we need
We get a little restless from the searching
Get a little worn down in between
I knew I was wrong by the time our coffee had come. Our waitress was absolutely gorgeous, perfectly his type and even trying to flirt with Dean, but he paid her zero attention. He was on his phone most of the conversation with her--seemingly trying to call Dad about five times--and I practically had to order for him, whirling on the eldest Winchester with a glare covering my concern.
“What has gotten into you?” I hissed. Dean swallowed, and the moment he met my eyes I sighed. “That’s your thinking face, Dee. It’s usually dangerous.”
The corner of his mouth twitched a little, too trained over the years to be cheered up by my humor. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
He was trying to avoid eye contact. That’s what he always did when he didn’t want to open up, because he knew I might be able to push him to. Dean hated talking about what hurt him, but I hated seeing him tied up in his darker thoughts, so he was just gonna have to suck it up about the sharing time aversion.
“Dean,” I pushed. “Talk to me. I won’t tease this time.”
Like a bull chasing the matador is the man left to his own schemes
Everybody needs someone beside ‘em, shining like a lighthouse from the sea
“He left a message.”
I raised my eyebrow. I knew he had to mean Dad, but what kind of message? He hadn’t even called in weeks. But my brother’s voice was so much softer, so much more meek than I’d heard in a long time. That was the voice he only used with me, in private, when he was… scared. Dean was really scared.
“Is he--?” I couldn’t finish the sentence, gulping down my coffee and thanking the waitress’s return for letting me be cut off. Dean shrugged, sliding his phone across to me past my pancakes.
“Don’t know. But I got this, and it ain’t good. Even without the EVP I unscrambled.”
Cautiously, I lifted the phone to my ear. I heard Dad’s voice alright, the background noise fuzzy. He was warning us, something… something big coming. We were in danger. But…
“In danger from what?”
I got a shrug in reply, and while he munched at his plate of eggs and bacon I replayed it to hear the underlying message he’d mentioned. It was a woman’s voice, clearly paranormal, on Dad’s voicemail. The newspaper clippings he’d picked up before he left flashed in my mind, about the men disappearing on the highway he’d gone after.
With a determined nod, I handed the device back. I bit my cheek a moment, worried about how long I’d pushed my brother to wait. “Alright, I’m sorry. Do you wanna drop this case and go straight there?”
“I- I don’t-” Dean stammered searching for his thoughts, then sighed in defeat. “I think we should go get Sammy.”
The declaration caught me off-guard. Memories flashed through my vision, syrupy fork halted an inch from my lips.
Brother, let me be your shelter
Never leave you all alone
I can be the one you call
When you’re low
Dean would deny it if I ever said anything, but he had been a wreck when Sam left for college. And though a part of me was proud of Sam for standing up to our dad, proud of him for going to school and trying to do what was best for himself, I was livid with our little brother. He abandoned us, left us with a father he knew Dean was fighting for approval from and I was fighting to exist with just like Sam had. The night I caught Sam packing his bags, I had to nearly tuck and tumble past our father to talk to him. They were both so angry, so stupid that night.
“You may as well go with him,” Dad had snapped. “No better than he’s been, holding your brother back.”
I ignored him, thanking Mom for the random moments of ability to stuff down my Winchester spite, instead approaching my younger brother. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Getting out of here like I should have ages ago.” There was a pause while he glared at the spot Dad had occupied in the doorway, still aggressively shoving clothes in his duffel. Then, he turned to me, almost pleading and holding my shoulders.
“Y/n, I know you hate it here too. You can come with me. We’ll go off, get an apartment or something. You could find normal work somewhere--”
“What are you saying, Sam?” I whispered, hoping Dean wouldn’t be home from his dinner break anytime soon to see this. He’d left when they started fighting again, and I knew there’d be no fixing what Sam and Dad had hashed out this time.
Sam tried to hold onto one of my hands while I pulled away, but I fought his grip. I did hate Dad for all he’d done, I did want for Sam to be able to go to school, and I did want to leave Dad’s  company but I couldn’t. I couldn’t just leap into a normal life with all this PTSD I’d acquired growing up. I couldn’t leave Dean.
“You know I’m not going to leave Dean like this.”
My voice was barely a squeak, tears flooding down my rageful face. But Sam’s was loud, agitated and angry again thinking yet another family member was casting him aside. 
“Of course not. Big brother who’s always dragged you around by his side, nearly biting heads off of anyone who got near you your whole lives and for what? He’s protected you from everything except from the one person who actually hurts you! I don’t get why you can’t stand to leave a bad guard dog and a spiteful old asshole.”
“Because he’s my brother, Sam!” I finally shouted. “And unlike you apparently, that means something to me!”
Sam shook his head, jaw set and nostrils flaring. His dark glare tore away from me after a moment, finally hoisting up his bag and shoving my shoulder on the way out of the room. I heard the front door of our base apartment slam shut, and finally let the sobs come. If they weren’t done by the time Dean came home, he’d be trying to comfort me, and I couldn’t let him do that when I knew how bad this would hurt him too. He was going to come home to see the baby boy he’d raised gone.
When he did, Dean tried calling him and calling him for ages, roaring at the wall panels. And Dad let him, chastising me from his spot at the dingy table anytime I tried to intervene. He and Dean were right to be angry at Sam, in his mind. And frankly I was too, given the fight he heard us have. I was angry, I was hurt, but I was hurt for very different reasons.
After a while Dean finally tried to go to bed, beckoning to me with his eyes to join him in the room that he’d fought Dad over for us to share. The old man hadn’t wanted me to even stay, but had insisted Sam get his own room now that we were grown and had this apartment for between hunts. Dad shot me a scowl, but I followed my twin to our room.
And then, the moment the door was shut, he finally broke. Dean’s walls crashed down, and he sank back against the wood with muffled sobs seeping through his calloused palms. He was trying to be quiet so Dad wouldn’t hear. I approached him slowly, cautiously like a wounded animal before I sat beside him. It took a while for Dean to warm up to my touch, but eventually he gave in like he always did.
In the quiet, in the dark, Dean Winchester threw his arms around me and we cried. And having to see the closest person to me, the one who’d actually stood up to even our father for me in the aftermaths of every fight, the one who took care of me like his baby sister even if he was just three minutes older, sobbing in grief at the betrayal of our little brother? Having to watch every time in the next months that he disappeared to make a call and came back too soon with the light in his eyes gone? I loved Sammy, but a rage boiled in me towards him every time I saw that pain in Dean’s eyes.
I had been Dean’s shelter in his grief. I had been there with him and seen what Sam had done to him, leaving Dean and I to become lost, worn down ramblers like our father.
“Absolutely not,” I choked, clenching my mug til my knuckles paled.
“Y/n, he needs to know. I don’t want to go after Dad, and find something we--” Dean cut himself off with a hard swallow. “He needs to be there.”
A hand reached out across the table and gripped one of my shaking ones. I let out a heavy, shaking breath and looked back up at him in defeat. I could see why Sam needed to be there. We all had demons to deal with, and if Dad was in real trouble, leaving Sam out would make our little brother hate us more. It would make all three of us hold a lot more regrets than hunter kids needed.
“Fine. I’m never gonna let you go alone, so looks like we’re going to Cali. Guess the twins’ Vegas trip will have to wait.”
My brother gave me a grin and a hand squeeze, waving over the waitress.
“We’ll take the check, and some of those cute little Halloween cookies from the front when you get a chance. Oh! And two slices of pie.”
Brother, let me be your fortress
When the night winds are driving on
Be the one to light the way
Bring you home
——————————————
It was dark when we finally reached the right place, close to 3AM on Halloween night. We’d swapped driving countless times and slept on the road, stopped at half a dozen diners and once to ping Sam’s phone location over the last few days. It was the first time I’d looked at his contact information since a little while after he left. That was about two years ago now.
The apartment building looked average, at least. Nothing vamps or other spooks would use as a den or hunting ground if they could help it. I felt a little tinge of relief at that. But the feeling was short-lived, worry taking over the moment I saw Dean’s stare looking up at the building.
I squeezed his hand. “I got you, Wonder Twin.”
“You always do,” he smiled. “You ready? You can wait here, if--”
“If I still feel like beating his ass?”
He laughed, but let the question hang.
I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant though there was a tight feeling in my chest. “I gotta face him sometime, Dee. We’ll see what happens when I see his face again.”
“I don’t know what he said to you that night, but… Can we try to put it aside this time? For Dad?”
Leading the way up the stairs, I gave my brother a raised eyebrow over my shoulder. He raised his hands.
“Okay, right, yeah. For me then? Let’s just go talk to Sammy and figure this out,” he amended. I nodded in consent, shushing him while I shimmied one of Sam’s windows open. I was very ready to be done talking about all this.
We had decided on the way here that it seemed logical Sam would be out for Halloween, and we would just wait in his apartment for him to get back. Now, while I locked arms with my twin to pull him inside and peered around the tiny dwelling, I wondered if it was such a good idea to be breaking into our little brother’s home after two years of ignoring us. With a shrug, I followed Dean around and convinced myself if we hadn’t broken in, likely Sam wouldn’t even let us in the door.
“Let’s see if he’s got any beer,” Dean whispered in my ear. I gave him a, “Not the time, idiot!” look but it was ignored. Dean made his way around another corner trying to find the kitchen, and I noticed the keys on an end table seconds before the shadow leapt from a hallway and tackled Dean.
I forgot where I was for a moment, starting to jump forward into the scuffle when I recognized the frame of the attacker in the little light that came through the windows. With a roll of my eyes, I propped myself against a nearby wall out of the line of fire until finally, they could see each other.
Dean was chuckling. “Whoa, easy tiger.”
“Dean?!” I heard Sam panting, pinned underneath his eldest sibling. “You scared the crap out of me!”
“That’s cause you’re out of practice--”
My eldest brother’s jab was cut off by my youngest switching their positions, pinning him to the floor in his place.
“Alright alright, ladies,” I finally groaned. “That’s enough tango for one night. You’re both terrible dancers.”
Sammy had nearly jumped out of his skin hearing my voice behind him, and when he got off of Dean his eyes bulged taking in my form. My arms were crossed, face forced to set blank while I pushed off the wall towards him. He swallowed nervously, towering over me but still clearly intimidated. I knew there was a lot being said through my eyes, but I tried to convince myself I was unreadable to preserve the strength I had left. It had been so long since I’d seen that face. Had we missed each other? I wondered a second if either of us had it in us to allow that of ourselves after what happened. Could he have missed Dean, or was that off the plate too?
Face down in the desert now, there’s a cage locked around my heart
I found a way to drop the keys where my failures were
Now my hands can’t reach that far
“What the hell are you guys doing here?” Sam asked. Dean chuckled again.
“I was lookin’ for a beer--”
Sam’s tone just got more insistent. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I glared at him, still trying to let Dean do the talking despite the anger building up in me. Dean kept Sam’s gaze and subtly held out his hand to me in a sign that he would manage our brother’s temper.
“Okay, alright,” he soothed. “We gotta talk.”
“Uh, the phone?”
“If we called, would you have picked up?” I shot back.
Sam swallowed again, opening his mouth to respond when the lights suddenly flicked on. All three Winchester gazes locked on a scantily-dressed young woman in the doorway, her hand still on the switch. I noticed Sam’s flexing muscles settle a little, a huff of breath escaping him, almost sounding defeated.
“Jess, hey,” he stuttered. “Uh, Dean, Y/n. This is my girlfriend, Jessica.”
“Dean and Y/n? Your brother and sister?” she asked sweetly. A big smile peeled across her pretty face, and as mad as I was at Sam, I was pleased at least that she knew our names and seemed nice enough. Dean, of course, was smitten with the pretty blonde on sight and stepped up with his flirting face on.
Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring me and instead glaring daggers at his brother for hitting on the poor girl. I mirrored his eye roll, snapping my fingers and whistling at Dean.
“Hey, tch tch, down boy,” I chided. “We’re here on business. We can have fun when you take me to Vegas like you promised.”
Dean added a third eye roll and gave Jessica a wink. “Well, anyway we’re gonna borrow your boyfriend here real quick, gotta talk about some private family things.”
The offended face Sam gave him almost made me yell in frustration, especially as I guessed his next words. For the love of all that is potentially holy in this hellscape we live, please don’t--
“No,” he rebuked. “No, whatever you wanna say, you can say it in front of her.”
Dean pursed his lips and nodded, sharing a telepathic-twin-look with me. So this is how it’s gonna be. In this moment, we may not have been identical twins but you could sure as hell see the resemblance as we both stared down our little brother.
“Okay, um, Dad hasn’t been home in a few days,” Dean offered.
Sam shrugged. “So he’s working overtime on a Miller time shift again, he’ll stumble back in sooner or later.”
My head dropped a little, sparing Dean a quick glance to both mentally shit-talk the audacity of this sassy kid. We both recaptured his gaze, trying to explain with eyes and tone over real words in this situation. I gave Sam a threatening smile and stepped in to set it straight.
“Dad’s on a hunting trip. And he hasn’t been home in a few days.”
Sam’s cocky smirk dropped immediately. He knew what we meant. I didn’t know why he thought that when we came on family business a hunting issue somehow wouldn’t be what it was about, but I guess he’d simply been away too long. The youngest sibling quickly excused us all from his girlfriend, ushering us back outside.
It was pitch black outside save for the unnatural glow of the lamps that tried to show us the metal stairwells leading back down the building. The autumn night air was cold, and despite sleeping on Dean’s shoulder or in the back of the Impala two hours at a time the last three days, I felt alive. For the first time in a long ass time, both my brothers were here, together, and I’d made it this far without punching Sammy’s precious baby face. Maybe I could be proud of myself for a minute.
“You guys are freaking insane, showing up like this!” Sam growled once we were a bit away from his door. Guess that moment wasn’t lasting long.
“Did you hear what we said, Sammy?” I demanded. “Us ‘showing up like this’ and our petty bullshit from back then doesn’t matter right now. We’ve gotta find Dad, this is important.”
I had put on my Mom Voice, as they used to call it. Dean raised his eyebrows at us over his shoulder, leading the way across the pavement.
“And you know it’s bad if she’s talking about it like that,” he added. Sam just pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, even though I knew both of them were aware of the underlying message that if I was talking about Dad like this, it was an unusual situation.
“Still, I mean c’mon you can’t just break in in the middle of the night and expect me to hit the road with you.”
“You’re not hearing us Sammy, Dad’s missing. We need you to come help us find him.”
Our little brother, despite his comically long legs, was rushing down the stairs after us, a pair of calm and casual twins followed by a yapping dog. I stuck my hands in the pockets of my jacket, tossing my head back and sucking in a deep breath to calm me enough not to punch Sam’s mouth shut while he advocated that Dad was always gone and always fine. We were all stopped somewhere in the building’s lower levels on the way to the parking lot now.
I ain’t made for a rivalry I could never take the world alone
I know that in my weakness I am strong,
But it’s your love that brings me home
“This is why I didn’t want to come,” I whispered at the roof. Part of me wished Dean would give up this fight, so we could just go find Dad and get this thing rolling. Part of me wished he’d give it up so I could have a hug, and didn’t have to hear it.
Dean glanced at me like he’d heard and gave a flash of concern, but Sam had been still trying to ignore me as much as possible. Dean was just as tired of this as I was, but had more determination left in him somehow.
“He’s not usually gone and radio silent for this long, are you gonna come with us or not?” My twin asked him.
“I’m not.”
My eyes shot back to Sam’s in a rage, my mouth biting back before Dean could calm me. “What the hell do you mean you’re not?”
I could practically feel Dean’s heart sinking again, but his gaze was hardened to cover it. Sam’s face was set, despite a twitch in his Addam’s apple betraying his nerves under my glare.
“I swore I was done hunting, for good,” he replied, gentler than his previous tone.
Dean scoffed, trying to use bravado to cover his disappointment and headed further towards the outside. I could tell he was trying to move us closer to Baby, but whether it was to get out of here and soothe his anxiety faster or get Sam with a foot out the door, I couldn’t tell.
“Oh, c’mon. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t that bad.”
I started to lag behind, letting them hash it out again as Sam got riled back up talking about our childhood. It was just about the same argument they’d had for ages when Sam was a teenager, in the year or so before he left us. Dean countered it like he always did, and I sat back and let him take the lead gladly, too exhausted and angry to care until Sam pushed the wrong button.
“D’you think Mom would’ve wanted this for us?”
There was a bang as Dean threw open the metal door with his shoulder. Sam tried to follow, but my protective instinct was roaring to life and my hand latched onto his bicep with deadly force. I wanted to go after Dean and help him, but that part of me was drowned out by the blind rage that simmered over it.
Brother, let me be your shelter
Never leave you all alone
I can be the one you call
When you’re low
“You shut your damn mouth,” I hissed. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage? You know good and well what talking about her does to him.”
I was trying to convey two years of suffering through that one biting remark. I wanted it to burn into his brain how much he’d hurt us, how much he’d hurt Dean. Clearly by the snarl on his face that mirrored mine, the shot didn’t meet its mark.
“Oh cut the crap, Y/n! He doesn’t need you to baby him anymore.” Sam threw his hands in the air, shoving his way out after Dean and trying to catch up with him. “Man, guys, we were raised like warriors.”
Finally outside, I held up my hand for Baby’s keys while they argued more. I got ignored, rolled my eyes and dropped my hand as the argument heated back up again. Sam acted like he hadn’t abandoned us, like all he wanted was to go to school and Dad was the only reason he stayed away. It took a lot to bite back what I wanted to say, and by the looks he was giving me while I fidgeted with my flannel sleeve, Dean could tell. I hadn’t told him what Sam said to me that day because I knew Dean needed Sammy’s image in his brain as untarnished as it could be, but right now the red-hot Winchester blood in me wanted to lay it all out to burn on the pavement between us.
“We can’t do this without you, man,” Dean finally sighed. I glanced up from the hood to see he and Sam had calmed a little, the serious tone back.
“Yes you can. You’re not alone,” Sam scoffed, gesturing vaguely in my direction.
“Gee, I feel so acknowledged right now,” I muttered. Again they ignored me.
Dean sighed. “Yeah well, I don’t want to.”
Finally, after all this time, a hint of recognition surfaced in Sam’s eyes. The moment he asked what Dad had been hunting, Dean guided him around to the trunk and his demeanor bubbled loads lighter than it had before. I slowly stepped around to the back with them while Dean explained how we’d ended up separated from Dad, expecting to be ignored again. But Dean gave me a smile, sidling over to make room for me beside him at the trunk.
“Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourselves?” Sam asked, eyebrows raised.
Dean looked offended. “We’re 26, dude.”
I gave Sam a knowing look and nodded. “Valid question though, bastard still doesn’t acknowledge that I can shoot worth anything. He trusts Dean and tells me every time he sees us off not to get in Dean’s way.”
“Of course,” Sam laughed, shaking his head. There was the tiniest glimmer of the little brother I used to know. But before the part of me that missed him could even surface, it was gone.
We started passing him the newspaper clippings from Dad’s case and explaining what we could. Sam actually listened, and I was pleased that it seemed the conflict was over for now.
“It was bad enough even Dean hadn’t heard from him since he left about three weeks ago, but he got this voicemail the other day,” I added, giving my twin a reassuring pat on his arm. “Show him, Dee.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed at the message. He pointed out the EVP static and Dean praised him, playing the cryptic woman’s voice for him we’d heard. The moment the message was done, Dean shut the trunk and sat back against it.
“Y’know, in almost two years, we’ve never bothered you, never asked you for a thing.”
At that, Sam scoffed and spared a subtle glance my way, and I knew what was on his mind. I had asked him for something. I had asked him to come back to us, a few times in weak moments when I’d left voicemails on his cell. Dean only ever called to check on him, and I doubt he would have it in him to ask our brother for any favors after the way things ended. Despite my better judgement, I thought I saw a little guilt in Sam’s face when he finally relented.
“Alright, I’ll go. But I have to be back first thing Monday.”
There wasn’t much left to say. After he’d warned us of his interview, Sammy turned tail and hurried back inside. The moment the metal door clanged shut behind him, Dean offered me a fist bump in victory, and then took in my face.
My shoulders were tense under his leather jacket I’d stolen in the cold, jaw set hard while I tried to casually lean on Baby next to him. I knew all the resentment and guilt and hurt feelings I was stewing showed in my eyes, and without skipping a beat from the victory bump, Dean tucked me under his arm.
He didn’t have to say anything, but sometimes he felt the need. I felt his bicep squeeze around my tense torso, and I finally sagged with a huff of breath. Dean rubbed his hand along my arm reassuringly.
“You did good, Wonder Twin. How’re you holding up?”
“‘Bout as good as you’d expect.”
There was a pause, and I watched him glance back up towards Sam’s apartment level, where a lamp had been flicked on. “You ever gonna feel okay telling me what happened between you two?”
“I don’t know.” It wasn’t a lie; I really had no idea. I wanted to share that with Dean, like I shared everything, but I felt like that night hurt bad enough I didn’t want him to feel that pain too. It was one of very few things I kept out of reach of his brotherly twin-senses, or whatever freaky connection we had. “Maybe once I have time to hash it out with him, I’ll feel different.”
He nodded, calloused hand running smoothly up and down the leather sleeve on my arm. “Whatever happens while we’ve got him, I’m here for you. I want him back with us, Hell I know that’s obvious to you. But I know he’s got this life here, and I know I can’t hold you two away from the skeletons you shoved in the closet.”
“So if I punch him, it’s cool, right?” I asked, diffusing the sappy air he was getting on, for the better of both of us. He snickered.
“Yeah, yeah I guess. Just don’t rough him up too bad, you’ve got a mean punch y’know.”
“Oh yeah, I’m aware. Just wait til we see Dad again, he’s gonna wish Rocky Balboa was kicking his ass instead of his daughter.”
Dean gave a good laugh that time, shaking his head and squeezing me in a side-hug. He turned to gaze at my eyes with that signature grin and I felt a lot of the tension dying away off the two of us. It was hard for us to worry whether Dad was okay or not when we had decided that finding him, and kicking his ass for worrying Dean, was a certainty.
Watching Sam come down the stairs again with a duffel, I could feel in my gut this road was going to be long. And it was going to hurt. But when my gaze turned to see Dean, and the joy in his eyes seeing Sam and I get into the car with him, I thought maybe--just maybe--we could be okay.
Brother, let me be your fortress
When the night winds are driving on
Be the one to light the way
Bring you home
117 notes · View notes
mosswillow · 3 years
Text
Useless - Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader (part two)
Warnings: 18+ Adult content!, Werewolves, A/B/O, Possessive behavior, Dark, Non con/dub con, Forced marriage, power imbalance, general misogyny, Punishments, spanking, smut, violence, oral (male receiving) .
Summary: “Trying to fight this is useless doll, we’ll always end up right back here.” You’re the bottom of the pack, an Omega, and Steve has chosen you for his mate.
Word count: 3.4k.
The pain is all consuming, devouring you from the inside out. It’s the first thing you notice when coming to. A chill wrecks through your body adding another layer to the dull aches and stabbing pains that radiate everywhere. Wolves heal fast and you’re used to being better within hours of getting hurt. You’ve never been this damaged though, never experienced this level of pain. You groan as you open your eyes.
“Hey sweetie, how are you feeling?”
You’ve known Bruce Banner forever. He’s like a big brother. He held you after you presented as an Omega, let you cry in his arms and told you everything would be ok. He’s been there for you ever since. Waking up to him instead of Steve gives you a sense of comfort and you relax a tiny bit.
“Everything hurts.”
Bruce holds your hand and gives you a sad look.
“Why didn’t you just submit?”
You don’t answer and Bruce continues.
“Everyone is so hurt you know? Some of the wolves who had to watch came back in tears and most of them still refuse to even talk about what happened.”
Anger rises in you. You’re the one who was almost killed. You’re the one being forced to mate someone against your will. They sat by and watched while Steve almost beat you to death. You feel no sympathy for anyone who watched what happened.
“It was my right.”
“Having the right to run doesn’t change how others will view your actions. We care about you Y/N. We don’t like seeing you hurt like this. And if you had actually succeeded we may never have seen you again. You’re a tiny little Omega. You wouldn’t last out there and you know it.”
“I’m strong,” you say in a quiet voice.
“Your will is strong...”
He gives you a kiss on the forehead.
“...But your body is weak.”
He checks your temperature and writes it down on a piece of paper beside your bed.
“You have a fever. I’m not worried about it yet but we do need to keep an eye on it. You really did a number on yourself.”
“I didn’t do this to myself.”
Bruce rolls his eyes.
“You have nobody but yourself to blame.”
You sigh and turn your head away.
“When can I go home?”
Bruce ignores your question effectively giving you an answer. Steve won’t let you go home, not after what happened the night before. Bruce goes into his bag and pulls out two pill bottles, shaking out a few pills from each.
“Here, take these.”
“What are they?”
“That one is a pain reliever and the other one is a sedative.”
You shake your head.
“I don’t want them.”
“They’ll help your wolf take over. You’ll heal twice as fast with them.”
“I don’t want to be healed faster.”
Bruce raises his eyebrows. He understands your meaning. The longer you take to heal the longer you have to think of your next move. They won’t let you go, not anymore. If you leave it will be against pack laws. A message will go out to every pack in the world asking them to look for you. Leaving is much more complicated now. You need time to consider if it’s even something you want to do.
“Don’t do this sweetie, just be a good girl for once, ok?”
“Can I have a little time at least first?” Your mind is running with your options and you don’t want to be put out again.
“No.” Steve's voice is deep and commanding. He walks through the bedroom door and pats Bruce on the back. Steve gives you a look that makes you want to run or hide or do anything you can to get away from him. Fighting him made you really realize just how much bigger and stronger he is.
“Thank you Bruce. I’ll see you later.”
“I wouldn’t leave her alone.” Bruce eyes you wearily.
“I won’t”
Bruce kisses your forehead before leaving.
You watch Steve take his shirt off and throw it into a laundry basket. There’s a bite mark on his arm. It’s deep and still not even close to being healed, You got one in and that’s impressive. He slides into bed next to you and you wince as he runs his hands over your bruises.
“I can move past this.”
He expects you to apologize but you bite your tongue and close your eyes. Steve reaches over you grabbing a glass of water and the pills Bruce left.
“Take your medicine.”
You let him place the pills in your mouth and gulp them down with the water. He grips your jaw gently and you open up showing you swallowed. Whatever Bruce gave you is powerful and it doesn’t take long for the pain to start receding and your eyes to get heavy.
“That’s it doll, you need to sleep.”
---
“I heard it was rough.”
“I could barely watch, she just kept getting up.”
“Is she going to be ok Bruce?”
“I’m keeping an eye on everything...”
“What is it?”
“She’ll try to run again. I know her, I can tell.”
“Even after we brand her?”
“The brand won’t deter her, it will just piss her off.”
“Do you think we shouldn’t do it?”
“I think it’s worth the risk, she’ll try either way but with the brand she’s less likely to get far.”
“She’s always been a strong willed little thing. We should have dealt with this much earlier”
“I’ve never liked saying no to her.”
“the rebellion has always been endearing.”
“Letting her get that job with the humans was our biggest mistake. She has these ideas of independence now.”
“We’ll have to watch her closely for the next few months...”
“...She’s waking up.”
You open your eyes and see a group of wolves standing beside your bed. You know all the pack Alphas individually but have never been alone in a room with all of them. Tony is like a second father and Carol like a mother despite the fact that neither of them are all that much older than you. Most of their scolding in the past has been almost playful. The look they give you now is more serious than you’ve ever seen them. Sam and Thor are like big brothers, always teasing and playing with you. You’ve gotten into plenty of trouble with them in the past. Having them now standing over you instead of with you is scary. You can tell that your relationship with them will never be the same. You try to sit up and whimper as pain shoots through your body. Bruce runs to your side and gently pushes you down.
“Just lie still sweetheart.”
“Why is everyone here?”
They exchange looks.
“Why do you think we’re here?” Tony asks.
“Because I ran?”
“Yes honey, because you ran.” Carol says.
“You need to understand that when you live in a pack you have to give up certain liberties.” Sam says
“I don’t want to be in the pack though. I was going to leave. I knew what I was doing.”
“Sweety, you were never going to leave. How many rogue Omegas have you met?” Carol asks.
“It’s our responsibility as your pack to take care of our Omegas. No pack would ever let one go, it’s disgraceful. Look at yourself Y/N, You can’t take care of yourself out there. We wouldn’t be good Alphas if we let you do whatever you wanted.” Tony says.
A brand is brought out and you shake your head as fast as your sore body will let you.
“You didn’t think there wouldn’t be consequences to your stunt?” Steve says.
You didn’t. You thought the worst that would happen would be ending up in the same position as before. You accepted that you would be hurt fighting an Alpha but branding is not something you thought they would ever do.
“Nobody brands anymore, It’s inhumane.”
“Nobody runs either.” Thor sits next to you and picks your hand up.
“If I was an Alpha…”
“You’re not an Alpha,” Tony says sternly.
You look at your Alphas and pull your blanket over your face. Thor pulls it back and Tony crouches beside the bed.
“We ignored your behavior for a long time and that’s on us. We should have started punishing you years ago. We failed. We didn’t give you what you needed as an Omega and it got us here. We’re not going to make that mistake again. You’re not an Alpha or a Beta Y/N, you’re an Omega. We need to treat you like one,” Tony says.
--
The brand is just another thing on your list of body parts that hurt. Bruce comes each day to change the bandage where they branded your arm. He checks your temperature and makes sure you’re eating and drinking. Within a few days you start feeling better, getting up for short walks, and within the week Your bruises turn from deep blues and purples to lighter greens and yellows.
“How do you feel?”
“Much better.”
“I think you’re out of the woods. You can resume activities now just take it easy for another week to be sure. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you again.”
“I’m not ready Bruce.”
“It’s going to be ok.”
Bruce walks out of the room. You hear the quiet voices of him with Steve and dread what comes next.
You stand up and pace as you wait. Steve walks in and you back up to the wall. He’s barely talked to you all week. At first you thought it was just because he’s angry. Then you started noticing the bulge in his pants and the long showers and realized he’s just been trying not to fuck you until Bruce gives the all clear.  He walks over to you and leans in smelling your neck. You flinch involuntarily and take a few shaking breaths.
“You’re scared of me,” he says.
You look down ashamed.
“That’s progress.”
you press yourself into the wall as if you could push yourself through to the other side.
“I have something for you.” Steve hands you a package and you open it pulling out a dark green chemise.
He puts a hand on your cheek and leans in for a kiss. He’s more gentle than you expected giving you little pecks on your cheek and nose.
“I got a lot of pretty things for you to wear.”
He kisses your forehead.
“Why don’t you put it on for me.”
You know he meant for you to change in front of him but you go to the bathroom instead and he doesn’t say anything. You look at your body in the mirror. You’ve lost weight and more importantly muscle mass. There are still multiple bruises healing across your body. You look down at the brand they gave you and back at your eyes. It’s an archaic practice, branding wolves. It used to be common for unruly wolves but doesn’t happen often anymore. The mark lets every other pack know that you’re a runaway. If you run and any wolf, even a rogue, sees the mark on your arm they’ll do everything they can to get you back to where you belong.
“come out and show me.” You hear from the bedroom.
You take a deep breath and splash your face before walking out. Your heart is beating so loudly you’re sure Steve can hear it from the other side of the room.
“I knew the green would look good on you.”
Steve looks you up and down as he walks toward you slowly. He glides his hands down your body and lifts you, placing you on the bed.
“I’ve been waiting so long for this.”
He flips you over without warning and You press your head to the bed. He pulls down your underwear and  puts his knee in between your legs pushing them apart. You feel one hand on your back and one in between your legs. His finger glides over your clit before dipping into your pussy. He pumps his finger in and out slowly while his other hand presses down on your back.
“There you go, you’re doing great.”
You start losing yourself in the sensation, chasing an orgasm.  He pulls away, replacing his fingers with his dick and pushes in slowly stretching you.
You start to panic and seize up but Steve holds you down, thrusting into you harder. You cry out in pain and he shushes you.
“Take it.” He says into your ear as he gives a hard thrust.
His hot breath is on your back and before you know it he’s biting down marking you forever.
It’s almost like a virus but instead of your body fighting it off it overwhelms you, changing you from the inside out. You will have this bond with Steve forever. The feeling pushes you into an unexpected orgasm and you arch your back. Your pussy clenches around Steve and he comes inside of you. Both of you are still for a few minutes in the wake of what just happened. You start shaking and wiggle out from under Steve, crawling into the middle of the bed and curling into a ball. Steve  gently moves you so you’re under the blanket. He crouches beside you and looks at the mark he left. It will scar over. Every wolf who sees it will know you’ve been taken. There’s an almost drug-like calm that having your Alphas cum inside of you gives you but the pleasure you feel is overshadowed by the stress of everything. You start crying softly.
“hey, none of that.” Steve says. He wipes your tears away and slides into bed with you, engulfing you in his arms. You press yourself against him and he rubs your back
Steve doesn’t let you out of the house for two full weeks. Every part of your life is filled with him. Every little misstep and rebelion is squashed down immediately. It’s stifling.
You sit looking out the window one morning and Steve walks over to you, pulling you into his lap. You lean against him and trace circles on the back of his hand.
“You’re getting better.” He says proudly.
You’re not getting better, you're getting smarter. You’re biding your time until you can run. You’ll carry marks of this pack for your whole life. You’ll experience anxiety and depression but it will be your choice. If you ever come back it will be your choice. That’s all you’ve ever wanted, a choice.
Steve gets a text and pushes you off to read it without you seeing. He shakes his head and looks at you apologetically.
“I have to deal with some pack business.”
“Oh?” you try not to seem happy.
Steve grabs the back of your neck, holding it so you can’t look away.
“Stay inside until I get back.”
“Yes Alpha.”
He lets you go and quickly gets his stuff together. You watch him leave from the window and start roaming around looking for anything that could help you escape. You open a cabinet and move some tools aside, finding a pair of handcuffs. You stare at them for several minutes letting the knowledge that they exist wash over you. There’s no doubt in your mind that Steve wouldn’t hesitate to put you in these. You won’t hesitate either. You put them back where you found them and walk to the front door.
You’re not going to run right now. You know you won’t make it far on foot and Steve took the car. You just want to rebel a little bit. You want to show yourself that you’re strong enough to do something your Alpha told you not to. something your mate explicitly forbade.
You open the door and take one liberating step out. You feel free.
“Y/N.”
You look up to see Bucky Barns. He motions for you to get back in the house and follows you in. Bucky has been your friend since birth.
“I wasn’t going to run.”
Bucky pulls out his phone and types a quick text. He motions for you to sit on the couch.
“Please Buck, I swear I wasn’t running.”
“Hey, I don’t like this either but the Alphas gave strict orders for you.”
He gets a text and reads it scratching his chin. He gives you an apologetic look and you scoot away from him.
He grabs you quickly pushing you down over his knee and landing a hard smack on your bottom. It’s humiliating. You’ve never had this kind of relationship with Bucky. He’s always been an easy going Alpha and one of the only ones you’ve ever felt truly comfortable around. You try your hardest to get out of his lap but he keeps giving harder and harder spankings. You’re not sure how many it ends up being, only that he doesn’t quit until after you give up physically and emotionally. He pulls you into his arms and shushes you.
“You get why we have to do this right?”
You hug him back and nod. It’s working. You know that if you don’t get out you’ll eventually give in to all of it. Bucky holds you until Steve returns.
“Thanks Bucky.”
“Any time.” Bucky moves you out of his lap and makes his way to the front door.
You pull your legs up against your chest and watch Steve take off his shoes and hang up his jacket. He slowly rolls his sleeves up and crosses his arms.
“I’m sorry.” you whisper.
Steve walks toward you slowly and crouches down. He doesn’t say anything and the silence fills you with anxiety. He runs the back of his hand over your face before pulling your arms off of your knees. He stands up and undoes his jeans, pulling out his hardening cock. It twitches and grows and he grabs under your jaw, pulling you up towards his cock. You open up and he pushes into your mouth. He doesn’t say anything as he fucks your mouth. You close your eyes and try not to think about the feeling between your legs. He comes down your throat and pulls away from you still not talking to you. He walks to the kitchen and gets you a glass of water setting it on the end table next to the couch. You lie down and he places a blanket over you.
“Don’t leave the couch until I tell you to.”
This time you listen.
---
You lie awake in bed staring at the ceiling. Don’t hesitate.
Steve starts snoring gently and you pick his hand up and drop it. He doesn’t wake up and you jump out of bed and tiptoe to the living room. You fill your bag with whatever you think you can possibly need and head to where you found the handcuffs. You hold them in your shaky hands and take a breath. Don’t hesitate.
Steve wakes up the moment you close the shackle on his wrist. He reaches out for you and you run.
“Do not dare leave this house Y/N,” He yells as you reach the door.
You falter at the command. Fighting an Alpha command is like walking through glass. Every step cuts into you. It gets easier once you shut the door behind you. His voice still makes you want to turn around and go back but it’s much easier to fight now. You take his car, forcing yourself to drive at a normal speed so that nobody is suspicious.
You park at a train station several towns over but run half a mile and take a bus out of town instead of the train. You change busses at random making your way across the country.
You stare at the brand they gave you. You’ll have to be careful. They won’t stop hunting you and if they catch you you’ll never get away again. Your life now is one of running and hiding but also one of freedom and adventure. You don’t know what’s coming next. You let yourself be hopeful for the first time since you presented as an Omega. Your designation doesn’t define you. The wolves who claimed you, who owned you don’t define you. You decide what you want in life now.
How many rogue Omegas have you heard of?
“One.”
PART THREE
AN - This ending feels nice... but I also have a third part in my head. I’m debating if I want Steve to come get his Omega or not. LMK what Y’all think about ending it here vs. having the reader caught. 
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obxfics · 3 years
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puppybowl sunday
summary: you spend the day cuddled up watching the puppy bowl
pairing: john b x reader x jj
word count: 1654
a/n: i got inspiration watching the puppy bowl so... here we are lol also when tf is season 2 coming i want more motivation to write and shit please anyways enjoy (also this could technically belong to the “you against the world” universe but also... idk where it would fit lmao so if you want to imagine it like that have at it)
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john b groaned as something woke him up. he had been deep in sleep, something he appreciated considering how many late night grocery or food runs he had to do for the residents of figure eight, when he felt someone shift as they laughed. he blearily opened his eyes to see you, sitting up with your back against his headboard and one of his arms flung across your waist, frozen with your hand clapped over your mouth. obviously you hadn't been meaning to laugh that hard.
"what are you doin' up so early?" he rasped, his voice kinda scratchy from sleep.
you smiled down at him and ran a hand through his thick hair, giggling when your fingers got all tangled up in it. "hon, it's two in the afternoon."
he lifted his head real quick and pouted when he saw that jj wasn't included in the cuddle pile. "shit, did i miss jj going off to work?"
"mhm. don't worry, though, i got some food into him and made sure he was wearing his mask. also put the fear of god into him if he didn't wash his hands throughout the day."
john b breathed out a laugh as he imagined you yelling at jj to stay safe at work. almost a year into the pandemic, and jj and john b had spent the whole time quaranting in the chateau to the best of their ability. it had been months since they had seen kie or pope in person for longer than a few minutes, and usually that was only when john b pulled up to the wreck to pick up delivery orders or when jj and john b helped pope's dad with grocery deliveries. at the beginning of everything, you had been spending quarantine with your boys since school was all online and your parents' restaurant was closed. a month or so in, however, regulations had been lifted and the people of figure eight all but demanded for them to reopen, and so you went back home to help your parents with the restaurant and to keep jj and john b safe from anything you could have possibly brought back to them.
you had practically locked them in the chateau, leaving them threatening voicemails if they even thought about going out, but as two months turned into three turned into four turned into five, you realized that the boys needed their jobs as there seemed no end in sight to the pandemic. so jj returned to his job at the country club, and john b got a job busing tables at your family's restaurant. you moved back in to quarantine with them as school started, and you spent practically your whole savings on getting a backup generator and high speed wifi for the chateau so if anything happened, you all would be good. and, despite living through a worldwide panda express, you were quite happy.
beside you, john b shifted his head to rest on your lap so he could see what you were watching on your laptop that had you laughing so hard. a smile grew on his face when he saw the puppies running around on the "football field" and jumping all over the "ref." he looked up at you and felt his chest blossom with warmth at the way you smiled at the puppies and giggled when they flopped over.
"did you really wake me up watching the puppy bowl?"
"hush up," you laughed, "it's a tradition, and you know it. 'sides, you can't tell me you aren't enjoying this as much as i am. i've seen how you and jj get with dogs. y'all may love them more than you love me."
"aw, honey, that's not true," john b cooed. "you know how much we love you. obviously i love you more since i didn't go to work during the puppy bowl, but you know, that's to be expected."
you shook your head and lightly swatted at his stomach. you knew he wasn't being serious. john b loved jj just as much as he loved you, and the feeling was mutual from jj. the three of you had a good thing going, a relationship full of understanding and compassion, and it had taken y'all a long time to get there. you all had things to work through, like jj's daddy issues, john b's abandonment issues, and your trauma from your previous relationship with rafe cameron, but you had gotten through it together, and this quarantine had actually brought y’all closer together which had surprised everyone.
“jj’s gonna be sad that he missed it,” you sighed.
“we’ll just rewatch it with him,” john b assured you. “and we can watch the old ones too.”
there was shuffling as the both of you wriggled around to get into a more comfortable position. at one point the two of you had to lunge to catch the laptop from falling to the floor, but eventually you settled in with john b curled around you and the blankets and pillows providing a sort of nest and elevated stand for the laptop. the room was filled with the soft sounds of puppy barks and whines, and your giggles when one of the dogs did something particularly cute, and john b let out a quiet sigh as he allowed himself to relax against you.
“i think we should get a dog,” you mumbled sleepily as john b clicked on last year’s broadcast. “we can add another cutie to our cuddle pile.”
there was some incoherent whining on your part before you dozed off in his arms. he did his best to focus on the puppies on the screen, but soon he too fell asleep with his face buried in the crook of your neck. that was how jj found you two when he stumbled into the room later that night as he yanked his tie from his neck. he stilled in the doorway, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he saw the two people he loved most in the world all snuggled up together. and then he saw what was pulled up on the laptop.
“oh you assholes!”
the both of you jolted awake, your hand smacking john b in the face as you moved to make sure the laptop wouldn’t fall off the bed. john b rubbed at his eyes and turned to blink up at jj.
“hey, how was work, babe?”
jj shook his head as you rolled over and made grabby hands, obviously asking for cuddles. he put his hands on his hips and frowned down at the pair of you.
“i cannot believe y’all are watching the puppy bowl without me.”
“um... in my defense,” john b started, “they were already watching when i woke up.”
“dude!” you turned your head to scowl at your boyfriend. “jj, baby, come cuddle with us, and we can turn it back on.”
as he kicked his shoes off and rifled around the dresser for comfy clothes, jj shook his head. john b let out a laugh when he realized what he was getting at.
“no can do, babe,” jj told you, smirking at john b as he let his work shirt slide off his shoulders. “the superbowl starts soon, and we’re watching it.”
you fell back on the bed and let out a loud groan. you had been hoping the boys would be too tired to watch the football game. you lifted yourself up on your elbows and glared at the two of them.
“i am legitimately only watching your stupid sportsball for the weeknd. after that i will be passing the fuck out.”
jj laughed and wrapped his arms around you as he flopped down between you and john b. you couldn’t keep your glare on your face when you felt your cheek hit his bare chest. you had missed him all day. there were a few laughs and giggled--and a couples groans of pain--as the three of you got all comfortable on the queen sized bed. finally you and john b sandwiched jj, john b spooning the blonde boy as you nestled in within the warmth of jj’s arms.
“don’t he kiss his kid on the mouth?” you mumbled as one of the players ran out on the field.
a wheeze left jj’s chest as john b shouted his laugh out, causing you to smirk. you had absolutely no clue as to what was happening in the game, or even had any idea as to who the teams were, because like you told the boys, you were only watching for the weeknd concert, and you were getting more and more anxious waiting for it.
“wait, i thought both teams were supposed to be good. why does one team already have like three touchdowns and the other doesn’t have any?”
“honey,” john b said, attempting to hold in his laugh, “just watch and enjoy the game.”
you rolled your eyes, making jj smile fondly. “hon, how am i supposed to enjoy a game i don’t even understand?”
“do you want us to explain?” jj offered sweetly.
“absolutely not. i appreciate it, baby, but i’m too pretty for that.”
jj snickered and pressed a kiss into your hair. “of course you are, babe.”
you nuzzled your nose against his collarbone and tugged your hand from between the boys to gently scratch at john b’s scalp. a hum rumbled deep within the brunette’s chest at the action.
“i love y’all,” you whispered into jj’s skin. “even if y’all make me watch football.”
“well we love you too,” jj returned with a kiss to your cheek and john b’s arm.
“even if you make us watch the weeknd,” john b teased.
“hey! you better appreciate abel or i swear i’m moving out!”
taglist (ahaha heyyy it’s been a while so tell me if y’all want to be removed): @damndunner​ @scandalousfemale @shawnssongs​ @kikifromtheblock​ @write-from-the-heart​ @kurtsconner​ @thatjohnd​ @abbiesthings​ @heavenlymama​ @strangerthanfiction713 @alexis-marrt022 @brithedemonspawn​ @obxsummer​
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Go the Distance
Prompt: Hello, I absolutely adore your work 🥺😍🥺 your Sanders Sides angst is just so goooood!!! If you're up to it, I'd love to request a fic <3 Virgil has noticed [side(s?) of your choice; they're all good choices, I can't decide ;-;] has been distant and avoiding him and he just can't figure out what he did wrong but it's actually because [side] loves him and are trying to take some time to 'get rid of/push down their feelings' The angster the better but don't push yourself ^ Feel free to add or change whatever Have a great day and no worries if you don't do this 💜💜💜~@im-an-anxious-wreck 💜🖤
Thanks for the prompt babe you’re the best
Read on Ao3
Warnings: self-doubt, some lite™ angst
Pairings: prinxiety, background platonic dlampr because found family dynamics motherfuckers
Word Count:  4191
Virgil and Roman's relationship hasn't always been, well, great. But it's been getting better!
Or, at least, it was.
Listen, Virgil knows he and Roman haven’t exactly had the most…painless history. Virgil’s introduction to the series was Thomas telling Roman his dream was to get rid of him and, well, Roman was first and foremost loyal to Thomas. Then the whole…insult thing, ducking out, and the absolute mess of the callback wedding debacle, it’s not exactly been smooth sailing.
 But—okay, and maybe they’d been a little harsher about things than absolutely necessary, and maybe Roman got hit with the consequences of their fights more than Virgil, and maybe Virgil hadn’t exactly been…overwhelmingly accepting of all of Princey’s little ticks.
 But they’d still been talking!
 After the wedding, no one was on good terms with anyone save Patton and Janus—and wasn’t that the shock of a lifetime—and Remus and Virgil. Because they made the smart choice and decided ‘nope, fuck that, I’m out.’
 It was a good choice. You have any idea how high their scores are in GTFO now? The first rundown’s a fucking cakewalk.
 Anyway.
 They’d been talking! Virgil still doesn’t know exactly what happened right after—he saw the video, of course he saw the video, but Roman sunk right to his room and there’s a good twelve hours between that and the next time Virgil saw him—but Roman had come out and approached him!
 Probably because he was still hurt by the end of the video—which oof, Virgil does not blame him for, that was harsh—and his only options were Logan, Virgil, and Remus and Logan, um, didn’t want to see anyone for a while and Remus is Remus.
 Side note: those two have been getting on better. Something about their twin Creativity thing meant Remus knew that Roman was hurting bad before even Thomas did.
 But Roman did seek him out, asking him quietly if he had a moment, just a moment, to sit together. Virgil had shrugged and passed it off as nothing only for Princey to literally sit on the floor and not make a fucking noise. He’d frowned and poked his shoulder, asking if he was alright.
 “Perfectly fine, Dark and Stormy,” Roman had said lightly, “and I’ll leave you in a moment.”
 “But you’re…” Virgil had waved to his silent form. “…not acting like you normally do.”
 Roman had laughed. “And here I thought I’d never hear you say you missed me being loud.”
 “Now let’s not jump to conclusions.”
 Sure enough, a few more seconds had passed and Roman had gotten up, quietly bid Virgil good day, thanked him, and left.
 You bet your ass Virgil sunk straight into Patton’s room to ask hey what the fuck did you do to Roman.
 Patton had sighed and said that they’re not sure what to do now—‘they’ being Janus and Patton. Virgil, still recovering from the whiplash of those two being close had shaken his head and told them to get it the fuck together.
 If he sunk into Remus’s room to ask how to take care of Roman, that’s his business. It’s also his business if he tackled Princey in a hug two minutes later.
 So. Talking.
 Roman, for all he talks, doesn’t really say much. The few things he does say are easily passed off as jokes, off-handed comments that no one really pays much attention to.
 Not that anyone pays nearly enough attention to Roman, come on, guys, he makes it easy.
 But Roman talked to Virgil. He’d come in and sit and Virgil would sit next to him, trying to make sure his arm didn’t burst into flames from where it was pressed against Princey—the dude’s a fucking space heater, okay?—just to listen. Some of the time it was Disney rants—okay, most of the time it was Disney rants—but some of the time…
 “Virgil?”
 “Yeah?”
 Roman looked down at his costume. Today was repair day, unofficially called when Virgil’s hoodie ripped during the night and Roman’s sword cut through his sleeve. Virgil looked up from his own mass of fabric, needle stuck in carefully so he wouldn’t prick himself. He frowned at the look on Roman’s face.
 “What’s up, Princey?”
 “Do you think my logo looks bad?”
 Virgil blinked in shock. Roman didn’t look up and see the surprise on his face, instead running his thumb slowly over the patch on the costume.
 “What the fuck are you talking about, Princey?”
 “It’s so complicated,” Roman said, still looking down, “Logan and Patton have really simple ones. You have a pretty simple one.”
 “Janus doesn’t. Remus doesn’t.”
 “Yeah, but they’re…”
 Virgil frowned deeper, putting his hoodie on the ground and shifting closer to Roman. The prince didn’t even look up, still clutching his logo in his hands.
 “They’re what, Roman?”
 Roman swallowed. “…allowed.”
 A growl sounded from Virgil’s throat before he knew what was happening.
 “And you’re not?”
 “Hmm?”
 “And you’re not allowed, Roman?” Virgil gripped his shoulder. “Look at me, Princey.”
 Roman looked up. Virgil swallowed another growl at the despondent look on the prince’s face. Instead, he gripped Roman’s shoulder tighter.
 “No one,” he said firmly, “is allowed to tell you your logo is bad. You hear me?”
 Roman blinked.
 “I mean it, Roman,” he said, softening his voice a little, “it’s you. It’s yours, no one’s allowed to tell you it’s wrong.”
 “So that’s…okay?”
 “Yeah, Princey, it’s okay.”
 “Oh.” Roman looked back down at his costume. “Okay. Thank you, Virgil.”
 “Anytime.”
 Virgil would come to be astounded at how much he means that.
 Because, really, now that Roman’s talking? Virgil’s fucking shocked that they didn’t realize how much Roman actually has to offer.
 First off, Princey’s smart as hell. Sure, L’s the resident braincell but you can be big of brain and dumb of ass at the same time.
 If Logan tries to tell you he’s not a dumbass sometimes he is wrong.
 Roman can puzzle solve with the best of them. Do you have any idea how much brainpower it takes to write a story? A script? Understand how all those moving parts fit together and make sense as a whole? Virgil sure as hell didn’t. He spent one afternoon trying to help Roman only for it to end up as Roman explaining what he was doing and Virgil frantically trying to keep up. Don’t even get him started on how impressive the Imagination stuff is.
 “It’s my job, Fall Out Brood,” Roman laughs every single time Virgil expresses how fucking cool this is, “have to be good at something.”
 And Roman is. He’s good.
 Second: Patton may be the heart, Logan may be the brains, but no one is as good at reassuring him as Roman. Probably has something to do with the Creativity gig. Roman had asked, politely, if Virgil would be comfortable telling him what to do when he gets really anxious, whether to leave him alone, get him somewhere safe, get him things, what have you. Virgil had told him, bemused, only to be shuttled into somewhere that screamed safewarmcomfortableeverythingisokay the next time he had a panic attack. Roman, with the lack of shame truly becoming of a theatre kid, had no problems cheering him up by loudly declaring he would fight whatever shadowy figures plagued his little nightmare, swatting at the air with his sword until Virgil’s sobs had turned into giggles. He never made Virgil talk about anything if he didn’t want to, didn’t try to sit and work through things if they weren’t ready, and never touched him unless he’d gotten the okay. The first time Virgil told him he’d be fine with receiving hugs in the aftermath was the warmest he’d felt in years.
 Princey gives really good hugs.
 Third: Roman’s fucking funny.
 Remember the whole ‘smart as hell’ thing? Know how Logan’s funny as fuck too when he lets himself be?
 Virgil’s lost count of how many times he’s had to gasp out for Roman to shut the fuck up because his sides hurt too much from laughing. He ends up sprawled across the fucking floor or the couch or Princey’s bed, dying very happily but painfully because Roman won’t stop making him laugh.
 Most of the time it’s due to something they’re watching and Roman’ll notice some detail that he picks apart until they’re both howling or Virgil will make one sarcastic comment that turns into a full fucking bit for like…ten minutes. Roman will just keep riffing off of the smallest thing until he’s laughing too hard to keep going—not very likely—or Virgil will flail out desperately and smack him—much more likely.
 Princey said he makes fun of the things he loves.
 …maybe that’s why he doesn’t make fun of Virgil anymore.
 Virgil curls tighter around the pillow, clutching it to his chest. As he rubs his cheek against it, he grimaces. It’s too rough. It’s not warm enough. It doesn’t smell right.
 They’d been talking. It had been good.
 But that was before.
 Before Roman had cautiously approached Logan with an apology, the offering of a new planner for him, the promise to listen to him, hear him out, give him space to speak. Logan had accepted.
 Before Roman had opened the border between his and Remus’s side of the Imagination, sending a little puppy scuttling over to his brother’s castle with a note, a dagger, and a vial of acid. It returned as a kitten with a beautifully poisonous rose.
 Before Roman had finally, finally, after days of trying, opened the door when Patton knocked, letting him come inside so they could talk, about everything that happened since…well, ever. They hadn’t stopped hugging long enough to walk down the stairs.
 Before Roman had let Janus, Janus, take care of him.
 And now…
 Now Roman didn’t want to be in the same room as him.
 It feels as if they’re walking on eggshells around each other again, Virgil appearing in a room only for Roman to completely disappear, getting up and leaving a conversation entirely just to avoid him, Virgil knocking on Roman’s door only for Roman to shout that he’s busy, not to come inside, Virgil, trying, trying to figure out where Roman’s gone, what’s happened, only to receive the cold shoulder.
 A problem none of the other Sides seemed to be having.
 He clutches the pillow to his chest.
 Did he—did he do something wrong?
 Does Roman—does Roman not like him anymore?
 Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed so hard about talking to the others. Roman needed space, needed time, he didn’t need someone else breathing down his neck. He should’ve let Roman set the pace, listened more, been kinder to him when he needed reassurance.
 Maybe he shouldn’t have made Roman think it was his fault that the others were taking so long, or suggested that if he wanted things to get better he should try talking first. Roman had been taught by everyone else that things were his fault already, Virgil didn’t need to jump on that train too.
 Maybe he should’ve been kinder to Roman, less focused on making the others understand that they hurt Roman. Everyone in the Mindscape knew that Roman was hurt, Virgil should’ve helped fix that, taken care of Roman, not pushed the blame onto everyone else.
 Maybe Roman didn’t like what he had to say about Disney films. They were Roman’s comfort watches, the last thing he needed was for someone to cruelly rip away his enjoyment of one of the few things he could enjoy.
 Maybe Roman didn’t like Virgil’s way of taking care of him. Virgil never pushed, never did Roman the courtesy of asking, like Roman did with him, just assumed he knew best how to comfort someone and left it there. Roman might’ve needed more hugs, more time, less distraction, just something other than what Virgil gave him.
 Maybe Roman didn’t like how much Virgil ended up hoarding him to himself. Not letting him go to the others for comfort, just to work things out. Maybe he thought Virgil was just keeping him upset so he could hang out with him more.
 Or maybe…
 Virgil muffles his sob in the pillow.
 Maybe Roman needed or wanted him anyway.
 Maybe Roman was just waiting until he could get the comfort he actually wanted. Maybe he waited until the others were easier to talk to so he could go back to what he really needed. Maybe Virgil was just a placeholder until Roman could get hugs from Patton and Remus, talk with Logan and Janus, not him. Never him.
 Maybe that’s…okay.
 It’s not, it won’t be fucking okay for a long time, but one day, it will be okay.
 Virgil curses and throttles the pillow in his arms, wishing for it to be real, to be warm, to be a chest of white and gold and a splash of red, for it to wraps its arms around him and say it’s okay, shadow-ling, I’m here, I won’t leave you, shh.
 But it’s just a pillow.
 Has his room always been this cold?
 Have Disney movies always looked this flat?
 Has music always sounded this gray?
 Has Virgil always been this alone?
 He can hear them in the living room below him. He can hear Roman and Logan throwing quips back and forth, can hear Remus tackling his brother into the wall, and Roman protesting. He can hear Janus scolding Remus and checking to make sure Roman’s not injured, can hear Roman wave him off gently and go right back to verbally sparring with Logan. He can hear Patton laughing too hard, falling off the couch and begging the two of them to let up, let him breathe, can hear Roman coo and call him sweet, adorable, in that soft voice he only uses when he’s talking to someone he cares about.
 Can’t hear any of them worrying about where he is.
 Maybe it’s better this way.
 He got greedy, took too much of what was never his to take, what wasn’t given to him freely. He latched onto the first thing he thought was for him and didn’t stop to think that it wasn’t. He may think he’s been included in the famILY but he knows he’s still an outsider.
 He may be Virgil now but deep down he’ll always be Anxiety.
 So here he will stay, in the cold of his room, in the dark of his face smushed into a pillow that will never be real. He will stay and he will be happy.
 But not today.
 He sniffles and smears his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie, not bothering to pull away from the pillow long enough to wipe tears properly. His limbs start to protest as he hugs it tighter, tighter, tighter, but it’s no use. He can feel his own arms through the pillow. There isn’t enough—there’s too much give in the pillow. It’s just a fucking pillow but it’s not enough.
 Another laugh from downstairs and Virgil growls, burying his head in the pillow until he can’t hear himself think.
 Can’t hear anything but his own muffled sobs ringing in his ears.
 Can’t hear anything other than the thought swirling around and around his head that he’ll never be enough, that he’ll never be wanted, that he’ll never be anything other than Anxiety.
 Can’t hear the soft knock at the door.
 “Virgil?”
 The voices in his head must be getting pretty powerful because he’s certain he can hear Roman calling for him. He buries deeper in the pillow.
 “Virgil? Virgil, can you hear me?”
 Yes, he thinks, yes, I can hear you, which means I’m not crying hard enough.
 “Can I come in, shadow-ling?”
 Yes, he thinks, come in and make me forget that you don’t need me anymore.
 He must really be losing it because he thinks he can hear the door open and close again with a soft click, followed by a sharp intake of breath and a soft coo.
 “Oh, shadow-ling,” the imaginary Roman murmurs, “come here, little Stormcloud.”
 Oh, his imagination is being cruel to him right now because the sensation of warm arms around his waist and shoulders fucking burns. He buries his face in the pillow until he can’t tell which way is up anymore, not sure how he’s tricked himself into imagining Roman’s cradling him but too unwilling to let the illusion go.
 “That’s right, Stormcloud, relax for me, I’ve got you, I’m right here, shh, shh, you’re alright,” the imaginary Roman keeps whispering in that cruelly soft voice, “you’re doing great, shadow-ling.”
 Virgil wants him to be real. So bad he aches from it. But he knows he’s not.
 What happens next breaks his fucking heart.
 The imaginary Roman kisses him.
 It’s chaste, a barely-there brush of his lips against his forehead but it tears a whine out of Virgil’s throat before he can stop it. The imaginary Roman hushes him gently, pressing another kiss to the part of his cheek not buried in the pillow and it taunts him with how real it feels. The slightly chapped lips, the warm rush of air as Roman breathes, the light brush of his nose as he pulls away.
 It’s too much.
 It’s too much and he wants it to be real so badly but he knows the instant he pulls away it will vanish and that might just break him.
 Then he realizes the imaginary Roman is talking to him.
 “Breathe, Stormcloud, you’ve got to breathe,” he coaxes, “I know it’s tempting to stay buried in a pillow all day, but you can’t breathe properly like that, sweetheart.”
  No, no, don’t call me sweetheart, I’ll break.
 “Shadow-ling, Stormcloud, my darling,” the imaginary Roman says instead, “come on…”
 Well, now he’s disappointing imaginary Roman too. Figures. He can’t do anything right.
 “Of course you can,” the imaginary Roman pleads, “just breathe for me, shadow-ling, I’m right here, I’ve got you, you can keep your eyes closed if you need to, just breathe.”
 Another whine. Another kiss pressed against his head. The whine grows louder.
 “Shh, shh, my darling,” imaginary Roman murmurs, “breathe, come on, just—trust me, okay? Can I ask that of you, Stormcloud?”
 And goddamnit, this is why Virgil can’t do anything.
 Virgil trusts him.
 So he prepares himself for heartbreak and lifts his head.
 “Thank you, shadow-ling,” imaginary Roman—wait, he’s still here?—murmurs, rubbing his back, “there you go, now just breathe—oh! Oh, come here, lean on me, I’ve got you.”
 Having listed to the side horribly, Virgil lands against a solidwarmsafereal chest and—and—
 “R-Roman?”
 “Yes, my darling,” not imaginary Roman says, still kissing Virgil’s forehead, “I’m here, I’m here.”
 White-hot rage burns Virgil’s tears.
 He lets out a yell and shoves, not caring that it throws them both horribly off-balance, threatening to send him tumbling to the floor. He hears Roman cry out, trying to keep ahold of him, but he scrabbles and gets his hands around the bedpost and pulls.
 “Virgil—Virgil stop, you’re going to hurt yourself—“
 “Why do you care?” The rage coats his tongue. “You fucking left, you—you—you fucking didn’t care about me anymore, you decided you didn’t want me anymore and you fucking left so don’t try and care now!”
 “Virgil—sweetheart, I—“
 “Don’t fucking call me that!” He keeps his eyes squeezed tight. “You didn’t give a fuck about me when you left, when you got your fucking family back, you think—you think you can just waltz back in like you didn’t abandon me?”
 “Virgil—“
 “Because you did, Roman!” Virgil blindly shoves at where the prince was before, knocking him into the wall. “You fucking left me as soon as you got the others back like I—like I never did anything for you and now you—now you can’t even look at me.”
 “I’m looking at you now.”
 Virgil laughs.
 He throws his head back and howls until his chest and throat ache.
 “You didn’t give a shit when the others started talking to you. You just fucking up and abandoned me like you never cared about me in the first place. You replaced me with them or—or abandoned me as your placeholder and I’m fucking hurt, Roman.”
 “I know.”
 “Then why did you do it?”
 Silence.
 Virgil’s heart stops.
 No.
 No, no, no, no—
 He fucked up.
 He fucked up so bad.
 Roman left.
 Roman’s not here anymore.
 Roman left again, he made Roman leave, he—he fucked up so bad, he shouldn’t have yelled, he’s fucked up, he hurt Roman, no, no, no, no—
 On instinct, his hands hook into claws.
 Only to be caught by warmsolidreal hands and brought to something soft.
 “Don’t,” comes Roman’s softsaferealhurt voice, murmuring in his ear as he holds him still, “don’t scratch, sweetheart.”
 “Don’t—“
 “I know, I know,” Roman says immediately, “you said not to call you that. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.”
 …what?
 “I didn’t realize I was hurting you,” comes the voice again, “that’s no excuse, I know, but please, Virgil, I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to abandon you.”
 Virgil swallows. “What the fuck do you call it then?”
 “I didn’t want to push my luck.”
  What?
 “You were being so good to me, Virgil,” Roman murmurs, oblivious to the internal struggle Virgil’s currently facing, “so kind, so supportive, that I…I realized I wanted to ask more from you. Things I had no business asking. And the longer you kept on being you, the harder it was to resist the urge to push and risk shattering everything you’d let me build with you.”
 “What—“ Virgil swallows— “what the fuck did you want?”
 Roman stills in front of him. With his eyes still shut, he can’t tell what’s going on, but when Roman speaks next his voice is hoarse.
 “Before I ask,” comes the whisper, “I want you to know that you have every right to say no. You can push me away, shove me out of your room, stay angry at me for as long as you want. I’ve hurt you, badly, and I have no right to ask this of you. I want you to know that. That I’m okay with you asserting that right.”
 Fuck, Princey.
 “…what do you want?”
 A pause. Then a soft rush of air, right on his face.
 “May I kiss you, Stormcloud?”
 Oh.
  Oh.
  Oh, no.
 “R-Roman?”
 “That’s it,” Roman murmurs and oh, his mouth is right next to Virgil’s, “that’s what I want, shadow-ling.”
 He shifts a little until Virgil can feel Roman’s warmth.
 “That and everything that goes with it.”
 “Why—why did you leave? I-if that’s what you wanted?”
 “Because that would mean to push,” Roman says immediately, “and the last thing I wanted was to push you away. I thought if I could…rein it in, control it, I could…I wouldn’t hurt you.”
 A soft chuckle.
 “Look how well that turned out.”
 “But the others—“
 “I needed Remus to tell me what was going on,” Roman says wryly, “Janus to point out that I was okay in wanting something, Patton to help me figure it out, and Logan to kick my ass into doing it.”
 “To…to ask me?”
 “Yes, Stormcloud,” comes the whisper, “to ask you.”
 “And if I say yes?”
 He can feel Roman’s lips turn up.
 “…then I’ll kiss you, Stormcloud.”
 “Are you really here?”
 The question bursts out of him before he can stop it, immediately biting his lip in reprimand for letting it.
 “Open your eyes, Virgil,” Roman says softly, “look at me.”
 He shakes his head, not wanting it to be imaginary. Not now, not after this. Roman squeezes his hands.
 “Look at me, Stormcloud,” he whispers, “look at me.”
  Fuck it.
 Roman smiles at him, real and warm and soft and here. He squeezes Virgil’s hands again and takes the smallest step closer.
 “I’m here,” he says, wrapping Virgil’s arms around his neck, “I’m right here, shadow-ling.”
 He’s here.
 This won’t fix everything. But it’s one hell of a start.
 “Ask me again.”
 “May I kiss you, Stormcloud?”
 Virgil shakes his head. “Not like that. Ask me properly.”
 Confusion dances on Roman’s face before realization hits. His smile widens and he brings a hand to Virgil’s head. Virgil clutches Roman tight as he gets dipped into the prince’s arms. Roman leans forward until his mouth almost catches Virgil’s.
 “May I kiss you, sweetheart?”
  “Yes.”
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cherienymphe · 4 years
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Best Friends Forever (Fratboy!Peter Parker x Reader)
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This is my entry for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​  What’s Old is New Again Challenge! This fic is inspired by #18, “A gentleman is simply a patient wolf. – Lana Turner. Hope you all enjoy!
warnings: NON-CON, manipulation, roofie 
DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU
summary: Peter Parker is your best friend. Peter Parker is your only friend. Peter wants to keep it that way.
~
Peter Parker was your best friend. In fact, Peter Parker was your only friend. The two of you had been inseparable for as long as you could remember. You grew up together attached at the hip, and therefore, you did everything together.
He was there, watching in awe when you pulled your first loose tooth. You did the same when he pulled his first one weeks later. You helped each other learn how to ride bikes, double dutch, and even attempt to skateboard once. The two of you had broken so many bones together that you had lost count.
You weathered middle school together and the absolute insanity that was high school. You two had been best friends all your life, and it had never been anything more than that, so you both were equally confused when catty high school girls and bored high school guys would constantly accuse the two of you of dating. It was a thought that had never crossed your minds, and it was something you often laughed about.
There were absolutely no secrets between you two, and despite that, you still found yourself completely frozen in shock as you watched Peter slip in through your bedroom window one night during sophomore year. He was covered in bruises, and the oddly familiar red and blue fit he wore had some tears. You had stumbled off of your bed, running to grab him as he struggled to stand.
Realization hit you as he leaned against your wall, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath, and your eyes almost popped out of your head.
“Y-you’re Spider-Man?”
It had come out louder than you had intended, and he was frantic as he covered your mouth, begging you to keep quiet. Neither one of you slept much that night as you demanded answers from him. You remembered feeling upset and betrayed that he had been hiding something so important from you, but even worse, you felt worried.
Your best friend had been put in danger so many times while you had been none the wiser. From then on, you demanded that he pass through your house to change out of his suit before going home. Not only for it to be safe for him to get home, but to put your own heart at ease too. It gave you a sense of comfort to see for yourself that he ended the night in one piece.
It was a tough secret to keep, incredibly trying to keep your thoughts to yourself as you watched his crime fighting be reported day in and day out. It was difficult to keep your worry at bay when he was late sneaking into your bedroom or to keep yourself from crying out when he was especially hurt. You were the only one who knew the truth, and the gravity of it served to further isolate the two of you.
Peter was literally your only friend and had been for as long as you could remember. What did it matter that you had never had any girlfriends, even now during college? Sure, you had always envied that special bond some girls seemed to have with each other. Of course, it bothered you a little that you had never experienced what it was like to have a best friend who could relate to you in every single way, but Peter was plenty. Yeah, there were some things that as a guy, he would never fully be able to empathize with, but his sympathy and well intentions were enough.
Besides, having a guy best friend came with its perks. Peter understood guys way better than you could ever hope to, and he was always more than eager to give you advice. Thanks to him, you could probably call yourself an expert on them, but in the end, it never did any good. You had never had a boyfriend, never even anything remotely close. Sure, it bothered you, a lot, but in the end you were grateful.
Peter saved you from regret more times than you could count. Every guy you had ever vocalized interest in turned out to be absolute garbage. At least, that was what Peter told you, and you trusted him. He was never wrong about these things. Tristan, an upperclassman that you’d had a crush on during your freshman year, had apparently been a racist creep. James from your junior year was a party animal with anger issues. Your first year of college, you’d fallen head over heels for a literature major named Logan, but Peter had to be the bearer of bad news when he informed you that the guy had a girlfriend back home and about three more on campus.
After that, you had just given up completely. You saw no point to any of it when every guy you had ever liked turned out to be awful. In the end, Peter was truly the only one you could trust. You were beyond thankful for him, and the day you could bring a guy around with Peter’s approval was the day you would know you found a good one. Unfortunately, you were starting to think that day would never come. You dreaded the day Peter would finally get a girlfriend, because then you would truly be a lonely wreck.
You found it odd that Peter had been single all this time too. This wasn’t high school anymore. In college, girls liked guys who were smart and who read and knew how to have conversations outside of sports. Add the fact that Peter had grown to be quite attractive and had even joined a fraternity, he was a catch. So it was safe to say you didn’t get it, and told him so one night.
“I’ve just never met the right girl,” he said with a shrug, distracted.
“Oh, come on,” you scoffed in disbelief. “So many great girls have shown interest in you. What about MJ? She was tall and funny and her hair-! God, her hair.”
He snorted, a faint smirk on his lips.
“I just wasn’t into her.”
“Why not?” you wondered.
MJ was practically perfect, and you had never known Peter to be nitpicky. He just shrugged, eyes focused on his laptop as he typed away.
“Peter,” you whined. “This is just sad. One of us has to start dating soon or we’ll just end up staring at each other in our old age.”
“I’ve dated,” he said, offended as his eyes cut up to you.
You rolled your eyes, flicking your pencil at him.
“I mean dating dating, not whatever it is you and your “frat bros” do every weekend. That house has seen more girls than a gynecologist clinic,” you complained.
“You know I’m not like that,” he said, shutting his laptop and setting it aside.
While he was somewhat right, he’d still had his own fair share of fun with some of the girls who went to their parties.
“You may not be as bad as the rest of them, but you can’t fool me, Peter. Remember, there are no secrets between us,” you replied, leaning back into the couch. “When are you going to get a girlfriend?”
He didn’t answer, and you continued.
“I know you want one. You’ve mentioned it several times, and I know dozens of girls that would be thrilled to be given the chance.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, giving you his full attention now.
“I just…haven’t found the right girl,” he lamely repeated.
You opted to leave it alone, skeptically eyeing him before reaching out to turn on the tv. You could feel Peter’s eyes on you, but he fortunately spoke before you had a chance to ask him what was up.
“To be honest…there was a time when I thought…you’d be my girlfriend,” he quietly confessed, almost like he was afraid of your reaction.
You looked at him, shock and disbelief coursing through you. A humorless chuckle left your lips.
“You’re kidding…”
He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes were completely serious.
“No, I’m not. It was senior year of high school and… I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I know we were teased about it for years and the idea was crazy to us, but one day…I realized that you were the person I was closest to in the world…and I wanted to be closer.”
Your eyes were wide, lips parted in awe as you listened to this confession. You had never known, and you wondered how you could have missed it. What kind of friend were you?
“It was the only secret I ever kept from you…”
You turned to fully look at him.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
He shrugged, dark eyes studying you.
“I knew you didn’t feel the same way, so I just forced myself to let it go. And I did,” he answered.
He was right. You had never felt the same way, and you started to wonder what would have happened if he had confessed his feelings to you. How awkward that could have been… It could have ruined everything.
“Peter…I can’t believe you did that. That must have…sucked,” you whispered.
He chuckled.
“I’m not going to lie. It kind of did, but I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. You’re special to me, and nothing would have been worth making our friendship weird or just destroying it altogether. It turned out to be nothing more than a crush, anyway. Just…teenage hormones.”
You felt your heart clench, wondering if you would have done the same. It must have been torture for him to swallow his feelings just to keep things comfortable between you two, no matter how fleeting the whole thing was for him.
“Really, it’s no big deal, Y/N. I’m long over it, now,” he waved you off.
You chuckled, moving past the brief shock you’d just experienced.
“I’m glad for that. If you told me you still had feelings for me, I probably would’ve accused you of sabotage all these years.”
“Sabotage,” he scoffed. “Listen, every single guy you’ve been into was downright awful. You literally have the worst taste in men-.”
“I do not!”
“You do, Y/N. Honestly, if it wasn’t for me, who knows what you would have gotten yourself into.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Just for that, you’re paying for the takeout, tonight.”
 ~
“Botany? That’s crazy! I want to go into agriculture,” you said with a laugh.
The guy before you, Harry, chuckled with you. The two of you were tucked into a quiet corner of the kitchen. The rest of the house was vibrating with a deep bass, the sound of noisy college students filling your ears. Parties weren’t your thing, but frat parties especially were definitely not your thing. Somehow, Peter had finally talked you into attending one of his house’s infamous parties, and you hadn’t even been in the building for five minutes before you grabbed a drink with as little alcohol as possible and hid in the kitchen.
It was miraculous really that you bumped into an attractive guy who was equally uncomfortable with these things. He was funny and charming, and he wanted to study plants. You tried not to get ahead of yourself, but someone else might say it was fate that you two ran into each other. Hell, you ran into each other at Peter’s frat house, so the chances that they knew each other were high. Maybe Peter would have good things to tell you about him.
As if he was summoned by your thoughts, your eyes connected with familiar brown ones as he poked his head into the kitchen.
“Peter!”
You waved him over, and his eyes flitted between you and Harry as he approached you.
“Hey, Parker. I didn’t know you knew Y/N,” Harry chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.
“Yeah, Peter and I go way back. He’s my best friend,” you said, pulling Peter over.
Your best friend was being unusually quiet, and you frowned. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing the way his eyes had hardened. Was he okay?
“Y/N was just telling me that she wants to go into agriculture. We’ll probably be taking a lot of classes together in about two years,” Harry threw out.
Peter chuckled at that, but it sounded off, and he turned to look at you.
“I figured you’d be hiding in the kitchen, so I came to find you,” Peter said, wrapping an arm around your waist.
A shudder passed through you at the unfamiliar gesture, but you brushed it off.
“Oh, you know how I am. I’m glad I ran into Harry though! He’s been keeping me company, so you can just go back to the party if you want. Your friends are probably looking for you,” you replied.
Peter had become quite popular since you two started college, and you knew that the demand for his attention was rather high. You often felt bad about dragging him down with you. You weren’t really the social type.
“Yeah, Parker, I can look out for Y/N for you,” Harry offered, a friendly smile on his lips.
You returned it and noticed the way Peter’s jaw ticked, and confusion filled you.
“Actually, I came to find Y/N so that we can go,” Peter bit out.
Your frown deepened, but you didn’t question it as Peter gripped your hand.
“Oh, okay. I guess we’re leaving. See you around, Harry!”
He waved back as Peter pulled you out of the kitchen. His grip was tight on your hand as he weaved through swaying bodies and drunk students. Again, you wondered if he was upset about something. It was Peter, so you hardly ever saw him upset. You breathed in the fresh air when the two of you made it outside, and you took the time to eye him.
“Peter…you alright?”
He took a deep breath, chest heaving before he looked at you with a smile. He looked more like himself and you returned it.
“Yeah, I’m just…not feeling too good,” he answered.
“Oh,” you sadly said. “Are you getting sick?”
He shrugged, hand in his pockets.
“I don’t know. I probably had too much to drink. Mind if I crash at your place?”
You chuckled, shaking your head.
“You’re always welcome to sleep over, you know that.”
It was quiet for a while between you two as you walked back to your apartment. His hand was soft on yours, and the way his arm kept brushing against yours brought comfort to you. You were so used to his presence, borderline dependent on it, and just knowing he was beside you was reassuring.
“I love you, Peter, but please don’t invite me to anymore parties,” you suddenly whispered, a hint of mock fear in your voice.
He barked a laugh, and you joined him.
“All of them aren’t that bad, I promise,” he chuckled. “Did you really hate it that much?”
You hummed, releasing a sigh.
“Maybe I didn’t hate it all that much,” you admitted after some time.
He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye as a wistful smile fell over your lips, eyes gazing at the sky.
“So…how do you know Harry?”
His hand tightened around your own just the slightest.
“He’s in another frat,” he answered with a scoff. “He’s a spoiled rich kid who thinks he can get anything he wants by throwing money at it.”
You rolled your eyes with a shake of your head.
“Somehow, I’m not shocked by that, but… You know what? I don’t care.”
He stopped walking, pulling you to a halt with him, and he stared at you with a frown.
“What? What do you mean?”
You shrugged.
“I like him. We have a lot in common and he’s hilarious and so cute. Maybe… Maybe I’m expecting too much, you know?”
Peter looked even more confused, jaw clenching as his frown deepened.
“What are you saying?”
“I mean… Yes, I’m a huge romantic and I want a boyfriend, a serious boyfriend, like I have for years, but… You have always been a girlfriend kind of guy. It’s no secret that you’re open to a serious relationship, and you claim the only reason that hasn’t happened yet is because you haven’t found the right girl, but… Peter, that’s never stopped you from having fun,” you elaborated.
He didn’t respond, and you sighed.
“I’m just saying that maybe I should do the same. Maybe I should stop trying to make a boyfriend out of every guy I’m into and just have fun. Like you!”
He forced a chuckle past his lips.
“That’s…that’s not like you…”
“I know, but… I’m tired of being alone,” you shrugged. “We’re in college, now, and the chances of me finding a boyfriend are pretty low. Let you tell it, a good portion of the guys here are trash, but that only matters if you’re looking for something serious, and I don’t think I want that anymore.”
Peter was uncharacteristically quiet…again, and you tilted your head at him.
“That’s…a big change for you,” he murmured.
“Yeah,” you sighed. “…but I’m really into Harry. You’ll help me, right?”
Your pleading gaze met his dark one, slightly frowning at the way he was looking at you. He pursed his lips.
“Please, Peter? I really like him, and you know him so well.”
He looked away with a small sigh. He briefly closed his eyes before eventually nodding, and you smiled. He looked at you with a grin on his lips, taking your hand again as he continued the trek down the sidewalk.
“Yeah. Leave it to me, Y/N, and I’ll help you get laid in no time,” he relented.
You squealed, reaching up to shake his shoulders as you pushed him along.
“You’re an angel!”
He chuckled.
“What are best friends for?”
 ~
“Okay, I’ll admit, that was much better than I was expecting,” Harry relented.
“See! I told you, I am an excellent judge when it comes to these things,” you replied as the two of you walked out of the theatre.
It was the sixth date the two of you had been on in 4 weeks. True to his word, Peter had helped you out, and that next morning after the party, you’d woken up to a text from Harry Osborn himself. A huge grin had spread out over your face, and you didn’t hesitate to reply.
The two of you had been talking nonstop since then about practically any and everything. It turns out that you hadn’t been premature in thinking the two of you had so much in common. It was true! It was almost suspicious how much of the same things you liked, including horror films.
“Listen, the storyline didn’t seem all that original, and when I had watched the trailer, I felt like I’d seen the entire thing in less than 2 minutes,” he defended.
“Okay, okay, that I can understand, but ever since I’d missed out on seeing both Insidious and The Conjuring in theatres because I thought they were going to suck, I vowed to myself ‘never again’.”
“Yikes! Both of those films were great. I just know you still kick yourself over that one,” he laughed.
“It literally haunts me,” you groaned. “I know experiencing both of those in the theatre must have been amazing.”
Harry seemed to find your regret amusing, and he stopped to look at you with a smile on his face.
“Hey, so uh, my frat is throwing a party this weekend. I mean, we do just about every weekend, but I was thinking maybe you could come…as my…date this weekend?”
Your eyes widened a bit, and you felt your face heat up. He seemed nervous to ask you, like he didn’t know how you’d feel about it, and it was wild to you. You really liked Harry, and you thought you had made that more than obvious over the past month. Sure, Peter was right when he said he was a bit of a snob, but it wasn’t overbearingly so to the point that it became a turn off. Crazily enough, you could see Harry being more than just ‘fun’.
“I’d love that,” you honestly replied.
The corner of his mouth pulled upwards into a smirk, and he stepped closer to you on the deserted sidewalk.
“Yeah…?”
You nodded, looking up at him as he got closer. Neither one of you said anything as he reached up to gently grip your jaw, leaning in until his lips pressed against yours. You sharply inhaled, closing your eyes as you savored this. His lips were soft, and the way he moved them against yours told you that he was experienced.
That didn’t bother you. Truth be told, you had always wanted to be with someone who knew what they were doing, because honestly, you had no idea. You felt flutters deep in your stomach, and you shuffled closer to him when a cool breeze blew by. He pulled away just a little, opening his eyes to look at you as you did the same.
“Come on. Let me walk you back to your place,” he offered.
You happily gripped his hand as he did just that.
You felt giddy, absolutely on cloud nine as you leaned your head on his shoulder. Maybe you were getting a bit ahead of yourself, but a nice and rich frat guy was asking you to be his date to his house’s party. In context, this whole thing was showing a lot of promise. Guys like him normally liked to keep their options open, and him actually claiming you as his date was making somewhat of a statement.
You waved him goodbye as you made your way inside the complex, lips still tingling from the second kiss he’d given you just outside. You were still smiling when you rounded the corner that led to your hall, pausing as your eyes fell on a familiar figure outside of your door.
“Peter, hey!”
He pulled himself to his feet with a small groan, stretching as you fished your keys out of your purse.
“Where have you been? I’ve been waiting here for over an hour,” he said, glancing at his watch.
You gave him a sheepish look as you let him go in first.
“Sorry. I went to go see a movie with Harry,” you answered.
“Oh,” he said in a small voice. “You’re still seeing that guy?”
“That guy,” you scoffed with a small chuckle. “Isn’t he your friend?”
“Yeah, sort of, I guess…”
“You staying over tonight?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder.
“I really wasn’t planning to, but since I’ve been waiting this long, I don’t want to go back to the house in the dark.”
You hummed, opening your drawer of takeout menus to figure out what you should order.
“So…how are things going with Harry?”
You couldn’t stop the smile that fell over your lips.
“Great actually,” you said, sounding surprised. “He asked me to be his date to the party his frat is throwing this weekend.”
Peter’s eyes were wide as you glanced up at him, dark eyebrows raised as he looked at you.
“Really…”
“Yeah! I don’t know… I wasn’t exactly planning for this to be anything serious, you know? I wanted to experience some light fun for once in my life, but now… I think I can see us actually being something,” you whispered.
Peter didn’t reply right away, only humming in response.
“Are you going to the party?”
He blinked, heaving a sigh before shaking his head.
“Nah. I’m not really a fan of the kind of parties they throw,” he said with a shrug.
“What do you mean?”
He waved you off.
“They can just get pretty wild. They regularly get noise complaints and don’t really monitor how much alcohol people are drinking until it’s too late and there’s throw up everywhere,” he explained with a frown.
“Oh…”
You were a bit disappointed that Peter wasn’t going to be there, but you had to remind yourself to stop being so dependent upon him. The two of you couldn’t stay attached at the hip forever, and at some point, you had to start making a social life for yourself…by yourself.
 ~
Friday night came much quicker than expected, and you were all dressed and ready to go. The house wasn’t far from your place, and since it was still daylight, you didn’t mind walking. You’d worn comfortable shoes, so it didn’t bother you.
Even though you would probably be considered an early arriver, the place was already lively when you stepped through the door. Everywhere you turned, you were met with someone’s back or chest, and you struggled to maneuver yourself through the bodies. You didn’t recognize anyone, and almost wished that Peter had come with you, growing nervous until you spotted a familiar head of dark hair.
You approached Harry with a smile, reaching out to grab his arm. His eyes were wide when he turned to face you, and you frowned when he maneuvered his arm out of your grip. Your frown only deepened when he stepped away from you, glancing away, and that was when you noticed the girl at his side.
She hadn’t been paying attention, gaze elsewhere, but she smiled when she finally turned to look at you. She was blonde and beautiful and had perfect teeth, dazzling you as she grinned. Her perfectly manicured hands wrapped around Harry’s arm as she leaned into him.
“Hey! Are you a friend of Harry’s?”
She seemed sweet, and confusion filled you at their familiar body language.
“Babe, this is Y/N. She’s super close with my friend Peter,” Harry answered, barely sparing you a glance.
Your heart dropped to your stomach as you eyed them.
“Oh! I’ve yet to meet Peter, but I’ve heard you mention him sometimes. I’m Scarlet, Harry’s girlfriend,” she introduced herself.
If it all possible, you probably would have thrown up, but you hadn’t eaten anything all day, too nervous about tonight.
“Oh, wow! I don’t think Peter ever mentioned Harry having a girlfriend,” you responded, hoping it sounded casual.
You could feel the man in question’s eyes on you, but you didn’t spare him a glance.
“Well, I’ve never actually met Peter, and Harry and I only recently go back together…what was it? Two months ago?”
“Two months ago…wow…”
You didn’t know what to say, and you finally understood the full meaning of ‘speechless’ in that moment.
“Yeah, Harry didn’t have any plans this weekend as far as I knew, so I decided to come down and surprise him. You should have seen his face when I showed up on the doorstep an hour ago,” she laughed.
You joined her, feeling like you were going to be sick.
“I’ll let you two catch up. It was nice to meet you!”
“You too,” Scarlet said, waving goodbye as you turned and pushed yourself through the crowd.
There were tears in your eyes, and your body was shaking. Were you on the verge of a panic attack? You stumbled over your own feet as you attempted to make your way to the door. So focused on the baby pink polish on your toes, you didn’t notice the figure before you until your head was colliding with their chest.
You stumbled back, almost falling had it not been for a familiar pair of hands. You looked up in shock, and everything crashed into you as your eyes met Peter’s. His gaze was inquiring, worry coloring his features as he studied you.
“Y/N? What’s wrong?”
You shook your head, letting it fall against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.
“What happened?”
“H-Harry has a girlfriend,” you whispered.
You felt him tense against you.
“…what?”
“I mean… I thought… You said he was just some spoiled rick kid. You never mentioned a girlfriend,” you said, looking up at him.
“I didn’t know. Honest. They broke up forever ago,” he replied, pulling you against him.
“Yeah, well apparently, they got back together two months ago. The whole time we’d been talking and going out together he…,” you trailed off, shaking your head. “He treated me like I was practically a stranger.”
Peter’s jaw ticked, and he moved to go past you, but you stopped him. His dark eyes were focused on Harry no doubt, but you pressed your hands into his chest.
“Peter, let it go. Please! Just…stay with me? I don’t think I want to go home…”
The last thing you wanted was to lay in your bed and remind yourself of what a disaster tonight was turning out to be. Peter heaved a sigh, hands tightening on you before reluctantly nodding. He pulled you along towards the door.
“Come on. We can just go to the party at my house,” he offered.
You nodded, leaning against him as he walked you out. You wiped at your cheek, unsure of when a few tears had spilled over. You had fooled yourself into dreaming of more with Harry and look where it got you. Even if you had still only wanted something casual, there was no way you would have knowingly got involved with a guy who had a girlfriend. That wasn’t who you were.
“I thought…I thought you weren’t coming,” you whispered.
“I wasn’t, but… I didn’t want to leave you at a party where the only person you knew was Harry. I’m glad I did come,” he murmured. “What an ass…”
“Don’t worry about it, Peter. Really. Maybe this is just a sign that I should stop trying to force something with every guy I like. It never turns out well,” you sighed.
Peter’s frat house was just as lively when you guys moseyed inside. A few of his brothers recognized you, and you waved at them. Peter’s arm tightened around your waist, but you didn’t mind it. You knew what other guys at the party would think, but you didn’t care. You were done with guys, and all you wanted was to hang out with Peter, the only guy you had ever been able to trust. So if they mistook you as Peter’s girl, and left you alone because of it, that was fine with you.
The two of you were attached at the hip throughout the night. Peter had gotten both of you drinks, and hours later, you were still nursing that same drink. This was never your crowd, and the more you made your way around the room with Peter, the more obvious it became. He didn’t seem to mind your company though, arm still at home on your waist. You noticed a few disappointed glances being thrown your way, and you chuckled with a frown.
“Peter, I think I’m ruining your chances of getting laid,” you finally said.
He glanced around to see what you meant before he chuckled too.
“It’s fine. You’re my best friend. I’m not just going to ditch you,” he responded.
You smiled but still felt a bit guilty that you had affected his night again. You pulled away from him, letting him know that you were going to be in the kitchen. He understood and promised to join you. To be honest, you wanted him to have fun. You didn’t exactly take pleasure in knowing that he sacrificed his usual routine at parties just for you.
You leaned against the counter, pressing your fingers to your temples as you rubbed circles into your skin. You didn’t know how the night had gone so wrong. How had you been so clueless? No, no! You were not going to do that. It wasn’t your job to watch and hunt for signs of an untruthful man. You weren’t supposed to be suspicious of a guy you were seeing. This whole situation was completely on Harry.
You finished your drink, tossing the red cup into the trash with a sigh. It was amazing that in the span of 3 hours, your life had done a complete 180. You had gone from having the time of your life to being alone and miserable and feeling absolutely foolish.
You heard footsteps make their way into the kitchen. You glanced up, face contorting in a frown as your gaze connected with that of the last person you wanted to see.
“What are you doing here?” you scoffed.
He was holding two drinks, eyes apologetic as he approached you.
“I’m sorry-.”
“I don’t want to hear it, Harry. There’s nothing that you could say that can fix this.”
“Y/N, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. Scarlet and I… We’ve been having problems for a long time, now, and we both thought getting back together would make them magically go away, but they didn’t. The night we met, Scarlet and I had gotten into a huge fight, and I was under the impression that we were over…for good.”
You eyed him.
“Then she wanted to work things out, but I had already met you, and I really liked you…”
You looked away with a sigh.
“We were never exclusive, I guess, but it doesn’t matter because you have a girlfriend. You had a girlfriend the whole time we were hanging out, and I’m certain that you and she have an agreement that you guys are exclusive,” you harshly replied.
He glanced down, and you chuckled, but it lacked humor.
“You were cheating on her…with me… Never mind the obvious of how she would feel if she found out, but how do you think that makes me feel? Do you think I like being that kind of girl?”
He shook his head.
“No, no, you’re not the type-.”
“Exactly.”
He at least had the decency to look ashamed.
“I know I messed up, okay? I just wanted to apologize and bring you this… You said it’s your favorite, the only drink you actually really like, and I thought maybe it could soften the blow of you chewing me out,” he confessed.
You eyed the cup, glaring at him before taking it. You took a sip before sighing.
“Well, thanks for the drink,” you saluted him with it. “…but I don’t see us moving past this Harry. It was fun, but I don’t even want to be friends with someone like you. I’m sorry, and I mean it when I say I hope you and Scarlet work things out.”
You brushed past him, taking another sip of the fruity mixture as you went in search of Peter. It was easy to find him, following the sound of his familiar laughter. He didn’t mention anything as he wrapped his arm around you, and you figured that he didn’t know Harry was here yet.
“Hey, I was coming, I swear I was-.”
“Peter, it’s fine! You know I don’t care about you keeping me company or not. I’m a big girl.”
He returned your smile, pulling you closer as his hand tightened on your waist.
You didn’t plan to stay much longer, and about an hour later you decided that you would head out…after you used the bathroom. You found it much more difficult to weave through the sweaty bodies this time, and you blinked as your vision spun for half a second. You stopped to steady yourself, pressing your hand to your head in confusion.
You eventually made it to the bathroom, and you took some time to look at yourself in the mirror. You looked alright, for the most part, but you felt so…off. Your fingers were tingling just the slightest, and the bass in the houses sounded incredibly far away. By the time you were done in the bathroom, you were stumbling out.
You had to hold onto the wall for support, and confusion filled you. You’d only been drunk a handful of times, but this time felt different. Even worse, you had only had two drinks. You dreaded making your way down the stairs, and you had to pause and lean your back on the wall halfway down. You heard someone call your name, and they too sounded so far away. You jerked when a pair of hands landed on your arms.
“Y/N? Y/N, are you okay?”
You stared at Harry for the longest time, wondering what he was still doing here when it clicked. You frowned at him.
“Did you put something in my drink?”
Your words were slurred, but he understood you nonetheless, and his eyes widened.
“What? No!”
“You did, didn’t you? I…I only had two drinks, and this didn’t start until after-.”
“Y/N, I wouldn’t do that! Come on, let me-.”
“No!” you jerked away from him. “Is this your way of getting in my pants, anyway?”
He frantically shook his head, concern and worry and disbelief all rolled into one in his gaze.
“Y/N, you have to believe me! I wouldn’t do this!”
You scoffed, pushing against him, but it was weak.
“Believe you? How could I trust anything you say?”
He blinked, something clicking in his eyes as he looked down the stairs and back to you.
“Y/N, I didn’t get the drink for you. Did Parker not tell you he saw me? He gave me the-.”
“Hey, what’s going on?”
You both turned to look just as Peter came up the stairs. You stumbled towards him, fighting off Harry’s hands as Peter wrapped his arms around you.
“He put something in my drink,” you whispered, on the verge of passing out.
“What?” Peter demanded, tightening his hold on you.
“Y/N, listen-!”
“You’ve done enough, don’t you think? Get out of here, Harry, because if I tell my frat brothers you’re drugging girls they aren’t just going to let you walk out of here,” he threatened.
Harry stumbled over his words as Peter helped you back up the stairs.
“Leave,” you heard him snap at the other brunette.
Your fingers dug into his arm as he helped you walk down the hall, arms tightening around you.
“P-Peter…”
“Hey, hey… It’s okay. You can crash in my room, tonight, yeah?”
You’d only been in his room a handful of times, the both of you usually hanging out at his place. It was always clean and always smelled good, and you had thought to yourself before that it was no wonder girls kept coming back. He sat you down on his bed, and you struggled to sit upright.
You heard him fumbling around in his drawers and looked up just in time to see him coming over with a huge t-shirt. You didn’t mind when he helped you out of your clothes, welcoming it during your inebriated state. His fingers grazed your skin as he slid the shirt over you, resting his hands on your shoulders.
“Y/N, can you hear me?”
“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, blinking at him.
He took his thumb to widen your eyes, getting a good look at your pupils. You felt like you were having an out of body experience, and you were grateful for Peter. You didn’t like feeling like this, and you shuddered to think about what would have happened to you had Peter not been here.
“Thank you,” you whispered.
He ran his eyes over you before resting them on your fogged-out ones.
“You don’t need to thank me,” he said with a small smile. “What are best friends for?”
You struggled to return the smile, and he brushed his hand along the side of your face. Your eyes fell closed at the gentle feel of his ministrations. You were somewhat in shock that Harry would do such a thing. A rapist was a big leap from cheater and liar, and you wondered what drove him to do it. He had a girlfriend, but maybe he was truly that greedy and disgusting?
You forced your eyes open when you felt Peter’s hand on the side of your neck. You blinked, eyebrows furrowing as you watched him lean in.
“Peter-.”
You were cut off when he pressed his lips against your own. Your eyes widened, and you reached up to press your hands into his chest, but you had no strength. His hand slid to grip the hair at the back of your head, tightening his grip as he leaned into you.
You mumbled incoherently into his mouth as he laid you down, his lithe frame immediately settling against yours. His other hand was on your naked thigh, his t-shirt riding up to brush against your underwear. You turned your head, gasping for breath.
“Peter…stop,” you panted. “W-what are you doing?”
He didn’t answer you, opting instead to pull away and reach behind his head to pull his shirt off. You blinked as you were met with the sight of his bare chest. He leaned down again, pressing his lips against yours. He simply swallowed all of your protests, and you turned your head away again.
“Peter!”
“I’m doing what I’ve wanted to do for years, now,” he whispered against your cheek.
Your eyes widened, and confusion filled you.
“…what?”
You tried to scoot back on the bed, but he only followed, his frame still caging yours in as you both moved. His eyes were hard as he looked at you, and you felt tears collect as you fought not to cry.
“Harry gets everything, you know. It’s all just so easy for him, but I’d never let him have you,” he murmured, pressing kisses to your neck. “Not after I worked so hard to save you…for myself…”
You pushed against him again, but he didn’t budge.
“No, no. Peter, what…what are you…?”
Nothing was making sense, and your head hurt and your body felt heavy and the room was spinning. Nothing he was saying was making sense.
“Peter, you’re my best friend… This doesn’t make any sense…”
Your head lolled, much too heavy to lift as you heard him fumble with his pants. Panic gripped you, but you could hardly move. You groaned when he pressed himself against you, and you could feel him hard and throbbing between your thighs.
“Peter,” you mumbled.
“I’m going to be the only person who gets to be inside of you. The only one to know what it feels like to have you wrapped around them. God, I’ve always wanted to know what you feel like,” he whispered, kissing you again.
His fingers made their way to your core, rubbing you through your underwear. You reached up to grip his arm, but you were sure that your hold was featherlight. You let like your body weighed a ton, and the smallest of movements took so much out of you.
You whimpered as you felt your underwear grow damp, and Peter wasted no time in pushing them to the side before pushing a finger inside of you. Another soon followed, and you were panting beneath him as he worked his hand in between your legs.
“Please…stop,” you begged. “I’ll scream…”
“Can you?” he wondered, lips brushing against yours.
Tears spilled over at his question. He was right. Could you even scream? You could barely speak.
“Even if you could scream, Y/N… There’s a party going on. Who’s going to hear you? Hmm?”
He was dragging your filthy underwear down your legs, now.
“Peter, please. I’m your best friend… Please, don’t do this to me,” you pleaded.
Peter’s eyes met yours.
“It’s just been us our entire lives. All we ever needed was each other. I want to keep it that way,” he said.
You yelped, pressing your nails into his back as he slid inside of you to the hilt. Your legs were limp around him, a scream caught in your throat. He leaned down to kiss your wet cheeks, shushing you as you struggled to adjust beneath him.
He took his time as he pulled out of you before sliding back in, groaning at the way you clenched around him. You pressed your nails harder into his back, and he hissed before reaching back to grip your wrist, pinning it to the bed. He did the same with the other and kept a steady pace.
You panted beneath him, eyes fluttering closed. Whatever was coursing through your system made it impossible to focus on anything other than the way his hard length felt dragging against your walls. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he thrust into you, never taking his eyes off of you as he watched your face.
His grip tightened on your wrists, and you gasped at the pain.
“Peter…”
“It’s okay. Just enjoy it, Y/N…”
You gasped again as he picked up his pace, forehead dewy with sweat. He buried his face in your neck again, chest pressed against yours as he pinned you to the bed, unrelenting in his thrusts.
“You’re mine,” he murmured. “You’re finally mine…”
Something that was a cross between a choked moan and a sob escaped you.
“I want everyone to know it-.”
“No, Peter-!”
“I’m going to fuck you until the sun comes up, so everyone in this house will know you belong to me. You’re my girl, Y/N. You always have been,” he moaned. “…and when you limp out of this house with my marks on you, everyone will know it.”
He came in you with a low moan, and you sobbed into his chest as he rolled over, curling you against him. He ran his fingers down your back, lips brushing your forehead.
“I’ll make you come before the night is over,” he whispered. “I’ll be the only one to ever touch you like this.”
You shook your head, and he rolled you back onto your back, still inside of you. His dark eyes bore into your own, fingers trailing over your trembling body.
“You know exactly what I’m capable of, Y/N… You know the things I can do. I’d hate to have to hurt someone for touching what’s mine.”
~
tags: @sherrybaby14​ @kellyn1604​ @xoxabs88xox​ @mcudarklibrary​ @darkficreposter​ @villanellevi​ @sebabestianstan101​ @harringtonsblackgf​
@opheliadawnwalker3​ @jtargaryen18​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @readermia​
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lazarettta · 3 years
Text
I’m Not A Witch
Characters ( Cordelia Goode, Misty Day, and Reader)
Word Count 3k
Warnings (Minor drug use 💨)
You don’t have a bad background, in fact your life is pretty cushy but not without its problems namely...you being able to do things with your mind but you have no control. Thankfully, Cordelia and Misty scoop you up before you head down a path of self-destruction. Platonic af but there could be something if you squint I think 🤔
~~
New Orleans was a world different from New York. A world different. You were born and raised in New York—it was your whole life, and you never really thought about a life outside of the city that never slept. Why would you want to leave the city that everyone wanted to be apart of? Well that's what you thought for twenty-three years.
You lived a comfortable life your entire existence, you didn't have to struggle nor were you ever afraid of your future. Your parents always made sure that you were well taken care of, nothing but the best for you and you knew how fortunate you were especially being a foster kid. You were born to Mr and Mrs Hawthorne, a wealthy couple who couldn't have a baby of their own so they went with the next best thing that money could afford—surrogacy.
It had taken your parents months to find the perfect candidate as Mr. Hawthorne, your father, would use his own semen (yikes dad). But that was all that you knew, you had no idea the identity of the woman they hired to carry you for nine months other than she was the nicest young woman your mother has ever met.
It wasn't a topic that could've been avoided as you got older and noticed that your complexion was a few shades more than theirs. But thankfully your parents were always open and honest with you, even at a young age. Of course you had a nanny growing up, both of your parents were lawyers—their time was always stretched far too thin, but you weren't a neglected child nor were you ungrateful and they loved you so much for it.
Which was why you never told them about your newfound skill when you hit your sweet sixteen—everyone thought the candle that nearly melted your entire birthday cake was a fluke incident but you knew that it wasn't. You had felt the heat of the fire as you watched your father set the tip of the match against the wick of the candle. For a brief moment you wondered what would've happened to your cake if it was on fire, you thought it would look pretty badass. You hadn't exactly expected it to actually happen! But it did and thankfully no one was injured just thoroughly freaked out.
Your parents laughed it off, quite nervously, but you never said anything about it to them and they never really brought it up again anyway. Unbeknownst to them, of course they were always at work and the penthouse housekeeper wasn't required twenty-four seven, you were able to fool around with your newfound hobby with relative peace in your room. Well until you nearly set the place on fire twice in the same month, after that you just went to the roof and googled meditation practices on google.
You only ever couldn't control the fire unless you were an emotional wreck. For two years, you kept that secret to yourself and if you didn't have friends before you sure as shit didn't then. No one really liked you anyway, your parents were richer than most of everyone else's and your parents actually gave a damn about you and not just about how you were going to make them look in the future.
They tried to bully you about your height but you weren't a punk, so that was short lived. Students envied you but that was okay. They didn't have anything to offer you, that's what your mom always told you anyway. Besides there was nothing wrong with being short, it just meant you had more to offer. Of course.
When you turned eighteen, you discovered something else about yourself...and you weren't exactly sure what you wanted to call it but you could always tell if someone was lying to you if you listened hard enough.
You weren't sure how it worked but you never took any real notice to it until your ex girlfriend, and your only girlfriend, lied to you and you felt a bit of a...you wouldn't say it was a jolt but your insides felt the same type of tingle when your foot fell asleep or something.
That's how you figured out your first love (high school, right?) was cheating on you...you hadn't dated anyone after that. How could you when all people did was lie?
And the minute they learned that you were a Hawthorne...it was done. You saved yourself the heartache and just focused on the future. You managed to graduate college a year early and you didn't go to jail for arson, yet.
The older you got and the more you learned about how shitty people could be, meditation and yoga stopped working so well for you and you ended up joining a gym. No martial arts or anything like that, you didn't have the time for it, but you hired a trainer and five days a week that’s what kept you grounded.
Presently...
You weren't currently working, well not anymore. Less than a month ago you were a nurse at Mercy hospital as a CRNA. It was a late night already and an unruly patient was brought in for a gunshot wound. Somehow he managed to slip out of his bonds and before anyone could stop him, the bastard had his hands around your throat and you'd...you just fucking panicked and he ending up burning to death from the inside.
No one knew how it happened they couldn't even prove that you had even done anything, but you were fired on the spot anyway...and your parents had to shovel out a good amount of money and blackmail to keep your name from the papers.
You hadn't searched for a job after that, what was the point? Your name may not have been dragged through the papers but you sure as hell weren't gonna be working at any hospital anytime soon. At least...not in Manhattan.
But after what happened...what you did to that man, the cruelty of it? Why would you? You'd been high strung after that and you picked up a habit you ditched after you left college.
It just helped you regulate your emotions better and to think, plus you just liked the way it made you feel. It also helped with the nightmares that would plague you every night, and the scene was always the same. He was always on top of you screaming to a pain too gruesome for words.
Your parents tried therapy but you were stubborn besides your medicine was better than theirs anyway.
Your father didn't know about your newfound hobby but your mom did, and she wasn't going to tell him either. She was just thankful that it wasn't crack or cocaine—she could deal with her daughter turning into a weed connoisseur. But she would not support an unproductive one.
That was exactly why she was on her way back into the city to your penthouse with two guests in tow. Doing her best not to cry in front of these two women who have proven to her that they could not only help you but take care of you in a way that she couldn't.
But she knew when your birthday cake went up in flames...she had been watching you the entire time, and in that moment...every warning and tale that your birth mother told her came to light. But she made a promise to love you like you were her own, because you were, and she'd love every freaky little tic that came with you.
As a mother it was hard for your mom to accept that this wasn’t something that she could do for you. But she was woman enough not to stand in the way of her daughter's success...whatever it was that you chose to do.
~~
You were sitting out on your balcony wearing your black robe with nothing else on except a pair of panties and your Prince tank top that you should've gotten rid of years ago but it was still one of your favorite—holes and all. You'd been blissfully in your own little world for a few hours now with your iPad sitting in your lap with some Stevie Nicks playing in the background over the speakers coming from inside your penthouse.
It was just the right volume that it wasn't too loud but the city noises didn't drown it out either. You'd just polished off your fourth bowl, something grape...whatever, you were just enjoying your time. You went back to drawing, head bopping softly and you were so lost in your own little world you didn't realize that you were alone in your penthouse. There were three different sets of high heels that you missed though you just about jumped out of your skin when your mother came into view via your peripherals.
“Oh!” you smiled bright and wide, eyes a tad bit low, “Hey mom, what are you...um...who are they?” you sat up quickly, unaware that your robe fell open with the movement and your mom nearly facepalmed. You set your tablet aside, doing a double take at the blonde with the curly hair that was lowkey dancing to Fleetwood playing in the background. You looked at your mom, your smile morphing into a confused frown, “Mom?”
“Sweetheart,” your mom soothed back a long strand of dark hair and cleared her throat softly which worried you even more because your mom was never one to be nervous, ever, “This is Cordelia Goode and Misty Day.”
Subconsciously you reached into your robes pocket and pulled out a bright orange stress ball you got from the bodega for a whopping five bucks. (You had to have been high as fuck not to argue that price down but whatever.) You squeezed it softly, licking your dry lips, “Um...hi? Did I do something to you guys too? If I did I'm so sorry, I—”
“No, baby, no,” your mother sat next to you, quickly fixing your robe and your messy hair and Cordelia's brown eyes shot to Misty, who had immediately stopped dancing, “Just...are you hungry? Orange juice maybe?”
“Mrs. Hawthorne?” you looked up at the blonde woman came up behind your mother with a soft smile, “If I may, in my experience it is always better to just rip it off just like a band-aid.”
“Rip what off?” you pulled away from your mom, scooting away and hated seeing that hurt look on her face but there was something going on, you were not that paranoid.
“Honey, this is just a little intervention and—”
Laughing, you scooted away from your mom again, “What? Mom, it’s just pot—”
Your mom waved away your comment with a roll of her eyes, “Honey, I don’t care about the grass—”
“Then what…”
“Zip!”
You quickly shut your mouth when your mom said that and have you that look, it was one you knew quite well growing up. It baffled you how it was still working on you.
Your mom sighed, “It's just for a little while and I'll make sure that this place is well cared for.”
“Wait what?! You're sending me away??”
“(Y/n).” the blonde, Cordelia, pulled your attention from your mom who was crying, Cordelia sat on the edge of your coffee table carefully while Misty continued to hover in the background curiously, but prepared in case you got jumpy, “We just want to help you, okay? We're not here to kidnap you or harm you in any way.”
“I can't be helped,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes even as the tears spilled over, “I—I don't know what you think you know, Miss Goode but...”
“I know quite a bit, (Y/n),” Cordelia held out her hand and suddenly your stash box flew past your head making you flinch but Cordelia caught it just fine and you stared at her wide eyed, “You and I? We aren't so different and at Miss Robichaux's academy for exceptional young ladies...we teach young witches such as yourself how to survive in the modern world.”
“Witches? You think I'm a witch? No way, mom c'mon...the...the stash box trick was cool and all, but witches? Mom! Mom please, you're not buying this are you?” but even as you questioned it, you knew that they were telling the truth and that's what scared you the most. “How do you know they're not trying to use this for your money?”
“We're not, I promise! We don't need your family's money, (Y/n). All we want is to help you.”
“Listen to her, honey, this is for your benefit, okay? And...these women are very nice people, so don't give them trouble, not that you would, right?”
You looked over your mothers shoulder at Misty, the woman offering you a smile and a playful wink.
You exhaled heavily, your eyes sliding back to your mom, “...and you're not getting rid of me right? Because of...what I can do? Or what I've done?”
“No! Absolutely not, it was an accident! If anything it was the faulty bonds they put that monster in! Honestly,” your mother huffed, “your father and I still have half a mind about suing that hospital…”
“But not without having to drag my name through the mud.” You mumbled, sighing heavily.
“I love you, (Y/n), so damn much. Yes, we would’ve gotten millions but you’re worth much more to your father and I, don't you forget that,” Your mom reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing gently before standing and quickly gathering her Prada bag, “and...don't worry about your father with all of this. I'll break this to him myself but baby...promise me that you will try?”
You bit your bottom lip, nodding slowly and holding her hand tighter almost painfully so before surging up and hugging your bother tight, and even though she was in high heels your slight frame made it easy for her to catch most of your weight. She hugged you back just as fiercely, kissing your forehead twice before letting you go.
“And here—for emergencies and whatever you might need, honey.” your mom pushed her black card into your trembling hands, the weight of it denser than you expected it to be and it made you laugh, of course your mom would shove money at you. It was her love language, you stopped questioning it a very long time ago but you never took advantage of it. “I love you so so much.”
Cordelia watched the entire exchange silently with an ever curious eye, even daring to risk raising an eyebrow when she saw your mom push that unmarked card into your hands before skirting off. Your mom reminded her a bit of her own mother...money was Fiona’s love language as well.
But your mom was much more pleasant, her love for you blossomed like a rose rather than a thorn bush.
You exhaled shakily, hands fidgeting in front of you, “I...what now?”
“Now we get down to business,” Misty smiled at you, stepping into the space your mom once occupied and took your hands in both of her own, “Your mama is resourceful, she tracked us down and everything, but it wasn't like it was all that hard since Delia and I were lookin' for you too.”
“You...you were?” you looked over your shoulder at Cordelia still sitting on your coffee table, “Why?”
“We heard about what happened to the man at the hospital and even though you weren't named, it wasn't that hard to track you down and we happened to cross paths with your mother.”
“Figures...” you nodded, sniffling again and you quickly pulled your hands from Misty when a breeze hit your skin—reminding you how indecent you were among two strangers.
You fixed your robe again and quickly sat down and Misty followed you down, bouncing slightly almost a little too close—your high was completely worn off at this point, “Earlier you said that you were helping wit...people like me live in the modern world? What?”
“Yes, we help witches such as yourself avoid situations like the one you currently experienced.”
You raised an eyebrow at her wording and she smiled at you when you met her eyes. You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest—appearing unbothered even if you were still sniffling, damn. Your mood swings were going to give you whiplash one of these days.
“You don’t really expect me to go around calling myself a witch do you?”
Cordelia’s eyes narrowed a fraction, “What I expect, (Y/n), is for you to actually make an attempt. There will be rules and the sooner you drop the attitude, the easier this will be for all of us—you especially.”
You opened your mouth to argue back but then you quickly shut your mouth, your mom's words bouncing around in your head to stop causing trouble. Along with the promise you made to her.
Misty was sitting still next to you, and though you couldn’t see it—her eyes were darting back and forth between you and Cordelia with a bit of a grin trying to break free.
“Right, and um where is this school of yours again? If I even agree to this at all?”
Cordelia gave you a look that you couldn't really decipher, “Miss Robichaux's academy is in California.”
Your eyes flew back to hers immediately, “I don't wanna go around calling you a liar Miss Goode, I only just met you...but you and I both know that's not true.”
“Ah, so it is true...you do have some form divination.”
She led you right into a trap and you couldn’t even be annoyed by that, Cordelia was proving to be a lot more than she appeared. “Divination? What is that? Is there anything my mom didn't tell you?”
“Well, she didn't tell us ya favorite food.” Misty supplied unhelpfully, attempting to break the building tension with poor humor. And you couldn't hold back your smile, deciding that you liked her a lot.
“You're a walking lie detector, dear. That's quite handy in today's world.”
Misty chuckled before one of her arms came around your shoulders, “Oh yes, and Madison is just gonna love you!”
“Don't worry, you’ll fit right in.” Cordelia chuckled, still sitting directly across from you and there was a bit of a twinkle in her brown eyes, she knew you were going to be trouble and that she would have to keep a close eye on you. But if there was one thing that Cordelia enjoyed, it was a challenge.
~~
I dunno what I’m doing for real lol it’s 1am and I’m in my garage on a tablet 😅😅I thought this was fun
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itsclydebitches · 3 years
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Off on a completely separate set of rails, but bringing up Oscar reminded me... are IW shooting him and Salem straight up torturing him going to be addressed? Like, at all? Is this another thing the fandom will "wait and see" on until it becomes irrelevant, or do folks just not... care? I have a friend with a connection in the animation side of CRWBY, and when he brought up feeling like Oscar was the story's kicked puppy, the response? "He's not a baby". No, he's not -- he's a 14/15 year old child. You know, like Ruby was? Was V7 just to bring Ozpin back? Was V8 just to force Hazel and Emerald to shoddily switch sides because they checked their watches and said "eh, may as well"? Like, I'm not asking for the boy to be a wreck, but by god something. Physical damage, I can understand being mitigated 'cause Jaune but... hello, psychological trauma? Or having a moment like Ruby to be upset/break down over what happened (insert missing scene with Jaune after he awkwardly scoots out of the Renora moment here)? Does anyone remember that this boy is a boy?
This!! Honestly, I don't think it's ever going to get addressed because that's Oscar's lot in life, yeah? He arrives at this safehouse and does anyone care that this boy is suddenly body-sharing with a guy bearing his own truckload of trauma, dumped into a war and forced to leave his one family member behind? No. "But, Clyde, no one knew Oscar then. It would have been weird to comfort this kid they've just met and who is housing someone they don't trust." Okay, how about months later when Oscar bears the brunt of the group's rage, getting screamed at and punched into a tree? "But Ruby held his hand for a second!" Yeah, and then Qrow dismissed her comfort with a callous statement that is never taken back. How about later still when Jaune outright attacks Oscar who is so distraught he straight up leaves? Surely the narrative will allow Oscar to grapple with his trauma now... Nope. He gets over it off screen, Jaune is the one the group is worried about, Jaune is the one who gets more emotional work with the Pyrrha statue, and by the time the story remembers that Oscar is supposed to be the focus here, he's already locked his emotions up tight, baking casseroles and telling them all it's totally fine that he'll disappear someday soon. He'll just help save the world until then!
Fast-forward to this kid getting left behind by the group to (supposedly) guard the Relic, left out of their activities, attacked by Neo alone, shot to his presumed death by Ironwood, attacked and kidnapped by the Hound, and then finally tortured by not just Hazel, but Salem herself with evil magic powers. Should we grapple with all of that? Nah. He's fine. Except, this isn't a story where everyone else is totally fine too. Yang gets a whole arc dealing with the loss of her arm. Penny's entire character revolves around her insecurities. Jaune, as said, continually gets emotional beats about both the loss of Pyrrha and his comparative combat difficulties. Nora gets to be comforted by Ren after her mishap with the door, despite the fact the her trauma stems from something she actively chose to do. It's still horrific, but it's a bit different than being kidnapped and tortured. Ruby gets to sit on a staircase and cry because everything is so hard right now and she thinks her mom is a grimm. Prior to Volume 8, I would have said Oscar is the only one who has to keep muscling his way through trauma without any solid recognition of it, though frankly, Ren has now joined him after that awful display arc (though even Ren got better emotional work in Volume 4). Still, Oscar remains one of the characters struggling the most - he never chose this fight, he's the youngest, his traumas (with the exception, perhaps, of Yang) are the most visceral we've seen on screen - and yet he remains the least acknowledged. This is why I couldn't take Ren's speech to the Ace Ops seriously. Not only did this "Of course we would risk an entire kingdom to save our boy!" attitude come out of nowhere, but the story itself still doesn't care about Oscar outside of his physical safety. The fandom went nuts over the YJR group hugging him, but my reaction was... that's it? I mean, putting aside the foolishness of wasting time in Salem's whale, that's the extent of dealing with his torture session? A hug? If Oscar were any of the other characters he'd have gotten an entire arc about recovering from this, allowed to be angry, lashing out, struggling to cope. When times are tough, Jaune is allowed to attack Oscar because, well, times are tough. When she's been through a trauma, Yang is allowed to be furious because, well, she's been through a trauma. When times are horrific for Oscar, he... saves everyone, smiles reassuringly, and continues to keep pushing forward. Dealing with things? What's that?
...actually, he really IS becoming more and more like Ozpin, huh?
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